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The Miracle of Flight

Posted by on Sep 21, 2015 | 0 comments

  When I was growing up in the Baptist church, I never knew what people saw or heard when they were alone with God. I just knew he never spoke to me so clearly. I watched as the men presented themselves, hands clasped behind their sports coats, heads bowed, stepping toward the altar. “Brother Jones has come here tonight to announce his calling into the mission field,” boomed the pastor. The congregation “Amen-ed.” I shifted in my lightly-padded pew, reached into my purse for a hard candy. At 10 years old, it’s the only thing I kept in that purse. Calling only happened to men. And when it did, they claimed it with such lock-jawed certainty, it was as if God had pulled them to the sidelines of their big football game, dropped to one knee and outlined their next play with the infallible tip of his dry-erase marker. I never felt called in the traditional sense. In college...

Netflix and Chill?

Posted by on Sep 1, 2015 | 0 comments

When I was surfing the internet, as one does these days, I came across an article that I read and promptly forgot where I read it.[1] But the main content of the article, and one line in particular have stood with me. The author was waxing eloquent about his nostalgia for the emo music of the previous decade when it “was cool to care.” He contrasts this with current popular music, which eschews emotion in favour of a studied detachment. The article stuck with me for two reasons. First, although emo music was never something I got into in my younger days, I listen to a fair amount now because my husband loves it. The whining despair and hopeless situations of these poor musicians cannot help but put a smile on his face and an extra spring in his step. The second reason it stuck with me is that the author’s descriptions of current pop music put me in...