The Glowstick of Christ

Or "This Little Light of Mine"

So after a relaxing walk through Chagrin Falls, Matt and I went to church for Christmas Eve. We arrived a little early, and saw parishoners from the 9:30 service leaving. Some of the teenagers had glowsticks. Matt gave me a puzzled look, and I figured there must've been some sort of special teen thing for the service. As we entered the sanctuary, we were handed bulletins, and GLOWSTICKS. The bulletin explained that the glowsticks were replacing the traditional candles used for Christmas Eve due to concern regarding children and fire, and wax dripping in the sanctuary (this church building is only 2 years old). The minister's sermon was definitely not what I wanted from a Christmas Eve message. Not only was it dripping in philosophy and doctrine, but it was very difficult to follow. No Christmas Eve homily should use the words "metaphysical" and "philosophical", particularly not in the same sentence. The message was supposed to be about how the Methodist sect of the Christian faith is "radically inclusive", and how that was somehow linked with the question "do people who do not believe in Jesus Christ and God get into heaven?". Per the minister, Jesus is the way to the Father, but he is not the only path to heaven. But believing in Jesus is the only way to get to God, who is in heaven. Confused? Yeah, so were we. Needless to say, I was a little disappointed that this was the first encounter Matt had with an example of my faith coming from my church. Based on that statement, I'm sure you can derive that I do not believe that faith in Jesus and the Christian image of God is the only way to heaven. I have remained a Methodist even after childhood direction because of the church's teachings on tolerance, acceptance of others with different beliefs, backgrounds, and lifestyles, and love towards not only God, but the earth we were placed on, and one another. I don't feel that Saturday night's message was a good example of this doctrine I've attempted to follow (albeit not always successfully).

Anyway, back to the Glowstick of Christ.

So, the homily is over, communion has been served, it's time to sing a few more hymns before heading home. But first, we have to shine the light of God upon our faces! So, the ministers cracked one anothers glowsticks, and then came down the center aisle to crack those of parishoners. You cracked the glowstick of your neighbor. Wow, just like passing the light from the Christ candle! I was appauled by how tacky this was. I can certainly understand concern about small children holding open fire. That's fine; so you give the glowsticks to the little ones so they feel included, and you give the candles to the grown-ups. With those big plastic cups to keep the wax from dripping. ::sigh:: In the words of Charlie Brown, "good grief."

Surprisingly enough, my Glowstick of Christ is still glowing. If it goes another day, I'm going to approach the Global Conference of the United Methodist Church about declaring a Christian Hanukkah.

Christmas Traditions

Well, it's Christmas Eve, and I've finished wrapping my presents, did a load of laundry, and made a quick stop at the grocery store for the final touches on tonight's dinner and breakfast tomorrow morning. This is the first year I won't be spending the night at Mom and Dad's for Christmas Eve. I'm going to my own church with Matt for worship. Funny how quickly your life changes. It got me to thinking about all the things I used to love about Christmas when I was a kid, and how I'm looking forward to reviving at least 2 of them this year.

Every year, my family would go to the Christmas Eve worship service at our church in Parma, and then head out to Chagrin Falls to see the square decorated. We always passed a house on the corner with a big Santa sleigh on their porch. That's how I knew we were getting close. If it was warm enough, we'd get out and walk around, gazing into shop windows, admiring the lights adorning the square and the path overlooking the falls. Then, we'd hop back into the car, and drive to a neighborhood in Chagrin where they had a tradition of lining their streets, driveways, and sidewalks with luminaries (brown paper bags with sand in the bottom, and a lit candle illuminating the bag - sounds very simple, but so pretty). Dad would turn off the headlights, and we'd drive along the quiet street enjoying the peace and beauty of the scene before us. Afterward, we'd try to find a McDonald's that still had egg nog shakes, and enjoy them as we drove home. "You kids had better get to bed, I saw Santa's sleigh as we were driving home. He's headed here, and you're still awake!" Mom would say to my brother and I. We'd scurry to bed, fantasizing about the wonders that lay before the tree.
Robert (my brother) and I would always wake up sometime around 5:30, if not earlier. We'd sneak out to the living room and conduct reconnaisance missions under the tree, trying to figure out what each box held. Mom would get up not too long after that, and start to get coffee ready for Dad. The rule was, we were not allowed to wake Dad any time before 7am. Mom was always as eager for Christmas morning as my brother and I, so this rule was put into play by my father. Come 6:55, Robert and I would beg my mother to go wake him; we simply couldn't take the suspense any longer. She'd go to the kitchen, get him his coffee, and go into their room to rouse him. We could always hear her whispering to him "Ron, honey, Merry Christmas! (Dad grunts - huh, wha?) The kids are up, they want to open presents." Unlike most families on Christmas morning, the opening of presents in my household has always been tremendously civilized. One person opens a gift at a time, and everyone takes turns. Dad always drug out the camcorder. After all, there's no better time of day to be comemorated on film than 7am, in your pajamas, before your hair has even seen a brush.
After all the presents had been opened, and we'd laid waste to the living room with the carcasses of wrapping paper and packaging, Mom would bring out breakfast; cinnamon rolls with icing and cranberry juice. And the day would begin to decrescendo.

