Author: Caroline

When I'm not riding in the backseat of my Grandpa's restored vintage car "Mable," I'm doing other things like... rising to most adventure occasions my husband proposes / chasing our toddler around Brooklyn / enjoying neighbors, strangers, and friends / making countless trips to the laundromat / writing for various publications and for personal reflection / loving and serving our local church / cleaning the bathroom / hosting small and big crowds in our home / meeting up with a friend for coffee / thinking Vocation is my strange frenemy. Though I have worked and existed in many stations/places, I am convinced that each day has good work to be done and that I am equipped and prepared to do that good work. This blog explores the tension and the intersection of a constant vocational call - to good work, neighbor love, and living in the kingdom come. My favorite things are coffee and creating and laughing (preferably with company). I love to listen to sermons and read biographies and make tea before going to bed.

postcards

I wrote this post after a couple hard days during my time in Honduras, talking with girl after girl after girl who has been battered and bruised by an unforgiving world. Today I am realizing that I will always collect these “postcards.”

… the stories are piling up like postcards from similar destinations: despair, loneliness, anger, betrayal, pain, and sometimes hope. Those are the ones I like best – the hope ones. The others are ones that make my heart hurt. Those destinations are hard to explain, but they seem to keep arriving at my doorstep.

Last night a few more postcards arrived at my doorstep, all busted up and barely legible from the journey. The stories seemed tucked under the furrow of the girls’ brow or their dimpled giggles, but soon it all came out. These girls, too young to experience what their stories exposed, too beautiful to be found in such a mess.

We talked and questioned and fumed a bit. I strained to make my face say what my heart felt – pain. I didn’t want to say, “It’s okay,” because too many people say that.

What I did say, at the end of both conversations was this, “I don’t know what kind of messes you’ve got… I don’t want to pretend I know you at all. What I do know is that there is abundance that can overwhelm the pain. There is a way to make sad eyes smile.”

It was probably too much, but I said it anyway. I can only keep receiving these postcards if  I drop off mail of much lighter weight. I wanted what they received from me to be Christ – a FULL, abundant, joyful image of freedom and grace.

This song by Zerbin is the motion of this desire. We are not stuck in this ground, this skin. We are bound for a land free from messes and weights and sin. The headlights of this glory-bound train will one day meet a sunrise that will make earth mornings seem quaint.

This is the message I want to leave when I gather the stories from all these girls. This is the only JOY that can walk through pain and survive.

 

Posted on by Caroline 3

winter with wide eyes

“Wow. You’ve got pretty great balance!”

My cowboy boots had just come to a graceful rest at the end of a good, long slide across the snowy parking lot. Last night was the first real snow in Iowa that feels like winter and sliding with my boots just seemed appropriate.

“It’s really funny that you say that, because I actually fall down all the time,” as I am saying this, I realize I probably enjoy the impressive feeling of staying on my feet a little too much.

“Go ahead and get another good slide in,” my friend said.
I sealed my fate with a confident, “Yeah, okay!”

I think my arms flailed, but I’m not sure. The next thing I knew, my cheek was touching snow. I laughed for awhile, thinking about how I must look to someone passing by. I could see my students in Honduras shaking their heads, “Oh, typico Nichols!”

It’s strange how familiar I am with these types of mishaps, but it doesn’t make me want to slide on a snowy parking lot any less.

After I got the giggles out, I decided I needed to get one more slide in – because what else is there in winter, but chances to shake with shivers and breathe out smoke and run with frozen lungs? What else in winter but a more urgent joy, bundled up in mittens and stuffed into shuffled steps?

I wouldn’t choose winter when I’m standing in August, but every snowy season I rediscover with wonder the urgent stillness; the thrill of goosebumps and every hair standing on end. And something whispers to my deepest place, “Hurry, before it wakes!” Running from frozen car to frozen door at work in the morning, facing near-Narnian winter winds, I can choose to relish the taste of winter.

All this talk of winter is my re-visiting of a book I finished recently by N.D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl. If ever I’m tempted to shake my fist at the cold, unforgiving winter skies, I think back to Chapter 4. I think about all the treasures God has hidden in fast-moving moments today and about how I want to discover each one. If I let myself, I get excited about God’s hidden treasures with the kind of abandon kids don’t know how to cover up.

