Hello darling readers. Once again I have failed in my attempt to write for you at least once a week. I hope you can forgive me. One of these days perhaps I will make it up to you by writing quite a few blogs at once. Maybe.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving here in good ol' America, which means no school and I got to go home! So Tuesday evening I had a flight back to Chicago, and I was more than excited to get there. My roommate volunteered to drive me to the airport, so that morning I finished packing and was ready to go. Two and a half hours before I needed to leave I found out that a friend of mine also needed to go to the airport, much earlier than I, and her ride was stuck in traffic miles away. So my roommate agreed to drive her as well and we were off.
We arrived at the airport in perfect time for her flight, I waited at the gate with her for maybe ten minutes before her plane started boarding and she was gone. I checked the time. I had two hours and forty minutes in the airport before my flight. I wandered over to my gate and read while I watched several airplanes come and go. Just as I was beginning to feel antsy about sitting in that airport forever, a plane pulled up to our gate, and it was ours! Hooray! I fished out my boarding pass and waited for them to call for boarding. Ten minutes later, they did not call for boarding, but instead informed us that our flight was delayed by at least 20 minutes because our pilot wasn't here yet. Because I am an odd person, this was somewhat exciting to me. "Why, we already have a plane and our flight is delayed! How interesting!" And just as the novelty of waiting even longer for our flight started to wear off, our pilot arrived and we were called for boarding.
If any of you were on a plane Tuesday night and were mildly horrified as you watched a short little college student stand on the seat and tug a suitcase only slightly smaller than herself up to the overhead compartment while repeatedly refusing help from the taller and stronger flight attendants by insisting, "I've got it! It's so light!" Yep, that was me. For those of you who weren't there I assure you everyone was a tad bit horrified. Something about not wanting suitcases and little girls to fall on their heads.
The plane took off and I whipped out my crocheting and diligently worked on a new scarf for the entire flight (new you ask? Why, yes, dear reader, I finished the first scarf and have begun a new one! If you aren't sure I assure you this is an accomplishment of epic proportions), and pressed my face against the window as the pilot announced our descent into Chicago. We were home! As I stepped off the plane I nearly fainted with joy at the sight of Midway airport. It was so familiar, the seats, the tiles, the woman's voice over the intercom intoning a warning to all that the moving walkway is ending. That airport felt so strongly of home I had to fight the urge to simply sit down on the floor and soak up the Midway-ness of it all.
When I think about it, it of course seems a little odd that an airport would feel so strongly of home, but as a follower of Christ it definitely makes sense. In Hebrews 11, the writer talks about the amazing faith of some biblical persons, like Noah and Abraham. He goes on to say of them in Hebrews 11:15-16 "If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." We, like Abraham, are on our way to a better city, we are not called to find a true home in this world. In a way, an airport is my truest home because it embodies transition, the willingness to leave one place for another. I want to be ready to pack my bags at the call of God, and to call transition my home.
Truly His,
Caroline
Friday, November 27, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Hooked on Him
Which do you feel less threatened by: a needle, or a hook? I personally am beginning to embrace the hook. For those of you wondering why Caroline is so interested in pointed objects, I will clarify: I have officially traded in my knitting needles for a crocheting hook. Now, I know, you are all asking, "But Caroline, what will become of your ridiculously wide scarf?" Don't worry, dear readers, but allow me to explain.
When last you heard of the plot of my scarf, it was coming along very slowly, but had a great hope for its future. Well, since then I have become increasingly busy with other housewife-type activities like baking, and the knitting was banished to the far corner of my bookshelf. Every now and then I would consider retrieving it, but then I would remember that it was so very ridiculously wide, and any motivation to work on it would fade. You see, the scarf had grown to a point where it had lost all hope of every becoming a scarf. It was well on its way to becoming a blanket, but certainly not a scarf. So yesterday I pulled it off the shelf and gazed at it for a long while. I came to the conclusion the best thing to do would be to just start over, and with a sigh I began to unravel it, reducing my large knitted swatch into a ball of yarn. As I was doing so my dear friend, who is quite gifted in the area of crocheting, suggested to me that if I had such difficultly knitting, perhaps crocheting would be an easier alternative. She offered my a crocheting hook and a quick lesson and soon my new and improved scarf was underway!
