Once upon a time, I was a little baby freshman in college. Having read all of the Cosmogirl and Seventeen articles about making friends, becoming hugely popular, and having the best time of your life in college, I knew the path to success -- get involved. So I did. I looked into about three million campus events, it seemed like, signed up for organizations that I never actually attended [but still receive the club emails] and organized a semi-not-so-successful dorm cookie night every week. My favorite part, though, was YoungLife. Besides the fact that I was a freshman and new so a.) all of the boys were older and b.) all of the boys were cute, [I was obviously in heaven] they did this weekend retreat in September or October -- and I love those. It's the perfect venue for how loud and obnoxious I am, because I REALIZE that I'm annoying at first, but when you spend a WEEKEND with me, you get to see pieces of the less ridiculous part of me, or at least enough to hint that that side might exist, so it piques people's interests and suddenly VOILA! I have friends... or at least I think I do.
Anyway, we were playing those weird bonding games, like variations on freeze tag and blindfolded kickball and ultimate frisbee, and suddenly we were handed towels and instructed to playbeach volleyball... it's basically newcomb with towels and you catch the ball and then try to catapult it back over the net with varying degrees of success. I looked around, searching for one of the seven older boys I had been talking to through the course of the night, when a girl walked up to me. She had crazy, curly hair, tinted orange in what I would later learn was not her natural color, but a freak dye job. Her wrists were covered in braided bracelets and concert wristbands and she had chipped nailpolish on her fingers. "Hey," she said abruptly. "Want to be my partner?" It wasn't really a question, but I was okay with that.
I don't remember much more of Allison specifically from that weekend (I was too busy flirting with boys and making sure that everybody heard me at all times), but that moment sparked a friendship unlike any other in my life. Allison and I started as very superficial friends -- the kind whose Facebook wall to wall looks like this:
Carly: Ah, you disappeared tonight!! I hope you had fun...have a fabulous Wednesday!
Allison: I know! I was so distracted! I meant to go back inside, but I forgot. :)
Carly: Hmph. Miss you. Being home is fabulous/sucky, because I feel like I'm missing out on EVERYTHING!!
Allison: So you are pretty much my love :)
Carly: No no no no...YOU are MY love. Dinner was fun -- we'll have to do it again ASAP. See you today, I'm sure. ♥
I mean, we meant what we said, but we had no real understanding of each other -- there was very little depth to our relationship at that point. Not to mention the fact that we were ANNOYING, but that's another issue entirely.
Then we went on Spring Break to Houston. It was an ugly time in both of our lives; we were working through self-created messes and it seemed [from my perspective, at least] that we were the only other person who had at least the tiniest inkling of how the other felt. It's funny, because just as Allison told me that she had sworn off close friendships with girls, I resolved to be that in her life. Literally, this is how the conversation went:
Allison: I never want a "best friend" again.
Carly: *in my head* Fine. But I'm going to disregard that statement and win. Bahaha.
Long story short -- we both won. Allison has a place in my heart that no one else will every occupy, and to say that I'm thankful for our friendship is the understatement of the year. She is unique and beautiful and giving in her own way. She has a heart for Jesus and a passion to help those who hurt. She fights for what she loves and is not afraid to be wrong when she's seeking truth. She speaks in accents and loves [shopping, not working at] Target and seeing movies instead of doing homework. She hardly ever skips class, but always texts me when she does, because she knows how proud I am of her negligence. She lets me read out loud to her and she shares her writing with me. We wear each others' clothes, eat each others' food, sleep in each others' rooms, laugh with each others' sisters, and in such, we have become sisters ourselves.
I have watched Allison grow and change closer and closer into the woman that God wants her to be over the last three years. The girl I met on the volleyball court freshman year is a distant memory, replaced by a confident, maturing woman. It's been an amazing transformation, and it is far from complete.
I love you, Allison. Happy Birthday!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Against All Odds
I love the moments that fall together, that connect the millions of seemingly random occurrences in our daily lives, that remind us that there is a Plan for how things are going to go. Those moments where the stars align or our eyes are opened or the light turns on in our brain, and for one brief, shining instant, we know peace.
