Category: anecdotes

just a wednesday

Today, a Wednesday, is no special event.

Though it is Spring Break, the Office of Student Life persists tirelessly in preparation of the post-break wave of involvement. Several weeks ago, I was strangely (if not typically) ambitious and decided to design and implement a new set of service projects for Spring Break. I was thinking it could be the other Spring Break alternative, you know? So many people take flight for this short week, impatient to forget the local roots in a search for sun, adventure, and the infamous road trip.

So, three themes emerged: environment conservation, housing equality, and homelessness. Yesterday was environment… and we made the short trek to the nearby nature preserve to prepare the way for a natural spring to gurgle up from underground. We were quite a mess by day’s end, but there is something purely human about working with hands (by design, I’m sure).

So today, a Wednesday, was spent at the single resident occupancy housing development… learning about affordable housing and placing toiletries, irons, ironing boards, and alarm clocks into the rooms.

Tomorrow will be spent serving breakfast to the homeless at 13th and Lavaca, then back to campus to make homeless care packages for those panhandlers on Ben White, IH-35, and at that dreadful triangle by Mopac.

There’s really nothing magical about it. It’s just doing what needs doing. I guess it’s strange then, this need to explain. It’s less an addition to life and more the stuff of it.

My grandparents went to a revival last night. And I think that’s the stuff of life, too. I wonder why we think they are exceptions. Service and revival, could that be indeed what it is all about?

Posted on by Caroline 1

Dependence

A couple months ago, I found myself re-discovering dependence. Psalm 63 is a treasure my heart never tires of finding.

O God, you are my God. Earnestly I seek you.
My soul thirsts for you and my body longs for you
in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

I remember reading these words and asking God to be my one source of life. My bread; my water. I asked because I knew it was Truth – Jesus came as Sustainer. But, I also asked with a privileged assumption.

I am mostly a regular person. I love coffee in the morning. I get lost in the pages of good fiction. I enjoy debate. I crave ice cream. Call it regular. Call it normal… whatever it is, I get pretty comfortable in the realm of regular. Every once in awhile, I’ll venture outside regular into the Caroline de-centered universe. I glimpse this worldview and see I am merely a part and not the whole. But I often end up back at the coffee counter, housebound by a novel, or with a coffee-flavored, coconut-topped ice cream in my lap.

And this is my privileged assumption.

See, when I ask God to be my only bread and my only water, I expected the regular with a few less coffees. I expected the regular with a few more challenging days. I expected to navigate the shoals with a bit of an effort and then tell stories of arduous adventures. I expected to have the luxury of admitting faults and confessing failures at my convenience and (ashamedly) benefit.

In the past two weeks, God has given exactly what I have not expected. I have been stripped bare of regular. The privileged assumption that the Lord would teach and discipline around my schedule was shattered when I abruptly stormed the borders of the regular realm into the unknown territory of true dependence.

A nice evening turned sour when I caused a car accident on South Congress and William Cannon that totaled my car (which was on loan from my parents). An affordable and amazing living situation became impossible when I had no transportation. My “personal space” became unreasonable when I humbly accepted my co-workers’ offer of their living room couch. A simple errand brought more tears when I hydroplaned in my co-worker’s vehicle and firmly met the curb. A nice Christmas shopping cushion quickly depleted after repairs. This turn of events has sent me back to be refined by fire.

All these years, I have felt compelled to pair the Lord’s story with what I have to offer. I needed to be able to say, “See, I am a giving person. I make sacrifices for other people and good things are said of me. I take people out to coffee and leave thoughtful cards and messages at the right time.” I needed to be able to make God look good.

For the first time in my life, I have nothing to offer.

The Lord is answering my prayer for Him as Sustainer by opening up the most closed places; my failures laid bare in my professional and personal life. The LORD’s story is indeed every bit as glorious as when I first met Him, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the presence or absence of my offerings. I am finally seeing that He can stand alone. His story and glory need not be paired with anything in my life – it’s enough that He died and rose again. It’s enough that He paid the price of sin.