I will tell you, my darling readers, that I was amazed at how very right she was. Crocheting was so simple! So quick! Why, with my new and reasonable width, I was well on my way to a completed scarf in no time! So after a few rows I stopped asking her to check and make sure I was doing it right, confident that I had mastered my new skill. In fact, just to show how much I had mastered my new skill, I counted the stitches. I was about to prove that I was no longer making this scarf wider with every row.
I counted.
I counted again.
I sighed.
Well, the scarf was not getting any wider. However, in the five rows since I had stopped asking for help I had lost precisely five stitches. At this point I contemplated giving up and just offering the yarn to someone more gifted. If all of my knitting was doomed to grow far too wide, it seemed my crocheting was doomed to fade into nothingness. I soon realized my problem, overconfident, I had stopped paying attention to one step she had assured me was tricky but essential, the final stitch in each row. My heart leaped! I knew what the problem was! That meant I could fix it! So armed with this new awareness of the dangers of missing the last stitch I dove back into my crocheting and watched as the scarf, now remaining a consistent width, continued to develop. I am fairly pleased to inform you that it is now coming along rather well, in my humble opinion.
As I was looking through the Bible for what God might have to say about this little scarf-making adventure, I came across this passage in Jeremiah 18:3-6, "So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the LORD came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the LORD. "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel." For this new scarf to be made, I had to pull the old one apart; the shape it had taken was wrong. But through the act of unraveling it, something much better was able to be formed. This is much like how God deals with our mistakes. When there are parts of us that are not right, he can pull them out and make something so much more beautiful than what would have been. I know he can do amazing things when we choose to let him unravel the imperfections in our lives, and so I can't help but trust him to do it. He is God, after all.
Truly His,
Caroline
When last you heard of the plot of my scarf, it was coming along very slowly, but had a great hope for its future. Well, since then I have become increasingly busy with other housewife-type activities like baking, and the knitting was banished to the far corner of my bookshelf. Every now and then I would consider retrieving it, but then I would remember that it was so very ridiculously wide, and any motivation to work on it would fade. You see, the scarf had grown to a point where it had lost all hope of every becoming a scarf. It was well on its way to becoming a blanket, but certainly not a scarf. So yesterday I pulled it off the shelf and gazed at it for a long while. I came to the conclusion the best thing to do would be to just start over, and with a sigh I began to unravel it, reducing my large knitted swatch into a ball of yarn. As I was doing so my dear friend, who is quite gifted in the area of crocheting, suggested to me that if I had such difficultly knitting, perhaps crocheting would be an easier alternative. She offered my a crocheting hook and a quick lesson and soon my new and improved scarf was underway!
I will tell you, my darling readers, that I was amazed at how very right she was. Crocheting was so simple! So quick! Why, with my new and reasonable width, I was well on my way to a completed scarf in no time! So after a few rows I stopped asking her to check and make sure I was doing it right, confident that I had mastered my new skill. In fact, just to show how much I had mastered my new skill, I counted the stitches. I was about to prove that I was no longer making this scarf wider with every row.
I counted.
I counted again.
I sighed.
Well, the scarf was not getting any wider. However, in the five rows since I had stopped asking for help I had lost precisely five stitches. At this point I contemplated giving up and just offering the yarn to someone more gifted. If all of my knitting was doomed to grow far too wide, it seemed my crocheting was doomed to fade into nothingness. I soon realized my problem, overconfident, I had stopped paying attention to one step she had assured me was tricky but essential, the final stitch in each row. My heart leaped! I knew what the problem was! That meant I could fix it! So armed with this new awareness of the dangers of missing the last stitch I dove back into my crocheting and watched as the scarf, now remaining a consistent width, continued to develop. I am fairly pleased to inform you that it is now coming along rather well, in my humble opinion.
As I was looking through the Bible for what God might have to say about this little scarf-making adventure, I came across this passage in Jeremiah 18:3-6, "So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the LORD came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the LORD. "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel." For this new scarf to be made, I had to pull the old one apart; the shape it had taken was wrong. But through the act of unraveling it, something much better was able to be formed. This is much like how God deals with our mistakes. When there are parts of us that are not right, he can pull them out and make something so much more beautiful than what would have been. I know he can do amazing things when we choose to let him unravel the imperfections in our lives, and so I can't help but trust him to do it. He is God, after all.