I love that peace is not relegated to those fleeting moments for those who know Jesus, for those who continue to choose to believe, against all odds, that He somehow works all things together for good for those who love Him, for those who understand how small and inconsequential we are, yet how huge and real He is. This knowledge stems from deep within, from something that nobody can truly define, only acknowledge. I don't know how things work, but I know that they do. I don't know where faith comes from, but I know that it is there. I don't know why He chooses to concern Himself with my little life, but I know that He has and that He does and that He will forevermore.
I love that I can look to the past and see the way that He has carried me through, the way that things actually do line up against all odds, the way that somehow, miraculously, in a way that is the antithesis to coincidence, I find myself strangely prepared for what life brings about. I don't always recognize the training, the preparation, and I rarely have the foresight or wisdom to see it for what it is, but in retrospect, it shines. It glows. It pulsates, loud and neon and obvious for anyone who has eyes -- there was a Purpose. There is a Purpose. We are not in vain.
And so, because I can look at the things that were, the times when it seemed like nothing was happening, the times when it seemed like I was on my own or that I had to make the big decisions by myself or that everyone else in my life jaunted off on incredible adventures while I wasted away in a small, boring, inconsequential life only to realize that Jesus had a plan all along, because I can see this track record of faithfulness and goodness and love, I will continue to choose to believe. I don't feel like it, to be frank. I don't feel like waiting quietly, like hoping and praying for just a little bit longer when it seems like the past few months have been so fruitless, but I'm going to. I don't feel like hanging on to this string of hope, like clinging to this precariously small lifevest of faith, because I feel like I'm going to sink. But that's just it -- moments like this will one day become the instance from the past that remind of God's unending promises. Discouragement becomes a matter of a timeline, and I refuse to let my nearsighted perspective pull me from what God has for me. God is good. He is faithful. I choose to live in that hope.
II Corinthians 4:18: So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but one what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
I love that peace is not relegated to those fleeting moments for those who know Jesus, for those who continue to choose to believe, against all odds, that He somehow works all things together for good for those who love Him, for those who understand how small and inconsequential we are, yet how huge and real He is. This knowledge stems from deep within, from something that nobody can truly define, only acknowledge. I don't know how things work, but I know that they do. I don't know where faith comes from, but I know that it is there. I don't know why He chooses to concern Himself with my little life, but I know that He has and that He does and that He will forevermore.
I love that I can look to the past and see the way that He has carried me through, the way that things actually do line up against all odds, the way that somehow, miraculously, in a way that is the antithesis to coincidence, I find myself strangely prepared for what life brings about. I don't always recognize the training, the preparation, and I rarely have the foresight or wisdom to see it for what it is, but in retrospect, it shines. It glows. It pulsates, loud and neon and obvious for anyone who has eyes -- there was a Purpose. There is a Purpose. We are not in vain.
And so, because I can look at the things that were, the times when it seemed like nothing was happening, the times when it seemed like I was on my own or that I had to make the big decisions by myself or that everyone else in my life jaunted off on incredible adventures while I wasted away in a small, boring, inconsequential life only to realize that Jesus had a plan all along, because I can see this track record of faithfulness and goodness and love, I will continue to choose to believe. I don't feel like it, to be frank. I don't feel like waiting quietly, like hoping and praying for just a little bit longer when it seems like the past few months have been so fruitless, but I'm going to. I don't feel like hanging on to this string of hope, like clinging to this precariously small lifevest of faith, because I feel like I'm going to sink. But that's just it -- moments like this will one day become the instance from the past that remind of God's unending promises. Discouragement becomes a matter of a timeline, and I refuse to let my nearsighted perspective pull me from what God has for me. God is good. He is faithful. I choose to live in that hope.
II Corinthians 4:18: So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but one what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Breakdown of an Otherwise Somewhat Healthy Brain.
So... I go through phases.
I can hear you all grumbling right now. You think I can't hear these things, but I can. I hear what you're saying. "My gosh, Carly," you're saying through awful clenched teeth. "WE KNOW!!! Okay?? We get it, we really do. You go through phases - great. Move on already."
Well, I'm sorry, but I can't, because everytime I try to do that, another phase pops up and I have to attend to it, and you can clearly see how that quickly becomes a vicious cycle.
