Where do I begin? I have never been so livid during and after watching a movie/documentary. Listo had recommended this movie to me and I was trying to put it off. I have been catching up on my movie viewing and I finally saw it, with both regret and thankfulness. I regret it because I am so angry but I am also thankful that I have an opportunity to tell about another side of being Pentecostal. I am filled with fear, anger and confusion.
Luke 18:16 - But Jesus called the children to Him and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." (NIV)
This verse clearly is demonstrative of God’s perception of children as innocent. So, their chances of going to Heaven are set. It is when we are old enough to make decisions, old enough to choose between right and wrong, developmentally able to understand the consequences of the evil we do, it is then, that we are held accountable and rightfully so.
The head of this Jesus Camp is a woman named Becky who scares the heck out of me, how much more a small, doe eyed, five year old? Her quotes are jaw dropping. “Bush has given Christianity credibility?” What!? She constantly spoke of the passion of radical Islamic children and how indoctrinated they are to be passionate for the cause and how Christian children should be just as passionate.
Children are passionate about Xbox, Barbies,Pokeman . It is a rare thing when a child is set off to minister. I do believe it occurs but it is something that is not seen very often. Jesus Christ preached at the temple when He was twelve but He, after all, is Christ.
There were so many things that set me off as a Christian, a mother, a grandmother, a teacher both in School and in Sunday school about this movie. Levi is a boy featured in this documentary and he just grew on me, mullet and all. His mother home schools him and there is a scene where she is yelling and asking him. “What are you going to say when your teacher says evolution is stupid!?” He is meant to have a quick fire answer, filled with intellect and profound in spirituality, an answer that will change the life of his teacher. No pressure. If I were him I would have answered, “I’d be shocked because you’re my teacher.” But I’m just a smart aleck.
Let the child be!
That's my short review of this documentary
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
I Tag Anyone who reads this
My Autobiography-Prologue-
1. Where did you take/get your default pic? No Default pic yet.
2. Exactly what are you wearing now? black yoga pants and an aqua pullover
3. What is your current problem? Getting all my medical stuff in order
4. What makes you most happy? God, my hubby and my girls and my grandson
5. What's the name of the song that you're listening to? Dont ask me why but the song from South Pacific is ringing in my head "There is Nothing Like A Dame." LOL
6. Has anyone you've been really close with passed away? yes
7. Do you like MTV? Not since I've grown up
8. Name something that annoys you about people: Their obnoxious use of cellphones! I don't need to hear their conversations and I don't like getting interrupted 10x during a conversation because they have to answer their cellphones!!!
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Chapter 1.
1.First name:Debra
2. Nickname(s):Mostly Debbie but it depends almost everyone has their own nickname for me
3. Current location: home/ Dining room
4. Eye color:Brown
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Chapter 2:
Family...
1. Do you live with your parent(s)?No
2. Do you get along with your parent(s)?yes, now I do, again because I've grown up
3. Are your parents married/separated/divorced? My father passed away in 1980 and my mom lives alone in Columbus, Ohio
4. Do you have any Siblings? I have 2 sisters and 1 brother and some step siblings but are they still considered sibling after a divorce
Chapter 3
Favorites...
1. Ice Cream: Carvel, vanilla with rainbow sprinkles
2. Season: Spring and Fall
3.Color(s): Greens and blues and purples (Ha! like a bruise)
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Chapter 4
Do You..
1. Write on your hand? I use to do it all the time,not anymore
2. Call people back? yes as soon as I remember
3. Believe in love? yes
4. Sleep on a certain side of the bed? yes
5. Have any bad habits? Heck yeah!
6. Any mental health issues? who doesn't?
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Chapter 5
Have You...
1. Broken a bone? never
2. Sprained stuff? my ankle
3. Had physical therapy? no
4. Gotten stitches? yes...many
5. Taken pain killers? you betcha!
6. Gone SCUBA diving or snorkeling? I'm Puerto Rican we rarely scuba dive or snorkel
7. Been stung by a bee? no
8. Thrown up at the dentist's office? no
9. Sworn in front of your parents? yes and paid for it dearly LOL
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Chapter 6
Who/What was the last...
