Revoluntionary Smarts

Who is the smartest person you know?

When I was five, I probably would have said my dad or my mom. Close to 20 years later, I am aware that while they are incredibly smart people, they are not the smartest I know.

Junior high and high school introduced me to a world of scientist, philosophers, and writers who at one time or other where probably the smartest people I could name--Einstein, Thoreau, Faulkner, MLK, Steven Hawking, Plato, Socrates, Leonardo, so on and so forth.

College introduced professors, modern and post-modern thinkers, theologians, socialists, etc.

But now, right now, today, who is the smartest person I know or know of?

I want to entertain what, as I read it last night, was a revolutionary idea for me--though I can't get past the fact that it shouldn't be so revolutionary. It makes perfect sense.

The smartest person I know is Jesus. The smartest man to ever walk this earth was Jesus--Rabboni as those closest to him knew him.

Currently Ike and I are walking our way through The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard and discussing Willard's radical (and yet somehow not quite so radical) theories of Christianity. As I read last night, I was hit over the head with the idea that Jesus really is smart.

He knew how to change molecular structure to turn common H2O to wine. He knew the ultimate antibodies for any disease. He could literally create matter from energy. "He knew how to suspend gravity, interrupt weather patterns, and eliminate unfruitful trees without ax or saw." Ethically, his understanding of life has influenced the world more than any man prior to him and any after. "And one of the greatest testimonies to his intelligence is surely that the knew how to enter physical death, actually to die, and then live on beyond death. He seized death by the throat and defeated it. Forget cryonics!"

What convicts me is this: how can I say that "Jesus is Lord" but not believe that Jesus is also smart? What teacher do I need besides Jesus who fully embodied God in his mortal flesh?

I am convicted that so often I find myself being a Beth Moore disciple, a Steven Covey disciple, a Tony Campolo disciple (insert any name of any teacher--big name or not, Christian or not). All of these people are wonderful teachers whom God has blessed with great talents. Yet I am convicted that Jesus, the smartest man ever, should always be my first and primary teacher. I need to be a disciple--radical follower--of Christ and Christ only. When Jesus is truly my Rabboni, then the truths spoken by other "lesser" teachers more fully enrich what Jesus teaches me.

Not long ago, I was impacted by the image of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb as told by John. When Mary recognized Jesus, "she turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, 'Rabboni!' (which means 'Teacher'). Jesus said, 'Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father...'" (John 20:16-17).

Did you catch that? Did you catch the intimacy between Mary and her Jesus, her "Rabboni"? Mary's first response to this Jesus who she loved, this tender-hearted Jesus who had loved her in her lowest moment, was to reach out to embrace him. She knew Jesus intimately. That is the Teacher I desire. I desire to know Jesus as Mary knew him. Not as Messiah, Christ, Lamb of God, Lord of Lords--though he certainly is all those things. But as Jesus, my Rabboni, who is intimately known by me and I am intimately known by him. My perfect, most intelligent, teacher.

What's the saying? When it rains, it pours?

I really feel that saying today. Recently my '99 Chevy Blazer decided that it was tired. In being tired, he decided to rebel totally in order meet that felt need.

It began a few months ago when my driver's side door literally fell off. With the door hanging only from the bottom hinge, Emily and I bungied the door to the driver's seat and drove to Mackin's Auto Body. Apparently this is a common problem (though I had never heard of it happening) for trucks and SUVs.

A few weeks after getting my car back, I came outside to find the rear passenger's side tire completely flat. Tire completely damaged, cannot be prepared. New set of tires. In the midst of getting the new tires and getting them aligned, Les Schwab discovered that two parts were missing. Just missing. Apparently not a huge problem because they let me drive until the parts came in.

In the midst of the tire fiasco, my windshield got a huge crack in it. New windshield.

Then last night I noticed that my brakes were making a funny noise and were taking longer to stop the car. Mental note: Make time to get the brakes checked. Might have even done it this afternoon or tomorrow if my front bumper had not become so intimate with the rear bumper of a Toyota Tacoma.

I was on my way to pick up Alasha from work who, ironically, had gotten in a wreck about a week ago, leaving the Maxwell's carless. The Tacoma was stopped, blinker on, waiting to make a left-hand turn. I applied my brakes, shoved my foot to the floor, and between faulty brakes and wet roads slid right under him.

