Carpe Diem – Sent from Boyd Hobbs on Vimeo.
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.
do you know what love is?
Unfortunately, I will not take the time to expand on my many philosophical ideas about what love is. I just want to give you a picture of a couple of people that I think do it pretty well.
This is one of many pictures I took for Macayla and Melvin on Saturday… and I have to say there are few things like being invited to share in the celebration of love. I really admire and respect both Macayla and Melvin – because I know that together their desire is to serve the Lord more passionately than they ever could have apart.
giant avocado
Today I’m taking wedding photos for my friends Malvin and Macayla… we’ll see how that goes! And then I’m headed to my first Quinceañera celebration! Lots of reason for incomplete sentences and exclamations!
I will write more tonight, hopefully, but I wanted to show you the size of the avocado I bought on the street the other day.
Yes, this avocado is as big as my face.here is the joy
Okay, fine I’ll just tell you. Her name is Alejandra; I know I’ve mentioned her before. In my previous post, “wish words were better” she was the source of my joy. After a whole year of looking way too desperate to be her friend (some would say that my dedication to high school girls is because I’m desperate for friendship), Alejandra blessed me with one of the best conversations so far this year.
And, even better, I am beginning to see more beauty unfolding every day! Alejandra has this mysterious joy about her and she is always ready to bring out smiles and laughter in others. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I also know that there’s a lot brewing on a deeper level. She is a thinker and a questioner and now a pursuer of Christ. I am so proud of her bravery and every bit of her unique spirit. I can see that her pursuit will delight the Lord in so many ways.
She reminds me (in such a beautiful way) that I need to keep fighting… that I need to be sharpened… that I need to be humbled… that I need to be honest… that most of all, I need to be so knee-deep in God’s Word that I’m content not to get out. She reminds me of these things because I want to serve and lead as a sister in Christ in the best way. And I know I can only do that through the power of the Lord.
Tonight I’m Recommending
For the past two nights, my beloved green tea has betrayed me (in the form of crazy, wakeful eyes deep into the night), so tonight I am just going to leave you with some links and non-links to check out.
This is the recipe (from allrecipes.com, my newest online obsession because it stores and categorizes everything for you!) that I used tonight to make cookies for tomorrow. The title enticed me right away – Best Big, Fat, Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookie and I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t disappointed!
I’ve been tickling my ears with some different sounds these days. I won’t get into any philosophizing about it, but I’m a huge new fan of briterevolution – I mean what could be better than supporting a cause AND good music at the same time? Anyway, through the site, I found out about Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, who I would highly, highly suggest if you are searching for chill harmonies and simple melodies.
I’d like to recommend my mom. Yep, she is pretty wonderful (see previous post). She also has a blog where she is writing about her two African sons, staying with my parents for a year on an exchange program. The stories are funny, but I think I mostly love it because I know my mom is behind the keys!
Fold laundry. Yes, I guess you could say this is a non-link. It’s something that relaxes me and slows me down. Sometimes, as I am folding I wonder how creative one can be or how precise or what kind of fold minimizes wrinkles. All of these thoughts are good and welcome because they mean I am not thinking other thoughts and I think that is healthy.
Send/receive packages (another non-link). Today, I got a package from my amazing mother. Inside were things I love: almonds, kashi granola bars, orange spice tea, Real Simple magazines, a few letters and announcements, and WORLD magazines. I am not ashamed to say I read the Real Simple family edition cover to cover… and enjoyed every page!
I’ve been pondering what community and the church and the Body of believers is kind of morphing into (by way of social networking online) and I think this article in Christianity Today is interesting.
And lastly, as I am in the midst of praying for many people who are hurting, struggling, journeying, and trying to figure out where God is… this passage from Lamentations is a beautiful reminder:
Lamentations 3
1 a]”>[a] I am the man who has seen affliction
by the rod of his wrath.
2 He has driven me away and made me walk
in darkness rather than light;
3 indeed, he has turned his hand against me
again and again, all day long.
4 He has made my skin and my flesh grow old
and has broken my bones.
5 He has besieged me and surrounded me
with bitterness and hardship.
6 He has made me dwell in darkness
like those long dead.
7 He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.
8 Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.
9 He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.
10 Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,
11 he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.
12 He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.
13 He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.
14 I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.
15 He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.
16 He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.
17 I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
18 So I say, “My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD.”
19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
wish words were better
have you ever found yourself so easily expressive when you are at the bottom? the words come out like a water hydrant – broken, spewing and streaming out of control.
but then blessings come like the most beautiful downpour and then… nothing.
this is how I feel right now.