1. Movie you saw? Eagle Eye
2. Person to text you? Pastor Gaspar to give me a phone number
3. Person you called? My insurance company
4. Person to tackle you? my hubby
5. Thing you touched? the keyboard
6. Thing you ate? I've only drank coffee this morning
7. Thing you said? "What time will you be home today, Angie?"
8. Had a detention? Yeah LOL crazy
9. Been sent to the principals office? yes
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Rejection
I think the reason why I haven't sent out my book again is because I have no feedback. I am so insecure about my writing. I need constant "okays", otherwise I feel like I am doing something I horribly wrong and I imagine that when my book lands in the hands of a publisher, he/she will call everyone into thier office and the publisher will read a couple of my paragraphs and have a great laugh ending with the publisher sighing in aggravation, "Everyone thinks they can write" and then he/she will toss my book into the wastepaper basket, followed by a styrofoam coffee cup holding a small amount of coffee in it. The remains of the beverage will roll onto the book, smearing it's title. The book will lay in the wastepaper basket in a totally pathetic and undignified position until the janitor picks it up at the end of the day.
He will be intrigued and will sit to read it. He will grab the cloth rag hanging on the side of his maintenance workers uniform. He'll wipe the coffee off of the title page, look around to make sure no one spots him slacking off then he'll sit on the plush, leather publisher's chair and begin to read but he'll become quickly bored and say, with a smirk on his face, "Everyone thinks they can write."
Then he'll reach into the bottom of his cleaning cart and take out a stack of copied paper enclosed in a manila envelope. It is his book titled, "Maintaining my life". He will place it on the top of the pile of manuscripts, on the publishers desk.
The next morning the publisher will it up and begin to read it. He will be totally entranced and riveted by the book and will call his assistant to find the author of the book. The assistant willnod in obedience and rush out of the office to perform the task of tracking down the writer. The publisher will then smile like a cheshire cat and will be pleased that he has the next best seller in his possession.
Monday, March 19, 2007
There are so many things that I have forgotten lately and then there are things that stand out in my memory.
Things like; My first kiss. My first love and the first time I met my friends. I remember my dad sleeping on the sofa and my mom sitting beside him while I was lying down on the cold linoleum covered floor. I must have been three or four. I had a Bic pen in my hand and was very excited about it. I smelled the Bic and stared at the ink and the small bubble surfacing in the clear plastic tube. I had a newspaper before me. It was open and I had circled all the letter A's I could find. I knew it was the letter A but I did not know how to read. There were so many A's! It seemed as if every word needed an A. I soon gave up and started to look for other letters.
It must have been summer because the coolness of the linoleum felt refreshing. I had nothing on but my shorts and my hair was wild. I looked like one of those sponsored children on TV sans the flies circling around me.
I have an older brother and sister but I do not know where they are in this memory. In my memory everything is gray; my mother's housecoat, the sofas and the stained wallpaper. If I were able to travel through time and I stand in that room I could tell you that there was a sadness in the room but not for the little girl in the room, she was oblivious to those feelings and lost in her world of letters.
How do I know that? How do I know for sure that my mother and father were not happy if I was oblivious? They say, a child can see and feel things that others can't? But then why was I not concerned?
Another memory is a dark green telephone on the table in front of me in Ms. Blumsteins class. It is a huge and intimidating piece of equipment and when I pick it up the reciever is very heavy. It is kindergarten and we are learning how to use a phone. We are supposed to know our phone number and address. My teacher, Ms. Blumstein, had assigned the class to memorize both. Ms Blumstein was tall and skinny and wore a really tight bun. She wore long skirts and seemed nice but I was frightened of her anyway. She was going around the room and asking us to recite our address and dial our phone number. We had to announce our home number before dialing. I was so scared of forgetting when it was my turn so I kept saying the number under my breath so when I was called I would know it. It must have been traumatic for me because I still remember the number. It was 633-3966 but I don't remember what I wore yesterday. Too funny. Anyway, in my memory, it was difficult for me to dial the numbers my fingers kept slipping. It was very hard to pull the rotary dial with my small fingers. For a very long time I had a recurring dream that I needed to make a phone call. It was a life or death csituation but every time that I was almost done dialing, my finger slipped and I had to redial again and would become inpatient, frightened and anxious when the highest number took forever to dial. I would wait for the familiar click before dialing the next number. It seemed to take forever. Those dreams ended when touch tone was invented.