Truly His,
Caroline
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Coloring
Hello friends. Once again, I must begin by apologizing to you for neglecting you. I had resolved in my mind to blog here at least once a week. And then I watched a week roll by and thought to myself, "I have nothing interesting to write about," and left it unwritten. Another week, and every time the blog would enter my mind, I would say once again, "But I have nothing interesting to write about" and go back to reading other people's blogs about nothing in particular. I have finally realized that none of my entries have been about particularly interesting subjects, and I ought to simply sit down and write. So here am I, to talk about crayons.
Yesterday, I checked my mailbox, also known as the Box of Joy or Despair. Yesterday it was indeed a box of joy. Upon opening my box I found a very large envelope, folded in half, with my name on the front. Not only did it have my name on it, in the corner it had my brother's name on it! This was not just any old letter, this was a letter from my older brother! As you may be able to tell, this is precisely the kind of letter that makes any day better.
So, heading back to my dorm I opened up the envelope to find not only a letter but a generous stack of Disney coloring pages, labeled with a post-it note informing me that I should go and get some crayons. If any of you have not recently had the privilege of coloring with crayons I highly encourage you to do as I did, that is, run out immediately and find some crayons.
Crayons are some of the best things in the world. I would argue that in their very nature they have made the world a better place. Let me examine three of their more wonderful attributes. First, they come in scores of jubilantly-named colors (mine came in a 64 pack including colors such as "Macaroni & Cheese" and "Purple Mountains' Majesty"). Second, they are simply the best possible material for their job; their wax is just flexible enough to be comfortable to hold and just sturdy enough to color purposeful. Finally, they are completely useful; the entire crayon is made of the same colorful substance, there is not one tiny bit of it that cannot be used to color. It is wrapped in paper and when the paper must be torn off, it can be used to color on, or as a swatch! Not to mention that coloring in itself is simply one of the most fun and relaxing activities I can possibly imagine.
Filling in my coloring books, I have been left to ponder the simple goodness of crayons. That's exactly what I so love about them, everything about them is simply good. And I am drawn to the verse in Psalm 145 where David writes, "The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made." I know it's a simple and a silly thing to compare God to crayons, but if I am so drawn to these little sticks of wax because of their goodness, how much more should I be drawn to the God who is good to all? In Hosea 2:19 the Lord says to his people, "I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion." God is after our hearts, and his goodness is simply irresistible.
Truly His,
Caroline
Yesterday, I checked my mailbox, also known as the Box of Joy or Despair. Yesterday it was indeed a box of joy. Upon opening my box I found a very large envelope, folded in half, with my name on the front. Not only did it have my name on it, in the corner it had my brother's name on it! This was not just any old letter, this was a letter from my older brother! As you may be able to tell, this is precisely the kind of letter that makes any day better.
So, heading back to my dorm I opened up the envelope to find not only a letter but a generous stack of Disney coloring pages, labeled with a post-it note informing me that I should go and get some crayons. If any of you have not recently had the privilege of coloring with crayons I highly encourage you to do as I did, that is, run out immediately and find some crayons.
Crayons are some of the best things in the world. I would argue that in their very nature they have made the world a better place. Let me examine three of their more wonderful attributes. First, they come in scores of jubilantly-named colors (mine came in a 64 pack including colors such as "Macaroni & Cheese" and "Purple Mountains' Majesty"). Second, they are simply the best possible material for their job; their wax is just flexible enough to be comfortable to hold and just sturdy enough to color purposeful. Finally, they are completely useful; the entire crayon is made of the same colorful substance, there is not one tiny bit of it that cannot be used to color. It is wrapped in paper and when the paper must be torn off, it can be used to color on, or as a swatch! Not to mention that coloring in itself is simply one of the most fun and relaxing activities I can possibly imagine.
