playing favorites, profanely.

church was amazing this weekend. sunday night, particularly, was a great example of why i love my job so much. i clicked through the power point adjustments i had to make and wrestled with my robe AT 250 color spot (lights) as the band sound checked, and they sounded so tight and amazing. it's lovely when sunday night comes around, and the volume gets to come up, the lights get to dim down, and my friends all flood in the doors. i know you're not supposed to have a favorite service. but i do.

after church was done, i connected with the high school kid that i know the best. funny thing is, i don't really know him. i know his mom. she's my queen volunteer, my superhero. and he was at the lake with rory last week, and his mom shared with me that he's been having a rough time, so my heart's been hurting for him. and for some reason, when i stopped to grab his arm, give him a squeeze, all sorts of teenage angst flooded out. i didn't really know (i don't really know) what to do with that kind of 16-year-old emoting - it's all hormonal and kind of fungusy - reminded me of a tornado. poor little soul, trapped in the body of a young man 3 inches taller than me, who i could probably wrestle to the ground. so much contradiction, wrapped up, so tightly.

not sure what came over me, but i decided to tell him the story of my 'profanity painting.' (i decided to give the story its own entry.) listening to him for 10 minutes, which doesn't come naturally to me, and then doing a little bit of talking, saying the f-word in church for theraputic purposes - all of these things are a bit out of the norm for me, but it was good stretching and you could tell that the kid just needed to get a little bit out, you know?