With gratitude to Sharon McCutcheon for her beautiful pic.
So today we’re flying kites, apparently. An adventure he’s been dying to take me on.
Quick confession. I’ve never flown a kite in my life.
Guess it’s a good way for him to teach me how to steer, whichever way the wind blows.
He’s patient with me. No one else ever has been.
Another thing I’m looking forward to. A family Christmas. Also, never had one of those before. I’ve done stuff with sisters, but never the mom and dad around the table thing. My nuclear family was a little bit of a dirty bomb to be honest. Couldn’t put em in a room together. You’d start world war three.
But now I’m off to go do just that Family Christmas thing.
There’s a lot of firsts for me, with this guy. He knows me better than anyone thinks he does. He’s seen me at my worst (stomach flu). He’s seen me in lows and highs. Public and private.
There’s something here that is very sacred to me.
That some doctrine and/or politics would have me deny the miracle that it is.
They won’t get it, those types.
Not through law (for goodness sake don’t sue them, just buy your cake somewhere else… because now there’s apparently a tyranny perpetrated against a handful of Christians who understand nothing about their own religion, let alone their own denomination, their own orders of service, their own liturgies… salt of the earth types that look so darn character-driven on the 700 club, or whatever.)
Not through PR (we can do no more than get on with our own lives and those of our networks and our kin. I mean the arts are wonderful, but they aint interested in buying. That’s okay. Just don’t let it derail you.)
There really is absolutely no way for you to get people over their gripes. They got em, I have em, and anyone still reading this will have em too.
It’s just tricky when you have to clean religious vomit from your own household.
But then again.
They don’t really matter much more, anyway, do they?
You know what matters?
We’re gonna go fly some kites.