There is a sign hanging over my desk that reads, "The little things in life often bring us the most joy." I believe that. And no where is this more clearly demonstrated than in my Thursday morning routine. Every Thursday, I take a trip to that restaurant close to God's heart and mine, Chick-fil-A. And it is there that I partake of my very own "miracle manna," the chicken biscuit. The description given on the Chick-fil-A website is this: " A breakfast portion of our famous boneless breast of chicken, seasoned to perfection, hand breaded, pressure cooked in peanut oil and served on a freshly baked buttermilk biscuit." I really feel like this description is superfluous...it could all be pared down to one word found in the text - perfection. There is nothing like starting your day with a chicken biscuit, although looking at the nutritional information might put a damper on the joy. And although another chain which shall remain nameless is attempting to imitate the miracle manna, I will never be swayed. My allegiance will remain true... 

                                                            

                                                               to thee, my freshly baked buttermilk biscuit.

     This Sunday we will be celebrating three of our own who are soon to leave the ranks of lowly high schoolers and join the ranks of "collegiates". Marianne, Amber, and Derek (whom I will affectionately refer to as MAD for short) will spread their wings and fly...Derek to Austin, and Marianne & hopefully Amber to UTPB. This is an exciting time. It is also a scary time. It is a time for weird hats, lots of pics, and most importantly, parties (for the record, it is the first one that is scary, the second one is a little of both, and the last one is all excitment!). The youth group cannot be excluded from these festivites. We will certainly be having a shindig of our very own. Sunday morning in Sunday School we will have a Cookie Cake. That's right, people. I said "Cookie Cake". We will then get to watch MAD be honored in the morning worship service and then view their graduate tables or, as Derek calls them, "shrines". Make sure you come to support three of my favorite seniors and yours!

                                        

Last night I went to Tiffany's dance recital. I love dance recitals. I have never been in dance...unless you count the dance competitions my family has been staging for years in the living room. Anyway, Tiffany does it all. She taps, she jazzes, she points, she hip-hops. And she does it all with a smile. It can't be easy to do that with 10 other girls swinging, swaying, kicking, leaping, and twirling less than 2 feet to the north, south, east, and west of you. It was just spectacular - even with the hot pink prison uniform! Good work, Tiff! You are our favorite dancer!

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

     

I love musicals. I love nuns. I love Austria. The sum of these things leads me to admit that I love The Sound of Music. I have been watching it since I was a little girl, although it was only once I entered my teens that I understood why the von Trapps were fleeing in the middle of the night, why Maria & the Captain's love story was so unusual (military man + nun = true love, this made perfect sense), and why "the flag with the spider" caused such trouble. What never has to make sense is that wonderful dance sequence between Liesl and Rolfe...in the garden? front yard? back yard? park? Oh well.

Here they are now - my childhood friends!
Front Row: Kurt (my friend Mel's crush; I personally found him very creepy), Marta (who wanted a pink parasol for her birthday), little Gretl, Brigitta (woof! hated that name as a child and still do).
Middle Row: Louisa (she was a jerk), Friedrich, and Liesl ("weeeeeee!!!!!!!!")
Back: She needs no introduction - Sister Maria

                                                                    

This movie still packs a punch. And although I have never seen a raindrop on a rose or ever been touched by the sight of a whisker on a kitten, I cannot deny that The Sound of Music is one of my favorite things.

Well, its that time again. That dreaded time. That time of the year when you are dragged to graduation after graduation to listen to speeches filled with gobbedly goop about life, love, and other mysteries that the speakers are obliged to pretend they have figured out. I spent last Saturday at the grad ceremony for LCU. It shouldn't have been that bad - shouldn't being the key word. There were only about 200 graduates...it felt like many, many more.

LCU made the graduates circle around the auditorium in figure 8's, going down through the middle of the aisles where all the professors stood in their velvet glory, skipping past the stands filled with adoring family members, and finally landing in their own seats. It was very much like a musical...minus the dancing, singing, and energy. The band there was awesome, though. They called themselves West Wind and apparently there were 2 requirements for membership: (1) You had to play a brass instrument (which is really ironic now that I think about their name) and (2) You had to be 80.

After 2 hours during which time I drifted in and out of consciousness, the moment we had all waited for arrived. And I do mean moment. My brother-in-law Kendell received his bachelor of science degree in nursing. With the diploma, he received yet another set of initials to put behind his name (Kendell Moore, LVN, RN, BSN) and a $0.50/hr. raise.

When my little siblings began moaning and questioning why we had to attend this graduation, why we have to attend this weekend's graduation of my cousin in Houston, and why in the course of their lives they will be forced to attend approximately 10 graduations (and this is just within our immediate family), this was the answer given: We are a family. This is what we do. We support each other. We love each other. We suffer for each other. And we do it with a smile.

Congrats, Kendell! And to all of you soon-to-be graduating seniors, go ahead and invite  me. My pain tolerance level is pretty high and getting higher all the time.