Just Put One Foot in Front of the Other...

The other day, I went out to dinner with a few friends. All of them were certified lifeguards, and spent the meal talking about lifeguard training, rescues, and such things (needless to say I did not have a lot to add to the conversation).

As the only non-lifeguard there I certainly learned a lot, and one thing that really struck me was a concept of dealing with panicked victims. When someone is in danger of drowning, it is a distinct possibility that they will lose it; completely panic and resort to mad and purposeless flailing to try to stay afloat. The danger then becomes acute for the person trying to save them, because when he gets near enough to do anything to help, the hysterical victim may quite possibly hit him, jump on top of him, drag him down. So what could you possibly do when the person you're trying to help will only destroy you both? All of my life-guarding friends knew the answer. The rescuer has to swim up just out of the victims reach. Our panicked friend, on seeing help so close, will often make a mad lunge for the rescuer, who propels himself back, again just out of their reach. They do this panicky little dance over and over again until the lifeguard has guided them right back to shore. To clarify, the victims thoughts are something along the lines of, "I'll never make it back to shore alive. But surely I can make it those few feet to that lifeguard."

This struck me so much, because it's a thought pattern that I think a lot of us live in (at least I know I do). When we see where we want to be, healed, joyful, thriving--it looks completely unattainable. We tell ourselves, "I'll never make it that far." But somehow there's always a little step right in front of us that we know we can take with confidence.

I realized, listening to this story, that God has been pursuing me like a lifeguard for years now. I have never been able to believe in where's He's taking me, but God has convinced me each step of the way to take each little leap forward.
"Surely I'll never be the woman of peace and joy that I want to be. But at least I can set aside some time for God every day."
"There's no way I'll ever be that woman. But at least I can learn to really pray through the things that weigh down my heart."
"I'm never going to be that woman. But at least I can encourage the people around me."
"I will never make it through this. But at least I can trust that God is good."
"I will never ever be there. But at least..."
The shore is a lot closer. I truly cannot make it on my own, but suddenly I realize that's not stopping me, because God is not going to give up and leave. He's going to keep leading, every step--or splash--of the way.

In Jeremiah 29:11, God is talking to a man named Jeremiah, whom He loved. And He says something that is true of everyone who loves Him: " 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' " The great future that God has for us is a little much to comprehend; it feels so far away. But before that future comes hope, just enough to get through each step of the way.

Truly His,
Caroline

Come Together

Yesterday I was hanging out in my dorm, and it's a rather quiet building. People seem to mostly just spend their days locked in their rooms doing homework. So I thought to myself, I should bring us all together! I should do something so exciting that everyone rushes from the building out to the back parking lot!

Well, it didn't go exactly like that, but anyway, suffice to say I set off the fire alarm.

As you know, my friend and I like to cook, and we make a meal for ourselves about once a week. So this week we were pondering what to prepare, and she had an epiphany! Tempura! Wonderful! And with our tempura we would make sushi! It would be a glorious meal! So off we went to the store and we selected all kinds of beautiful veggies to fry, and then we scoured the aisles for nori (seaweed wraps) and sushi rice. Perfect! We got back to campus, dumped our produce onto the lobby kitchen counter, and began the adventure. (on another note, did you know it's relatively difficult to chop carrots with a spatula?)

We prepared the rice, chopped veggies, lay out our nori, and soon, very soon, we were cutting up our very first sushi rolls. They were beautiful! They looked just like they should! They tasted just like they should! Perfect! So once we were confident in our sushi making ability we started the tempura. A dangerous task. I dunked the battered veggies in the oil and it hissed and brooded and sputtered. I now have polka-dot burns on my arms, but it was all worth it! The veggies were perfect!

We summoned some friends and continued making sushis and tempuras while they ate. We wandered over and munched with them for a bit. Soon it was determined we should fry some more veggies, at which point someone wondered aloud, "Is it supposed to be smoking?" The little bits of batter in our oil were making quite a fuss, and we watched with dread as the smoke curled its way up to the ceiling and tickled the nose of the smoke alarm. The smoke alarm, peeved about being awakened from it's slumber, began to cry, and of course, not just in the kitchen, but throughout all 150+ rooms in our building.

We lamented at the lack of windows and tried to chase the smoke out for a few minutes before the RAs discovered us and ordered that we leave the building. So we trudged outside for a reunion with many of our dorm-mates.

