such a sad synecdoche.

when i took hermeneutics, this became one of my favorite words. it makes me sad that i don’t get to use it in conversation much.

a synecdoche is a form of figurative language when you refer to a part of something as if it was the whole thing.
like when you say “my car broke down,” and mean the engine fell out. it’s the engine, not the whole car, that’s broken.

or when i say “i love soccer.” or worse, when someone says about me, “she’s really good at soccer.”

i don’t love soccer. i LOVE playing goalie, and i’m okay at it. that in and of itself is my hands down favorite “sport.” but other than that, i hate soccer and i suck at it.

i had a conversation about that with someone the other day(they couldn’t wrap their minds around the concept of “no i don’t play soccer, i’m just the goalie”), and then i started thinking.

sometimes we pick and choose which parts of our lives to trust God with and which to try to take care of on our own. which disciplines we need to practice and which aren’t important for us.

so you’re going to church every sunday? that’s good. are you spending any time with God the other six days of the week? that’s a bigger issue.

it’s like we’re bragging about how well our windshield wipers work while the transmission’s been dead for a month.

just a thought.

family reunions.

my church is my home and my youth group is my family. by that, i mean they’re everything to me that a literal family is.

they made me who i am. i’ve had the best times and the most terrible awful times with them. they’ve changed and so have i. but they love me and i love them, because they’re mine, and always will be.

over the last few years i’ve found that finding a new church doesn’t make my “old” church not my home anymore; it’s just like growing up and getting my own house. it’s normal and it’s good, and i’m still welcome back home anytime.

which is why once a year, i get what i call a reunion.

of the six times i’ve gone to ridge haven, i was only actually a student for the first two of them. but it’s still the same every year.

we laugh. we eat. we play catchphrase. we eat some more. we murder each other, we play capture the flag in the dark, make smores, slide down hills, roll in dirt, throw shaving cream on each other, wave at strangers, and sing in public bathrooms. and then we eat a little more to top it all off.

everyone gets to be who they are, and everyone gets to be loved for it. it’s the safest place in the world.

just like in a real family, the “big kids” grow up and start being all responsible someday, but in the end, the important things stay the same. it doesn’t matter if you’re 12 or 21.

it’s still home.

“yeah everything goes away…but i’m gonna be here til forever, so just call when you’re around.