Christmas Cathedral

I have these fifteen...

*crash*

TEN! TEN commandments!


This weekend, Orrick and I went to see an elaborate Christmas pageant at the Crystal Cathedral -- home of Trinity Broadcasting's Hour of Power -- in Garden Grove near Anaheim. Singing, dancing, live animals, angels on flight rigs, and, oh yeah, the baby Jesus. At an hour, the program seemed longer than necessary, with a number of songs that could easily have been cut, but the production values were spectacular -- a fact reflected in the ticket price. Perhaps the length of the show, then, was to insure that patrons felt they'd gotten their money's worth, though with one look at the set and costume design, there could be no doubt that they did.

We made the trip with Orrick's parents, who had seen the annual performance before. In fact, it was Orrick's mother who arranged the outing and bought the tickets (thank you, Joanan). We arrived early and walked through the "God inspired Garden and Grounds where the Bible Comes to Life" -- a garden replete with life-size bronze sculptures depicting, as the title of one of them suggests, the Holy Family, milestones, and miracles.

The spirit of the lovely garden and the "true meaning of Christmas" seemed a little lost, however, in the overpriced gift shop, where after the show, rather than fight the exiting traffic, Joanan picked up a few gift items and I found a ladies room tucked away from the line-forming crowd.

Defining the word "cathedral" as the principal church of a diocese (the juristiction of a bishop) which contains the bishop's throne, I had been surprised to learn that this one was not affiliated with the Catholic church. I had made the assumption that Catholicism was the only Christian religion with such a hierarchy. Either I am mistaken (for all the cathedral's beauty and Christian affiliation it is in no way accomodating to a Catholic mass) or other demoninations equate the words "big church" to "cathedral" regardless of hierarchy.


Given the staunch attitudes of most Christian churches toward the trappings of a secular Christmas, I was further surprised to find the cathedral housing a rather tall and colorful star-topped tree at a height competing with its illuminated cross. Oddly though, at "the first great church that was conceived and designed to be a television super studio" for Christian worship, the seeming commercialism of a Christmas tree was not at all out of place.

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Five Factors: Dead On

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion: You have low extroversion. You are quiet and reserved in most social situations. A low key, laid back lifestyle is important to you. You tend to bond slowly, over time, with one or two people. Conscientiousness: You have medium conscientiousness. You're generally good at balancing work and play. When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done. But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it. Agreeableness: You have medium agreeableness. You're generally a friendly and trusting person. But you also have a healthy dose of cynicism. You get along well with others, as long as they play fair. Neuroticism: You have high neuroticism. It's easy for you to feel shaken, worried, or depressed. You often worry, and your worries prevent you from living life fully. You tend to be emotionally reactive and moody. Your either flying very high or feeling very low. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is medium. You are generally broad minded when it come to new things. But if something crosses a moral line, there's no way you'll approve of it. You are suspicious of anything too wacky, though you do still consider creativity a virtue.

The Five Factor Personality Test

Left Overs and Yet to Haves

I could be wrong. I have been before, I've been told. But I think... I think (in fact, I'm pretty sure) that this was my first Thanksgiving away from home -- "home" being where my mother bastes a turkey, mashes potatoes, and bakes fantastic homemade rolls. Because I am in San Diego, I was unable to pop over to the homestead for a munch on the well-familiar goodies that have marked each year of my life thus far. And it's just as well. It turns out that this year my mother didn't host Thanksgiving dinner at all. She visited my brother's home, which became the holiday hub for the families of my brother and his wife. It was one-stop shopping for the kids, I guess, and a little break (or, at least, a lot of help) for the grandmothers. Good for everyone. But if this is the beginning of a new tradition, with my brother deep-frying a turkey in his driveway, then I've seen the last of the only family tradition that had thus far survived his marriages and procreation. Change is good, I hear; but as life keeps moving on without me, I suppose it's time to start initiating some changes of my own. As soon as I figure out what they need to be.

In the meantime...

This year, I spent the holiday with Orrick's family, who warmly and kindly welcomed me in. The food was as good and as familiar as if it had come from my own mother's kitchen and I was very thankful not to find an awkward difference. Orrick's mother even made a special (delicious) dessert just for me after overhearing me cry "I love all things pumpkin!" over a CostCo sample days earlier -- a pumpkin sheet cake with cream cheese icing. Though I have since uncovered the recipe, Orrick insists that, after a large chunk of it came home with us, we've had enough cake for a while.

What we did not have, however, were our own holiday leftovers. On Friday, our refrigerator looked like this:

There was no day-after turkey from which to make sandwiches, no stuffing to reheat, no cranberry to crumble, no olives to catch Elwood-style from my brother Jake's pitch....

HOLD ON A MINUTE! Now that I think of it, there were no food-throwing antics at all! EIN MINUTEN BITTE! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up! Methinks I've missed a vital holiday move.

Bah.

All in all, it was a nice holiday (made even better with the arrival of puppies!), but I hope that when Dad comes back to California, he's not all turkeyed-out. Because I've got an 11 pound fella in the freezer just waiting for him.

Bwah-hah-hah!