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
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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
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
Thursday, February 11, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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
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
Monday, January 25, 2010
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
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
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