It’s got to be enough, too. Because right now I literally have nothing else to offer.

I submit that life in the regular realm is lame. Regular is mundane mediocrity; the sloppy seconds with enough lackluster charm to woo a trance. C.S. Lewis wrote that we are like the little boy who would prefer to play in mud puddles over taking a vacation at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

A vacation at the sea is a glorious exodus from the realm of the regular, muddied puddles and onto the shores of divine dependence.

Related writings (nothing I say hasn’t been said before):
Salieri and Studentdom
Good: revisited
Community

Posted on by Caroline 2

at fault

There’s not one bit of blame I can throw for this one. It’s all on me.
Yet, the Lord continues to teach me – using my folly for His glory.

After taking my students out to dinner to thank them for their hard work on the Service Project committee, I found myself driving on a busy road. I was admittedly distracted, looking for William Cannon Street, when I noticed the taillights illuminate the back end of a Ford. Into it I crashed, with airbags exploding and windshield breaking. It took a few moments to understand what had happened, but when I did, a scrolling marquee raced through my mind, “This did not just happen to me.”

But, it did happen. No one was hurt. But, there were some dents and scrapes. I’m hoping GEICO is as endearing as their commercials…I’m still waiting on the english muffin, gecko man, but I haven’t heard back.

Lessons: there are many. The policeman assured me this “happens all the time.” But, for all the times that’s been said, I couldn’t get the scrolling marquee to leave. I was convinced these kinds of things just don’t “happen to me.” I was sure I had gotten over the young-convinced-I’m-invincible phase, but I realized otherwise as I wandered about aimlessly and waited for a ride at the corner 7-Eleven. What a night!

The Lord has provided. That is indeed the tale to tell. Not only was I safe, but He has provided and continues to provide ways for me to go to work, church, and even some social functions. I realize I deserve no sympathy, which makes my heart all the more grateful for His provision.

Posted on by Caroline 0

Too much of a good thing: Lima beans, sugar-free Nips, and free time

I’m not sure how the exact adage reads, but I can tell you from personal experience that you can have “too much of a good thing.”

Sure, there are some things you could never have too much of: a surprise on your doorstep, sweet words from a friend, hot air balloon rides. But, I’ve found out that some of the things I love most are exactly the things that can cause severe indigestion and misdirected weekend days.

I suppose an explanation is due.

Anyone who knows me even slightly is familiar with my deep, green love for lima beans. It all started when I was very young. Baby lima beans were among the home-grown treasures my grandma pulled from her garden behind the Econo Lodge. I spent many a weekend checking in guests at the front desk, skipping and cart-wheeling in the long hallways, swimming in the pool with my (secretly purchased) first two-piece swimsuit, and playing among the growing things around back near the gazebo. The strawberries, green beans, and lima beans found an avid admirer in my rosy cheeks and bright eyes. I would often sneak spoonfuls straight from the simmering pot before we sat down for dinner. I think we called it “taste-testing.”

Since I’ve left home, I’ve searched for ways to bring my Iowa home to wherever I am. Lima beans have become a solid standby.

So, when I moved down here, I searched the markets and frozen sections for my baby limas. I finally found them and last weekend I cooked a delicious pot – all for me. I ate little else that Saturday and every bite was delicious…
and then I started to feel funny. Sunday it seemed like my system was acting a little strange. It was Wednesday before I felt like my body was back to normal. Did I learn my lesson? Well, I’m still eating lima beans. But, I’ll think again before making it my only food source.

A similar thing happened after my birthday last year, in Chicago. Only that time, my grandma had sent my favorite candies: sugar-free coffee Nips. I love the little gooey things! But, within the course of a couple days I ate too many. My stomach was making weird noises and my body was saying “slow down on the sugar-free business, girl!”