I tried to put the car in reverse and pull us apart so we could move to the side of the road. Didn't work. We were stuck together. It took the tow-truck guy about 45 minutes to pull us apart.

Driver of the Tacoma: 15-year-old Josh, Mom in the passenger seat. Poor kid. Not something you want to happen after you just finish driving school. They were incredibly nice about the whole thing. They live in Northeast Portland, as well, and attend Beaverton Four-Square Church. Of all the people I could have crashed into, I crashed into a couple of Christians (honestly not the most likely scenario in Portland). By the end of the whole messy scene, we were all standing around laughing. The tow-truck guy even commented that we were probably some of the happiest people after a wreck that he had ever seen.

We are all fine. Some soreness, but fine. My car is now back at Mackin's Auto Body (who I highly recommend, by the way). It drives fine--with the exception of the brakes--and hopefully has only cosmetic damage. We'll see...

Now feels like the time that I should "curse God and die" per the advice of Job's wife. The attacks on my car have been in conjunction with myriad attacks in other areas of my life. A lot of me says "I'm done," just done and ready to head Home--the heavenly home that is. But right now, I'm laughing. I think it is incredibly funny! After all its just a possession, and if piece by piece destroying my car is all the Enemy can muster, than Bring it on! What doesn't kill you makes you stronger is another saying I know. And I think somewhere I heard something about learning to be content in all circumstances and doing all things through Christ who strengthens me--check out Philippians.

In my laughter, I do ask for prayers. Pray for Josh and his Mom Michelle. I know this shook him up, and I saw some glimpses of some rougher things that are going on for them. Pray for an end to the attacks on myself and many others at PUMP who have had a lot of similar things happening. Pray for me to keep laughing and for joy to come in the midst of trial. Thanks!

Still Single

I was reading an article on ChristianityToday.com when I came across the following quote from a message delivered to a group of singles at a Joshua Harris New Attitude Conference in 2004:

I'm going to speak of the sin that I think besets this generation. It is the sin of delaying marriage as a lifestyle option among those who intend someday to get married, but they just haven't yet. … In heaven, is the crucible of our saint-making going to have been through our jobs? I don't think so. The Scripture makes clear that it will be done largely through our marriages. The longer you wait to get married, the more habits and lifestyle patterns you will have that will be difficult to handle in marriage. … If you're seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, or in your early twenties—what are you waiting for? -- Dr. Al Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary

He went on to say that some are delaying marriage so that they can put their careers first or so sow their oats. As the author of the article eloquentlytly put it, "I don't know if I even have oats!"

To quote Bridget Jones when asked why their are so many single, working women these days, "I guess it doesn't help that under our clothes are entire bodies are covered in scales."

And this seems to be the attitude that our seminaries, other learning institutions, churches, and society in general take to explaining the emerging phenomenon of singledom. There must be something wrong with them. Though I have to admit that I believe society in general is doing a much better job at embracing singles than the church is doing. Hollywood and the publishing industry have done a great job at celebrating the single life through such TV shows, films and books as Friends, Sex and the City and Bridget Jones' Diary. It seems that society loves the idea and "freedom" of the single life.

However, while I appreciate and applaud the efforts to embrace singledom by society, I am left questioning and yearning for guidance of how I, someone with values and faith, live out the single life. The freedom of casual dating and sex, the materialism, tflagrantadisregardard for most things sacred, is not something that I can readily catch hold of. I long for the Church to step forward and take an active role in shaping me as a woman of God and a single. But instead I often run into walls like Dr. Mohler who seem to believe that sin or something just being wrong with me is the reason that I am not living the full life I was meant to live in God, i.e. marriage and family.

During a recent perusal of a well noted seminary's catalogue, I came across a class entitled "Ministry to Singles and Senior Adults." I hardly need tell you how offended I was. Really to honestly say that the lives of singles and senior adults are so similar that they should be lumped into one class? Or is the more subtle meaning "We haven't really figured out what to do with these two populations in the church so we're just going to through them together in one class"? I guess they couldn't really title it "Ministry to Outcast Populations in the Church" or "Ministry to the 'It's not so important to minister to' Populations".

