I will not lie. I am relieved to see the month of October go. Speaking of, the month that generally is one of my absolute favorites proved itself, in the year of 2009 to be quite the contrary (Does anyone else feel about 6 times smarter when they use the phrase "quite the contrary" or is it just me?)
Here's a little insight into the ridiculous life of Carrie lately: ...My sweet little Mac died, so I have not been keeping up my writing as much as I should. I loved that little computer. But it really was its time to go. There was no space left on it and it was pretty old. That laptop was my faithful friend - used daily for my 2 years of grad school for both assistance in paper writing and research, as well as entertainment in my most boring moments of life. ...Some of you may know that I got a new car just a few months ago. Its a cute little silver VW Jetta and was much a much needed asset to my life seeing as I had been driving my fathers Buick Regal for the past few years and almost every week of this summer would bring something new falling about or breaking on that car. ...Anyway, last month got hit 2 times, neither of which was my fault. The first was just a small ding on the bumper from someone backing out of the driveway where I live. ...The second was a bit more elaborate. My friend Haley and I were in Austin for a Mark Driscoll conference (awesome, by the way) and right when it ended we were headed to lunch with some friends. As I was approaching a light to get on the interstate, a wheel (tire, rim, and all) comes over the side of the wall of the overpass above me to my left, falls about 30, and hits my car. Thankfully it didn't hurt us, and the situation could have been far worse, but still it was frustrating. The police said that the wheel came from either an 18 wheeler or a trailer- whichever it was didn't notice it had even lost its wheel and kept driving. ...Insurance was gracious and very helpful, so while my car was being repaired I was driving a rental car. A few days in my friend Amy and I were on our way to one of the schools for lunch and an 18 wheeler didn't see me and tried to change lanes and sideswiped me. Fantastic. ...Also, about a month ago I woke up at about 5 o'clock in the morning with terrible pain. I tried to ride it out and about an hour later ended up paying a visit to the ER that lasted the rest of my day. We were all pretty sure it was an appendicitis, but tests showed it not to be. In the long run it was discovered that I had an ovarian cyst that ruptured. Which, might I add, has been reported to me by a few different people as being more painful than childbirth. I went home that night and my sweet parents came all the way to Dallas to see me and took care of me for the next few days. By about a week later I was back on my feet and feeling pretty good, and thankfully without any real or lasting damage to the old babymakers.
Don't get me wrong, October also had its good moments: ...2 of my most favorite human beings and dear friends got engaged to one another. I won't go into great detail, but I will say that I hold to the belief that their relationship began only because I decided it should and gave them both "loving nudges" in the direction of each other. ...I am loving my job more than ever. The relationships I have with my girls here are so fun and blessed. I have never enjoyed a working environment more than the staff on which I find myself right now. ...My teaching has been going well - I am leading 3 small groups and this semester we are going through the Old Testament doing a character study, and it has seemed that every week's lesson I've prepared has been more about God teaching my heart the same thing that I see that character learning. Last week's lesson on Joseph has stuck with me more than any other. His ability to look at his brothers, and after all the things he had been through because of their sin he could still say "What you intended for evil God intended for good." He saw all of life redemptively. ...I was Kelly Kapowski from "Saved by the Bell" for a Halloween Robert Randolph concert and that was WAY fun. Yes, my costume did involve lime green stirrup pants and a heart necklace that read "Zack" just like in the sweetheart dance episode. Yes, this was only my second time in my life to dress up for the aforementioned holiday which I sort of totally hate. ...And more than ever, I am humbled by and so grateful for the kind family that I live with in Dallas. I knew that financially I was going to need a break from paying rent when I moved there this summer, but I had no idea just how true that would be after the month of October happened.
So life goes on, and despite the bother of frustration that it brings, for every frustration there is about three times as many moments where I find God reminding me or his goodness and provision for my life. Now. more than ever, I am seeing that if the gospel is true then it has to be COMPLETELY true. This means that if its true for one part of my life its true for all of it. That, like Joseph, I should be able to look at where I have been and seen that all along God was sovereignly working things out in my life to bring himself glory and my heart closer to that of Christ's. That the Lord wants the gospel invade every part, every chapter, every relationship, every event in my life. Past and present. I am thankful for his patience with me as I learn to loosen my grip on those things and instead take hold of my Savior.
I really am happy right now. I love my job, my friends, my students, my life here.
We made it thought Florida with only a few speed bumps but it didn't slow us down too much. The summer ahead promises to be filled with lots of laughter and late nights. Some tanning and traveling. Some of the precious girls I hang out with were talking last night about how they will be seniors next summer and I already found myself panicking about it. I'm ridiculous.
