Sunday, March 31, 2013

Easter Sunday

"In him we live and move / and have our beans and rice and corn bread too", my dad sang during praise and worship service, spoofing the original ("and have our being") to make us laugh. I always thought he was funny, but my mom didn't, likely because she had heard his corny jokes for years. Dad was always warm and childish around kids. All the boys would laugh at him, and the girls were usually confused. Now that I'm as old as he was in my earliest memories I understand him better.

Dad always had broad shoulders and thick limbs from working construction. Due to his having a fever shortly after he was born, his respiratory system suffered, but through this he was taught and learned to physically take care of himself at a very early age. Despite his weakness, he earned a wrestling scholarship to a Minnesota university. He turned it down for Bible school, where, fortunately for me, he met my mom.

My mom's easy to write about; I'm emotionally very similarly to her. She was born an artist and will die one. Regardless of how many countries she and my father visit, administering humanitarian aide, she'll always find a time and place to dance.

"Make a joyful noise / sing unto the Lord / tell of all his love / and dance before him": sings the chorus of the song referred to above. In writing this now, I find it interesting how our parents directly or indirectly taught my siblings and me to praise God. Dad would help us "make a joyful noise", and we'd watch Mom dance.

I guess Mom's dancing made a larger impression on me. I'd still rather worship with my mouth closed and body moving, even if it's just a hand moving a pen over paper.