I want to open my eyes extra wide today, at the chance I could take in more beauty.

Living really does make dying worth it.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

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Occupy Life: Spanish at an Irish pub

This is another in a series of posts called Occupy Life. Each day you and I occupy physical time and space, making bold statements about what is most important in this life (whether we’re holding picket signs or not). Other entries: pancake batter, tying ribbons, Alejandra,  Lunch Hour, Delaney and Roland or the original post Occupy Life: Things One Might Do While Unemployed.

The scene is an unlikely one – Iowa’s attempt at a small Irish pub – but as good a place as any to brush up on my rusty Spanish skills. I’ve given up thinking my heart is capable of uprooting and replanting an endless amount of times. Instead, I believe my heart has magical roots that span states and countries and oceans. And maybe for that reason, I still kind of introduce myself as 100% catracha. If you don’t understand, then you probably aren’t Honduran. But, it might explain why the invitation to tell stories of Honduras in Spanish made my skin tingle.

The excitement came like a flood as I talked about all the faces and places and valleys and mountains that led me to discover a fuller picture of my God. And then I realized my words tripping over words may not make any sense to my friend – especially in Spanish. I offered to switch back to English, but my friend said my blabbering was preferable to Rosetta Stone.

And then it hit me. The words flew out of my mouth accompanied by hands waving and another wild (probably unflattering) smile stretched across my face, “a la orden!”

“A la orden” is a Spanish phrase that means, “at your service” and it was thrown around as often as Midwestern “hellos” when I was in Honduras. I noticed whenever one of my high school girls complimented another on an outfit, the response was always, “a la orden,” which meant that the outfit or shoes or whatever could be borrowed at any time. It was “at their service.” I started to think that we should have the same response whenever anyone compliments our talents.

My friend looked amused. I was trying to gather my jumbled excitement and put it into words… words that could somehow communicate how passionate I am about this idea that NOTHING I can do/say/sing/write/give is mine. Nothing. I don’t own my talents. There is no Caroline Copyright on my abilities. It’s ALL the Lord’s and it is ALL on loan for the purpose of loving God and serving others.

Right there in that cozy, Irish-looking booth I gestured and exclaimed and squealed and probably got more excited than the average, sober Irish pub-goer. But it was like re-discovering this beautiful Truth in a new context called Ames, Iowa.

I live here. I work here. I serve here.
How can I love God by making my every talent available to others?

Oh, you like my whimsical bubble letters? Let me know when you need a poster made.
Oh, you like the way I chase your kids around? Let me know when you need a night off.
Oh, you like my acapella singing at work? Let me know when you need a karaoke buddy.
Oh, you’re looking for a Spanish speaking buddy? Let me know the time and place.

Seriously, just TALKING about a la orden makes my heart sing.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
by turning compliments into acts of service

Posted on by Caroline 6

still singing

“Be still and know that I am God” Psalm 46:10

This verse has wrapped itself around my soul several times and given comfort when all else seems crazy.

Today, I remembered this Truth is half-way. I’ve allowed the imprint on my heart to only sink to surface level. I forgot to memorize the rest of the verse from Psalm 46:10, “…I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

God invites us into stillness and knowledge of Him while He is inviting us into world-sized worship; He is inviting us into mission with Him that can only and will only result in an international song.

The excitement of Christmas seems like a vague memory now that we’ve hit our January stride. We’re already knee-deep in next things and we’ll be lucky to get thank you cards sent out for the gifts we received.

But, every once awhile – on a day like today – I’ll sing a song that gets unfortunately confined to a small winter season, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”

On a day like today, I’ll let the rhythm beat with my feet and the wind carry the words,

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Emmanuel – God with us – the story of the Gospel. The story from Genesis to Revelation of God’s Holiness, our sin and His overwhelming grace to bridge the gap. Stories are never, ever meant to be secret. Stories, especially great stories, are meant to be shared.

And so I am still singing.

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

I am still singing with great joy that Christ came – God came to be with us, to wear skin, and to become our pardon. Christ came to live Love and I am still singing this song of tragedy turned redemption.

I am still singing the song that anticipates Christ’s return, because the story isn’t finished. We are not only meant to be still and know God is God. We are not called to walk out on Christmas being reassured of our future eternal home.

