My “Home Church” had a youth afterglow at a lake house this evening. It was fun. They played king of the canoe, had a slip-n-slide into the lake, and generally played and had fun. One thing that inevitably happens is a series of girls get thrown into the lake by a group of guys.

When I was a youth I dreamed of someone caring enough to throw me into the lake.

We dream so silly sometimes.

Home for a Nomad

Forever as I was growing up, home was where my parents lived. This changed frequently. I remember the time that I received my weekly phone call in Kenya, when my ‘rents let me know they would be moving. In essence my hometown moved while I was living somewhere else, and I had a new hometown for 5 months before I had ever seen the house.

So I have been wondering where home is now that I am an adult. Is it where I go to school? I don’t think I will live at home yet again after this round of school (at least, that is not in my plan, but I love the ‘rents, and wouldn’t mind it, but I need a change).

I talk to myself, and I called Durham home today while I was ranting to myself. So, has NC become home? perhaps. It is where  many of my friends are, (well… not most of them right this instant, but it’s break). Perhaps home, for me, is where I am together with those whom I love, and who love me. And that’s enough, for now.

So, I am ready to get back home.

What Kind of Fruit Salad Are You?

I had the extraordinary chance to attend youth group at the church I served last summer. It was quite nice to be reminded of the effect I had on these kids. And nice also to remember that I was loved, and am still missed there.

They have hired an associate minister at the church, apparently I did enough work there that they decided to hire someone to do it year round… Sweet. She led her first youth group on the Fruit of the Spirit. But before she began the lesson, she had us go around and tell the group what fruit we would be and why. I’m not really good at doing stuff like that, so I quickly though of a fruit I like and is kinda exotic.

“Mango: the fruit is stuck to the seed, the skin is tough and soft at the same time, it’s sweet, and you always get messy eating it…” (I’m not really good at checking myself for double entendres, hopefully that was clean enough.)

Others were: strawberries, because the seed is on the outside. Granny Smith apple, good in a pie, and sweet and tart. And the leader’s was a mulberry: multifaceted and the silkworm eats the leaves.

With everyone thinking about that, she read out the Galatians passage about the Fruit of the Spirit, and said that we need to work on getting our fruit salad more diverse. Getting more of the Fruit of the Spirit in our lives. Not a bad idea, actually. And her challenge was to pick two of the fruit that we were not as strong at, not to overwhelm us, to give us a goal to reach towards.

The important thing about it is that one of my youth from last year was surprised with my choice, and said so, telling me the fruit he thought I would have chosen. And he chose better than I did. According to him, I’d be a pomegranate. And he is right. Which is scary.

Pomegranates are sweet, intense, tart, exotic, have good stuff that makes you healthy, are sectioned into parts that are all self contained, the seeds get stuck in your teeth, the juice can stain you (make a memorable effect), and I first heard of them in a story about Santa Claus. So I guess that’s pretty good.