“I am about to go outside with a shotgun and shoot all the snowflakes I see,” my brother wrote me on Whatsapp.
That was not code for something clever, though it may have been a reference to to the song “Gonna get me a shotgun“. (Also, he does not own a shotgun; have no fear.)
There’s something about snow in late April that can make the most sane of us go crazy.
And for those of us who are already a little off their rockers, the sky’s the limit.
I sent my brother a photograph of the chocolate mousse I had made in the wee hours.
There’s nothing quite like a rich chocolate dessert to counter late-April snowfall.
But I finished making the mousse by 7 am, and I had eaten the egg-white omelette (the mousse required yolks only) by 7:30 am, so what to do?
I have been fighting off the whole writing thing for some time, but I read something yesterday that made me feel slightly ill. It was a passage at the end of Jamie Wright‘s book, The Very Worst Missionary:
I found it was one thing to ask questions and even to have doubts from behind a computer screen, but the same people who had seemed anxious to dismiss my questions from afar tried to scold me for my observations in person. They liked to say things like “Tearing things down is easy” and “Complaints should come with solutions.” And at first this shut me up. But the thing is, you don’t have to have solutions prepared before you point out legitimate problems.
I guess you have to have been there to really get how that feels. I remember one of the last times I visited a missions colleague at her office and she said that to me, “Tearing things down is easy.”
She had swallowed the kool-aid, kit and kaboodle, and was speaking nonsense. I had drunk the kool-aid too, but I wound up regurgitating it just like a freshman who has had too many servings of that old frat favorite Jungle Juice.
I love her, and so many other ex-colleagues with whom I respectfully disagree… But sometimes love looks like a good dose of ipecac. (That’s my theory, anyway, gathered from reading Anne of Green Gables and other excellent medical journals.)
Turns out tearing things down is not easy, particularly when it involves tearing a part of your own heart out. Who would’ve thunk?