Looking back on it, I'm reminded of Jesus' first public miracle. At a wedding, Jesus' mother found out that the hosts had run out of wine. Uh oh! So she told Jesus, knowing that he's God and he can do something about it, and he did. He changed six huge jars of water into wine (which happened to be some of the best wine ever--John 2:10). Jesus took a food catastrophe and turned it into a miracle that ended up bringing people together--they were excited and pleased that the hosts gave them such great wine. I have to admit that setting off the fire alarm was more catastrophe than miracle, but still I was pleasantly surprised at the congeniality of everyone involved. I wonder if later the bride and groom admitted to their friends that they don't know where that great wine came from and they all had a good laugh. Either way, embarrassed as I was about interrupting everyone's day, I'm even more surprised by how loving everyone can be about silly mistakes. That's miracle enough for me.

Truly His,
Caroline

Parable of the Lost Spoon

I'd like to read you all a story. It's a tiny parable Jesus told in Luke 15. He said, "suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."

Why do I tell you this story? Because my friends, I have lost my spoons. At the beginning of the year, my parents bought me a little box of silverware. It contained four table knives, four forks, and four spoons (ingenious, right?). So imagine my dismay when, preparing a bowl of cereal, I reached into my box of silverware to find only forks and knives! Two of my spoons were sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed, but the other two were nowhere to be found! Gone!

I searched. I pondered. I puzzled. What had happened to my spoons? They were not in my room. They were not in the kitchen. They had vanished. I pondered some more. My spoons were gone. I mourned. My silverware set would be incomplete, possibly forever. I could only offer two people cereal at once when I have three bowls. What if I lost the other spoons? Quite relevant to the parable, I did happen to tell a few of my neighbors. They were confused and saddened with me. Poor spoons, gone forever.

Coming across this parable again, I am struck by the significance of people. I care about a silly little piece of silverware, taking time to puzzle over it and search for it. How much more important are we as people? Certainly we are more significant than spoons. How exciting to know that God is concerned over us, searching us out when we stray from Him. I want to give Him cause to rejoice. Let's be Found.

Beauty, thy name is Salmon

Dearests, you would not believe how beautiful my dinner was last night. A friend and I decided earlier on in the week that we would like to cook something this weekend, so we laid out plans for Friday night. In the past weeks we've made Nigerian food and Filipino food, but after watching Julie & Julia we decided we needed to make something upon which we could lavish ridiculous amounts of butter. Baked potatoes were certainly on the menu, and some lovely mixed vegetables. We went back and forth on the meat; should we get poultry? steak? fish?

We made our way to the grocery store, polling our friends to see how many we would cook for (they were all quite delighted with the prospect but all realized that they had previous engagements. Go figure), and ended up with just the two of us. Well, their loss. So we each chose a potato, and then filled a bag with broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and asparagus. And then we made our way over to the meat counter: the moment of truth.

We paced back and forth, gazing in wonder at all the options, meticulously arranged on a bed of ice. "Chicken? Steak?" and then, at the end of the counter, we saw them. The most handsome, seasoned fillets of salmon. We summoned the man behind the counter and wonderingly pointed at the fish. He picked up what we had thought was two or three fillets, actually only one. Glorious! We could split one between the two of us! This salmon just got better and better by the moment.

We took over the kitchen, and I mostly stood back in wonder (and microwaved the potatoes in plastic bags; instant baked potatoes, who knew?) as my companion took all of the food from uncooked potential to fragrant masterpieces of sustenance. We set out one beautiful plate of salmon covered in our mélange of vegetables, accompanied by our now cheese-covered potatoes. It was radiant. It was stunning. I thought very hard about taking a picture of it for you, my dear readers, and just as I was deciding, the power went out all over campus.

We feasted by the light of a book light and a head-lamp. I'm sure we made quite the sight: as people came up the dark stairs to our dorm lobby the only light they could see illuminated little more than one large plate of salmon and vegetables. Needless to say, it was possibly the best dinner I ever could have hoped for.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says simply, "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." I am so encouraged to realize that finding joy in these little things--in the perfect peace of fish and the silliness of a power outage--is what God desires for me. He filled this world with beauty and light and sometimes silliness, and I think in some ways it's just to make us smile.

