Grr. Grr. GRR.
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I am blessed in knowing many Christians who make liberal use of the sense God gave them (regardless of their political or theological affiliations). There are some, however, who trigger in me longings for recourse to a hungry lion. Intellectually, I understand that they honestly mean well, but that doesn't stop my emotional reaction of wanting them rent from limb to limb.
Seriously. Would-be do-gooders take heed:
(1) It is not good form to tell someone not yet on their deathbed -- especially someone who isn't Christian to begin with -- that her late husband is waiting for her in Heaven. Given that the late husband's last distinguishable words included repeating "I'm still alive" over and over, I'm certain as I am of anything that he's not in a hurry for her to join him, she's certainly not in a hurry to leave this world for any other, and it ain't your job to hurry her along.
(2) This has happened to more than one person I love: if they tell you they'd rather you not publicize their illness at your house of worship, your mandate is to respect that. Your eagerness to enlist the power of group prayer is not a triumph of thoughtfulness, it is you going out of bounds. It is not your job to project your version of love of God and community onto people who do not happen to share it, and it creates negative rather than positive energy in and around those people right when they would be doing better to concentrate on getting better.
(3) Along the same lines, it is really, REALLY not good form to describe someone in your order of service as having a terminal illness when they are actively undergoing treatment in expectation of a cure.
Grr, grr, GRR!
On the funny side: I'd accidentally knocked over a drink in my car while zipping along the Parkway, so when I got to my mom's house, I asked her for a "vi-bo" ("bad cloth" in Taiwanese - a rag, in other words). She looked puzzled for a sec - turns out she thought I had asked for a Bi-ble, and couldn't fathom how I planned to use it to mop up coffee. :-)
My frugal tendencies sometimes drive the BYM nuts, but I was reminded today that I come by them honestly, seeing that I ended up sponging the carpet with a scrap of dad's underwear (as of next week, he'll have been dead eight years) and some ankle socks I think I last wore twenty-three years ago.
Good things:
* firm plums and fresh water
* as of tomorrow, two of my calligraphy pieces are again on display at the Centennial Art Center in Nashville
* contemplating what to work on next - it's been too long since I finished a new piece for exhibit
* being wished a happy new year at my favorite bakery
* scribbling poem and drabble possibilities during today's drive
* readers who comment about pollinating cucumbers :-)
* the prospect of a full night's sleep!
Seriously. Would-be do-gooders take heed:
(1) It is not good form to tell someone not yet on their deathbed -- especially someone who isn't Christian to begin with -- that her late husband is waiting for her in Heaven. Given that the late husband's last distinguishable words included repeating "I'm still alive" over and over, I'm certain as I am of anything that he's not in a hurry for her to join him, she's certainly not in a hurry to leave this world for any other, and it ain't your job to hurry her along.
(2) This has happened to more than one person I love: if they tell you they'd rather you not publicize their illness at your house of worship, your mandate is to respect that. Your eagerness to enlist the power of group prayer is not a triumph of thoughtfulness, it is you going out of bounds. It is not your job to project your version of love of God and community onto people who do not happen to share it, and it creates negative rather than positive energy in and around those people right when they would be doing better to concentrate on getting better.
(3) Along the same lines, it is really, REALLY not good form to describe someone in your order of service as having a terminal illness when they are actively undergoing treatment in expectation of a cure.
Grr, grr, GRR!
On the funny side: I'd accidentally knocked over a drink in my car while zipping along the Parkway, so when I got to my mom's house, I asked her for a "vi-bo" ("bad cloth" in Taiwanese - a rag, in other words). She looked puzzled for a sec - turns out she thought I had asked for a Bi-ble, and couldn't fathom how I planned to use it to mop up coffee. :-)
My frugal tendencies sometimes drive the BYM nuts, but I was reminded today that I come by them honestly, seeing that I ended up sponging the carpet with a scrap of dad's underwear (as of next week, he'll have been dead eight years) and some ankle socks I think I last wore twenty-three years ago.
Good things:
* firm plums and fresh water
* as of tomorrow, two of my calligraphy pieces are again on display at the Centennial Art Center in Nashville
* contemplating what to work on next - it's been too long since I finished a new piece for exhibit
* being wished a happy new year at my favorite bakery
* scribbling poem and drabble possibilities during today's drive
* readers who comment about pollinating cucumbers :-)
* the prospect of a full night's sleep!
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