I’ve been going to PT recently. It seems that as a result of lugging my heavy camera and computer gear around Swaziland, I’ve developed tendonitis in both elbows. In addition to the heat and cold and e-stim and other PT tricks, I’ve been given a number of exercises and stretches aimed at improving my posture and thus relieving stress on my arm muscles. I don’t mind the exercises—they’re pretty easy and relatively painless. But the stretches—they’re killing me! It seems I’m not as flexible as I used to be.
Sometimes (often!) I don’t think I’m a very good Christian.
- I don’t think Thomas Kinkade is a very good artist.
- I don’t like most of the music on our contemporary Christian radio station.
- I don’t read Christian romance stories.
I guess I’m just a rebel at heart. And that is only the beginning.
The Christmas decorations have been up in the stores for months, ads are playing on TV, and a suffocating feeling of being overwhelmed is beginning to engulf me. I feel like Scrooge. It’s not that I’m against Christmas—far from it—but I’m very much fed up with the commercialized substitute our culture feeds us. It makes me want to crawl under a rock and stay there until January.
Every year I rebel against spending money we don’t have, baking things I shouldn’t eat, and the self-imposed pressure to decorate the house—knowing I’ll have to put it all away again a few weeks later. Yet I eventually find myself doing all those things anyway.