I hate bus rides. I will forever hate the game Catch-phrase because I hate that people always want to play it on a bus. At 3 am. It beeps. They yell. Not cool. I also really hate, and always refuse to watch, "Remember the Titans" on a bus ride. I have (no, really) watched it at least 14 times on youth bus trips. It makes me feel sick to even think about. I also hate when there's like 30 kids laying in the aisle and you are trying to get back to see people or go to the bathroom (another thing I hate) and you have to walk on all the armrests. The worst is when you think you are in the clear to step on the ground and there's some poor freshman boy's arm down there that you can't see and you step on it.
There are certain people in my life who's words are like gold to me. If they encourage or challenge me it holds the weight equivalent to 10 other people's opinions combined.
My parents are in Europe right now. Dad is preaching in Switzerland and they are traveling the rest of the time. I think they will be there for about 3 weeks to a month. This year my parents best friends, the Catos, from Yazoo City are with them. One of the first things they did was go to the church in Wittenberg, Germany where Martin Luther nailed his 95 thesis to the door. They would. Hilarious.
I leave for China a week from tomorrow. Surreal...
In Florida we did this thing called "Real Life" where some friends of mine and I had a chance to sort of "step into our old skin" by portraying ourselves while in high school or college. Surprisingly, it was much harder than I thought it'd be. But the way we saw God use it, on a large scale all the way down to personal one-on-one conversations with people, was amazing. It was such a reminder that God is always at work - even in our terrible choices, our heartbreak, and our confusion. For me that week it was about constantly coming back to who I am in Christ. And remembering that I have been saved from much, so I have much to be thankful for. God is good.
"Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered." - Psalm 32:1
Friends, I am blessed. Thankful for my life and the people who fill it with text messages and tanning and laughter.
Its May 6, 2009, Its finals week at Ole Miss. Students are studying non-stop. Towards the end of the semester the library is open 24 hours a day.
But it was time for a study break.
At 10pm a HUGE mass of students (about 2500) gathered outside of the library. And before them stood a man in a Penguin costume. What he said to them was "For the next 10 minutes we are going to dance our brains out" and then he lead them in the HOTTY TODDY.
From there, ALL of them stormed the library, and for the next 10 minutes they held a rave. Glow sticks, costumes, techno. Watch the videos below. And, keep in mind. This was INSIDE of the library. During finals week.
And then, when the 10 minutes was up, and just before anyone would have time to actually try to break up the mass, they went home.
I can't quite bring myself to post about Smokey yet. Too much for me right now. So, instead, this:
Its funny the things you remember.
Some of my girls and I were talking the other day about how amazing it is that we all have different voices, and how in the midst of all of them I can pick of the phone most times and know who it is even without the ole iPhone telling me first.
It got me to thinking about voices. Its funny but they have always been a big deal to me.
Since I was 11 I have known that if there were ever a person who would narrate my life story or who I would choose to read a book I'd written for the "audiobook" version, it would be Morgan Freeman. Hands down.
When I read books by a British person, I always hear Hugh Grants voice as I'm reading.
One of my repetitive Christmas memories throughout my life is the beautiful voice of one of our family's friends, Ellen. Every single time I hear her sing I get tears in my eyes.
But there are voices that were or have been a part of my life SO much that hearing them feel like coming home.
The first, My father's. My dad has this huge, booming voice that would echo though our home like a train was in our living room. My brothers and I NEVER didn't hear him the first time he said things. Perhaps we pretended not to, but we did. My dad would read me Uncle Remes stories about Brer' Rabbit at bed time, and after he'd read them hundreds of times he would make new ones up for me. But his voice is more than just the voice of a father. Because for the first 15 years of my life my daddy was also my pastor. It was honestly a weird thing to move in 11th grade and have to look for a church. That was the most foreign idea for me, second only to when my dad was no longer in the pulpit each week. There are certain passages of scripture, that when I read them, I hear dad's voice in my head even today. Dad's singing voice is great - really loud as well. We never really needed pastors of music in our church. Dad's voice carried us through just fine. Still does.
Second, my mom's father, who we called Papa. Papa has this funny old-man voice that I loved. He would read Calvin and Hobbs comic books to me, which actually belonged to him. He loved them. He was really involved at the Dixie Youth ball park and was famous for his walking around the park with the donations can bellowing "bats and balls!!" He would call every Christmas and say "Christmas Gift!" and, unlike my father, had a pretty horrible singing voice. But he lived just a few blocks away and he loved to whistle. I guess whistling isn't really "vocal" per-se, but I loved that too.
The third, my father's father. "Grando" was also a pastor. And honestly I don't have a whole ton of memories of him anymore, but one thing I do remember are his prayers. They were strong and bold. Formal in the old-school first-generation-of-PCA-pastors-there-ever-was-way. Reverent, passionate, and seasoned with scripture.