Filling in my coloring books, I have been left to ponder the simple goodness of crayons. That's exactly what I so love about them, everything about them is simply good. And I am drawn to the verse in Psalm 145 where David writes, "The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made." I know it's a simple and a silly thing to compare God to crayons, but if I am so drawn to these little sticks of wax because of their goodness, how much more should I be drawn to the God who is good to all? In Hosea 2:19 the Lord says to his people, "I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion." God is after our hearts, and his goodness is simply irresistible.
Truly His,
Caroline
Thursday, October 29, 2009
True Magic
Last April my family and I boarded a plane back from Nigeria. As we got settled for the eight-hour flight, my little brother and I scanned the list of available in-flight movies. There were little icons next to each movie to show why it might not be appropriate for children. Rather than scanning the movies by their titles, I scanned through the list by counting those icons. It went something like this: "violence, mature themes, language; violence, language; language, mature themes; violence; language; excessive violence; excessive language; nothing; violence." Wait, what was that? A nothing! My heart soared. There was one movie on this flight that was appropriate for all audiences! I investigated further and found this one and only innocent movie to be the TinkerBell movie. I will admit to you, dear readers, that I was a bit skeptical about this. A straight-to-DVD movie made for kids, starring that fairy who was always so incredibly rude to Wendy in Peter Pan? How good could it possibly be?
I will further admit to you, my friends, that this straight-to-DVD movie, made for kids, turned out to be one of my very favorite movies of all time. It was wonderful, it was fun, it was innocent. I fell in love. Back at home, I watched it again with a friend of mine, and we laughed and sighed and marveled at the beauty of it. Oh TinkerBell, how you have enriched my life.
Naturally, coming to college, I could not hide this great love for TinkerBell and her straight-to-DVD greatness for long, especially with a sequel coming out in the near future. Many of my conversations went something like this:
Friend: Did you see Zombieland?
Me: No, thank you.
Friend: It was like the best movie ever! So funny!
Me: Not like TinkerBell, though. That's the best movie ever.
Friend: Haha, good one.
.... (silence)....
Friend: Oh, you're serious.
Me: The sequel comes out October 27th.
Friend: Yeah...
After many similar interactions, one brave friend of mine decided that he needed to see this movie that had apparently so greatly impacted my life. I went home for a weekend and assured him that I would retrieve the movie and soon he would share in the greatness that comes from knowing this lovely and innocent TinkerBell.
When finally time and homework allowed us to watch it, I must confess I was terribly nervous. What if he hated it? What if everyone mocked my flitterific fairy friends forever? It was a risk I would have to take. They had to know the joys of TinkerBell. So we recruited a few more people and began the movie, and some of my dreams were realized as everyone laughed, sighed, and marveled at the beauty of it along with me. My friend Gavin even began planning to compose a Broadway musical version of the movie.
Pondering all this, I am drawn to the conclusion that I have some wonderful friends. I was first amazed by their willingness to watch my movies which to anyone would sound like a painful way to spend an hour, and then ecstatic as they accepted and enjoyed it. And I am drawn back to the passage in Romans 15:5-7 where Paul writes, "May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." I am attracted by the idea of unity in Christ, an innate acceptance of each other, something that ought to come naturally to us because we have the greatest things in common. And I am compelled again by the idea that even as we try to live out this life of accepting each other in love, Christ has already given us the perfect example, and already allowed us to be truly accepted, and loved. It's just magical.
Truly His,
Caroline
I will further admit to you, my friends, that this straight-to-DVD movie, made for kids, turned out to be one of my very favorite movies of all time. It was wonderful, it was fun, it was innocent. I fell in love. Back at home, I watched it again with a friend of mine, and we laughed and sighed and marveled at the beauty of it. Oh TinkerBell, how you have enriched my life.
Naturally, coming to college, I could not hide this great love for TinkerBell and her straight-to-DVD greatness for long, especially with a sequel coming out in the near future. Many of my conversations went something like this:
Friend: Did you see Zombieland?
Me: No, thank you.
Friend: It was like the best movie ever! So funny!
Me: Not like TinkerBell, though. That's the best movie ever.
Friend: Haha, good one.
.... (silence)....
Friend: Oh, you're serious.
Me: The sequel comes out October 27th.
Friend: Yeah...
