It’s past midnight now. I just ate a big bowl of cranberry sauce. At my house, we don’t buy a lot of snacks, so things get creative when I want a midnight snack.
Today I was downtown. I decided to go down into the bus tunnel, because traffic was ridiculous today, and I figured that the tunnel would be a lot faster. As I hopped onto the train, I vaguely wondered why nobody else was getting on. The train pulled away from the station, and I let my mind wander . . . and then the train stopped. The door did not open. I looked around. I was completely alone on a big, empty train. I looked at a map, then realized that I had boarded a train going in the opposite direction and that this was the end of the line. A bubble of fear rose in my heart. How could I have been so stupid? I, who pride myself on having a half-way decent sense of direction! What would happen to me? Was the train stopped for the night? Would anyone come and let me out?
A man wearing an official-looking uniform opened the door and hopped in. I half-rose, and he jumped at the sight of me. “Oh dear! What are you doing here? You should have gotten off at the last stop. Stay there.”
And he promptly disappeared without any further explanation.
Five minutes later, the train started going in the opposite direction; towards the south end of town where I wanted to be. I was completely fine, and there(!!!!) is the anti-climatic ending to my harrowing tale.
My father just told me to go to bed. It is possible that I ought to be in bed, but I don’t want to go to bed yet. I want to stay here and talk.
There’s one song we sing at youth group that really irks me. I know that is horrible, but it’s true; “Your Love is Extravagant” by Casting Crowns really bothers me. Or maybe it’s just the way we sing it. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ryan the 6th Grader is standing right next to me, softly blowing a steady stream of air in my face because he wants me to explode with wrath and annihilate him.
Anyway, the first two lines of the song go like this:
Your love is extravagant,
Your friendship, it is intimate . . .
and so on. That’s fine, but the way we sing it, it goes like this:
Your lo-o-o-o-o-ove is extravaga-a-a-a-a-a-nt,
Your friendshi-i-i-i-i-ip, mm-mm intima-a-a-a-a-ate.
Okay; I can deal with holding every other syllable for six beats. I can deal with the mind-numbingly slow pace. What gets me is the “mm-mm.” I find the “mm-mm” to be hilarious. Imagine a hard-core chocoholic as he masticates a quality piece of 75% dark chocolate. That is the sound coming from the mouths of twenty or thirty kids staring up at a powerpoint screen.
And then I start to laugh. Silently, of course. As terrible as I am, I’m not about to ruin worship for all those mature Christian young people; those nice, normal Christian kids who don’t find “mm-mm” to be amusing. So I quietly wheeze to myself, feeling guilty, and then Ryan the 6th Grader notices and stops “mm-mm”ing to laugh at me laughing, and then I feel even worse because I’m not being a positive role model–
And maybe it’s time to go to bed now.