It usually takes me 15 minutes to emerge from the fetal position when I have concluded that a visit to the local Hobby Lobby is in order. This is anathema to many of the ladies that scrapbook and craft, but let's just call a spade a spade and agree the place is pretty much filled with tacky dingleberries manufactured in Red China.
I'll admit to being drawn to the colorful glitter paper and rainbow ribbon; I'm a girl after all, but walking around that place makes me feel like I'm in an episode of Hee Haw.
Take this chili pepper cross:
When did decorations like this become OK? This would seemingly be offensive to most faithful Christians and all people of sight.
I can just imagine my two religious grandmothers looking at this chili pepper cross. My Frannie, who was from the deep east Texas town of Diboll, would have looked at it and said, "I declare I don't care for it one bit, no ma'am." My Highland Park grandma, Bama, would have stared at it silently, turned her head, and dismiss it as the worst of all things, "Common."
Look, I don't commemorate my mother's battle with cancer with a chili pepper IV pole. So why isn't this bizarre? I can't imagine a chili pepper Star of David. I won't even mention a Muslim counterpart for fear of fatwa.
In conclusion, let's imagine Jesus visiting my house (hypothetical; the new meds have helped) and coming upon that cross in my den.
Jesus: Say, what do we have here?
Me: A cross. Isn't it precious?
Jesus: I suffer torture and a slow, excruciating public crucifixion so you may be forgiven. You have a chili pepper cross to commemorate this sacrifice?
Me: ...I like spicy food?
I'll admit to being drawn to the colorful glitter paper and rainbow ribbon; I'm a girl after all, but walking around that place makes me feel like I'm in an episode of Hee Haw.
Take this chili pepper cross:
 |
When did decorations like this become OK? This would seemingly be offensive to most faithful Christians and all people of sight.
I can just imagine my two religious grandmothers looking at this chili pepper cross. My Frannie, who was from the deep east Texas town of Diboll, would have looked at it and said, "I declare I don't care for it one bit, no ma'am." My Highland Park grandma, Bama, would have stared at it silently, turned her head, and dismiss it as the worst of all things, "Common."
Look, I don't commemorate my mother's battle with cancer with a chili pepper IV pole. So why isn't this bizarre? I can't imagine a chili pepper Star of David. I won't even mention a Muslim counterpart for fear of fatwa.
In conclusion, let's imagine Jesus visiting my house (hypothetical; the new meds have helped) and coming upon that cross in my den.
Jesus: Say, what do we have here?
Me: A cross. Isn't it precious?
Jesus: I suffer torture and a slow, excruciating public crucifixion so you may be forgiven. You have a chili pepper cross to commemorate this sacrifice?
Me: ...I like spicy food?
No words. Seriously no words. lol
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