Sunday, November 16, 2008

How to Have a Good Sunday

1. Go to church.

Today was about all things heaven. I love it when things I've already been mulling over on my own are echoed from the pulpit/stage/screen. And when authors I respect are quoted by other authors I respect, all the while reaffirming things I know to be true.

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that much of my dissatisfaction with my earthly experience is a consequence of living in a broken world. To a degree, there will always be desire without fulfillment while I walk the dusty roads of life. Because I was made for something more. The Journey of Desire hit home for me years ago, just as Bruxy's sermon did today.

“We are homesick for Eden. We’re nostalgic for what is implanted in our hearts…We long for what the first man and woman once enjoyed- a perfect and beautiful Earth with free and untainted relationships with God…Every attempt at human progress has been an attempt to overcome what was lost in the Fall.”
- Randy Alcorn

2. Eat lunch.


I met two friends for lunch. The food was great, the service awkward and unspectacular, and the phrase "Oh, swell!" was blurted at the most appropriate time. Ah, dessert. Friends and food go together like Batman and Robin. (Except that no one is going to sue me for my dessert-with-girlfriends habit. Seriously, who would sue Batman?!)

3. Walk by the parade. Do not stop.

It was cold and blustery. So we did not slow down as we walked by the masses awaiting Santa Claus' float. I've decided that when I have children (assuming I do), I'll make a very big deal out of watching the parade on television. I'll even throw candy at them in the living room if it means I don't have to stand out in the snow.

4. Check out some art.



The AGO was free this weekend, as it was the grand reopening after the big Frank Gehry renovation. Honestly, part of my reason for going was just to be able to type that I've been in a Frank Gehry building. My aspirations in life are mind-blowing, are they not? Unfortunately, the showstopping spiral staircase was still under renovation. And I desperately wanted to walk it. But I play by the rules. Always. So I took the less impressive stairs. I navigated its massively impressive-yet-confusing-for-the-directionally-challenged layout with friends (three new ones, two old), a little intimidated by the Monets, Van Goghs, Warhols and Picassos. And the Peter Paul Rubens masterpiece The Massacre of the Innocents. Which was THE BIG DEAL of the gallery. Understandably.


I'm by no means an art connoisseur. But something sort of clicked while starring at all that genius. When you're 12 inches from a Renoir, you almost hear it daring you to do something of significance. To leave a legacy. And to make it beautiful.

2 comments:

hotmeteor said...

Pee-Wee's parents also aspired to such greatness with their artist-namesake son... alas, what an epically tragic tale.

nadine said...

So true. So tragic. And yet your comment made me laugh out loud. I probably need psychological help, still awkwardly tittering over the downfall of a childhood quasi-hero.

I'm just thankful that Pee-Wee did not seek redemption with a paintbrush.