The last 2 are sort of ridiculous, but true.
The fourth is Tom Brokaw from the NBC Nightly News. My dad watched it every night. Whether I was watching too or it was in the background while I was doing whatever it is kids do, Tom and his baritone were there. Always. And I got to where I wanted it around. When things went wrong, I HAD to have Tom be on the TV to tell me about it. Seriously. My freshman year in college, when September 11 happened, I immediately went to NBC. Tom was a voice of comfort and courage to me. I'm not totally sure why. Tom retired from NBC nightly news my senior year at Ole Miss. It was a Wednesday night. I sat by myself in my room in the house I shared with 3 other girls and I cried the whole way through it. And I lost it at the end when he signed off: "That's Nightly News for this Wednesday night. I'm Tom Brokaw. You'll see Brian Williams tomorrow night; I'll see you along the way." My reply? "I better, Tom!" ... and I have. Along the way. Every now and then.
Lastly, and the reason for the posting, is the radio voice of Paul Harvey. My dad used to take me to school every day since his office was right next door at the church. We would listen to Paul Harvey most mornings on the way there. I loved how everything with Paul, from the news, to his opinions, to the advertisements he did within the show, to "page 2"... all the way to the end (my favorite part), which was clever and always closed with "... And that's the rest of the story. Paul Harvey. Good Day." He supposedly coined the use of the word "guesstimate." I'm not kidding. He was awesome. In St. Louis, and even here a few times, if I was flipping through channels on the radio and heard Paul I would always stop. It was like I had to. Paul Harvey died today. It really is a sad day for me. I teared up. You think I'm kidding. I'm not.
And so, for now, that's the rest of the story. Good day.
'God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.'
'Grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.'
'God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.'
- Quotes from CS Lewis
And still, after 6 years, the pain comes back like an old friend dropping in for a visit. I have grown accustomed to his coming to stay a few days every now and then. His exact arrival is always unannounced, but its always at this time of year. He's always here by today. I have learned the hard way that there is no use in trying to ignore his knocking. He is relentless. Eventually if you keep ignoring he just breaks in. Thats always the worst. The broken glass from the chosen window of his entry is sharp and cuts to the bone. There is also no use in trying to rush him out the door as quickly as I can when he has worn out his welcome. He comes in, makes himself at home, and leaves when he feels like it. While he is there he always makes a mess of everything - leaving debris and trash on the ground. He stomps through the house in his boots, tracking mud and dirt everywhere and them propping them up on the coffee table.It takes weeks for things to get back to normal after he visits.
Of course, from the moment we met that first time nothing was ever normal again. Normalcy and its meaning went from one that was seemingly consistent across the board of those I knew to something completely different for me. There was a day, in the middle of the tears and hurt, where I thought "this is what normal is for me now." For a long time it was. But nothing is forever. Well, mostly nothing.
When he comes now, I have learned that it is best to just invite him in. We talk. About what was. And what could have been. About what should have been. But we always come back to what IS. I do respect him. After all, it is because of him that I am me. The only way I can describe is presence is this: It is like being in the room with someone who is both your greatest teacher and your greatest enemy.
Our conversation has changed over the years. Well, for a long time there was no conversationat all. It was just me. My questioning. My crying. Me screaming. Me clawing and hating and accusing. But now it is different between us. He has not changed, so I can only imagine that it is because I myself am the different one. Now our conversations are back and forth. He painfully reminds me what is - for this will never change because it cannot. There is no response needed from me here. We both know that. He simply sits and lets it truth hang there between us like the Piñata not one can reach at the party. But then, when I am ready, he tenderly asks, "...But what IS because of it? What will be?" and then as I stutter through some lame attempt to reply. And he always interrupts me. "Live," he says.
I swear the clocks all run slower when he is around. He takes his time, that's for sure. But they do keep ticking. And soon, they say that it is time for him to go. And he leaves. Just like that. He wonders in, wreaks his havoc, and then he is gone just as quickly as he came. But his mess is still strewn all over the house, he has eaten all the food you had and left the pantry and fridge totally empty. The bed is left unmade. His scent still lingers, his words still echoing down the hallway.
"O then what raptured greetings on Canaan’s happy shore; What knitting severed friendships up, where partings are no more! Then eyes with joy shall sparkle, that brimmed with tears of late; Orphans no longer fatherless, nor widows desolate.
Bring near Thy great salvation, Thou Lamb for sinners slain; Fill up the roll of Thine elect, then take Thy power, and reign; Appear, Desire of nations, Thine exiles long for home; Show in the heaven Thy promised sign; Thou Prince and Savior, come!"
