idontbelieveingrammar

I love communion.  Everything about faith is hard for me. But communion is easy. There is something to hold, smell, do and taste. I love the physicality of it. Any way you do it. Plastic thimbles of grape juice. Tasteless wafers. Hunks of Hawaiian bread. Goblets of wine. An open table.  Knees pressed into the cushions at the altar. Someone saying the words just to me. On Saturday I waited in line at the front of the chapel. I ripped off a chunk of bread and someone told me,   “This is my body broken for you." They had probably said it a hundred times before it was my turn, but they said it just for me anyways. I stepped to the side and dipped my bread into the juice. “This is my blood poured out for you.” Like a lot of things in my life, I can overdo anything.  Apparently even communion. I was a little overzealous with the grape juice.  As I pulled out my bread and aimed it for my mouth the juice dripped down.  I tried to ...

My husband picked out our first apartment. It was fine, as far as apartments go. Tiny. Thin walled. Terrible parking. It was on the first floor, the complex had a hot tub and we had our own tiny washer and dryer that held like 2 pair of jeans and a t-shirt. So we saved our money, played less ultimate frisbee and drove around looking at houses. We bought a puppy who peed all over our carpet and completely lost us our cleaning deposit. We were young, newly married and could fit everything we owned in the back two pick up trucks. The bank offered us a loan with nothing down.   We signed our name no less than four hundred times and a 30 year mortgage felt like a lifetime. Turns out lifetimes happen faster than you think. I remember watching Trading Spaces getting my best decorating ideas from Frank, Vern and Genevieve. I spent my paychecks at Hobby Lobby instead of on childcare. Thank God there was no such thing as Pinterest.  We painted all the walls any co...