After many similar interactions, one brave friend of mine decided that he needed to see this movie that had apparently so greatly impacted my life. I went home for a weekend and assured him that I would retrieve the movie and soon he would share in the greatness that comes from knowing this lovely and innocent TinkerBell.
When finally time and homework allowed us to watch it, I must confess I was terribly nervous. What if he hated it? What if everyone mocked my flitterific fairy friends forever? It was a risk I would have to take. They had to know the joys of TinkerBell. So we recruited a few more people and began the movie, and some of my dreams were realized as everyone laughed, sighed, and marveled at the beauty of it along with me. My friend Gavin even began planning to compose a Broadway musical version of the movie.
Pondering all this, I am drawn to the conclusion that I have some wonderful friends. I was first amazed by their willingness to watch my movies which to anyone would sound like a painful way to spend an hour, and then ecstatic as they accepted and enjoyed it. And I am drawn back to the passage in Romans 15:5-7 where Paul writes, "May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." I am attracted by the idea of unity in Christ, an innate acceptance of each other, something that ought to come naturally to us because we have the greatest things in common. And I am compelled again by the idea that even as we try to live out this life of accepting each other in love, Christ has already given us the perfect example, and already allowed us to be truly accepted, and loved. It's just magical.
Truly His,
Caroline
Friday, October 23, 2009
Waldo, where art thou?
Dearest Readers, I must apologize once again for the infrequency of my blogs. I do hope your week went well even without my ramblings. While I haven't been writing here, I have been researching what to wear for a Halloween costume. The girls on my floor at Biola are all celebrating Halloween together for what is called a GYRAD (Get Your Roommate A Date). This means that every girl is expected to come to this event with a guy, wearing matching costumes.
A friend of mine altruistically agreed to come with me, and then the true adventure began: figuring out what to wear. Seeing as it was my floor's GYRAD, the responsibility of making a decision and finding a costume fell to me. After much deliberation, a drop of inspiration came to me! My friend has a red and white striped shirt, and whenever he wears it, everyone points out how very much he looks like Waldo from the ever-popular Where's Waldo? books. It was perfect! He would be Waldo, and I would be... well, I didn't know who I would be, but at least now we had somewhere to start.
In the interest of finding a match for his costume I decided to do a little research. I went to my school's library catalog and searched for Where's Waldo? books, to no avail. Luckily for me, our library has access to many, many other libraries in the state, so if a student needs a book that another library has, she can order it and within a few days it will be available for her in our library. A very nifty tool. So I looked in the wider catalog and ordered one of the many Waldo books from another library. A few days later it arrived, and as I was checking it out the librarian observed, "You know, you didn't have to order this from another library, we have a few of these books here. They're just not in the catalog."
Waldo had evaded me again. How very fitting that he would be there, but inconveniently difficult to find. Searching through my newfound Waldo book, I had to wonder about the nature of searching. Why are so many great things hidden? In Jeremiah 29:13-14a God told Jeremiah, "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you." I cannot say that I understand why some great things, like Waldo, and like God himself, are hidden from us. But I can see that the fact that they are hidden does not at all mean that they are not here, or that we cannot find them. We were made to seek the things that matter, to chase after the heart of God. And when we truly do so, he promises to let us find him. I don't know about you, but I'm going to start searching.
Truly His,
Caroline
A friend of mine altruistically agreed to come with me, and then the true adventure began: figuring out what to wear. Seeing as it was my floor's GYRAD, the responsibility of making a decision and finding a costume fell to me. After much deliberation, a drop of inspiration came to me! My friend has a red and white striped shirt, and whenever he wears it, everyone points out how very much he looks like Waldo from the ever-popular Where's Waldo? books. It was perfect! He would be Waldo, and I would be... well, I didn't know who I would be, but at least now we had somewhere to start.
In the interest of finding a match for his costume I decided to do a little research. I went to my school's library catalog and searched for Where's Waldo? books, to no avail. Luckily for me, our library has access to many, many other libraries in the state, so if a student needs a book that another library has, she can order it and within a few days it will be available for her in our library. A very nifty tool. So I looked in the wider catalog and ordered one of the many Waldo books from another library. A few days later it arrived, and as I was checking it out the librarian observed, "You know, you didn't have to order this from another library, we have a few of these books here. They're just not in the catalog."