I remember snack time in kindergarten and assembly. I remember the smell of tempura paint. A smell I still find comforting today when I walk into a classroom. I remember Elmer's paste and how I had to unscrew the top which was connected to a wand and that wand was what you used to apply the paint on the surface you wished to adhere. I remember how tasty the paste looked but I never tasted it, unlike my classmate Barbara who ate paste and crayons. I also remember always feeling as if I was outside of my body when I was little as if I was on the outside looking in and I wonder why that is. Nothing much to this blog entry but my rambling about things I remember there are lots more memories but I am getting tired. It is twelve midnight and I should start trying to sleep and maybe if I close my eyes and relish in my memories I could have a restful slumber.
Things like; My first kiss. My first love and the first time I met my friends. I remember my dad sleeping on the sofa and my mom sitting beside him while I was lying down on the cold linoleum covered floor. I must have been three or four. I had a Bic pen in my hand and was very excited about it. I smelled the Bic and stared at the ink and the small bubble surfacing in the clear plastic tube. I had a newspaper before me. It was open and I had circled all the letter A's I could find. I knew it was the letter A but I did not know how to read. There were so many A's! It seemed as if every word needed an A. I soon gave up and started to look for other letters.
It must have been summer because the coolness of the linoleum felt refreshing. I had nothing on but my shorts and my hair was wild. I looked like one of those sponsored children on TV sans the flies circling around me.
I have an older brother and sister but I do not know where they are in this memory. In my memory everything is gray; my mother's housecoat, the sofas and the stained wallpaper. If I were able to travel through time and I stand in that room I could tell you that there was a sadness in the room but not for the little girl in the room, she was oblivious to those feelings and lost in her world of letters.
How do I know that? How do I know for sure that my mother and father were not happy if I was oblivious? They say, a child can see and feel things that others can't? But then why was I not concerned?
Another memory is a dark green telephone on the table in front of me in Ms. Blumsteins class. It is a huge and intimidating piece of equipment and when I pick it up the reciever is very heavy. It is kindergarten and we are learning how to use a phone. We are supposed to know our phone number and address. My teacher, Ms. Blumstein, had assigned the class to memorize both. Ms Blumstein was tall and skinny and wore a really tight bun. She wore long skirts and seemed nice but I was frightened of her anyway. She was going around the room and asking us to recite our address and dial our phone number. We had to announce our home number before dialing. I was so scared of forgetting when it was my turn so I kept saying the number under my breath so when I was called I would know it. It must have been traumatic for me because I still remember the number. It was 633-3966 but I don't remember what I wore yesterday. Too funny. Anyway, in my memory, it was difficult for me to dial the numbers my fingers kept slipping. It was very hard to pull the rotary dial with my small fingers. For a very long time I had a recurring dream that I needed to make a phone call. It was a life or death csituation but every time that I was almost done dialing, my finger slipped and I had to redial again and would become inpatient, frightened and anxious when the highest number took forever to dial. I would wait for the familiar click before dialing the next number. It seemed to take forever. Those dreams ended when touch tone was invented.
I remember snack time in kindergarten and assembly. I remember the smell of tempura paint. A smell I still find comforting today when I walk into a classroom. I remember Elmer's paste and how I had to unscrew the top which was connected to a wand and that wand was what you used to apply the paint on the surface you wished to adhere. I remember how tasty the paste looked but I never tasted it, unlike my classmate Barbara who ate paste and crayons. I also remember always feeling as if I was outside of my body when I was little as if I was on the outside looking in and I wonder why that is. Nothing much to this blog entry but my rambling about things I remember there are lots more memories but I am getting tired. It is twelve midnight and I should start trying to sleep and maybe if I close my eyes and relish in my memories I could have a restful slumber.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Insomnia
Last night I couldn't sleep so at about two in the morning I took three Advil PM's and my other meds and tried to sleep. Hubby was sound asleep and his snoring mocked me. I look over at him and his mouth is wide open and I think "Gee, I love this big pain in the butt." I get closer to him and smell his shirt, it's a cozy familiar smell that makes me feel secure. He moves a bit and with his eyes closed he pulls me over to him and I pull away because I'm not ready to sleep yet.