Do I necessarily want to be single? Well, my answer is both yes and no. I look forward to what may lie ahead for me through marriage and a family. I want to understand Christ's love for the Church more clearly by understanding my husband's love for me. I want to understand God's love for me more clearly by knowing the intimate love of a husband and wife. BUT right now God is using my singleness to His glory, increasing the ministry He's given me, blessing me to know and understand myself better, and leading me to new and exciting paths in life. All of these things make me thank God that I am single and only have to deal with my own issues let alone someone else's.

I fear for the singledom crowd as more and more leave the Church because they cannot find a niche, because they feel isolated, because they continue in pressured expectations to find Mr. or Mrs. Right, etc. It's time that the Church truly begins to embrace singles and let aside old feelings that there must be something wrong with you if you are 24, 28, 34, etc. and still single.
We need the love, the hope, and the family!

Just for today...

Hook 'em Horns!

Go Big 12!

Just Showed Up
by Sara Groves and Joel Hanson

Spending my time sleep walking
Moving my mouth but not saying a thing
Hoping the changes would take by working their way from the outside in
I was in love with an idea
Preoccupied with how a life should appear
Spending my time at the surface repairing the holes in the shiny veneer

There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real

And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright

I'm going to live my life inspired
Look for the holy in the common place
Open the windows and feel all that's honest and real until I'm truly amazed
I'm going to feel all my emotions
I'm going to look you in the eyes
I'm going to listen and hear until it's finally clear and it changes our lives

There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real

And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright

Oh the glory of God is man fully alive
Oh the glory of God is man fully alive

There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny what is real

And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright

Are you sure this is ESPN?

I thought that I must be dreaming, but I wasn't. The top story on my ESPN newsreader was titled "A Testament to Faith." Is this the right newsreader? Is this ESPN? Let me check, okay, yeah it is. Okay, "click." Must read this.

What I found was a beautiful story about the John Curtis football team--the high school team who won this year's Louisiana class 2A state championship. You can read this article here, and I highly encourage you to do so. The entire story is told through Psalm 127 and is the story of a group of coaches and young men who lived inspired lives over the last season as they and their families sorted through the shattered mess of their New Orleans home.

The End of the Tube

It has finally happened. My television set has finally died.

I can't decide if this is a tragic moment in which my life will be drastically deprived of the entertainment I so dearly love or a moment to rejoice in which I will be forced to pick-up that book that I have been meaning to read, spend some more time journaling or reading the Word, or spend some time simply being still and drinking in the prescence of God.

Hmmm, second option seems most appealing, but then I must be honest with myself that while I love being alone I also love to distract myself from the fact that I am alone. Droning hours without ER, Grey's Anatomy, and Survivor might be overwhelming.

Realistically, I am not without entertainment. The instrument which I currently use to share this tragedy with you continues to provide endless hours of music, cinematic pleasures in form of DVDs, and pages upon pages of web-surfing. I will still have plenty of distractions to keep me from those tasks that might be more pressing and might ought to be the first things in my life.

This could be a great opportunity to purge the clutter from my life, i.e. old VHS tapes that I rarely watch but yet continue to sit collecting dust. Or I could save my pennies and dimes (how much does a TV cost these days anyway) and purchase a brand-spankin' new TV with all of the amenities.

Hmmm...could be crucial moment in life--choosing to let go of my addictions, i.e. old VHS tapes, ER, Grey's Anatomy, Survivor, college football, hockey (well, already gave that up with ESPN's decision not to carry NHL games this season and my own decision to discontinue the cable), etc.

Question: Am I a strong enough person to live without small screen medium?
Better question: What kind of person can God shape me into without the constant influence of the "idiot box" in my life? (Looked up "television" on Thesaurus.com. "Idiot box" actually is listed as a synonym for television.)

Stay tuned for scenes from next weeks episode--The Decision.

Thanks for a Generous Act

gen·er·os·i·ty (n.) pl. gen·er·os·i·ties

1. Liberality in giving or willingness to give
2. Nobility of thought or behavior; magnanimity.
3. Amplitude; abundance.
4. A generous act.

