Summer Reading List

Including post-planning days, we only have 18 days left in our countdown to summer.  This is the first summer that Josh and I will both be at home together and we’re terribly excited at the prospect of having three entire months of Saturday-morning-don’t-rush-let’s-make-French-press-coffee feelings.  We’ve dubbed this holiday the Summer of Weddings because we have five between now and October!  We’ve also decided that this will be the summer of books–here’s what we’re reading:

Her {a strange amalgamation of classics, paranormal tween fiction [not proud!], and non-fiction political manifestos}:

Him {Teddy Roosevelt biographies, survival manuals, football, and more Teddy Roosevelt biographies}:

What will you be reading this summer?  Do you have any suggestions?

 

Advertisements

Rock On, Mullet Man…

We’re celebrating Spring Break with a lovely, lazy time in North Carolina.  We’ve eaten out far too much, reconnected with old friends, and lounged about in our pajamas until a shockingly alarming time of day.  Frankly, we needed the rest and the relaxation has been a welcome change to our schedule.

On Thursday, we attended a Carolina Hurricanes game {match?}.  I’m not one for crowds and I also don’t really understand hockey, but I never really mind attending sporting events as long as I can sneak a book into my purse.  Josh caught me this time and insisted that I leave my book at home.  Instead of delving into Coulter’s latest, I was forced to pursue another passion:  people watching.

Do you people watch?  It’s a wonderful pastime and one of the many reasons I prefer flying over traveling via automobile.  Airports and train stations are frightfully packed with people bustling about, never noticing that I’m observing them from my terminal.  Though I’d never dream of approaching someone I consider a stranger, it’s rather fun to imagine where they come from, what they do for a living, and who they love.

Upon entering the PNC Arena, by eyes immediately latched onto my first victim:  a middle-aged man with a greasy mullet that actually went the extra mile by being a bald-in-the-front-party-in-the-back kind of ‘do.  Judgement immediately pooled in my brain.  The Lord chose that exact minute slather conviction on my heart.

Who are YOU to judge a creature I made lovingly in my image?

My heavens, I declare I nearly burst into tears.  I think conviction is taken to a whole other level in the South because you not only feel the weight of the Lord upon your heart.  You also know you’ve probably disappointed your Grandmother, former Sunday School teacher, and quite possibly Andy Griffith in the process.

It dawned on me that I’m guilty of judging dozens of people each day.  And it’s wrong.

I told Josh right in the middle of the PNC Arena that I was done.  No more laughing at the appearances of others, no more judging extenuating circumstances–in a whole, I’m going to train my flesh not to seek to judge others at all.  Instead, I’ll offer a smile, a helping hand, or even a hug.  The world will certainly be a better place with one less person passing judgement on others.

To the man with the mullet at PNC Arena:  I’ll never know your name or even cross paths with you at the market.  Please accept my humblest apologies for judging you.  Rock on, Mullet Man.  Rock on.