In some ways, a similar thing happened last weekend with a good thing most people know as ‘free time’. I don’t usually have much of it and that’s generally okay with me. My mom and I both love being busy and feeling needed. So, when the opportunity comes for free time I am so flustered I don’t know what to do with it. The result is not indigestion, but laziness. Instead of tackling postponed craft projects and engaging in some much needed cleaning, I watched football and ate lima beans.

Don’t get me wrong – I enjoyed another Saturday rooting for some of the greatest college football of all time.

I guess what I’m saying is: when “good things” are material, then too much is the same as too little. Neither one satisfies.
I wrote awhile back about revisiting my definition of ‘good’ (august 8, 2007). I realize I need a healthy dose of heavenly good to remind me just exactly why I’m here. The heavenly good should really be the only thing informing my food and free time choices.

Just between you and me, I think heavenly good choices will still include lima beans and free time.
I will just pray for grace to know limits:)

Posted on by Caroline 0

flight delays

I’m sitting here in Omaha airport waiting for my connecting flight to Minneapolis en route to San Antonio, where I’ll head north to Austin. I’m not too worried about getting back; I’m just glad I came.

I was home for just slightly over 48 hours and every minute was wonderful! At first I was a little thrown off by the unseasonable heat and humidity, but this morning I woke up and gladly donned a sweatshirt before entering the crisp morning air.

I recently wrote about my deep love of the Midwest… there’s a well-worn groove that runs in my marrow that leads to and from a geographic home. And returning to a deep love is like breathing in familiar air. And breathe I did. A big, Texas-sized breath with the people of home and the landscape of my growing up years.

The primary reason for buying this last-minute ticket formed as I was listening to a sermon on a CD two weeks ago. The pastor of my home church announced that God had called him to a church in St. Louis. Despite the surprise, shock, and sadness, I felt a need to encourage and support his decision, as well as express my gratitude for his insistence in preaching the whole counsel of God. Worth a plane trip? Absolutely yes.

Yesterday listening to Terry’s sermon, “The Sovereignty of God in the Life of the Believer,” my gratitude only swelled. With all my heart I say, “YES! It’s about the LORD!”

In a conversation that morning with my dad, we talked about discovering who God is. My understanding grows as I get older and especially as I seek out fellowship in community with believers where I live. I have learned to expect and insist that my shepherd guides in the ways of the LORD.

Partly because my flights are confused and partly because airports give me headaches, I’m going to end this before I should. I will try to come back to this this weekend and write with the credit it deserves. Until then..

Posted on by Caroline 0

breathe.

I walked outside this morning and saw leaves on the ground. It was startling, under the circumstances, but the belated reminder of changing seasons brought refreshing perspective to this Tuesday.

I miss fall in Iowa. I miss the colors in Michigan. I miss football.

I don’t have a problem admitting it. I’ve been romanced by my geographic roots and there’s no distance capable of thieving my love of home. But I’m learning about ‘home.’

I was talking with my grandparents this weekend and I mentioned how obtuse it seemed that with each move (Michigan, Wisconsin, Chicago, Austin) my heart wanders across the distance to the fields of cass county. I’m not homesick, per se. I’m not ready to pick up and move back to midwest meadows. But, with each day I grow to love my upbringing with a deeper and wider appreciation.

I would be a fool to think that geography alone ties me to any certain place. In fact, I am positive geography is the backdrop, the soundtrack, for life lived in relationships. It is what helps my heart find home, no matter where I find my physical self.

‘Home’ here in Austin is Sunday night worship. It’s sitting at Wahoo’s after church, laughing together and daring dreams. ‘Home’ is being comforted, challenged, refined, and hugged. Home is admitting failures, saying things with your eyes, and writing smiling emails at work.

‘Home’ is getting bigger for me. I have to take a big breath (the kind they tell you to take when you are overwhelmed) before I can think about how my four walls are expanding across states, yet still feeling comfortably crowded.