God unleashes the most gentle, welcome shower of promises today and all I can do is smile up at the sky with a silly wet face.
my desk is a brick wall
Hair wadded on the top of my head means business. It means there is no messing around with swoopy stragglers, determined to blur my vision. It means my just-clean, still wet hair is tightly bound with a wonderful elastic band higher than most cheerleaders dare to perk their tresses.
And this is me tonight, after a most random day. You’ve heard the cliché “writer’s block,” where the words stop forming at the tip of your tongue and the typewriter has been silent too long to be a hesitation or a dramatic pause or an intentional ‘brain break.’
I’m not talking about writing (unfortunately, I have no reason to make a legitimate “writer’s block” plea). I’m talking about work.
For the past week I’ve been waiting.
waiting for a telephone call about school closures
waiting for a demonstration to finish
waiting for stoplights that only blink yellow
waiting for the curfew to be lifted
waiting for internet to load news about my city
waiting in lines at the crammed grocery store
waiting for things to bake
The waiting was not peaceful. Rather, I should say finding peace amidst the wait has been a fight. I tried on lots of different responses to see if they would fit the (very) many moments:
Some moments I was antsy (truly fidgeting) and anxious.
Other moments I could appear resigned and even indifferent – kind of a, “whatever will be, will be” attitude.
Sometimes I would stretch my little creative fingers and try to make paintbrushes express the palette pushing at my brain.
A good amount of moments I’ve spent reading – classics and philosophy and studies.
Moments slipped away in regret for moments wasted.
Moments were thrown at wishes for moments to come.
So many moments and all that flustered, not-peaceful waiting were wound very tightly around a hope that someday we would return to school and find a routine hidden underneath the newness of a third “first day of school.”
That day was today. The routine? Still looking.
I went from chapel to office to office to chapel to my desk… and quickly left to find others to meet with and de-brief with and compare notes with.
My mind is such a stubborn creature. I couldn’t make it bend to the appropriate response to the moments of this day, which was of course, “Be productive!”
No matter how many times I tried to shove my thoughts into an unseemly straight pattern, I found myself sitting at my desk (the smallest amount of moments) busting the seems of the pattern because nothing was fitting. My desk is a brick wall.
All this was satisfactorily frustrating (I would be concerned if this behavior wasn’t curious) and I came home tired (which I thought was completely unmerited). I won’t bore you with the play-by-play, but I want to share a few moments where God seemed to open the sky and say “here is the beauty.”
I was able to chat with my mom (trust me, I never though ‘chat with my mom’ would ever sound normal) tonight and she reminded me, in her wonderful motherly way,
“BUT God is still on His throne and He is God all by Himself. Give some thought to throwing out your ideas and plans and joining Him in where He is working right now.”
And I say, “Okay, mom. I will try that.”
Listening to: Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors
Drinking: Green Tea with coconut, ginger, and vanilla
joy and hope
Today, as I sat in church, I started to smile.
We listened to passages from James, Ephesians, Romans, and Psalms interspersed with singing and preaching and this was the overwhelming message: the joy and hope of our salvation is not dependent on the circumstances of this world.
Though we are part of this world for a time, our true citizenship is in heaven. Our true and perfect leader is seated on a throne so far above the unruly rebellions of humanity. The pain and brokenness of the world (and things Satan intends for cursing) God intends for blessing… and for opportunity to reveal more of His glory.
We have hope and our hope does not disappoint (Romans 5).
Praise the Lord for this beautiful Truth!
this is the painting on glass I did (motivated by our neighbors coming over for dinner)papa
a poem for my dadi might have been confused
about your love at first
all the whiskers, the wrestling –
the working, raw hands were the worst
about your love at first
all the whiskers, the wrestling –
the working, raw hands were the worst
those dreadful early mornings
when my ‘turn’ came around
I heard your voice in the stair
and then slowly tumbled down
I climbed upon your lap
no matter what my age
and we sat there together
and together there we prayed
then out to the milking barn,
too tired to complain,
I’d sit on a bucket and you’d ask,
“who’s your best friend these days?”