Provided by Dictionary.com

Generosity is the core virtue for the month of December in our PUMP children's classes. Each week of the month, we discuss a different attribute of generosity. Today as I assisted in classes, I thought over all the generosity that has been shown to me over the past week. Last month's core virtue was gratitude. So I thought I'd take this opportunity to show gratitude for the generosity that has been shown to me:

• Thank you Ike and Kaelea for including me in all the "festivities" of your preparation to leave for Africa.
• Thank you Jessica for giving up extra sleep/study time on Thursday mornings to hang out with me.
• Thank you Sybil for the tickets to the Steven Curtis Chapman/Mercy Me Christmas concert.
• Thank you Kristi for thinking of me to share the free tickets you got to the concert with me.
• Thank you Cheronn for the tickets to the Portland premier of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
• Thank you Jill and Jake for not being too put out with me when I went to see the movie without you. It won't be the same, I know, but I'd like to see it again with you when I'm in Lubbock.
• Thank you Mom and Dad for the care-package full of fun Christmas decorations.
• Thank you Emily for letting me rant and openly share where I am at, and thank you for calmly sharing Truth with me when I'm looking right past it.
• Thank you Emily, Steve, Alasha and Cheronn for taking care of me yesterday when I was sick.
• Thank you Markell for being part of our lives at PUMP. Thank You God for Markell's adoption!
• Thank you Steve, Alasha and Jonah for making me so much a part of your life here.
• Thank You God for making me fearfully and wonderfully and giving me a heart made to be filled only by You.

And for all of those wonderfully good and generous things that happened throughout the week that I have forgotten. Thank you for each one!

On the Operating Table

I have a fascination with medical shows. I have been an ER addict since the beginning. Of course there have been spurts when I kicked my habit, but like a good addict I always return.

My latest addiction is Grey's Anatomy--fast-paced, insightful yet witty, and full of twenty-somethings struggling with the same battles I face as a twenty-something, i.e. loneliness, not quite finding my niche, feeling perpetually caught in between what was and what is to come. I identify with these people and the lives they lead (except for the premarital sex).

This morning as Emily and I sat down to discuss Abba's Child, our latest textual conquest on our journey towards radical discipleship, my addiction helped me to put together a rather vivid word picture of where I currently am in my life:

In me there is a huge, gaping, bloody wound--a war wound if you will--a wound that has been bleeding for years. This wound causes me much grief, pain, and heartache--it is an emptiness within me. Over time I have stuffed the wound full of gauze as if doing triage on a battlefield. My strips of gauze are relationships, material possessions, past-times, etc., anything that provides a little bit of temporary relief and keeps the blood from pouring out. The gauze serves its purpose but does not serve it well.

This week one of those strips of cause that had been there for sometime, caked with dried blood, was removed. I can't begin to describe to you the pain of having it ripped off, tearing at the flesh and reopening the wound. But yet this is a reminder...

This is a reminder, incentive really, to get myself to the operating table. It's time, past time, to unpackage the wound, mend the insides, and close the wound. It's time for something beyond gauze. It's time for the Great Physician in all His glory to take scalpel in hand and fix the broken bits of me. It is time to let Him heal the wound, fill it with Himself, and carefully close it up.

On ER and Grey's when they tell a patient they have to have surgery, that patient never looks too excited. They never jump for joy at the thought of having their flesh cut open and human hands poking around their insides trying to fix the problem. That leads me to believe that I don't want to get to excited about surgery, even a metaphorical one, even when the Surgeon is God. But what the patients do get excited about is when they hear their is a 90% survival rate or they dream of what life will be like post-surgery. So I have no doubt that removing the rest of the gauze is going to hurt like duct-tape ripping the hair off your arms and that the surgery will be long and complicated, but the end result is grace and mercy and a Spirit-filled life--life how it was meant to be lived--as a child of God, an heir to His Kingdom.

Father, fill me with you. Fill my emptiness with You. Tear down the idols in my life. Rip away the addictions. Lead me to the place of brokenness, and in that place allow Your healing hands to go to work in my life. You are my hope, Lord, fill me.

"Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will really is. Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead be filled with the Spirit. Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thank to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:15-20

If that doesn't reach out and grab your heart strings, what will? 

