2.13.2005

It's Official!

Seymour and I joined our church officially today. It was rather nightmarish from my perspective, as Leelo and Mali both howled through the entire ceremony, to the point where I left to go nurse Mali (who had just eaten 45 minutes earlier) and I missed reciting the official membership vows. Then Leelo escaped from the nursery and crashed the entire service during closing words.

One nice note, besides the lovely hydrangeas we were given, was that Iz insisted on signing the membership book, too. She also sang with the children's choir at the beginning of service.

Anyhow, all the members we talked to post-service swore that all our kids' shenanigans were no big deal. Sigh sigh sigh. I think it might be better for the mental well being of Teacher M, tender of the nursery from which Leelo bolted, if we started leaving Leelo home with a babysitter on service days.

Here's the bio they read for me during the ingathering ceremony:
Squid Rosenberg

I am from Southern California and can turn on the accent upon request. I was raised Catholic but am disappointed by that church’s lapses of logic and compassion. I have not one but two degrees in Geography because I am fascinated by the mutability and interconnectedness of our world. I have a lovely husband, Seymour, and we have three children: Isobel, Leelo, and Mali.

When I first started stalking Seymour, I did so not only because of his good looks but also because I saw in him almost limitless spiritual patience. Once he gave in to my attentions, he told me where his spiritual grooming took place: going to UU Sunday school with his best friend [that would be Gouda]. Ever since, I always imagined us bringing our children to a UU.

And so it happened. We’ve been attending the UUFRC for six years, since Isobel was six weeks old.

When I look around the fellowship, I see a group of people who live their values. Who take care of others because it’s the human thing to do, not because they want recognition. Who point out wrongdoings and search for solutions without getting sidetracked by finger-pointing. Who remind us that Jesus Christ was the biggest hippie freak of them all, but that his wasn’t the only message of love and tolerance.

My family and I are at home here.

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