When I walked through our neighborhood to church this
morning, I saw a business that I hadn’t noticed before. It’s called First
Century Bank. That seems very odd in this 21st-Century world and it
led to several strange images in my head. The first is Jesus and the
moneylenders, so I saw Jesus walking into this bank on 4th Street,
all angry and turning over the desks. Later, I told my friend Cherie’ about it
and she thought it was funny, too. So we wondered about the banking. Did people
bring in fish to trade for shekels? It conjures up visions of a Vacation Bible
School marketplace.
How can I not love this? |
I got to church and leafed through the bulletin to see what
hymns we’d be singing. None of my favorites, unfortunately. And we had incense
since it was the Feast of All Saints, so people were already coughing and
clearing their throats, even before the procession. Anyway, I looked at the
schedule for Sunday School and the names of the classrooms got me giggling a
little bit. Two of the rooms seem normal enough for an Episcopal Church—the Julian
of Norwich room and the Mary Magdalene room. The other two cracked me up, but
this is L.A. and it is the Episcopal Church. I know I said that already, but I just
want to emphasize that we tend to be a pretty hip and welcoming bunch. The
other two rooms are named Harvey Milk and Mother Jones. I just think that’s
priceless.
There were two things at church that got me thinking about
politics again. There was a discussion between the two services about the
proposition to repeal the death penalty in California. I would have liked that,
but I didn’t know about it in time. I missed it because I was at the second
service. If I’d gone last week, I might have been informed, but my attendance
is a little spotty. The other thing was that the nice man sitting in the pew in
front of me was wearing an Obama sweatshirt. That got me wondering where my
Obama t-shirt is hiding and whether I should try to find in and wear it
tomorrow.
Beachy Coffee Table |
A couple of days ago I painted an old trunk white. We’ve
used it as a coffee table for years, but it seemed too dark for our little space,
so I decided to lighten it up and make it more “beachy.” Today, I finished
cleaning up the copper fittings and sanded off some of the paint to make it “shabby
chic.” I wondered if I could fix up some more old stuff and have a booth at the
Rose Bowl flea market. That distracted me for awhile—from the election and from
the blister I had on my index finger from sanding.
Tonight I had dinner with Cherie’, one of my Kansas
basketball mom friends, who’s in town on business. We watched the sunset. Even
though it was at an early 4:58, thanks to the end of Daylight Saving Time, the
old sol was its usual, spectacular Santa Monica self. Really, that sunset is a
cure for all ills. We had tapas and sangria. We acknowledged, briefly, that
there’s an election Tuesday, but really didn’t discuss the candidates or the
issues. We talked about our lives, our kids, basketball, gluten free recipes,
travel and faith—things that matter… things that bind us to the people we care
about… things that, likely, will still matter whatever happens on Tuesday.
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