I was a normal, growing girl
all moody and self-involved
and so I want to say I’m sorry
for not seeing your resolve
your persistence to know me
and your love I shrugged off
your interest and encouragement
when others called it a lost cause
thanks for giving pointers
on free throw shots and running form
thank you for attending
every time I would perform
I am sure that I passed over
and looked the other way
when you chose to sacrifice
so my joy could be displayed
I remember those nike shoes
you gave me once for Christmas
I don’t know how you got them, but
the miami dolphins colors – delicious
every season with it came
a new thing for us to conquer
unruly bulls, flaming buildings, and
flooding basements almost put us asunder
any moment I’ve resented you
for punishments or curfews or tempers
is swept away with one small truth
that your love was at the center
for punishments or curfews or tempers
is swept away with one small truth
that your love was at the center
in the several years since
I have lived outside your “roof”
I grow ever more thankful
for your tough love and your reproof
not all dads are like you
though many are very fine
I believe that there are very few
who can imitate Christ’s love, divine
we are growing now, both me and you
we are struggling steady onward
I just want to say thank you again
for pressing farther in and upward
I never called you papa
though I always wished I could
but I’m alright to call you dad
because our love is understood
making baleadas
If you ever find yourself in Central America, called to work at a Christian school… And if that school has only been in session 12 1/2 days due to swine flu and political crises… And if that length of time spent outside of your work (without seeing students’ faces) forces an inner struggle with purpose… And if that inner struggle turns into a more tangible questioning… And if all of this builds to an unaccountable climax, you may wonder what to do.
May I suggest making baleadas?
Emily and I ventured out today and walked the streets, which seemed strangely normal. Everything from traffic to hot dog stands to stocked produce shelves at the grocery store. It made yesterday seem like a day-long dream.
Taxi drivers still sat in the same spot by the hospital, shirts folded above their bellies and mothers still walked arm-in-arm with their grown daughters down the street to catch the bus. Furniture stores were still selling furniture and our favorite frozen yogurt place still sold frozen yogurt.
My brain quickly tired of trying to come up with explanations of why everything looked so… normal. We finally made it back home and I guess we both thought we’d like to turn our minds to the kitchen to tackle something important and patriotic… like baleadas.
Wikipedia says the name baleadas comes from either the bullet shape of the bean () or a legend that a woman making them was accidentally shot (bala means bullet). I’m not sure where the name comes from, but the taste is absolutely delicious. I’ve had baleadas at some of the most “local” places in the city – on the street in Guanacaste and at the stadium market – and I definitely appreciate the flavor. My neighbors from church also invited me over for baleadas one Friday night and I got to see the whole process unfold right there in the kitchen.
Well, I know we didn’t do everything right. And, to be honest, the result was probably not near as “Honduran” as I let myself believe (could that be due to the fact that we got all of our recipes online instead of from a wise, aging Honduran neighbor?).
Here, I’ll invite you to see our “normal therapy” today:
Emily started the beans YESTERDAY. That’s right, they took over 24 hours. I think we picked up the wrong beans at the store yesterday, but who could blame us? It was mayhem! I think she added garlic, chili powder, and cumin. After soaking and cooking them forever, she smashed and then blended them, adding a little oil.
I looked up directions for tortillas (something I was convinced everyone said was super easy, but I would find to be hard) and decided I would master it. Of course, I am doing whole wheat tortillas because I’ve got to try to make these things healthier because they taste so good. I found a recipe with five ingredients and simple directions (thanks sarah pachev). I added my tortilla-pounding skills from my church friend Maria, who used the brim of a plate (for uniformity, of course). After making about five, I realized why those women in the market sweat so much, with their hands constantly over a skillet!
Then, on to the eggs. Emily cut up onions, red peppers, and green peppers, and then I cooked them in a bit of oil and added tomato paste and water (we didn’t have tomatos). Then we added eggs and minutes later we were all through!
I know this doesn’t sound like a big accomplishment – refried beans, eggs, and tortillas. But, the big test is tasting the Honduras in everything. Because it’s not just beans, eggs, and tortillas… it’s way WAY better.
I think the baleadas was just the antidote our minds needed tonight. You know, I’m appreciating more and more this perseverance I see to do normal life, amongst very abnormal circumstances. Baleadas was the most normal thing we could think to do tonight after four days of uncertainty, no school, and mounting questions. Baleadas just felt right.
And tonight, after we heard we weren’t having school again tomorrow, we knocked on our neighbors’ door to ask the family of three if they would like to have dinner with us on Friday night. You know, because that is normal and this is life here, with or without demonstrations and school and my own understanding of purpose.
MUSINGS IN THE MIDST 