Dirty dishes and Harry Potter

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the dirty dishes in my sink.

I am thankful to be free of the quarrels and silent grudges that grow between roommates from the simple chore of washing and clearing the dishes. Living alone I am forced to wash all my own dishes. They are my dishes after all and who else would be expected to wash it? I admit that even when others offer (a boyfriend, perhaps) I appear to surrender the task that I actually find therapeutic only to rewash them once said person has left the apartment. Someday, I will bravely venture into the unknown depths of my obsessive-compulsive psyche and reflect deeply on all my findings. Today, however, is about the things I am thankful for.

Lately more than ever it feels like I wash a ridiculous number of flatware and cutlery considering it is all for one person. Perhaps I am eating more frequently than I used to, or perhaps I am delaying the washing more than I used to. Whatever the reason is I was so annoyed by this feeling that I complained more than once to my tea-time friends about it. This is my life, isn’t it? Unending dishwashing?

At least you can see the TV from the sink.

True. Fine.

As I contemplate the clichéd metaphoric possibilities of dishwashing – daily cleansing of my spirit, clearing out the mess in my life, the repenting and forgiveness of sins – I cannot stop thinking about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The one printed seven years ago.

Harry Potter was so bitter and angry in the first few chapters of that book. Why wouldn’t he be? Neglected for a whole summer, suffering in the Dursley house on Privet Drive, attacked by dementors, kept in the dark by his closest friends, You-Know-Who always out to get him… I totally get it. But why so emotional? Why all the tempter tantrums? Done yet, Potter? I found myself being upset with him and stopped reading the books cold turkey. I could not deal with reading about moody teenagers having just come out of such an age myself when it was printed. So I did what I would have done if I were Harry in his situation. I shut the book and moved on to something else. (Hello, Aragorn.)

Seven years later I am at Kips Bay on Thanksgiving morning watching the seventh Harry Potter installment and feeling like I missed out on a lot. Thinking about the last time I was reading a Harry Potter book, I remembered the frustration. And I remembered the fear. Fear of negative emotion. The inclination to shut, close, and run is my way of surviving. I survive by avoiding. I choose flight, because nothing is worth the fight. I close up before someone closes me out. I shut down and walk away before I am walked away from. It is a pretty cold way to live but a girl living alone has to protect herself… or so I thought until recently. Being in a serious relationship has taught me that sometimes it is worth the fight because the championship belts are engraved with love and understanding. And, everyone gets a belt. The increasingly frequent tea-times with friends have helped me overcome my insecurity of being loved, as faith has guided us to accept each other for all the good and bad things we carry with us. And the sense that I abandoned Harry during a crucial time in his life and therefore missed out on his life’s subplots, subtexts and truths all because I did not want to face it with him weighed very heavily on my heart that morning.

So, in an attempt to finish all my unwashed dishes and face the reality of Harry’s emotions which mirror the emotions I have allowed myself to feel and reveal to others in the last couple of years, I am going to read through Harry’s fifth, sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. Go Harry. Boo He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Bonus: I know the correct pronunciation of Hermione.

Happy Thanksgiving, Potter!

First Grade Missions

In first grade, we learn about communities. Who are the members of a community? What do communities need? What are the resources in a community? These kinds of conversations do not come easily to first graders, as their worlds have thus far been ‘All About Me’. Where is my desk? Look at my story! I like mine the best. At the end of the year, after various discussions, community-building activities and occasional law enforcement—If you can’t be nice, then you can’t stay— the student is prepared to enter into any community and be ‘good’. Be respectful. Be kind. Be good. That is the dream, anyway.

Watching our team in Mexico reminded me of first grade. Speed-walking football, slam-dunk contests, and trampoline procrastination were pure childlike fun and silliness. There were also times of complaining. Our AC-challenged van provoked the whining child in each of us as we fanned and slept our way through each hot drive. And while it was pointed out more than once that we did not have to pile ourselves into the van ten minutes before the driver was ready, this was advice our first grade ears were not ready to heed. But like any school year and like any trip, the heart of it was found in the times of learning. The incredible testimony of Pastor Paulino at Casa Bethesda was a lesson about surviving on faith and faith alone. His words spoke to each of us, moving our souls to tears as he shared his brokenness with our team. There was such strength in his honesty about his unwilling heart, his broken obedience, and how the orphanage came to be and survives with so little support. How appropriate it was that we heard this testimony on the last day, as the tenderness of his heart imprinted onto ours as we prepared to return home. Back to reality. On to second grade.

What is the dream of missions? To help people? To worship God? To share his Word? After six mission trips my list of possible answers only grows. I can only say with confidence that it has been two months since our trip and I still dream about Mexico. I still marvel at how we did crafts with close to 100 children. I still laugh when I think about how one team member sat in wonder during every time of praise as our team flipped to the songs, not realizing the praise songs were in alphabetical order. And my eyes still well up when I remember how Jesus stood beside the broken man and carried him through each day of his life. My heart is still tender from the sights and sounds of this trip. When I wake each morning to go back to first grade my nerves are calmed and my heart gains strength when I think of the man whose life lesson is perhaps now my life lesson: Faith alone.

That is the dream, anyway.

Movie Review: Toy Story 3

Basically the greatest movie of the year. Not sure there is much else that can top this smart, smart film. If you want to laugh, watch it. If you want to cry, watch it. If you want to feel like a kid again, watch it. If you want to journey, watch it. Unlike so many sequels, this movie had everything to do with love and storytelling and absolutely nothing to do with ticket sales or opening weekend. There was depth and maturity. It was like seeing Pixar grow up, not just Andy. Funnier, smarter, creativer, and truer to their dedication to good stories than I have ever seen.