I think of my brother yelling encouragement and instruction to his football guys in Holland. I think of my sister, his wife, who is every day searching for joys in work and school. I think of my brother giving crazy determination and faith at Fort LeonardWood. I think of my sister pressing on in her cube of office space in Des Moines. I think of my brother standing tall at Iowa State and learning about the Lord’s pursuit. I think of my mom and her unwieldy commitment to her CAM students. I think of my dad and his willingness to be refined as a leader in the church.

I think of my uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents… friends…

I think of these and I am home. What a blessed, beloved community.

Breathe. What a privilege. Breathe.

Posted on by Caroline 2

The bittersweet taste of humble pie

Sometimes it’s a lot easier to bite into the bitter and almost impossible to sense the sweet. I understand these things are necessary, yes, but if I’m honest sometimes I don’t enjoy it.

For example, I have already sobbed the story of Bonnie, the sad silver 1995 Pontiac that has graced the all-important, distinctive Meridian neighborhood in South Austin. But, there’s more! After multiple trips to Carter’s Transmission on South Lamar (during which my new mechanic friend Doug and I practically had each other on speed dial and after our multiple encounters I thought the shop deserved thank you brownies… they weren’t so sure:), it was established that the Bonneville’s fate was a slow power steering fluid leak, which means that I will continue my absurd little routine every time I leave or arrive at the new house on the corner.

This slow, determined leak is producing a lot of things – perseverance for one. Each day I inspect the cardboard placed ever-so-carefully after pulling into the drive the night previous. I try to do a sweeping glance of the usually calm neighborhood before I kneel on all fours to pull out the corrugated, cricket-infested layers, but I can never be sure who sees the ridiculous ritual.

In addition to the placing and removing of the cardboard, I also had to figure out a plan to clear the drive of the small dark spots my leaks caused. I tried: coca-cola, baking soda, dish soap, coarse brush, detergent, and even limes. Our neighbors saw me frequently bent over the same area: scrubbing, rinsing, sweeping, and praying the devils away… I finally gave in and bought some top-notch concrete de-oiler that gas stations use. It looks like that did the trick.

In addition to the cardboard and the cleanup, I had to send out an SOS to the parents for a little financial assistance. … Something I was hoping I wouldn’t ever have to do.

I could keep adding ‘additions’ to the slices of humble pie I consume – at work when I wear the same thing twice in one week, on the highway when it takes me a while to get up to speed, in the parking lots when I get into my banged up driver’s side, at home when I feel bad about staying in and bad about going out.

Even though this may seem to be a pity party, it’s really just my being vulnerable with things I can’t hide. I guess that’s not the vulnerable part, because everyone can see it. What feels vulnerable is admitting that these ‘tantamount trials’ are very trivial. And… ironically the more I insist I’m eating humble pie, the less humble I am about it.

Sigh. Such is the plight of the sinner. But, that’s where the sweetness comes in – though I have no good thing in me, the Lord restores and redeems me in this life. He makes strong my weakness and makes sweet my bitterness.

It took me awhile to finish this (there’s no end to the humbling moments! But I finished writing this on Sunday 9.16) but in the meantime, I have felt blasted with blessings!!

Just this morning the Lord brought Dawn and I together at the coffee table outside church to plan ways to bring Him glory through outreach on campus! She works for Campus Crusade and has been trying to get on my campus for almost 2 years – and now we have each other to encourage and challenge.

Also, my good friend Ben is coming this weekend, which will be a much needed time of fun and fellowship that I am so looking forward to!

So, with another bite I raise my pie high and say thank you, giver of oil leaks, denter of doors, and keeper of thrifty budgets – I’ve got a LOT to be thankful for!

It’s been brought to my attention that my drama has got the best of me again. My apologies!

Posted on by Caroline 2

Falling from fright

Yes, I did just screech and fall down in the middle of a quiet hallway after my boss greeted me with a normal-voice-level “Caroline” from behind. It’s more of an involuntary twitch than it is a lame attempt to attract attention or cause passers-by to question my sanity (although it probably does produce these outcomes as well).

