Quick handiwork

One evening during spring break, bored, waiting for the bathtub to fill up with warm water and bubbles. 

"I have a message for you," he said. And flashed me his hand.

I laughed. He'd turned palm into smiley face, fingers into people. One wore a bottle-cap hat as they warred back and forth as far as his pinky could stretch.

"Now give me yours," he said. 

He drew. And just as I was about to snap a photo of my smiling hand, he waved his in my face.

"OK, that's enough, Mommy. Now take a picture of my tattoo before it comes off all the way in the water."

And moments later, after he slid into the tub, covered his hair in shampoo bubbles and lined his Lego Clone Troopers along the ledge at attention, most of it was already gone.

Click to read more ...

We call him Nicolas Cage Jesus

There are many portraits of the Son of God hanging in my grandmother's house. My grandfather was a Methodist minister who came out of retirement several times to return to the pulpit at churches in need. It's a home where there's always grace before a meal and sunrise service on Easter really happens at sunrise. 

But ever since my brother whispered to me across the expansive dining room table during a family reunion or holiday meal in a way that was intended to sound nonchalant but was so purposeful he almost did a spit=take laughing at himself, "Oh, so you're checking out Nicolas Cage Jesus? Think he's hot?", I can't stop looking at this one painting.

Even before we walk in the door and kiss our hellos, before we pull into the pine cone-strewn driveway, before we turn on to the winding drive named after a prince, before we exit the highway that stretches out over endless flat miles dotted with turbines every few-hundred feet, I am thinking about Nicolas Cage Jesus.

Don't let it offend you. Seeing this vision of "Snake Eyes" may have brought us closer to the Lord. And most images of Christ do depict his flowing locks. They just aren't focused or close up enough to reveal whether that hair is really plugs.

Obviously, this is facelift/weird moustache Nic Cage. Pre-action hero, pre-gnarly "Face/Off" repulsion, pre-SNL "Jeopardy" mockery. I like to think it's somewhere in between "Moonstruck" Cher-passion and slicked-back "Family Man." This Jesus is really "City of Angels" to me. At least in spirit. 

Just take a look at Nicolas Cage's filmography and you will see that his career is expansive. But maybe, just maybe, he's showing up all those Coppolas after all. Maybe Nicolas Cage star does shine a little brighter than the rusty one on Hollywood Boulevard. 

I'm not saying the actor IS a savior of any kind. But I am saying, I could take my Jesus having a bit of a growl and smirk spread across that five-o'clock shadow.

Judge ye at ye will but I think the comparison's pretty (sorry for this) dead on:

Click to read more ...

What I see when I look down

Sometimes seeing us just a few feet from where we stand is enough to stop me from my fast-paced, click-click-click rush down the street. It's enough to make me overwhelmed at how fast he's growing, how long his legs look, even after calculating the difference of the exaggerated shadows. It makes me heart pound to remember when I carried him on my chest, then hip, then back and shoulders, making us look like an unrecognizeably merged, amorphous person outlined in black on concrete. Now we are decidedly two, independent shapes, only my purse clinging to my leg. Still, still...look at him. Reaching up and past me so fast and with such fire that I am left standing still.

Click to read more ...