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

I wear many hats. Oh wait, maybe it was none at all.

For those of you who have been reading my blog, you know much about the two excursions I have had to Disneyland during my college career. Oh what merry times they were. On both occasions I spent a considerable amount of time trying on hats. The first time I wandered around a store with hats in many sizes, shapes, and colors, alternating wearing them and making faces in the mirrors. There seemed to be a hat for every style, and I debated with myself, switching hats over and over again, which one I should buy. But of course, on that first visit I had not brought enough money for a hat, so I was left with the excuse of waiting until my roommate's birthday to decide. In the meantime I would simply dream of all those hats and which one was best suited to my life.

Next time rolled around, and this time I was sure I would be able to find the perfect hat. The situation was similar, same store, same mirror, same hats; actually there were even more hats this time, along with the previous suspects. I ran back and forth across the store, holding armfuls of hats and wondering if the employees would be bothered if I just took every hat in the store and sat in front of the mirror until I had decided.

I narrowed it down to three. There was a green one, a sparkly gray one, and a multi-colored, semi-shimmery one. These hats danced on and off my head, chasing each other in circles as I debated. And finally, after an extended period of musical hats, I put them all back and left the store. Because, you see, I have no hats. You may be confused. I expect some of you are saying to your computer screen, "But Caroline, of course you have no hats, that's why you need to buy one!" This is, and always has been, my dilemma in shopping. I have a secret fear that if I wear something that I do not usually wear, people will look at me disapprovingly and say, "Caroline, who do you think you are?" This is why, if you spend enough time with me, within a few weeks you will have memorized most of my wardrobe(not all of it, mind you, because I have a collection of things that I don't wear for the same reason that I don't buy hats).

As I ponder this event, and most of my other shopping experiences, I have to conclude, as I'm sure you already have, that I am being ridiculous. I make my wardrobe choices out of fear of what some extremely bold, critical and angry people(whom I have never met but I still suspect is out there) might say. Psalm 56:4 says "In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?" This verse is so simple, and in everyday life should be so easy to obey, and yet so often I have ignored its uncomplicated wisdom. Realizing this, I can only conclude, as I am sure you already have, that the only proper response would be to alter my ways of thinking, and to buy the hat. Look out, world.

Truly His,
Caroline