raindrops keep falling on my head...

today was my first official day of vacation and i must say that there was a tremendous lack of excitement, save for one moment of the day i will talk about later. i woke up around 10am and dropped the sis off at work, got home and started to read a new book i picked up at b&n: Light on Snow, by Anita Shreve. it's been pretty decent so far...i'm enjoying it. i am so desperately wanting to read the last and final harry potter book, but it looks like we're gonna have to wait a while for that one. you know, not many people know this about me, but if i wasn't gonna be a teacher (or an actress/dancer...=D) i think i'd be a writer. maybe someday...


after reading, i played a little su doku (yes, francia, su doku. surprisingly, it's fun!), cleaned up my room a bit, saw my spiritual director, and pretty much did nothing else the entire day. i love days off!!!

a catechetical moment...

i used to think that it was waaaay embarassing when your umbrella turned inside out on a wet & rainy day. think about it: raindrops are falling down really hard and fast because the wind is blowing every which way and all of a sudden the umbrella you're holding tightly is suddenly flipped upwards and out of control. you desperately fumble to get it flipped back down, all the while struggling with the wind and the rain that is now falling on your head. when you do finally get it situated it's too late because you're already wet and there's really no point for the umbrella anymore. embarassing, i tell you.

then today i was driving home on 19th and i saw a little girl walking alongside her mom. she was holding an umbrella, and right as i glanced over in her direction her tiny purple umbrella was flipped up by the wind. did the little girl feel any embarassment or frustration at all? instead of trying to fix it the girl simply pointed at the umbrella and started laughing, staring in wonder and excitement at her gravity-defying umbrella, no longer able to serve its true purpose.

she taught me a lesson. no wonder He asks us to become child-like...