In Rememberance

I've waited almost a week to post the following entry. I've been forming the words in my head with tender care. Last Thursday was my first Thanksgiving away from my family. It was also the first Thanksgiving since my grandmother passed away.



For me Thanksgiving is filled with memories of Grandma--from her famous cornbread dressing to card games to greasy wishbones filled with promise of the best wishes ever wished. Grandma was a daily fixture in my childhood. Rarely did a day pass without talking to her or at least hearing the latest gossip passed through my mother of the goings on in our church's senior adult ministry. We saw her at least three or four times a week and at most daily. The cranny's of mind are stuffed full of memories of Grandma.

The smallest things remind me of her--Vicks Vapor Rub, folded Kleenex, and cornbread. I could tell you many stories of my grandmother. I could tell you of the trials and triumphs of her 96 years. I could tell you of her truest and best love, my mother. I could tell you of a woman after God's heart.

Thank You, Father, for each moment we had to share.

As I think of my grandmother today, I also want to remember my friend Nicole, her daugthers and son. Nicole, I only met your mother once, but I knew through you and your girls the love that she had. Blessings to you, my friend, may God grip you tightly in His embrace.

Rent

Last night Kristi B., her mom, friend Tabitha, Emily and I went to see Rent. I have to say that I was very impressed with how faithful the movie was to the original Broadway musical, and not being confined to a stage, they were able to do some pretty amazing things with the set.

Rent is probably one of the most controversial musicals ever made, and the movie brought the controversy into full Techincolor. If you are feint of heart, I don't suggest that you go see this movie. However, if you want to be challenged to take a deeper look at society and love, then I highly recommend it.

The first time I saw the musical, it forced me to take a deep look at myself and how I love or don't love the "untouchables" of our society. I saw a message of love and grace portrayed that the Church needs to portray. I saw a drag queen do more to encourage others, promote love, and offer grace than I have probably done in my life time.

A huge message of the movie, even highlighted in one of the songs, is to "live for today." As Emily so aptly expressed following the movie (her first time seeing Rent), that is all they are living for is today. They love, but they have no hope of future glory--a hopeless existence.

I cannot help but be reminded of Peter's words, "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." (1 Peter 3:15) I pray that we would always be able to give answer for our hope and that we would be prepared to offer that hope to those who need love and grace so badly.

Pink Strikes Again

Pinkeye (also called conjunctivitis) is redness and swelling of the conjunctiva, the mucous membrane that lines the eyelid and eye surface. The lining of the eye is usually clear. If irritation or infection occurs, the lining becomes red and swollen. (source: WebMD)

I have not had Pinkeye since I was a little kid. Somehow, it is an infection that I associate with childhood, and I never thought it was possible to get it as an adult. I was wrong...

I have Pinkeye in both eyes, and I am sure it is just a matter of time until it spreads throughout the entire PUMP Church. Apparently it is viral and there is nothing you can do for it but to let it run its course--for the next 3-5 days! And of course it's highly contagious--good thing I don't mind spending loads of time by myself!

Thanks!

Some days are frightening and the task at hand is big. Some days you just know that no matter what is in your power to do, it's not enough. Some days you need God to be bigger than you. Some days you need God to help you live beyond who you actually are.

Today was one of those days for me.

And God was BIG!

Some days you just need to know that you are appreciated. Some days you need to know that others care for you. Some days you need to know that the church surrounding you is seeking to be like Him just as you are seeking to be like Him. Some days you need to cry, and some days you need others to pray over you in response to your tears--or maybe just 'cause they love you.

Today was one of those days for me.

And a lot of somebodies showed they loved and appreciated me!

To those of you who shared that extra love today, I thank you. You were a blessing to me on a day when I needed to be appreciated and a day when I needed God to be big.

And to those of you who need to be appreciated and need God to be big, He is BIG and I pray that someone shows you today that they appreciate you!

Need a Good Doctor?

Need a Good Doctor?: "Straight from Ike's blog to you. Let this make your day!"

Can't Deny it Anymore

Last week's highlights included a trip to Larch Mountain and Rascal Flatts in concert. That's right, Rascal Flatts with opening acts Blake Shelton and Keith Anderson.

