I finally have a television in my condo. My sister and parents joined forces with my birthday and Christmas to produce a nice new idiot rectangle. It's strange and comforting to have this thing flickering at me. Today I got off work early so I came home and fell asleep on the couch with the TV on. And the thing is, I left the TV on on purpose because I wanted to fall asleep to the quiet drone of whatever in the background, like a glowing, advertising lullaby.

Unfortunately, the remote that came with the set is the wrong one, so controlling the TV is a bit difficult. I ordered a new remote online and am eagerly awaiting its arrival, when finally, after days of suffering, I'll be able to skip between channels with abandon, and adjust and readjust settings to my heart's content.

In other news, Anna told me that she started seeing some Chinese guy from school. He's a Northwestern kid and non-Christian. Fantastic. Of course, he's from Connecticut or Vermont or somewhere, so he's not around for winter break, which leads to Anna saying that she'll go to EM's NYE party if I go with her. Gah, college kids.

I said maybe because I think I'm on call the next day and I may prefer to spend the night falling asleep to pictures of fireworks above my fireplace.

The smallest ones were the cutest, of course.


And one of the antlered ones kept prodding me from the pew behind.


At the end of a long night, BYG turned in one of their best performances ever. All it took was a little Korean and a no-frills script. Merry Christmas.

Rhea told me to buy stuff for the sake of my sanity. So I bought stuff. Apparently my sanity was desperately in need of shoes. It's also asking for a guitar and a new phone, but I think now it's just getting greedy.

Myung sent me a Christmas card. I guess it's a Christmas card. It's a card, and the word Christmas is on there, but believe me, it's a very tenuous connection. On the plus side, it's got a picture of two women and some salty language. I think I'm making it sound more inappropriate than it is. Although, coming from a youth pastor, I guess it is fairly inappropriate. Anyway, I'll never end a sentence with a preposition again.

I had my annual review a few weeks ago, and the program director told me that I'm doing ok. And he's going to make sure that no one gets fired this year. So that's a little bit of weight off my shoulders, but I'm still studying at Starbucks on my day off. I figure failing the ABSITE on my first attempt probably isn't the best thing for my sanity. I might have to console it with a gold-plated guitar in that case, and the shipping cost alone would be prohibitive.

There's a Christmas service later tonight. If all goes well, BYG is going to do a little skit that will be short and quickly forgotten in the overwhelming cuteness of the Sunday School kids mumbling/crying/picking their noses through Christmas songs. I think we're meeting early to practice. I should text Myung.

"When is the Christmas service at?"

"Don't end a sentence with a preposition."

"When is the Christmas service at, b----?"

Joyce wrote of the snow falling faintly upon all the living and the dead. It also happens to fall on the curiously in-between, those of us for whom "life" is a sepia-toned memory and "death" will have to wait like everything else.

Work goes up and down. It beats me up, takes my lunch money, gives me a giant wedgie, and then offers me some ice cream. Sometimes all it takes to make me feel better is a brief hallway commiserating session with another intern. Sometimes it takes a little more.

I drove out to a pre-retreat praise night for BYG on Friday. They are going to a multi-church semi-mega retreat this winter, and it was a chance for them to worship with some of the other churches that will be there. I think it was fine, but the music during praise time was ridiculously loud. And I felt ridiculously old.

Myung took Sharon and me out for dinner to celebrate our birthdays last weekend. And afterward, Myung and I met up with Bekah and Jon. I hadn't seen them since the summer, when Bekah went off to Syracuse and Jon was pulled away from BYG. I'd forgotten what good kids they are. Bekah was talking about her freshman year misadventures - funny, exciting, goofy, dumb - exactly what it should be, and Myung and I were beaming like proud parents.

Edmund can't make it to youth group for a few weeks, and this coming weekend is one of those rare ones where I know I'll have Sunday off, so I volunteered to lead praise. It's literally been years, but I figure, you know, as long as I'm loud...

The theme song for the retreat is called Alabaster Jar and I've been trying to learn it for this Sunday by listening to it on YouTube. The song is pretty simple, and it talks about pouring out costly perfume from an alabaster jar. Jesus says it was to prepare him for burial, a perfume for the dead poured on the living.

This alabaster jar
Is all I have of worth
I break it at Your feet, Lord
It's less than you deserve
You're far more beautiful
More precious than the oil
The sum of my desires
And the fullness of my joy

Here I am, take me
As an offering
Here I am, giving
Every heartbeat for Your glory
Take me