Right now, for instance. All I want to do is cook. And hold a baby. But mainly cook. This soup, for example, looks very doable. Most things that Pioneer Woman talks about look very doable, actually, but I haven't tried most of them yet, and I even own her cookbook. Alas... what is a girl to do on a meager college budget? Practicality must dictate my life, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it is holding me back from my creative genius. Where do I turn in times of such emotional turmoil?? Woe is me.
On a slightly off topic note, but since we're already talking about my beloved Pioneer Woman, is it just me or is she seriously jonesing for another baby? Maybe it's because I was reading back on some of her posts that I have missed lately, but she seems to be in a baby craze...and reading about it has slowly transferred some of that weird, maternal instinct stuff into my own brain. I keep making faces at the babies that seem to continuously surround me everytime I go out in public. I mean, I'm not to the point where I would PAY a RANDOM STRANGER to let me hold their baby like Jackie wants to do... but I wouldn't mind playing with a kid right about now. I don't know why I go through nesting phases... it's not at all practical. Then again, didn't I just say that practicality was ruining my life? Oh no - it's a sign. And I wrote it. Five seconds ago. This cannot be good.
Anyway the point is, I'm dying to cook. And experiment. And try new recipes. And eat delicious food instead of ramen and/or rice and steamed veggies. There are approximately 37 windows open on my browser right now, and all but two of them are foodie websites. Consequently, I am convinced that my life will not be complete until I own decent pots and pans [AND A STOVE THAT DOESN'T SCORCH EVERYTHING IT TOUCHES], which only adds to the growing desire to be an adult with a certain amount of discretionary income so that I can buy the stainless steal sautee pans that will apparently change my life. I digress, once again.
I think this whole thing stems from a severe nutritional crisis on my end... you see, I've staunchly refused to buy groceries again until I absolutely have to [interpretation: funds are at an all-time low], which means that my fresh produce options in my apartment are nonexistent. Today I honestly tried to think of the last time I ate a piece of fresh fruit, and I think the complete lack of memories involving such healthy, delicious goodness answers my lingering questions about a.) my total lack of energy as of late and b.) my scurvy-like symptoms. Just kidding. I don't have scurvy. I did accidentally take a four hour nap yesterday, though... is that a problem? I asked my mom that question and she told me to work out. Helpful. [Mama, if you're reading this, please calm down about my serious nutrient deficiency. I'm aware of the issues at hand. If it makes you feel any better, there was orange filling in some of the Valentine's chocolate that you sent me... I felt the Vitamin C coursing through my veins as I ate it.] Perhaps this self-same lack of any healthy influences in my diet also effects my ability to stay on-topic while writing a blog? Interesting...
The way I see it, my options are this: I either tough it out and wait until I go home for Spring Break where I can use my parents' kitchen to play and run horribly a muck while trying new recipes OR I could find some hungry, quasi-lazy, adventurous individual around here who wants to supply the groceries and I'll supply the labor. My schedule is daunting and I am painfully shy, but I would be more than willing to pencil in an audience for the premiere of my imaginary cooking show. Just think about it... that's all I'm saying.
And if not for my sake, then maybe for my mother's... she might be in for a long week come Spring Break.
I can hear you all grumbling right now. You think I can't hear these things, but I can. I hear what you're saying. "My gosh, Carly," you're saying through awful clenched teeth. "WE KNOW!!! Okay?? We get it, we really do. You go through phases - great. Move on already."
Well, I'm sorry, but I can't, because everytime I try to do that, another phase pops up and I have to attend to it, and you can clearly see how that quickly becomes a vicious cycle.
Right now, for instance. All I want to do is cook. And hold a baby. But mainly cook. This soup, for example, looks very doable. Most things that Pioneer Woman talks about look very doable, actually, but I haven't tried most of them yet, and I even own her cookbook. Alas... what is a girl to do on a meager college budget? Practicality must dictate my life, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it is holding me back from my creative genius. Where do I turn in times of such emotional turmoil?? Woe is me.
On a slightly off topic note, but since we're already talking about my beloved Pioneer Woman, is it just me or is she seriously jonesing for another baby? Maybe it's because I was reading back on some of her posts that I have missed lately, but she seems to be in a baby craze...and reading about it has slowly transferred some of that weird, maternal instinct stuff into my own brain. I keep making faces at the babies that seem to continuously surround me everytime I go out in public. I mean, I'm not to the point where I would PAY a RANDOM STRANGER to let me hold their baby like Jackie wants to do... but I wouldn't mind playing with a kid right about now. I don't know why I go through nesting phases... it's not at all practical. Then again, didn't I just say that practicality was ruining my life? Oh no - it's a sign. And I wrote it. Five seconds ago. This cannot be good.
