I am not religious anymore, but there are so many wonderful life lessons in all the scriptures.

The best part of my religious upbringing was that my parents gave us a choice in the matter. We were invited to go to Sunday school, but never forced. We were invited to go to Summer Bible Camp, but never forced. This was a wonderful gift from them, especially given their own upbringing.

Recently, I watched the movie "Prom" on Netflix. It is a teenage love story that faces obstacles with singing and sequins. There is bigotry and acceptance and narcissism and selflessness. It was a great movie to watch with my blossoming 10 year old. These are all things that she is facing in small doses in her school, our community, and in herself.

The movie directly addresses the exclusion of LGTBQ+ lifestyles with this conversation.

Trent: Why do you hate gay people?

Teenager 1: Hey! I'm a good person. Right, Shelby?

Teenager 2: Yeah! Yeah, we all are.

Teenager 3: We go to church.

Teenager 4: Yeah, we're Christians.

Determining the goodness of a person cannot be done with a label. And the musical number that followed made me so fucking happy. After a direct confrontation about cherry picking the rules from the bible that matter, Trent sings out that there is one rule that trumps them all.

LOVE THY NEIGHBOUR

This has become my favourite rule from the bible. It is the heart of acceptance and tolerance and love. Can you imagine if we interacted in the world from this idea? John Lennon said it his way in "Imagine." And hundreds, if not thousands, of artists and inspirational people throughout history have echoed this sentiment.

I could make some authoritative statement about how we all need to change our perspective and blah, blah, blah. But that's not what I want. I want to love myself as I love my most precious person. I want to love so that it touches every person in my life, every person who ever encounters me.

The first thing I craved in this pregnancy was music. I typically listen to my bubblegum station, but it made me nauseated. I followed my instincts immediately because no one likes feeling nauseated, and flipped through the dial. Relief swept over me as I heard some Tea Party. I had found the city's "source for new rock, the best of the 90's, along with the biggest classic rock". Yep, those are the sounds of relief and relaxation for a pregnant me. Go figure.

Music is very personal subject for my Cheruby. He hates pop music and cherishes his classical (and most other styles). He cringes when I call everything classical, but I don't know any better. And maybe it's kind of fun for me to push that button of his. :D He is impressed when he can tell that the music takes some talent to produce. The musically uneducated masses don't really have that criterion. We listen and pick music we like because it's pleasant or makes us feel a certain way or annoys our parents.

I believe I've mentioned my emotional filter previously and music is no exception. Cheruby would really love it if I would learn to love his classical music, but we don't know where to start. Most of it is boring to me (elicits no emotional response), some of it is perfectly awful (my shoulders tense within seconds and give me a headache within a minute), and a rare piece is glorious (fills me with whirling emotions that I get to figure out and enjoy). I truly love being able to describe my emotions and create similes and metaphors about where the music has taken me. Unfortunately, my emotional response to music rarely coincides with the technical expertise it takes to create that music.

The best part about musical craving is that I know the part that music plays in our lives will just get bigger. Now, to find someone who will tune the whole piano and not just two octaves around middle C.