Life is Beautiful

SPOILER ALERT!!

I think reading the back of a movie case is cheating and watching trailers is borderline, so writing a review myself would be hypocritical if the movie weren't 12 years old.  

Reading through Philippians and journaling our thoughts was a recent assignment of our small group that met with some resistance, but one I enjoyed so much that I continued to study the book in Spanish the following week.  

Philippians is overflowing with thoughts that are applicable nearly every day.  After reading 4:8 -- "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."  I texted my Netflix friend and said "maybe we should start using Phil 4:8 as our standard."  Since the Changeling gave me nightmares, and Step Brothers wasn't particularly edifying, we started ordering on this new set of guidelines, with our first arrival being Life is Beautiful.

Years ago, I stumbled across Life is Beautiful randomly on TV and was convinced it was an adorable romantic comedy for the first hour.   By the time I realized there was sadness to be felt, I was engrossed beyond the point of return.  The beauty of a father's incomparable love for his little boy was worth the bitter-sweetness of the ending.  But Guido's single-minded devotion to providing an abundant life for his child, to the extent of sacrificing his own life is only incomparable if we fail to compare it to our own Father who made the exact same choice for each of us.  

I hope our next pick, Fireproof, has a lighter ending...

Also check out WALL-E and The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, these reviews highlight Christian meanings in other popular movies.

Savoring the Snowflakes

I'm sitting in Seattle, watching it snow flakes the size of half dollars, reading Philippians in Spanish. Waiting to take a ferry to an island for a week with veterinary missionaries from around the world. Looking forward to soaking up their advice on resettlement, training on participatory teaching methodology, and any tidbits about Bolivia I can absorb.

Yesterday, I spent a fascinating day in Pike Place Market, enjoying the company of a CVM staff tour guide, and a veterinarian from Brazil. We slipped into one of my favorite subjects--the class Perspectives on World Missions--and started talking about Hudson Taylor. Knowing he was striving to head to the mission field eventually, he started sleeping on a wooden bed without a mattress, and whittled his food intake down to a piece of bread and an apple a day, to prepare for the hardships of other cultures. The woman who was sharing this story said her response would probably be the opposite; to relish in the comforts of home with even greater appreciation knowing they're soon to be stripped from you.

I've landed somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. As, I try to cut back on my purchases, and downsize my material goods, I also linger a little longer over each luxury of home, including snow, realizing it could be my last for a very long time. The vet I'll be working with in Bolivia is here for the Training Of Trainers conference and this morning he said this was the first time he'd seen snow in eight years. If these gorgeous flakes turnout to be my farewell snowfall, I'll try not to let them melt unnoticed.