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
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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
Monday, January 18, 2010
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
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
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
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
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Oh, Hello Again.
Please picture me peeking my head out from behind something large with the intention of speaking to you. Then picture me seeing you, becoming embarrassed and hiding behind said large structure again. That's basically what I have been up to for the last month. Every few days I realize that I have not written a blog in quite a long time. I will log on to my blog, open up a new file and think to myself, "I haven't written in so long, I'm sure my readers are disenchanted. I'll have to write something truly superb to make it up to them." And then I realize I have nothing to say that is superb enough to win you back, so I run away again. And here we are, one month since my last real blog.
I suppose you may be wondering what I have been up to that has so distracted me from you for the last thirty days. And for once, I have an answer: I finished my first semester of college. The last month was somewhat of a trying one. In everything it was a period of simultaneously feeling that I had altogether too much time on my hands and altogether not nearly enough time. Which I suppose probably meant that I had just the right amount.
This was a month of finals; final papers to write, final projects to create, final exams to study for, but through it all I baked. You might think this was an unwise use of my time. If so, you would probably be right. Most days went about the same; I would look at my homework, and decide my room needed cleaning. Once my room was clean, it would probably be a mealtime. Once I had eaten, I would look at my homework once again. I might do a little work on it, but more likely I would just become overwhelmed and run to the kitchen to bake something.
Baking is such a lovely thing. If ever you are feeling insecure, I highly recommend it. It starts out fairly simple, and it stays that way. You stir a list of ingredients together in one large bowl. Then you transfer them to a tin or pan of some sort, pop them in the oven, and when you pull them back out there is something beautiful and edible and sweet. It is a perfect reassurance: you can accomplish something great in only an hour. Because I live in a dorm this is followed by the further assurance of everyone swarming to eat the baking. This month I made many many batches of cookies, assortments of brownies, muddy buddies/puppy chow (not technically baking but still delicious), and of course lovely, lovely cupcakes. My compulsive baking has earned me something of a reputation in my dorm; every now and then as I pass someone in the hall they will squint at me as though trying to call to mind why they recognized me and finally remember, "Oh yeah, you're that cookie girl."
Baking is so easy to love because for so little effort I get so much reward. And it is so like the love that God has for us, because with no work on my part, no acts of greatness, he still loves me. Romans 5:8 assures us, "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." God demonstrated his love in the greatest way before ever we looked toward him. This love is so beautiful, and so sweet, I cannot help but crave it.
Truly His,
Caroline
I suppose you may be wondering what I have been up to that has so distracted me from you for the last thirty days. And for once, I have an answer: I finished my first semester of college. The last month was somewhat of a trying one. In everything it was a period of simultaneously feeling that I had altogether too much time on my hands and altogether not nearly enough time. Which I suppose probably meant that I had just the right amount.
This was a month of finals; final papers to write, final projects to create, final exams to study for, but through it all I baked. You might think this was an unwise use of my time. If so, you would probably be right. Most days went about the same; I would look at my homework, and decide my room needed cleaning. Once my room was clean, it would probably be a mealtime. Once I had eaten, I would look at my homework once again. I might do a little work on it, but more likely I would just become overwhelmed and run to the kitchen to bake something.
Baking is such a lovely thing. If ever you are feeling insecure, I highly recommend it. It starts out fairly simple, and it stays that way. You stir a list of ingredients together in one large bowl. Then you transfer them to a tin or pan of some sort, pop them in the oven, and when you pull them back out there is something beautiful and edible and sweet. It is a perfect reassurance: you can accomplish something great in only an hour. Because I live in a dorm this is followed by the further assurance of everyone swarming to eat the baking. This month I made many many batches of cookies, assortments of brownies, muddy buddies/puppy chow (not technically baking but still delicious), and of course lovely, lovely cupcakes. My compulsive baking has earned me something of a reputation in my dorm; every now and then as I pass someone in the hall they will squint at me as though trying to call to mind why they recognized me and finally remember, "Oh yeah, you're that cookie girl."
Baking is so easy to love because for so little effort I get so much reward. And it is so like the love that God has for us, because with no work on my part, no acts of greatness, he still loves me. Romans 5:8 assures us, "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." God demonstrated his love in the greatest way before ever we looked toward him. This love is so beautiful, and so sweet, I cannot help but crave it.
Truly His,
Caroline
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