I’m still not quite sure when it started, but in high school my above-average jitters became evident when a friend of mine caught on. I think it’s fair to say he exploited the ‘element of surprise’ and by the time I left for college, I was scared even if I knew someone was waiting around the corner. If you have ever been frightened (be it a roller coaster, haunted house, or a well-planned prank), you might understand my distress and sympathize, because I am in an almost-constant state of scare.

I am rarely actually afraid of anything; I just somehow always end up on the floor if I’m caught off guard. It was really horrible when I worked in a restaurant in college. Once they found out, I somehow managed to always have a pan clashing behind me or a loud voice surprising the silence in my ears. The kitchen of a chain restaurant is not a place you want to be falling on the floor – but my fright seems to not know when it is and isn’t appropriate to fall and make a scene!

I have tried many things to cure this curious behavior, including but not limited to: furrowing my eyebrows and clenching my fists in preparation for the fright, strategically placing myself near furniture so as to catch my fall, walking very lightly so as to kind of bounce back without too much of a scene, and avoiding standing in front of people who could surprise me from behind (a terribly hard thing when you are 5’1 and 1/2). Well, none of those tactics work, as my boss found out this morning as I crouched against the wall in the fetal position.

I can only hope that I can control the spasms long enough to fool those who need to be fooled and then count on my good friend humor to bring laughter to observers in a “joke’s on me” kind of way.

And I’m already off to a great morning:)
Cheers for Thursday!

Can I just add as a postscript that I fell in fright AGAIN this past weekend (it’s Tuesday now). I was walking out of the bathroom, all dressed up for church. I opened the door and Darin had just climbed the stairs. I promptly collapsed to the floor – skirt and all – and let out a startled yelllp. Of course, I laughed it off once again… but I’m starting to be concerned!

Posted on by Caroline 0

Laboring on Labor Day

SIGH

I meant to write this on Labor Day, but my day started at 6:15 and wound down around 11:00. It was the first service project since I came on as Service Coordinator and I’m so proud of the students! In one week of school they managed to get the word out, sign up students, collect paperwork, and get to the event.

I gambled and opted for the city bus instead of using the vans (liability and insurance is so much more of a hassle when you’re on the side obsessed with risk management) … and the morning began with a crowd of college students running to catch a bus that turned out to be the wrong one! But, we found the bus, which took us to our destination…

The students jumped right in and before long, what was a dull wall became a brightly colored work of art!
I was definitely nervous, but thank the Lord it turned out all right!
Posted on by Caroline 0

moving slowly…

I really don’t know where to put this little story, but I have to write it somewhere! I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that I have suffered yet another foolish injury. I really should be more careful – not having insurance and all. I mean this ‘odd jobs’ gig is great until you get hurt and the person who employed your services says, “Who are you again?” Minutes after I gritted my teeth at the impact, I heard a very convincing radio advertisement for personal injury cases…and then I realized I had nothin’ – absolutely flying solo.

So – the story:
One of the odd jobs (by the way praise the Lord that I even have odd jobs!) I’ve been doing is painting for a guy named Ben. He’s a great guy to work for – funny, sarcastic, and witty. We get along well. Anyway, today he called me to see if I could pinch hit this afternoon on some exterior painting. In my mind I was thinking “beach or paint…beach or paint…” My sense won over my preference!

So, I started painting a forest green on the outside walls of a cute little apartment. I jumped a little when a trap door beside me opened up and Ben appeared singing “Up from the grave he arose!” I’m known to be skittish about those types of things, but it wasn’t really a big deal. I got further down the wall and then stepped back to admire my work and …
tumbled down the trap door and banged up my back and bum pretty bad while I was at it. I was mostly shocked, I guess. It felt strangely Alice-in-Wonderlandish, without the silly rabbit and dinners …without everything actually except the FALL and I’ve got two honking bruises to prove it. Actually they feel more like tumors the way they jut out of my body!

I’ve done this routine before, though, when I fell down the icy back steps last winter. Man, I sure do know how to injure myself!

I’m leaving for Austin tomorrow!!

Posted on by Caroline 2