We are called to join with God to haste the day of Christ’s second coming. We are commissioned to share the greatest story ever told.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.

Rejoice, rejoice – because God came to dwell with us and to be our righteousness. Also rejoice because we carry around a story that will bring the nations into stillness and knowledge of Him.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

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chosen for holiness, predestined for love

I climbed through jello in my dreams this morning, with clouds as my sneakers. I felt like I was still climbing through comforters even after I was out of bed. Strange.

After I shook off sleep with extra ferocity, I grabbed my morning brew and dug into my new Bible Reading Plan (3650 Challenge). I’m really surprised at how much I love digesting 10 chapters a day. It sounds like a lot because it is, but I am very hopeful that I will make me a better intentioned, purposeful reader. I’m oh-so-prone to let my mind wander!

Today had definite high jitters potential – speaking for the first time at church – but the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

And I am daily rejoicing in this Truth. The Gospel needs no help from me – it stands sufficient alone.

We are going through Ephesians in church and this phrase stuck with me, “chosen for holiness, predestined for love.” How can we not burst with joy and run after God with delight?

I’m climbing back into jello dreams and cloud sneakers.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

we have met to worship

This song, written in 1819 by George Atkins and put to music in 1825 by William Moore, could not better capture my hope for the Body of Christ in this age. Are we praying for holy manna? Do we believe God sends holy manna – that He responds to our prayers in miraculous ways?

Read more on the song and its implications today here.

Be encouraged today by these words.
(I’m also a huge fan of this old-school folk harmony, so enjoy that too!)

Brethren, we have met to worship and adore the Lord our God;
Will you pray with all your power, while we try to preach the Word?
All is vain unless the Spirit of the Holy One comes down;
Brethren, pray, and holy manna will be showered all around.

Brethren, see poor sinners round you slumbering on the brink of woe;
Death is coming, hell is moving, can you bear to let them go?
See our fathers and our mothers, and our children sinking down;
Brethren, pray and holy manna will be showered all around.

Sisters, will you join and help us? Moses’ sister aided him;
Will you help the trembling mourners who are struggling hard with sin?
Tell them all about the Savior, tell them that He will be found;
Sisters, pray, and holy manna will be showered all around.

Is there here a trembling jailer, seeking grace, and filled with tears?
Is there here a weeping Mary, pouring forth a flood of tears?
Brethren, join your cries to help them; sisters, let your prayers abound;
Pray, Oh pray that holy manna may be scattered all around.

Let us love our God supremely, let us love each other, too;
Let us love and pray for sinners, till our God makes all things new.
Then He’ll call us home to Heaven, at His table we’ll sit down;
Christ will gird Himself and serve us with sweet manna all around.

Posted on by Caroline 1

Occupy Life: copy shop and pancake batter

This is another in a series of posts called Occupy Life. Each day you and I occupy physical time and space and we make our statement big and bold, whether we’ve got picket signs or not. Read here or here or here or here or the original post here for more.

“And this machine – whoa. I gotta take a minute.” Pause to breathe, “This machine is so amazing. It could probably cut through… a whole body (which would never happen because this protective plastic part has to be down). Seriously.”
Ryan stares at me, midway through my “training” at the copy shop, so that the magnificence of this cutting machine sinks in.
“Yeah?”
“It’s just that, well, I think this is my favorite machine in this whole place.” Pause. “Look at this huge stack of cardstock… we’re gonna cut it.” Pause for effect, “Are you ready?” Pause, “Oh, this is so great!”
He pushes green buttons, the guide moves, then the blade, and then … slice.
“Ah! Wasn’t that amazing? Whew! I could like go run laps that was such a rush!”

Meet my new friend and co-worker Ryan. A more delightful first day of training I have never had – his excitment oozed about everything from invoices to the newest printer – the 9000. I was immediately swept up into the banter and decided that we would be friends.

I typed my last email at my first job at about 2:55, rushed to pick up the obligatory black polo shirt for my second job at the copy shop and in between let the dog out for a quick romp, cleaned up the kitchen, and grabbed an apple for the road. Always moving, always learning, and always occupying this space called life.

As I was learning my way around the computer stations and printers, my friendly new co-workers shook off any first day nerves I had. And, I’m going to be honest, Ryan gave my awkward identity a run for its money. I’m not sure how this works, but awkward fits really well for him. I didn’t think his excitement about the cutting machine weird at all – instead, I kept trying to find reasons why he might need to show me again.