Truly His,
Caroline

Face Your Face

Hello my dears. Today, I spent four hours staring at my own face, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. Before you wonder how vain I really am (we can talk about that later), allow me to clarify. For my art class I had to draw a self-portrait for homework this week. Naturally, with the assignment given over a week in advance, I put it off until the last possible second because, I will admit to you, I was terrified. For one thing, I was not accustomed to staring at myself for long periods of time, and I was afraid that I would not like what I saw. And then there was the part where I actually had to draw what I saw, and draw it accurately, for a grade. What if I drew my nose too small and my teacher pointed out to everyone that my nose is much bigger than I thought?

So I put it off and put it off and put it off. I started to draw it off of a picture on Sunday but then decided that the assignment really called for a mirror, so I meticulously erased my first drawing and set to avoiding the real thing. Wednesday rolled around, the assignment of course being due on Thursday, and still I put it off all day, staying late in my last class, reading, wandering the building reading the little comic strips professors leave on their office doors, but finally I was out of time wasters and I had to sit down in front of the mirror.

I stared at me. Me stared back. I put on some music and Me began to sing along. Me was not a very good model, she wouldn't sit still and I had to change the music when I got to the lips so she would stop singing long enough so that I could draw them. Hours later I sat back and looked at the drawing, glancing up at the mirror. It was a picture of a person. Of Me. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Mirrors are a funny thing. It seems difficult to feel comfortable in front of one unless I am critiquing what I see. But to have to just see and record with no words and no judgment was such a relief. And I'm reminded of what Jesus said was the second greatest commandment (the first being to love God): to love your neighbor as yourself. Growing up hearing this, it always served as a reminder to love your neighbor, and so I always missed the second half. We are not to love our neighbor and hate ourselves, but to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. I am meant to love Me even as I love You. It's tricky sometimes to find the balance, but we have a perfect example. Let's face our faces with love.

Truly His,
Caroline

Flip Around, Flop Back

Readers, I have a confession to make. Today, I wore... flip-flops. Not just to run down the street or finish a quick errand, but out in the world. I wore them to class! Some of you may be thinking, "Caroline, I know you feel bad about not writing, but this is wholly unremarkable." Let me correct you, it is entirely remarkable! You see, in my brain flip-flops live in the same class of shoe as Crocs. They are a species of footwear that is certainly sub-shoe; wearing them in public is akin to wearing slipper socks out in public. Everyone will remark that you look particularly comfortable. They may even secretly envy your comfortable feet as they hobble away in their appropriate footwear. But still, they will under no circumstances think, "My, what universally wonderful shoes they are wearing!"

So, today was remarkable, because, as has happened probably a grand total of ten times in my life, I got up, got dressed, and thought to myself, "I would like to wear flip-flops today." I reached back into the darkest depths of my closest and retrieved a pair of pink Mickey Mouse sandals.

Before you ask, I bought them out of necessity. I was wearing converse in the rain, and as it turns out that particular pair of shoes, when wetted, decides its sole mission is to ensure that no part of my foot is un-blistered. So I bought "emergency flip-flops" for that day (actually I ended up buying two pairs because I did the exact same thing the next day and didn't think to carry the first pair with me. Who knew it would start raining again?).

So today I set out across campus toward my drawing class, feeling entirely scandalous in my flip-flops. I kept expecting some kind of authority figure to leap out in front of me and shout, "Back to your dorm and put on some real shoes, woman!" But no such attack came. Instead, I became extremely aware of the dozens of other college students also wearing flip-flops. They were everywhere. They came from nearly every social group. They wore many different styles. And they all--or rather, we all--were united by this odd choice of footwear. "These," I thought, "are my people!" For a few hours at least, I was among the many who walked in the land of incomplete footwear. It was quite a revelation.

In his first letter to the Corinthian church, Paul writes, "I have become all things to all men, so that by all possible means I might save some." It's an interesting concept that I've never really explored before. Lately I have spent so much of my time trying to recognize what kind of person I am, what's my style, my passion, what should I pursue in life? Yet Paul wisely lets go of the superficial parts of himself in order to relate to people from all walks of life. To put it simply, Paul does what it takes to have something in common with everyone, so that they always share a common ground on which to discuss the things that truly matter. I hope I am never too proud to let go of my "style" and relate to people from all walks of life.

