I heard the tune over the noise of the crowds. It was thin, clearly coming from the speaker of a cheap car radio. But it didn’t fit, because what radio station on earth would play such an old song?
The words filtered through years of memories and suddenly I found them on my lips.
How fitting that Tax Day falls between Good Friday and Easter.
The day our accounts are investigated and the burden of our debt is weighed makes many of us worry about paying off what we owe while others grumble about the authority that demands payment. That day when “each of us will give an account of himself to God.” (Romans 14:12)
We are a culture that has to have it all: all the intensity, all the feels, all the best.
We vote small town folk into superstar status. Everyone gets to be a hero -- just check YouTube for the most recent. We vie for rankings that supersede normal reckoning -- remember how a 4.0 used to be the best GPA possible? And let’s not forget the Big Mac is now considered average.
A few days ago I was lunching with a friend, a fellow director of student plays, and we were discussing her most recent production, a musical version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Have you ever seen Zorb Soccer being played? It’s a crazy game where the participants are actually encased in huge bubble suits -- the game is often referred to as Bubble Soccer. You can’t even call them suits because they’re just these massive, clear, plastic, blown-up balls with a pocket in the center just the right size for a human to crawl into, leaving their lower body exposed and their legs able to move.
I'll give you a minute to watch the clip below.
PC: Matt Cardy/Getty Images
Neat little packages.
That’s how we like most of our lives to be stored. Tied up with a bow. Predictable. No surprises.
Every genre has a hit song that glorifies abandoning the drudgery or difficulties of life and fleeing to worry-free days. Popular movies touch on the theme, vivid images stirring up our yearning for another life. And not just in our current culture: Conjure up that mental clip of Sister Maria shedding her habit for her native dress, running through the fields, arms flung wide, singing about being alive to the purity of the music of the hills.
Twice now our family has moved into a home that, although it was vacated by the previous owners, it remained full of their stuff.
Remember when you were little how the passage of time seemed to move so excruciatingly slowly? If you've got the voices of little ones around you now, this may doubly resonate with you.
"Then the lion said--but I don’t know if it spoke--You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know--if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away."
"I know exactly what you mean," said Edmund.
Laura England Miller