At one point, during the the explanation of all the paper types, he stepped up onto a cardboard box. From his perch, he continued without pause until I said, “Um, are you on your own little platform, there?”
“Yeah, I kind of like it.”

And that was that. I didn’t mind.

When Ryan thought I’d had enough training, I left for the night. I didn’t need to turn on the radio on the way home, I was still amused by the copy shop goings-on when I pulled into the driveway.

Then, round 3 of amusement began. My cousin Vince is always ready to hash out philosophy or politics or religion – pretty much all the topics that people are supposed to stay away from we hit head on. And I love it.

Tonight, we tackled the Christian message of “don’t,” country music, and pancake batter, amongst other things. The pancake batter is for tomorrow morning, but he thought we’d pull out Aunt Shirley’s recipe and save some morning rush. Well, turns out our approach to conversation is like our approach to cooking: completely different. Vince is super methodical and I’m a loose canon. I under-melted the butter and only partially measured the baking powder. Every time I turned around he was gesturing wildly and sighing about my lack of precision.
“There are recipes for a reason, Caroline.”
Well, I’m not saying that any of my recipes can ever be replicated, but just to test things out I suggested we make a pancake tonight (chunky butter and mysterious baking powder and all). It worked.
I could be making it up, but I think Vince even said with an approving nod, “It’s good.”

Today happened, every minute of it. I wouldn’t subtract a moment and that’s good because, well, I can’t.

I’m occupying life.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

this & that

While you are picking up the toys strewn about and nibbling at the last of the holiday baking, check out these links!
  • Jonathan Edwards’s resolutions organized in seven categories– a good build up to all those things you will try to squeeze into this next year. A little preparation never hurt anyone. Maybe instead of making your own list of “shoulda, coulda, woulda”s, try checking out what Jonathan Edwards resolved and if it makes sense to you.
    Religious Affections

  • This collection is one of several “Top” lists of 2011 I really enjoyed. It’s from Qideas, highlighting articles from the past year. I also enjoyed Tim Challies Top 10 books and also his Top 10 List of Top 10s.
  • Speaking of Top 10, Tim Keller is regularly on mine as a pastor and author. Looks like I’ll need to find a copy of “The Meaning of Marriage” and dig in, based on the rave reviews. It’s not just the subject that interests me, it’s Keller’s approach to questions and controversy and Bible application.
  • This is a great clip of a child being heroic AND precocious. Check it out.
  • After reading Chesterton’s “Orthodoxy,” I considered him a kindred spirit and friend. His love of creativity was a direct reflection of his love for God. It might be one of few theological pieces that I laughed my way through. He did have a strong view against Calvinism, but that never bothered me. This article might explain why.
  • This might be my favorite article, as of recent. Russell Moore writes about a conversation he had with theologian Carl F.H. Henry before he died. Moore was lamenting the current state of Christianity and the direction it was surely headed, when Henry reminded him that our eyes for despair are not God’s eyes. What about Saul of Tarsus? C.S. Lewis? Charles Colson? The article ends with this:
    Jesus will be King, and his church will flourish. And he’ll do it in the way he chooses, by exalting the humble and humbling the exalted, and by transforming cowards and thieves and murderers into the cornerstones of his New City.
    So relax.
    And, be kind to that atheist in front of you on the highway, the one who just shot you an obscene gesture. He might be the one who evangelizes your grandchildren.
  • I read this NY Times article last week sometime and I’m still thinking about it. “The Joy of Quiet” explains a surprising trend in society these days. Or, maybe it’s not so surprising if you understand that what is luxury must also be rare. These days, quiet is rare, so people are starting to consider it a luxury. Unplug my hotel room? Sure, I’ll pay extra for that. People do! Anyway, it’s an interesting article.
  • If you aren’t really in to articles, but you love photographs, check out 24 hours in pictures from around the world. Fascinating! Here’s a sample (kids in India wait in the taxi for their family to return:

There is more, but I think Wednesday can only handle so much (I read the stats and you’re not going to click on all these, anyway!).

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

does God giggle?

Apparently, Iowa has a high tolerance for awkward as well.
My state made caucus a verb (it was a strange enough noun).