The wind is moving the curtains in my room and the breeze feels cool at first but then it gets too cold and I get up and put a sweatshirt on but I'm still cold. I get closer to hubby and put my cold feet on his very warm feet and they feel better but I am still cold. I look at the clock it is close to three. I close my eyes tight and try to keep my mind at ease, try to avoid thinking too much . I fall asleep.
After a while the familiar feeling is rising in my esophagus and I quickly get up. I'm choking again. I run to the bathroom and try to vomit. I wash up and go back to bed and try no to fall asleep because I will choke again if I lie down. I sit up and eventually fall asleep with 4 pillows behind me.
The phone rings at 10:30 this morning the Advil Pm is still in affect. I pick up the phone and it's a friend I havent spoken to in a while.
Hello
Hey
Who's this?
Has it been so many years you don't recognize my voice?
(I recognize her voice)
I hang up, turn and go back to sleep. I don't care.
She'll call back and I'll tell her I was too sleepy to talk.
I can't go back to sleep because I feel guilty that I hung up on her.
The wind is moving the curtains in my room and the breeze feels cool at first but then it gets too cold and I get up and put a sweatshirt on but I'm still cold. I get closer to hubby and put my cold feet on his very warm feet and they feel better but I am still cold. I look at the clock it is close to three. I close my eyes tight and try to keep my mind at ease, try to avoid thinking too much . I fall asleep.
After a while the familiar feeling is rising in my esophagus and I quickly get up. I'm choking again. I run to the bathroom and try to vomit. I wash up and go back to bed and try no to fall asleep because I will choke again if I lie down. I sit up and eventually fall asleep with 4 pillows behind me.
The phone rings at 10:30 this morning the Advil Pm is still in affect. I pick up the phone and it's a friend I havent spoken to in a while.
Hello
Hey
Who's this?
Has it been so many years you don't recognize my voice?
(I recognize her voice)
I hang up, turn and go back to sleep. I don't care.
She'll call back and I'll tell her I was too sleepy to talk.
I can't go back to sleep because I feel guilty that I hung up on her.
I never hang up on anyone...well...maybe that one other time.
I get up resentful of the interruption and am quickly attacked by my famished cat.
I stumble to the kitchen cupboard, no cat food!!!
I go to the fridge and pour some milk into his bowl , that ought to hold him.
I throw myself on the sofa and turn on channel seven, Rachel Ray is wrapping up , she is so...very animated
She looks at the camera and waves "See you when I see you!" Credits roll. It's over. I watch The View and listen to the hot topics and get all huffy when I hear the ladies. One panelists says after a debate on torture tactics by Americans in Guantanemo Bay, "Our country is better than others, anyway."
What!!!???
I get up and ignore the cackling hens. I am irritable and apologetic. I need to pray and for some odd reason I am avoiding it. As we all do, we procrastinate when we know that the only reason we are restless and cranky and can't sleep is because we need to pray.
I get up resentful of the interruption and am quickly attacked by my famished cat.
I stumble to the kitchen cupboard, no cat food!!!
I go to the fridge and pour some milk into his bowl , that ought to hold him.
I throw myself on the sofa and turn on channel seven, Rachel Ray is wrapping up , she is so...very animated
She looks at the camera and waves "See you when I see you!" Credits roll. It's over. I watch The View and listen to the hot topics and get all huffy when I hear the ladies. One panelists says after a debate on torture tactics by Americans in Guantanemo Bay, "Our country is better than others, anyway."
What!!!???
I get up and ignore the cackling hens. I am irritable and apologetic. I need to pray and for some odd reason I am avoiding it. As we all do, we procrastinate when we know that the only reason we are restless and cranky and can't sleep is because we need to pray.
After brushing my teeth with a new toothpaste, mmm pleasant., I make myself a cup of hot cocoa then surf the net, looking up W*ndows V*sta complaints, pages and pages of links on the pain in the neck of W*ndows V*sta.
This is my morning.
I bet your lives are more complete after this play by play.
Admit it
This is my morning.
I bet your lives are more complete after this play by play.
Admit it
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