Last night I was up late watching Castaway, the movie where Tom Hanks plays a Fed-Ex employee who gets marooned on an island for four years. I've always thought that the scene where he finally gets a fire started was hilarious, especially when J does his imitation of it, but I'll tell you whut, boy, it ain't nothing compared to hearing it dubbed in Korean.

I got my dad watching it too, which really cut into our plans to get up early and go for a brisk walk at 6 am before breakfast. I suppose he would have gone (he's got more discipline than I do), but I just could not make myself get out of a warm bed to exercise -- even lightly! -- in the still-dark morning.

I was struck this time around by the symbolism of the whale in Tom's journey off the island, who, by squirting Tom with blowhole water, wakes him up to see Wilson drift off, and also to see the ship. I thought it seemed rather God-like, actually. Am I nuts? Reading too much into it? Or is it so obvious that you are now muttering to yourself "Jeez, I thought she was, like, smart or something" as you close this window in disgust?

I suppose God was on my mind, as yesterday morning I went to church (yes, me!). I sat through the English service sermon, which was given by a guest pastor who sounded like a cross between Jimmy Carter and Prince Charles (New Zealander, maybe?). I was rather disgruntled by the end of it, as I disagreed with Mr. Pastor Man on several points: I am not against and indeed am rather in favor of sex before marriage (under the right circumstances), living together before marriage (ditto), smoking (in moderation), drinking (ditto), and lawyers ('cause you know, some of them actually do good in the world, notwithstanding Mr. Pastor Man's doubts that "if you're a lawyer, I'm not sure how you can be a good Christian").

I am SO not a good Christian.

After hearing the sermon, I was in a considerable amount of doubt that I could go through with joining the church choir, which was the whole reason I was there. During future sermons, would I be able to sit there without smirking through it all? Or worse yet, doubling up in laughter? Rather unseemly for a choir member, I would think.

However, after the sermon, I met up with choir member Soo-hyun, my work friend who encouraged me to join her choir when I expressed interest last year. She was so excited about that fact that I actually made it to a 9 am Sunday service, she positively squealed with delight, and proceeded to introduce me to the choir members and the director, who didn't say a word when Soo-hyun pulled up a chair and opened her song book to share with me.

I thought, "Hey, don't you need to audition me or something?" and looked rather nervously around me, waiting for someone to point this out. But she didn't, and instead just signaled the choir to start, and so I sang along with everyone else, listening to Soo-hyun's British-accented English coming out strong right beside me.

Oh, it was so lovely.

I haven't sung in a choir since 7th grade, and I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to be part of a wall of sound, the sopranos swooping up to those showy high notes; the tenors in the back like the cello section of an orchestra, low and smooth; the second sopranos and altos filling in the empty space between the extremes. I am the first to declare, very honestly (NOT modestly), that I don't have a very good voice; I can keep pitch but my voice cracks when I try to belt anything out and I don't remember how to control my breath anymore, but oh my, I did like singing with everyone.

Afterwards, the choir went to get something to eat, and then onto coffee, and still, the only thing the director said to me was, "What did you think of the choir?" I replied, "Oh, I liked it very much! But I don't have a very good voice, you know." She said with a soft laugh, "Oh, it doesn't matter."

I wonder if it will matter very much that I'm not Christian?