Truly His,
Caroline

There Are No Words...

Hello my darlings. I'm sorry to realize that once again I have left you without a real blog for a full three weeks. I am back at school, as you know, and school is excited to have me back. So excited, in fact, that it decided to assure its time with me by filling my life with readings, papers, assignments, papers, recitations, and more papers. With all these papers to write, I could not bring myself to write more in my free-time. I planned on it everyday. I would think to myself, "My faithful readers are expecting a post. When I need a break from these essays, I will write a blog." As it turns out, when I needed a break from writing, I could not bring myself to write more. "Well," I'm sure you are wondering, "If you weren't writing for us, what were you doing with all that time?" An excellent question, my friend! I will tell you! I spent the last three weeks cooking.

To start, a few friends and I banded together to make Jollof Rice on a Friday (every time I mentioned this to someone they heard me say "Jello fries" and were sorely disappointed when they found out what I was offering them did not consist mainly of sugar. But the rice was delicious, I assure you). On Valentine's Day I baked little brownies shaped like people and carried them around my dorm with a tube of frosting, offering everyone I encountered the opportunity to decorate and then eat their own little chocolate valentine. (This turned into an interesting experiment. Some gave their brownie men faces, some gave them hearts, some gave them little T-shirts, and some merely squirted a bit of frosting on them and then bit off their heads.) And then the next day my miniature cupcake tins arrived and I had to use them, so naturally I spent the next day making tiny red velvet cupcakes, which also promptly disappeared.

The next week a friend and I gathered ingredients and took over our dorm's kitchen to make her family's old recipe for Lumpias (a sort of Filipino egg roll), which, by the way was quite a feat. We had to fry them in oil, and each time a roll encountered the boiling oil it would explode in a hundred tiny little splashes, until we were both sprinkled with teeny tiny burns and the kitchen floor was coated with oil. But those little Lumpias were certainly worth it, and the sauce we crafted to go with them was delectable, enough so that when the rest of the girls in our hall saw what we were making, the remaining Lumpias mysteriously disappeared. And finally to top it all off we made one large batch of cookies, which also promptly disappeared.

In the midst of all this eating I wrote quite a few papers, and by the end of last week felt I had climbed a veritable mountain, homework wise, and was ready for the downhill trek when things got a little easier. No such luck. Another week, another four papers to write. I will keep you posted on this week's cooking. I plan on making muffins.

Genesis 2:2-3 tells us that when God finished creating the world, he rested, and then "...God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done." When I am overwhelmed by schoolwork and just need a moment to sit or cook or rest, it's so encouraging to know that God himself rested from His work (albeit much greater work than what I've been laboring over), and set aside time for us to do the same. So take comfort, take a break, and know that you're in good company.

Truly His,
Caroline

Wish You Were Here

Hello my dear friends! I've come to offer an apology and not much more; I have abandoned you, and I'm sorry. This week has been crazy and I haven't found time to write. BUT I promise you a blog very soon!

In the meantime, something to once again draw your attention to as the day of Valentine approaches: Romans 5:8 " But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." You are so very loved! Don't doubt it.

Truly His,
Caroline

Lost and Found

Hello my darling readers. Yesterday, like all days, was the first day of the rest of my life! Unlike all other days, yesterday was also the beginning of my second semester at college. This is a fact that, a week ago, caused me much trepidation. A week ago I was home, comfortable and happy and spending all my time with my family, and going back to school seemed a terror. But it was good; I was going to college and I was going to learn all about the world around me! To convince myself of this, last Friday I took a look at my schedule. My schedule told me that six hours a week I would be sitting in a Bible class. Excellent! No complaint there. An hour and a half a week I would be in an English class. Also wonderful! I would be learning! And another fifteen hours a week I would be sitting in art classes. Realizing this, my heart sank. Art classes were great and all, but drawing for fifteen hours a week would be fifteen hours a week of school in which I would hardly learn anything. I wailed. I complained. I bemoaned these classes to my dad, to which he replied, "You know, you can always change your classes."

A revelation! I set to rearranging my schedule immediately. I wanted to learn, I wanted to take classes that reminded me I am in school. Math, I decided, would be the perfect solution. So I looked through the course catalog at math classes and decided on Introduction to Probability and Stats. That was sure to be something of a challenge. I added the class as well as another, Foundations of Global Studies, and gazed at my new and improved schedule affectionately. I was really a student! I was going to college and I was going to learn things!