Score: WATCH THIS MOVIE.

Movie Review: Alice in Wonderland

I have an unending and unconditional love for puppets and stop motion art. This love was sparked by what are, for me, The Four: Sesame Street, Gumbi, Jim Henson, and those old holiday movies about Rudolph and Frosty. I feel giddy whenever I catch a reminiscent glimpse of these, such as the North Pole characters in Elf and the vampire musical in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Fondness has etched stop motion into my heart, cherished memories of watching these shows with my sister cementing them in place forever. Pajamas, puppets and socks. Makes me crave a cup of hot chocolate.

When I was 10, I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas. It was mesmerizing. Clever, detailed and so so cool. It was then that I fell in love with Tim Burton. Like any love, I don't love everything. But what I do love of his, I love a lot. Dark, creepy, crawly. Romantic, intricate and mysteriously ethereal. That is what sums up Alice for me. Bold, delicate, and so so pretty.


Score: DIZZY WITH DELIGHT.

Love At First Grade

Dear E,

I am so sorry. I wonder if we could be in love. If you said yes, then we need a plan. If not, we are lost.

J

As I sifted through student writing I came across this letter. We are writing persuasive letters. Started on Monday. Students are attempting to understand the structure of letters. Yes, the line at the top is for the date. If the comma is at the end of the line, then the paper is right side up. And don't forget the punctuation. It's like your underwear; always necessary.

My first thought was about E. I don't know who E is, but she is one lucky little girl. How many boys will consider themselves lost without you? And he is already planning for the future, so you know he is in it for the long haul. This little man is clearly not playing games; he means business.

J is one of those rare kids that is just plain honest. That is the most important thing I have learned about him so far, and the thing I most love about him. He is honest about everything. Is mom picking you up after school today? I hope so. What's wrong, J? I am in love! Everything is wrong. Did you do your homework? I forgot. And I didn't want to. How did he come to be so honest? And can this honesty be taught to others, or have we no choice but to admire and attempt to imitate? Wish it could be captured somehow and passed around the classroom.

J is fluent in Spanish, falls deep into the stories and illustrations of his books, and often talks to himself throughout the day. No doubt he is composing sweet sonnets for his beloved E. He laughs at all of my jokes, always tells me what he ate for dinner the night before, and I predict that he will be a brilliant writer when he grows up.

Mail picture by Smithsonian Institution.

Letter picture by topsy cretts.

Pears of Wisdom

me: Bye Appa, I'll call you when I land.

Appa: Ok, geureh. Have a good flight.

And next time you come, don't wear clothes with holes in them.

... Really? Those are your parting words? I've worn these jeans for the past five days without a word but now, in the crowded security check line, a few seconds before we both leave this airport, is the best time to address the wear and tear of my jeans?

This is why my father is so wise. Yes, now is the perfect time to remind you that it would be wise to think about your appearance every now and then. Because while what matters most is the 'stuff' inside your heart, the decisions you make in accordance to that 'stuff' represent who you are. I could have brought this up at dinner four days ago, but now you will remember me clearly. It is a good idea to care.

Those jeans are distressed. Are you in distress?

Do you feel worn out in some places?

Not really?

Then why do you dress like a beggar?

That last comment is always said with a chuckle and an endearing I-don't-understand-you-girls smile. I heard it often back in the JNCO days, when my sister and I were accused of being street cleaners due to the excessive length of our pantalons. He often referred to pants and jeans as pantalons. Pronounced bbang-dda-longs.

Perhaps it was his sublty. Or his off-beat timing. Whatever it was, it struck me in the heart in a way that made me smile the whole 6 hours home and love my dad even more than I already did.

There is something in the gospel of Matthew about a tree. A tree is recognized by its fruits. Good trees bear good fruit and bad trees bear dragonfruit. (Ok it doesn't really say that but have you ever tasted one? Seriously. Fruit of the armpit.) Had my dad intended to remind me of this lesson? Or does he truly not understand why I choose to dress 'like a beggar' ? It's not a perfect metaphor, jeans as fruit. But it was as good a time as any to remember to live like the good man, who brings good things out of the good stored up in him... and, who knows, probably wears jeans without any holes in them.

There are a few more Appa-isms that have stuck with me:

Always hold your breath when taking a picture. It keeps the camera steady.

You can never have too many books.

Everyone should have and use a shoehorn.

Movie Review: Sherlock Holmes

" You wear a jacket."

When does the DVD come out? Because I need to watch this at least 10 more times. Cannot get the acting out of my head. Cannot get the riddles out of my head. Cannot get the music out of my head! It was dark enough to be intriguing, just the right amount of spooky without being scary, and endlessly witty. If you don't pay attention to the dialogue you can miss a lot of it so I recommend ditching the commentator friend as well as that friend who always wants to know what just happened.

Score: I LOVED IT.

Movie Review: An Education

Just watched An Education and I loved it. So much. I enjoyed every minute of it and highly recommend this beautiful movie.

Is there anything better than 50s/60s fashion? Or Paris? Or love? (Brownies.) Carey Mulligan is fantastic and adorable. The colors in this movie were absolutely gorgeous. Muted but with tastefully bright accents. It is a drama, for sure, but had the perfect balance of light sarcasm and heavy emotion. Everything came together in such a graceful and subtle way. I was sad when it was all over, and will probably watch it again tomorrow.

Oh, to picnic by the Seine!

Score: FANTASTIQUE.