communion eklektic today in band we had communion. we had crackers and grape juice. and it was great how we all tried to settle down and get into the mood, to do it. and how everyone tried not to be too loud when chewing their crackers. and how we didnt expect all that juice to be in those little cups. 020517 ... Kate AHH! This morning I was in the shower and I knew I had to blathe about communion yesterday in band, but you did it first! Thank you, Tracee! When I saw the box of saltines, I knew what we were going to do, and I watched Amanda pour the Welch's grape juice into the little white cups. Paul sat next to me and we erased our measure numbers, and he borrowed my black journal. He asked if he could read it, and I remembered that the only journal entry that I had written in that particular journal was back in the winter when I liked him, and I wrote about him and wrote a happy poem for Julianne, but I let him read it all anyway. Then we talked about what communion meant to us, but he didn't believe that it was actually the body and blood of Christ like I do, but at that moment it was alright. Then Amanda and the seniors passed out the crackers which were very large, and Mr. Betchel read the service and we all definately tried to conceal our cracker crunching and tried to drink all of our grape juice in one long exaggerated gulp. It was the ultimate act of fellowship, and before I left for the track meet I told Mr. Betchel that and almost cried in front of him for the second time that day, and he told me that it was ok again. 020518 ... lulie The act or an instance of sharing, as of thoughts or feelings. Sometimes we communion here. 020518 ... tender_square the photo was wedged between wall and particle board for years, maybe even decades. it was printed on a standard sheet of paper and laminated like a classroom artifact passed between desks and sticky hands. the photographer framed the shot by precisely cutting off the tops of the heads of the two children posing. a girl and a boy fill up the right half. she wears a white tulle dress that hits the knees, like a make-believe-bride. her hands are clasped, her arms sheathed in see-through sleeves. around her brown bob a veil frames her smiling face. the boy stands stiffly with hands at his sides, mouth twisted into a soft pout. he wears black slacks and a white jacket. a bright purple collared shirt and black tie meets the length of his his chin-length hair. there's a sofa to the left of them, completely covered in plastic, a showroom piece to be seen and not sat upon. the children stare at the lens with red pupils, waiting to be saved by the body of christ. the photo is stained with a chemical burn that renders spots across their bodies in the soft degradation of rust. 230201 what's it to you? who go blather from