Crockpot Crochet Cancer

I really don't know how to feel lately. On the outward appearance I throw the wall up as though all is fine when I don't want to deal with answering questions. I put on the “game face” and move on, but there are times when the “game face” just isn't enough. I have been going through this inward battle lately and it's gotten to the point that I don't remember what the battle was about to begin with. It's not that I want to do something stupid, or “bad”, but the pressure of having to be “the good kid” is a bit much. There is this unseen, unspoken, expectation that seems to surround me. As if the very fact that I'm a pastoral intern automatically makes me some super Christian, or that I have to act perfect. Sorry to let you guys know, I actually can't read minds, and quite honestly I don't want to. I hate feeling like there is this giant weight looming over my head, waiting for me to mess up just so it can flatten me like a pancake. It almost makes me want to quit, to just let the stupid weigh fall so that I don't have to worry about it anymore, but I know that no matter what I did, that weight will always be there (whether from my own personal perception, or because people really are doing that is irrelevant).

Last night my mom called me and we talked for a few minutes. Apparently... my grandfather has gotten stomach cancer. This for me is awful news, because he hasn't been doing that well to begin with. It has seemed to me that he appears weaker every time I see him, and yet, somehow I am not surprised at this outcome. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I want him to die, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was his last Christmas (if he even makes it that far). It is just a feeling I have, and I would be more than happy to be wrong, but I think subconsciously I want his suffering to end, and for that to happen, perhaps the ultimate healing is necessary. Just another thing that makes being here difficult. Like I said, I don't know how to feel.

The annual soup contest was held last night, the soups were good. My landlord and I made a pie that was made of oreo crust, ice cream center, cool whip topping, and little hershey bars (the individual ones). It was tasty; I'm glad we made it.

I'm concerned for one of my friends... he seems ready to end something great. He isn't very old as a Christian, and well, he needs to be pulled out this rut he has gotten himself into. He needs to rely on God instead of what other people are thinking of him, but this only comes from time in the walk with God. Hardly ever is it an overnight thing.

I'm learning how to crochet. Is it bad for a guy to want to crochet? Or to enjoy it? If so, then I guess I don't make a very good guy, haha. *shrugs * Oh well, when has that ever stopped me from doing things I enjoy? Heh, I suppose I will leave you with a quote from the book The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning:

Aristotle said that I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.

The quote makes me giggle, so I thought I would share. Kbye!