Waldo had evaded me again. How very fitting that he would be there, but inconveniently difficult to find. Searching through my newfound Waldo book, I had to wonder about the nature of searching. Why are so many great things hidden? In Jeremiah 29:13-14a God told Jeremiah, "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you." I cannot say that I understand why some great things, like Waldo, and like God himself, are hidden from us. But I can see that the fact that they are hidden does not at all mean that they are not here, or that we cannot find them. We were made to seek the things that matter, to chase after the heart of God. And when we truly do so, he promises to let us find him. I don't know about you, but I'm going to start searching.
Truly His,
Caroline
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Arm in Arm
Disneyland again. I am truly sorry if you tire of hearing about Disneyland, but it seems to be where all the interesting events in my life find their meaning. This last weekend was Parents & Family weekend here at Biola, also known as one of the best weekends of my college career. My parents and my little brother (and by little I mean age, not stature; he's almost a foot taller than me) flew out to hang out with me, catch up on life, and explore my world. Sunday afternoon I spent a lovely time with my family in Disneyland, wandering back and forth between the two parks, eating ice cream, riding rides, sighing when rides were down for maintenance, and just generally enjoying being with my family.
At 7:20 that evening we had made plans to meet a group of my friends from Biola for dinner. This turned out to be a very interesting event to plan, because we could not figure out how many people were coming. In the span of two days the total went from 3 to 6 to 8 to 10 to 14 to finally 13. This all worked out great, the Disney people were more than gracious about accommodating us. After dinner my parents and I said our good-byes and we headed off in separate directions. After many of my friends went in turns assuring me that I have the best parents ever (they were right, by the way), we all headed off toward a ride called California Screamin'. On the way, someone decided it would be a good idea to link arms, so many of us formed a long chain as we frolicked toward the ride. This turned out to be an exceptionally dangerous endeavor. We nearly ran someone into every lamppost we saw, and we had to break our chain several times for many a terrified family.
Thinking on this little walk we took, I cannot help but marvel at how distinctly dangerous it is to walk with people, to trust them. In the case of our journey towards California Screamin', it was particularly dangerous to trust everyone else to lead us, or pull us along, without harm. So many times I almost ran into posts, and so many more times I nearly fell on my face. But that's the thing: scary as it was to almost do those things, I never actually ran into anything or fell over. When faced with the fear of running into something, I still had power to steer the group away from it, or to let go momentarily. And every time I lost my balance, I found that those people who were holding on to me inadvertently held me up. In Romans 15:7 Paul writes, "Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." As dangerous as it may sometimes be to accept and to trust others, it is so worth it, because it brings praise to God. I encourage you to face the danger and accept each other.
Truly His,
Caroline
At 7:20 that evening we had made plans to meet a group of my friends from Biola for dinner. This turned out to be a very interesting event to plan, because we could not figure out how many people were coming. In the span of two days the total went from 3 to 6 to 8 to 10 to 14 to finally 13. This all worked out great, the Disney people were more than gracious about accommodating us. After dinner my parents and I said our good-byes and we headed off in separate directions. After many of my friends went in turns assuring me that I have the best parents ever (they were right, by the way), we all headed off toward a ride called California Screamin'. On the way, someone decided it would be a good idea to link arms, so many of us formed a long chain as we frolicked toward the ride. This turned out to be an exceptionally dangerous endeavor. We nearly ran someone into every lamppost we saw, and we had to break our chain several times for many a terrified family.
Thinking on this little walk we took, I cannot help but marvel at how distinctly dangerous it is to walk with people, to trust them. In the case of our journey towards California Screamin', it was particularly dangerous to trust everyone else to lead us, or pull us along, without harm. So many times I almost ran into posts, and so many more times I nearly fell on my face. But that's the thing: scary as it was to almost do those things, I never actually ran into anything or fell over. When faced with the fear of running into something, I still had power to steer the group away from it, or to let go momentarily. And every time I lost my balance, I found that those people who were holding on to me inadvertently held me up. In Romans 15:7 Paul writes, "Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." As dangerous as it may sometimes be to accept and to trust others, it is so worth it, because it brings praise to God. I encourage you to face the danger and accept each other.
Truly His,
Caroline
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
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
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
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