TITLE: (Chapter 2) The Seven Days Of, ..What in creation?!
By A . WAL
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This is a book I'm kind of writing/my diary.
Things you should know,
My real name is Hannah, so as I'm mentioned, they'll hopefully be no confusion.
Annie Grace Walton is my writer name.
I'm only going to give this chapter in a few pages at a time, or day by day.
This chapter is a whole week in my life.
God bless and enjoy:)
There's a lot of words and phrases that are jumbled up. Sorry about that, my computer's crazy. I fixed it the best I could for now, so I hope it doesn't bother you so much. At least now it's almost readable. :)
Seven Days Of, "What In Creation?!"
Have you ever noticed about Sundays? You know, that's the day we worship Jesus and we know that. But, oh, how The Devil knows that too! He makes sure to make it easier to be in a bad mood on this day because this is the special day set aside for the Great God Almighty. You know what I'm talking about. Everybody's cranky, we all slept in but nobody wants to get up and then there's that person who's all ready for Sunday school and nobody else is, and that look on their face when they realize they could have slept in for another hour. "Priceless."
Well, my Sundays kind of go like this. The alarm goes off. Sort of in consiousness, my clumsy hand tries to find the "OFF" button, but instead changes the time or turns the music on extra loud and scares me half to death. I eventually get it turned off though, whether I miraculously found the off button, unplugged it, heaved it at the wall, floor, or my personal favorite, a sibling with incredible force. Hey, they came into my room to wake a sleeping, not so good in mornings, very angry dragon and it doesn't help that they keep taunting me and reminding me to the exact second how much time I have to get ready for church. ( It's annoying, alright?! )
So after day dreaming in bed for at least fiftteen minutes, I finally get up. I make my way down the stairs having basically zero balance. I end up shifting from wall to wall all the way down. Looking somewhat like an extremely groggy cat that can't decide which wall to rub up against, I reach the bottom with no casualties (Praise Jesus). Now, I'm in the kitchen and am hit with the drama of everyone screaming at each other. Feeling a headache coming on I decide to sit at the table across from my little brother, which added very little comfort to my painful situation.
Mom is running around frantically cleaning the house, just in case we have guests after church (Hardly ever). Dad is puttering around, oh so worried that we're going to be late, as though that's the worst thing that could ever happen on the face of the planet. He keeps asking questions
like: "Did you take a shower?", "Eat breakfast?", "Brush your teeth?", "Are you ready yet?" ,"How 'bout now?". I mean everybody loves that kind of chatter in the early hours of the morning, right? (By "Early Hours" I mean like 10:00AM............Shut up.)
What makes it even stranger though, he's usually the one we have to wait for in the car for half an hour before we actually leave. (Not even exaggerating.)
Then back to my Mom, she's hollering up the stairs at this moment, "Hannah?!! Are you up yet?!" Now realizing I'm sitting right here, she gets that "Oh, whoops" kind of a look on her face. It's not her fault, she has a lot of kids, okay? But I still don't like to be shouted at in such a shrill way. It sends chills down my spine and makes me want to change my name right away. Now, let's get back to my little brother. Discovering me with an extremely irritated look on my face, he tells me that everyone's more angry and drastic than usual
today. I then lean in slightly and whisper in a very serious tone, " Well, you see, Luke, this is
no ordinary Sunday. This is, (I mimic horror music) a Communion Sunday! (Echoing the word "Sunday" thrice) The most difficult to get along of all Sundays!" (I mimic horror music again)He stops slurping his fruit loops and nearly chokes trying not to laugh because Dad was standing behind me and not finding what I said nearly as amusing as he was. Then Dad said, " When you say things like that it makes me wonder about your spirituality." I said, " My spirituality is just fine!" Then calming down and doing my best preacher impersonation. " Jesus is like the chub around my belly button, He'll never leave me nor forsake me. No matter WHAT... I do." I continued, " ..and you know if I'm ever stuck on a desert
island and I miss a couple of meals it's just good to know He's there, you know?" asking my poor brother who just blew fruit loops in my general direction. My dad not knowing how to argue with that, left the room. The really sad thing is, I didn't stop there. No, I went on to say,"Gosh, that means that America IS the most spiritual Country. I mean if chub and Jesus are connected, we're all saved!" Then Luke and I went on our whole, Guess what? You're an American jokes. They're kind of like yo mama's so fat jokes, but not as offensive.
They go like this:
When you sit down and both of your massive thighs form together as one gigantic thigh, guess
what? You're an American! When Your stretch marks get married and have kids before you do, guess what? You're an American!
Then my favorite.
Here's what you do. You strip down and stand in front of the mirror with nothing but a stop watch. Then you stomp. The second stuff stops jiggling, you click that stop watch. If it lasts a few seconds you're fine. A few minutes okay, but if you have to go get something to eat while you wait. Guess what? You're an American.
( I might have more of these in later chapters. I haven't decided yet.)
Okay, we're all ready now. Everyone is getting loaded into the van. Then my older brother Levi says, "Oh, I forgot my Bible," leaves and makes it back just in time for my younger sister Bethany to say," Oh, I forgot my tithe." Then as she almost makes it back, Luke exclaims, " Wait! I forgot my coat!" I don't know how he managed this one. It's twenty-five degrees out here! Well, he is wearing a suit. I won't tease him, I guess I'll let this one slide. As he returns and buckles his seat belt, I shout, "Wait, I forgot my underwear!" I climb out of the van and and then immediately go back in. I shut the door," Just kidding." With a perturbed sigh from Dad, we are on our way!
" Luke, Your knees are touching the back of my seat."
"No they aren't."
" Yes they are. I can feel them pressing against my back."