Anyway the point is, I'm dying to cook. And experiment. And try new recipes. And eat delicious food instead of ramen and/or rice and steamed veggies. There are approximately 37 windows open on my browser right now, and all but two of them are foodie websites. Consequently, I am convinced that my life will not be complete until I own decent pots and pans [AND A STOVE THAT DOESN'T SCORCH EVERYTHING IT TOUCHES], which only adds to the growing desire to be an adult with a certain amount of discretionary income so that I can buy the stainless steal sautee pans that will apparently change my life. I digress, once again.
I think this whole thing stems from a severe nutritional crisis on my end... you see, I've staunchly refused to buy groceries again until I absolutely have to [interpretation: funds are at an all-time low], which means that my fresh produce options in my apartment are nonexistent. Today I honestly tried to think of the last time I ate a piece of fresh fruit, and I think the complete lack of memories involving such healthy, delicious goodness answers my lingering questions about a.) my total lack of energy as of late and b.) my scurvy-like symptoms. Just kidding. I don't have scurvy. I did accidentally take a four hour nap yesterday, though... is that a problem? I asked my mom that question and she told me to work out. Helpful. [Mama, if you're reading this, please calm down about my serious nutrient deficiency. I'm aware of the issues at hand. If it makes you feel any better, there was orange filling in some of the Valentine's chocolate that you sent me... I felt the Vitamin C coursing through my veins as I ate it.] Perhaps this self-same lack of any healthy influences in my diet also effects my ability to stay on-topic while writing a blog? Interesting...
The way I see it, my options are this: I either tough it out and wait until I go home for Spring Break where I can use my parents' kitchen to play and run horribly a muck while trying new recipes OR I could find some hungry, quasi-lazy, adventurous individual around here who wants to supply the groceries and I'll supply the labor. My schedule is daunting and I am painfully shy, but I would be more than willing to pencil in an audience for the premiere of my imaginary cooking show. Just think about it... that's all I'm saying.
And if not for my sake, then maybe for my mother's... she might be in for a long week come Spring Break.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Tired. Thankful. Lists.
The Surface
I am tired of college.
I am tired of being physically exhausted.
I am tired of winter.
I am tired of Edgar Allan Poe.
I am tired of feeling materialistic.
I am tired of not being able to wear my contacts.
I am tired of being confined to other people’s schedules.
I am tired of fantasizing about being an adult.
I am tired of being irritable and short with the people I love.
I am tired of talking about myself.
I am tired of being two faced.
I am tired of never knowing what my next step is.
I am tired of wondering what I’m supposed to be doing this summer.
I am tired of feeling like I have to have things together.
I am tired of having absolutely nothing together.
I am tired of my pride.
I am tired of the temporary nature of college.
I am tired of biting my nails.
I am tired of being so pale.
I am tired of never eating the yogurt that I buy.
I am tired of deciding that I’m going to stop drinking pop and not being able to stand life without Diet Coke.
I am tired of missing my mom.
I am tired of feeling like I don’t pursue the people around me enough.
I am tired of where I am right now.
Perspective Shift
I am thankful that God is who He says He is.
I am thankful that I am who God says I am.
I am thankful that God has a plan for me.
I am thankful that He has brought me to a community where I can be myself.
I am thankful that I very, very rarely feel like I need to put on a show for anybody.
I am thankful that I am part of a small group of girls that loves God and wants to know Him more.
I am thankful for the opportunity to get an education.
I am thankful that I have heat and warm blankets and a space heater that looks like space ship.
I am thankful that I never have to question if my family is there for me.
I am thankful that I can express myself through writing.
I am thankful for stories and for friends who laugh at my stories and to have grown up in a family that loves to tell stories.
I am thankful for the scent of sandalwood vanilla and pine candles.
I am thankful for Iron&Wine.
I am thankful for twinkly lights.
I am thankful for the ability to look back over my writing and see growth.
I am thankful that I have these amazing, warm slippers.