Some of you are out there wondering, "Is it possible that Amanda Peterson went to a country concert? Is this the same hip-hop lovin', country hatin' girl I knew? Surely I have found the wrong blog. This must be another Amanda Peterson!"

I assure you that I am the same Texas gal who hated country music prior to moving to Oregon. However, something strange happened when I got to Oregon. I didn't hear country Music everywhere I turned.

The onslaught of steel guitars and deep twang of a country melody were left behind, and something strange happened. I actually began to miss it. I programmed Portland's two country radio stations on my car stereo presets. I began to listen to it more and more, call it homesickness if you will or maybe a nostalgia for the past. And now I genuinely love country music. I actually seek out the ballads that I used to hate. What is even scarier is that the more I listen to it, the more I relate to the songs and the more I discover that I am a Texan through and through. I can no longer deny my "hickish" tendencies.

Oh dear, what's ever to become of me!

Kidnapped

Yesterday I was kidnapped.

There I was having a jolly old day when along come my devious and yet ever so wonderful friends with a plot to destroy a carefully planned out day. Oh well.

Emily was the next to be kidnapped, and then the Grauls (my devious and yet ever so wonderful friends), Emily, Conor (Kristi's son who Kaelea watches in the afternoon), and I set off on an adventure full of winding roads and snowy tree-tops, after a stop off at Wendy's for some grub. (By the way, Ike and Kaelea, I think the second half of my chicken sandwich may still be in your van. Sooorrrry!)

When we reached our destination, Emily and I climbed out of the van in the midst of a winter wonderland. We each grabbed a hand of one of the little ones and set off up the trail to the very pinnacle of Larch Mountain where we had a glorious view of Mt. Hood, a somewhat foggy view of Mt. Saint Helens, and a view of the large cloud mass in front of Mt. Ranier. It was beautiful! Absolutely breath-taking! And breath-taking it was in the midst of snow fights and fruitless efforts to knock snow off near-by trees with heaps of snowballs as ammo.

I found rest up there on the mountain. A needed reprieve from the stresses of the world below. Thank you, Ike and Kaelea (Michal and Malachi, too) for sharing your afternoon with us and reminding me of the beauty God has formed, the joy of a snowball, and the needed rest of an afternoon with friends. I hope that I walked, or rather drove, or even yet rather slid, down the mountain with my head held a little higher. Next time, let's remember to bring a camera!

Why Microphones are from...

Tonight, the PUMP women went on an outing to Comedy Sportz Club--think Who's Line is it Anyway. All in all a fun evening, but knowing that it is an improve show, there is always danger lurking...

They at least had the decency to "ask" for volunteers, but not having ever learned the lesson "it's impolite to point," I promptly pointed out Kristi B. Didn't I know? Am I really so foolish to have also never learned the lesson that those who volunteer others get volunteered.

So I found myself on stage, hot lights beating down on me and the stairs of the crowd penetrating my very soul. Oh, the fear! I don't necessarily mind being on stage, BUT I am not an improve kind of girl. I have to prepare to be in front of a crowd. I need time to wrap my mind around the idea and to get myself organized. This was terrifying, so when I was asked to help off-stage, I quickly took the option not realizing I was headed for something far worse!

The improv game was based on sound effects. I was the sound-man. This meant a microphone. I do not like microphones. I am perfectly fine with my volume. I am boisterous enough as it is! Yet there I was, standing in front of a microphone with the cast telling me not to be afraid to really step up into it. Hello! Terrified of microphones! Not only do you want me to make sound effects into it (not my forte!), but you want me to practically put my mouth on it! Are you joking me!

I don't how long it lasted. I don't know what sound effects I made, though I know I did say "pop" and "bam" (terrible I know). I only know as soon as the skit was over, I made a b-line for my seat. I vaguely remember applause, and I received a coupon to get in free the next time I come. (Anyone want a free ticket?) This little coupon did come in handy as the full panic attack hit me once in my seat. Here I am fanning myself with the coupon, trying not to cry, and trying to return to some sort of comfort level. Classic!

I guess the important thing is I provided great amusement to my friends...

Nap time with Daddy! 

Super Hero Contemplation--Stick out the tongue and think hard about how to defeat those bad guys!