"Levi, you just want to have a problem with me."
" Get your knees off my seat!"
"Look, my knees are not on your stupid seat! I'm trying very hard not to touch your stupid seat! There's no room back here! Fine. Is this better? Do you like this better!?"
"Get your feet away from my face! Whatever was on your shoes just went in my hair!! You little peice a" " Boys!!!... Luke, stop pestering. Levi, keep your hands to yourself."
"But mom, He started it!"
"Shut up, Luke."
"Levi, you shut up!"
(a thirty seconds' silence)
"Hannah, did you give some poems to Becky?"
"Yeah, Mom, did that weeks ago."
"Oh, well, I haven't seen any in the bulletin. Did you clean the church last night?"
"Dave, does my makeup look okay?"
" I'm trying to drive, DEAR." ( Like he needs to really look at her to know the right answer to that question.)
"Hannah, what do you think?"
"I think we need to turn the heat down in here. It's drying up my face and it feels like it's
gonna fall on the floor."
" I can't just yet, I'm trying to dry out my hair from my shower." I gasp for air and try to open a window.
"Don't! My legs are cold."
"Bethany, are you serious? I cannot believe you're cold. Why don't you wear P.J pants under your skirt like I do?"
"You're what?! Yeah, right. Show me...Oh my word! Dad, Hannah's wearing penguin pajama pants under her skirt!"
Dad locks eyes with me in the rear view mirror and winks.
"Ha, ha, Luke, he doesn't care."
Just then Luke randomly breaks into song and claps his hands, "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee, God of "WACK!...."Ouch!! Bethany!"
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."
Yay, we're at church. A lot can go on in a ten minute car ride.
Dad drives us up to the entrance, so we pile out and instantly start smiling. Luke opens the door for me, takes my coat and hangs it up. ( He's like this at home too! He's the sweetest brother I have, and probably in the whole world for that matter.) "Oh, hi. How are you? I'm doing great. Sure, I'd like a bulletin. Yeah, I still write sometimes. Nope, don't plan on quitting anytime soon. Nice try though! ha ha ha ha ha."
(All things usually spoken before finding my seat.)
This is the usual family sitting arrangement. Dad sits on the side closest to the middle aisle, so he can easily take up the offering when he needs to without tripping over anyone. Then comes Mom, whom I always want to sit next to, but can't because I need to sit between Luke and Levi so they don't bug each other during the service. ( Twenty-three and nineteen, Tom and Jerry! They still can't be next to each other.) So Beth sits next to mom, then Luke, me, and Levi on the other end. It works out alright though. Levi likes being near me when we sing, because he can harmonize and follow me when Luke likes to sing alto and is a little hard to sing next to. Not for me though, I just love singing. Then Levi and I often share a hymn book and he usually holds it because I have trouble sitting still and he can't read the words with me moving all over the place. We then sing a few songs. One of my favorites is, "Love Lifted Me". Luke and I often enjoy rising to our toes everytime the word "Lifted" is sung. Then we go through announcements and the offering. Since this is a "Communion Sunday" we have that at this time, so we begin to prepare our hearts and usually look at each other and apologize for the whole morning. My pastor tells about how those who do not take
communion unworthily are chastened of the Lord and often sleep. I like how my church does communion
because if you feel that you're not right with God and don't feel right about participating in the matter, there's no one that looks down on you for it. We make sure to only pay attention to our own selves as much as possible during the whole sacrament.
The sermons are amazing, too. My pastor is awesome. He preaches from the K.J.V and on occasion the N.K.J.V. He has an ability to say things in such an understanding, yet powerful, yet deep and more meaningful way than I could ever hope for in a pastor. Then service ends in prayer and nobody leaves for at least an hour. Everybody loves everybody's company at my church. Then one of us finally says, " Hey, let's get capuccino!" and off we go.
"Hello, Dorothy." I say to the checkout lady that works at the gas station I go to every Sunday for
coffee. But I usually end the conversation there because I start to feel like Elmo. "Mmmm, French
vanilla" and I head home.
Yes, my favorite meal of the entire week. Sunday dinner. Meat. potatoes. Cooked in a crock pot of juiciness. A.K.A, The love of my life. So we all help put it together (sort of) and then the feasting begins.
" Luke, quit scraping your plate."
" I'm not. That was Dad."
" Ah, I'm pretty sure it was you."
" Levi, I didn't scrape my plate."
" Yes you did!"
" Hannah, did I scrape my plate?"
" Nope,... I did." ( I didn't really. I just wanted them to stop before it ended like this morning. Mission failed)
"I'll stop scraping my plate if you'll close your mouth when you eat!" (Levi then makes a face and
sticks his tongue out with food on it.)
" Ah, that's it."
"Luke, stop kicking me!"
" Well, maybe if you weren't such a maniac!"
The table starts to shake, Dad gets angry! Will he do it?! He just might and... ohhhh!, There it is! He stood up. Levi and Luke get deathly quiet. He sits back down and we finish eating.
This time of day we think of napping with our full stomachs and compfy blankets, but we then end up
playing the wii for an hour or so.( Maybe even until we go back to church.) After Sunday night service, I like to go to bed early, I had a long day and my bed is welcoming. I then read Proverbs 31 and Matthew 5 to help me get into the godly mood. After that, I read three chapters for my devotions and pray about what I read, the whole day, my family, friends and then at last, myself. I talk about everything- my dreams, wants, goals- which makes me feel silly at times because He already knows all that. But if it gives me sweet dreams and a closer relationship, it's an awfully comforting way to fall asleep.
After all, Monday's just around the corner and it doesn't hurt to have a pleasent start.
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