Yesterday, after my very gauche post, my best friend from college sent me an email with this little inspired nugget to capture the lengthier explanation. I love it.

Oh, goodness. I love how a friend can still know you so well, but live so far.

Today I laughed with gumption and it felt spectacular. I’m not sure what to hold responsible, but if I figure it out I’m going back to say thank you. In fact, I wouldn’t mind doing some gratitude back-tracking right now before hitting the books and my sweet pillow.

here’s some blessings as I counted them today:

the early morning moments when I sit with my coffee and my 3650 Challenge, soaking deep in Truth.
the acoustic guitar in the office singing bon iver, adele, and hanson.
dreaming about an office space where inspiration happens and stories unfold.
the office printer, when it does and doesn’t work, is a magical machine.
check marks – oh heavens! I am ever-so-thankful for checkmarks in even slightly important places to make me feel legitimate and productive.
finding a remote control car in a co-worker’s office; laughing like a child.
forgetting my lunch and then getting invited to hang with the cool kids.
wearing my thrifted boots (thanks, Dad) that make my feet feel like snuggly eskimos.
chasing around my cousins and hearing their laughter unleashed.
the balance of cousin cate, who loves make believe and cousin charlie, who loves to cuddle.

mischief.

I know it sounds weird, but I can get riled up (in a good way) about some good-old fashioned mischief, the same way I get excited about mystery. I kind of think they are related. And, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I think both are, um… holy.

If you’ve read Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday, then you’ve at least thought about how God must have a perfect sense of humor and maybe you’ve wondered (with me) a little bit about what that humor looks like.

I mean, have you ever wondered why we have armpits or why every blade of grass is distinct or why things like treehouses are places where children play, but where insects probably reign?

Do you wonder what His laughter sounds like? I often do.

What did God think of the caucuses in Iowa tonight? Does He giggle at that funny word?

I don’t know, but I’m sure excited to find out one day.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

my very gauche life

I have a high tolerance for awkward.

If I could knit some of my awkward stories together, you wouldn’t believe the knotted mess of yarn I’d end up with – some very fantastical adventures, to be sure. My sister (who has a low tolerance for awkward) sometimes interrupts me mid-story because she doesn’t even want to imagine the situations I find myself in.

I finally found a word for it: gauche. It means, “lacking social experience or grace.”

In high school, I once pronounced genre, “jenner.” Yep, I did.

You might think the only way is up from there, but I’ve fought hard to stay gauche. It hasn’t always been intentional, but the results bring laughter and I’m glad to throw in some deep-hearted bellows to the joyful mix.

The other day, I couldn’t even finish my sentence in a conversation with my boss that started out, “Earlier when I was trying to see how high I could high kick–”
(laughter)
“What? Is that weird?”

I have believed for a long time the power such acts possess is unparalleled. Forget about the pressure of memorizing social cues. Trying to “say the right thing” always landed me far from the target, but with more embarrassment and less laughter. If I’m willing to be the most awkward in the room – to rediscover that childlike freedom, there’s a good chance everyone else feels good about who they are and I get to laugh, too.

I remember hanging out with my friend Sarah in Honduras and talking about how God can sanctify our personalities. We were wondering if, as we become more like Christ, our personalities would be less…. well, weird. I was mostly wondering if I would ever have less gaucheries in my days. If I would ever, you know, be less awkward.

I was doing some acrobatics in her kitchen as we thought things through and while she endured my spider webs of words. Then, all of a sudden, I wondered if I could do the splits. Without any explanation, I disappeared behind her countertop. When I came back up, Sarah was full of giggles.
“I just wondered if I could still do the splits,” I said with a blank face.

Through her giggles and gasps, she said, “I think your sanctified personality should have more splits, for sure!”

And I think that’s when I decided my very gauche life is quite alright. I’m thankful for those moments when I can see joy tugging at the corner of someone’s mouth or when I see laughter dancing in the light of someone’s eyes.

I’m thankful for opportunities to throw life’s glitter up in the air and see where it lands. That sounds very shiny and cute, like Lisa Frank stickers. But, I’m serious.

Last night, my family shared around the dinner table, “a hope for this year.”

My hope was to get serious about joy.
I’m ’bout to figure out what makes brown horizons and dark corners and sad eyes shine.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 7