So, yesterday I put on my sparkly purple shoes and set out with a great excitement for my classes and a fresh zeal for education! I found my way to my first class without a problem, noting all the people I knew in that class. "I have friends!" I thought to myself. What a joy! The first session of that class hinted that it would be difficult, but well worth the effort. Exactly what I was hoping for. So off I went to the next class, my friend and I getting slightly lost on the way and arriving a few minutes late to what looked to be another excellent class. And finally, when that class was over, it was time for Math! I was going to stare at numbers and learn about statistics and feel like I'm definitely in college! I headed over to my class room and looked in the window. There was another class in there, one that had clearly been going on for a while. "That makes sense," I thought, "My class doesn't start for another six minutes." So I found a place to sit down and read for a few minutes while I waited. A few minutes passed. It was 1:15. My class started at 1:15. I looked in the window; the other class was still there. I checked my schedule. I checked the room number. I paced back and forth. Maybe I wrote it down wrong. Maybe this was the wrong room! I ran to the nearest office and begged to look up the classes on their computer.

"Which class?"

"Probability and Statistics!"

"Oh, the one at 1:30?"

...Oh. So I made it to class a few moments later only slightly embarrassed by my apparent inability to read my own schedule. And I am struck once again by my ability to get lost even when my directions are clear, even when I have read them over time and time again. I can always manage to miss something, to get myself lost again. But luckily for me, I serve a God who knows this about me and goes far and wide to bring me back. In Luke 19:10 Jesus said, "For the Son of Man [that's Jesus] came to seek and to save what was lost." I'm amazed to know that even when I foolishly get myself lost over and over again, my Lord seeks me out and brings me back. That's what he came for.

Truly His,
Caroline

Racquets and Reflections

My dad and I have begun a workout regimen in my last few weeks at home, something of a late New Year's resolution. So the other day we got up, determined to exercise but too tired to convince ourselves to run. So my father suggested Racquetball. "It's great exercise!" he assured me. So he retrieved his old equipment and off we went and reserved for ourselves a racquetball court.

What can I say about racquetball? It is, as my father said, great exercise. My dad gave me a few pointers, told me in general how the game works, and so the game began. It took me quite a while to get the hang of it, but I finally got to the point where I thought to myself, "Hey, I'm doing pretty good!" Soon after that, of course, my dad enlightened me to the rest of the rules of the game, and it became much more difficult all over.

So I found myself running back and forth in that little court, swinging wildly at a ball that, for the most part, evaded me. (Interestingly enough, even little rubber balls can tell that I am exceptionally short, and ridicule me for it by always whizzing by three feet above my head. I would have told it that it was by far much shorter than I, but it was too busy defying gravity to listen to me.)

I will tell you, at that point it stopped being fun. I was so frustrated. I could not hold the racquet correctly. I could not figure out where the ball was going. I could not hit the ball. I could not reach the ball. I could not hit the ball in the direction I wanted it to go the few times I did hit it. After another half hour of this, my frustration levels always growing, I watched the ball bounce off the walls and realized that the ball, the walls, and the racquets were all this game was about, and yet all I was thinking about was myself. I had to recognize that if I was entirely focused, not on the game, but on my inability to play it, there was no way to be at all successful. Suffice to say, the last two minutes of that game were a thousand times more enjoyable than the hour before.

In Mark 8:34-35, Jesus tells a crowd of his followers, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it." Jesus, as he so often does, seems to be pointing out such an important principle, one that I could certainly stand to hear over and over again: that focusing on myself, my life and my needs and my problems and my faults, in the end will doom me to whatever I might be trying to avoid. But focusing on the things I live for: Jesus himself, his life and his message, actually gives me a much greater return for what little effort I offer. If, as they say, you become what you focus on, I'd much rather become more like Jesus than more like my flaws.

Truly His,
Caroline

Vacuum of Terror

Sophisticated people in the realm of psychology have done quite a few studies, and one of the things they found is that children, in general, are born with only two innate fears. One of them is the fear of heights, and the other is a fear of loud noises. I have never known myself to be extremely terrified of heights, but I can certainly relate to the loud noises fear. Suffice to say, I abhor the vacuum cleaner.

