Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Hmmmm. Preaching to the choir, I suppose. Make it a soloist. Me. But it'll be good for me.
First problem. I barely passed every speech-giving unit in school. Not just once, but every time it came around. Elementary school, middle school, and high school. Two categories on the evaluation sheet did me in every time: Volume and speed.
Now, the speed part, I get. Even during evaluations as a first year teacher my principal remarked on that one.
But volume? Had they not heard of microphones? Yes, it was a Mennonite high school but it wasn't Amish! Electricity had been invented and we did use it. Chapel speakers got a microphone, four days a week whether we needed it or not. So why force students to give a speech without a microphone? How many times is that going to happen in life? If the room needs a microphone and people have been asked to present, chances are, they will be given use of the microphone.
Second problem. Writing a bio. I only had a few sentences in which to sum up my whole life. Except that my first attempt ended up looking like a summary of my kids. The second attempt was a little better. So I had my dear husband look over it.
He thought it was pretty good but he did have one suggestion: I should add a sentence about him, stating that he is a pastor. He said it'd give my talk credibility. I believe his reasoning was that people would read that my husband is a pastor, would assume that at least some of his intelligence and Biblical knowledge had rubbed off on me, and therefore they'd be willing to listen.
Now, I am not a feminist. I never have been and I have never aspired to be one. The closest I get is preferring to open my own car doors. However, I am also not planning to get to Heaven on my pastor husband's coattails and I am certainly not riding them in my bio. I love my husband. He's a good man. But I am Cindy. I am woman. Here me roar.
Well, maybe you won't be able to hear me roar if they don't give me a microphone. But I promise I'll roar really slow so you can understand me.