So you wonder what traditions I'm reviving this year? Well, after church tonight, Matt will indulge me in a pilgrimage to Chagrin Falls. Maybe we'll be lucky enough to find a McDonald's with egg nog shakes. And I bought cinnamon rolls and cranberry juice at the grocery store.

I wish you all the merriest of Christmases.

Bad Drivers

I hate bad drivers!!! People who think that just because they're in the confines of a steel frame, the rules of polite society don't apply. This is the only time of year I dislike where I live; near 2 big shopping centers. Because I get even more traffic than usual, and we all know that the more traffic there is, the higher the probability of getting stuck behind a bad driver. While there are many breeds of bad drivers (too slow in the fast lane and blocking the driveway, for example), here are the 2 that have pissed me off the most lately.

the "I'm too good to wait in line at the exit ramp" line cutters.
Living on a major road, the exit ramp to my street from the highway is fairly long, to accomodate heavy traffic. Most days, starting around 5pm, the line for my exit starts back on the freeway. Most people wait in line to exit on the shoulder, allowing other cars to get to the exit going west. Rather polite, I appreciate that. They do the same thing in Beachwood, which I've always been glad of. Recently, there's been a rash of drivers who think they're too good to sit in line and wait, so they find a way around the long line of traffic (usually utilizing the shoulder), and wait at the finish line for some dumbass to let them back in line. Typically, my response to this sort of driver is tailgating the car ahead of me to keep them from cutting me off, and a quick wave with my favorite finger. These people effectively kill whatever buzz I had going from not being at work.

the "oops, wrong lane" driver.
I had a prime example of this on my way home from work today. The dumbass ahead of me wanted to turn left at the intersection, and started to get into the lane to do so. When she saw how long the line was to go left, she got back into my lane. As we drove past the line, she promptly hit her brakes, put on her blinker, and waited for another dumbass to let her in. She succeeded in blocking traffic from getting off of the highway. If you find yourself in a situation where you're in the wrong lane, the polite thing to do is to either find an unintrusive way to get where you need to be, or wait to find a driveway or parking lot to turn around in; don't block traffic because you were too busy looking at how pretty Wal*Mart looks all lit up.

The latter of my examples of bad drivers killed my happy thought of picking up one last special gift for someone on my Christmas list. I wasn't about to drive with the morons any longer than I had to.

Introducing the Insanity

I've been missing writing for awhile. True, I've had an online journal for quite a long time, but like many stupid youngun's looking for a place to spew their thoughts online, giving that address got me into trouble and cost me a friendship. So you probably won't find anything to personally earth-shattering on here. There's not much rhyme or reason as to why I've suddenly decided to make my ramblings more public; just sounded like it might be fun. Although I will say that I'm notorious for not posting very often; perhaps that will change, but I'm not making any promises.

I'm likely to whine and complain about craziness at work, random shit that pisses me off, and hopefully have some good stuff to spout about. I'm going to try to be funny, sometimes it'll be very apparent that I'm just trying to sound smart. Hopefully you'll think I'm interesting enough to check in from time to time to see what I'm rambling about!