I am thankful that my professors always let me get away with whatever I want.
I am thankful that God has something really exciting in store for me.
I am thankful that I will never have to settle or compromise.
I am thankful that my friends are beautiful and funny and that they love Jesus.
I am thankful that I found a gel pen in my backpack this week.
I am thankful that no one has ever tried to dissuade me from being a writer.
I am thankful that even in the hard, annoying, tiring times, I can still find so many things to be thankful for.
I am thankful that God is gracious and patient and that He loves me and pursues me, despite my occasionally rotten attitude.
Amen.
I am tired of college.
I am tired of being physically exhausted.
I am tired of winter.
I am tired of Edgar Allan Poe.
I am tired of feeling materialistic.
I am tired of not being able to wear my contacts.
I am tired of being confined to other people’s schedules.
I am tired of fantasizing about being an adult.
I am tired of being irritable and short with the people I love.
I am tired of talking about myself.
I am tired of being two faced.
I am tired of never knowing what my next step is.
I am tired of wondering what I’m supposed to be doing this summer.
I am tired of feeling like I have to have things together.
I am tired of having absolutely nothing together.
I am tired of my pride.
I am tired of the temporary nature of college.
I am tired of biting my nails.
I am tired of being so pale.
I am tired of never eating the yogurt that I buy.
I am tired of deciding that I’m going to stop drinking pop and not being able to stand life without Diet Coke.
I am tired of missing my mom.
I am tired of feeling like I don’t pursue the people around me enough.
I am tired of where I am right now.
Perspective Shift
I am thankful that God is who He says He is.
I am thankful that I am who God says I am.
I am thankful that God has a plan for me.
I am thankful that He has brought me to a community where I can be myself.
I am thankful that I very, very rarely feel like I need to put on a show for anybody.
I am thankful that I am part of a small group of girls that loves God and wants to know Him more.
I am thankful for the opportunity to get an education.
I am thankful that I have heat and warm blankets and a space heater that looks like space ship.
I am thankful that I never have to question if my family is there for me.
I am thankful that I can express myself through writing.
I am thankful for stories and for friends who laugh at my stories and to have grown up in a family that loves to tell stories.
I am thankful for the scent of sandalwood vanilla and pine candles.
I am thankful for Iron&Wine.
I am thankful for twinkly lights.
I am thankful for the ability to look back over my writing and see growth.
I am thankful that I have these amazing, warm slippers.
I am thankful that my professors always let me get away with whatever I want.
I am thankful that God has something really exciting in store for me.
I am thankful that I will never have to settle or compromise.
I am thankful that my friends are beautiful and funny and that they love Jesus.
I am thankful that I found a gel pen in my backpack this week.
I am thankful that no one has ever tried to dissuade me from being a writer.
I am thankful that even in the hard, annoying, tiring times, I can still find so many things to be thankful for.
I am thankful that God is gracious and patient and that He loves me and pursues me, despite my occasionally rotten attitude.
Amen.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Choose.
Don't feel sorry for yourself.
What do you have to regret? You have been forgiven, you have been redeemed, you have been promised enormous, beautiful, great things. So live in those promises.
Choose to believe God.
Choose to believe Him when it doesn't feel like His promises are true.
Choose to live in joy, even when your heart hurts.
Choose to bask in that freedom and peace, because the God of the universe created you for this moment.
So choose this day who you will follow -- your own flawed heart, the same thing that beats in your chest and has misled you every day of your life, or the One who created it. Who created you. Who designed you with a purpose.
Your sacrifices are very small in the very large picture that is Christ's plan.
He has more for you.
More.
So much more.
He promises... so believe.
What do you have to regret? You have been forgiven, you have been redeemed, you have been promised enormous, beautiful, great things. So live in those promises.
Choose to believe God.
Choose to believe Him when it doesn't feel like His promises are true.
Choose to live in joy, even when your heart hurts.
Choose to bask in that freedom and peace, because the God of the universe created you for this moment.
So choose this day who you will follow -- your own flawed heart, the same thing that beats in your chest and has misled you every day of your life, or the One who created it. Who created you. Who designed you with a purpose.
Your sacrifices are very small in the very large picture that is Christ's plan.
He has more for you.
More.
So much more.
He promises... so believe.
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