Slumdog Millionaire (24/28)

slumdog-millionaire-kid

This is one of my favourite movies!

Months before the awards shows were buzzing about it, even before a single friend (or a married friend) had mentioned its title to me, I read a review online.  And I intrigued.

So as the swell around this film increased, I wondered.

Is it worth the hype?  Can it possibly be as good as advertised?  Did my early exposure to that review help its success, and if so, where can I get my cheque?

So my quick review?

I went into the theater with high expectations, the kind of expectations that make me nervous because I’ve been disappointed by a lot of films.  But not this day.  Not in the slums.  Perhaps it’s the Asian thing–it’s special to me.  Maybe it’s just a fantastic story told in an interesting way that puts this story into a special category for me.  My favourite scene of all time comes from this movie–that doesn’t hurt its chances to etch a permanent place in my heart.  It could be that my wife cried gentle tears on my shoulder and that I joined her.  I don’t know what it is, but something in me was made to feel alive while I watched this story.

And that is a significant thing to say about “a flick”.

PS: If you’re wondering about my favourite scene, think of two phrases: “Outhouse Escape” and “Autograph Request”.  Simply classic!

Parents Pray (23/28)

My job, along with some of the relationships I enjoy, gives me regular chances to pray with people.  My efforts to pay attention to those encounters have led me to a conclusion.  You can mark this down as fact–the first thing every parent I know prays for is their children.  Barring a crisis of some sort that receives first mention, parents’ prayers are consumed by their kids.  I’m even talking about parents who don’t “pray”.  Hand-folding and head-bowing aside, every parent I know has their deepest desires (spoken or not) tied into the lives of their sons and daughters.

When you become a parent, you become a pray-er, whether you believe in God or not.

If you’re a parent, you’ll know what I mean.

If you know me, you’ll know that I only recently began knowing what I mean.

I’ve heard the most heartfelt prayers and sensed the deepest emotion in prayer when parents pray for their children.  Rooms get quieter, as it seems as if heaven itself stops to listen in.  And joy?  You’ve never heard relief or thankfulness in a voice until you’re heard a father or mother’s prayer of gratitude for a lost child finding their way or for a faithful child thriving in every way.  There’s no doubt why the prodigal’s return home spawned a bash that rocked the whole neighbourhood–because that is what kids to their parents’ hearts.

The sweetest thing of all this is that we are not limited to our families in experiencing feelings of this intensity.  Love flows from person to person, and there is no exclusion for those whose parents don’t fit the above descriptions.

THE Father feels these things for us.  THE Son is our non-stop intercessor, bringing our name before God with a flow that never stops. I have taken comfort before in the promises of friends or relatives to pray regularly for me.  It is a sobering thought that my name arises in prayers spoken by divine lips into divine ears.  In a sense, we are encircled by the highest prayers available.

My experience says that this is what parents do to their kids.