This morning, I was tidying up the house a little, and found myself downstairs. After organizing the movies, folding the blankets, and picking up a few bits of trash, I looked over at our large popcorn machine and noticed it to be full of week-old popcorn. So, naturally I thought to myself, "Better vacuum out the popcorn machine." For those of you who find this statement odd, let me assure you, it is completely reasonable. You see, when we moved into our new house, we ended up with two unexpected appliances: one, a house-warming present, was the delightful popcorn machine. The other was an industrial vacuum cleaner. We already had a perfectly functional home vacuum cleaner, so what to do with the new one was a bit of a quandary, until we stumbled upon the realization that it is the perfect tool for quickly cleaning out the popcorn machine. So it found a home next to the popcorn machine, and there it lives to this day.

So this morning, feeling industrious myself, I decided to vacuum out the popcorn machine. I opened up the machine, flipped the switch on the vacuum, and jumped in fear when it made a very loud noise. Yes, I am aware that vacuums always make a very loud noise. No, there was nothing unusual about the noise. Yes, I was the one who turned on the vacuum in the first place. Still, I found myself frightened. But I fought my fears for the sake of the popcorn machine. Unfortunately, halfway through the popcorn, the vacuum ceased to be effective. "Jingles!" I thought to myself, "It's full!" So I turned off the vacuum, relishing the quiet, and opened it up. I hadn't quite expected it to be as full as it was, and the moment I unlatched the lid a wave of crushed, stale popcorn shot out of the vacuum and onto the floor. So after I had scooped most of the popcorn into a trash bag I had to once again turn on the vacuum to get the rest out of the carpet, and once again was completely unnerved by the noise.

Pondering my responses to the wailings of vacuum cleaners, I have to realize how very silly my fears were. I was completely in control of the situation. My fears were entirely irrational. And when I study the Bible, I have to realize that every fear is just as irrational as that. Isaiah 41:13 says, "For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.” " When any fear rises in me, I have to realize it is just as irrational as fear of the vacuum cleaner, because God, who is fully in control, promises to be with me, just as he promises to be with you. So fear not.

Truly His,

Caroline

What did he say?

Since I so often refer to you as Readers, I am going to assume that you like reading just fine, and I'm right with you. I love reading. A long while ago I was reading at least two books a week, but what with the all of the business that life provides, finding books to read on my own is one of those things that faded away. A friend and I were discussing this a few months back and decided that we should get a few people together and choose a book to read every month or so; a book club, if you will.

The first book selected for our book club was Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner. I had never heard of this book before, but was excited to be reading anything that wasn't required for a class. So I ordered my copy of the book online, and before it had shipped I headed down to the library to take a look at this piece of literature. After reading a few pages, I went back to my computer and ordered a dictionary as well.

You see, Faulkner is an interesting individual. I now believe that he was one of those men who tried very hard to seem mysterious, because his whole book seems to have one central purpose: to keep me from understanding it. First, the story. Our dear friend Willy likes to start the story in weird places in the chronology and then spend hundreds of pages spinning around it in mysterious ways so by the end you may or may not have actually figured out what happened. But he has to put the story in there somewhere, so just in case he was becoming too coherent he fills each chapter with something I can only describe as thesaurus vomit. He uses a few huge and obscure words on practically every page. So for each chapter of Faulkner I end up spending a lot more time reading the dictionary than reading the book.

Every now and then Faulkner will offer me a page or two that are mostly comprehensible, but then I think he realizes what he has done and so he shakes out his thesaurus over the rest of the chapter. The most frustrating thing about this is that I am incapable of remembering any of the words I have learned in the hours I spend perusing dictionaries over Faulkner. Whenever a large word arises, I think to myself, "Oh, I saw that word two pages ago! It means... um... oh dear..." and then have to look it up all over again. 330 pages into the book, I have resigned myself to the fact that I will not understand these long sentences and so I have given up looking up every word.

I know that if I devoted more time to this book, studying it, defining terms, rereading, I could certainly master it, but luckily for me, I don't have to; this book is not in any way essential to my life. But just as lucky, there is a book that does matter, that I should devote my time and energy to, and it has a whole lot more to offer. James 1:25 says, "But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does." While I don't plan on spending too much of my time poring over Absalom, Absalom! I will be studying God's word, because it is worth it, because it gives freedom.

Truly His,
Caroline