Saturday, May 28, 2011

Foreign


What is this?

For all extensive purposes it is a tree.

But why is it a tree?

Well, it has roots. It has branches, it grows vertically, it has leaves…

Have you ever thought why calling something a tree isn’t something simple, but rather complex?

We grow up learning our surroundings because someone kind enough labels the objects for us. The word “tree” by itself doesn’t hold any meaning- only the meaning you attach to it; the picture you see in your mind when you first labeled it.

My neurology professor said in class, “When you name something, you aren’t calling it anything- rather you are naming the concept of something.” And ever since, it has stuck with me.

It’s just recently occurred to me that a tree doesn’t need to be this way. It could have been created wiggly, and creep outwards instead of tall and straight. I’ve always walked around and seen giant wooden objects standing much taller than me and have thought ‘duh, of course’. Everything about it is foreign. In fact, it’s a pretty alien object. There are many types, with different leaves, some grow food, and all of them provide a means for me to breathe and therefore survive.

It begins


Has an awkward teenage stage



And grows


Maybe I’ve been reading too much C.S. Lewis sci-fi, but ever since I feel like everything about the world is new. Everything has become something different.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Friday

Today everyone I met was exceptionally nice. People I’ve never talked to in my life started conversations with me, more boys held open doors, and my roommate went out of her way to say hello. “What in the world is…,” and then I realized, “Spring Break!” I don’t think I’ve seen so many smiles, or gotten so many nods of approval, while walking across campus.

Lately Nacogdoches and I have been having a sort of love/hate relationship. I feel like I’m constantly plucking pine needles off of a large branch and saying, “Nacogdoches loves me… He loves me not.” So to hear that I could leave, would leave, was leaving suddenly made me proceed throughout Friday with urgency. I came to the conclusion that the faster I listened to the teacher, bobbed my foot in anticipation, and sped through daydreaming about putting my key into the ignition, the sooner I would be ready to leave.

I practically hummed from speed as I spun around tossing everything I could ever dream of taking home in my suitcase. And in my second suitcase... And in my backpack. Afterwards, now feeling positively giddy that I made it through packing, I bounced all the way out of my apartment and swirled up an elevator to my shiny white car. “Fabio,” I said, “My friend, it has been too long!” Fabs just sat there. I began patting the back fender as my heart swelled with pride. I spun my way down and through the parking garage, found North street, rolled down my windows, and couldn’t contain myself any longer.

Wind gushed through my hair.
My hand met sunshine, palm up.
I popped open my bottle of soda.

After three hours or so I was met by a wiggly puppy who rolled around and around my feet,
two gangly, loud, teenagers, and the bristles of my own carpet.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

New

Three nights ago, I encountered God in a musty sanctuary.

It began with me thinking through everything that I’ve done. I began with the big topics that He and I have sorted through, dissected, flipped over, overanalyzed and discussed, and wondered if I was missing forgiveness for something. So I dug deeper. Here was our conversation:

“Oh God… I guess I can ask forgiveness for-“
Upon which I was cut off. I heard my own voice, or at least it sounded exactly like my own voice, except that it spoke to me with authority. And so my inner-dialogue said:

“-Stop.”

“I have forgiven you. You are forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. You are free. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Free. Free. Free. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven. Forgiven.
I will forgive you a thousand times a million times.”

It repeated “forgiven” to the point where it was almost embarrassing for it to be said again. But I realized that it’s finally true. It’s always been true. I am not identified by anything from my past. My past is over, it is finished. I accepted Christ three years ago, but am continually being re-created. I am a new creation.

Reader, I don’t want it to seem that I sat down and tried to make this sound more emotional or beautiful than the actual event, and debated posting this because I'd like to run away from writing anything sounding "spiritual" or "religious". But, if it brings any encouragement to you, then here it is.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Known

Right now, I’m sitting in a coffee shop; Piano man enthusiastically playing John Mayer, sipping coffee from a cup bigger than my face, and it has occurred to me that life is good. I mean, really good. So good that I had to write a run-on sentence.

Pretty soon the swaying, scarf wearers will begin to sing along with him. Ahh, there it is. Oh! And some clapping. It seems so perfectly right for us to chime in this way. A handful of strangers sharing a same thought, laughing through half-sipped coffee cups, and crescendo-ing from secretly humming along in our chair to piecing confidence together from nods and smiles until we’re boldly singing with each other.

Or perhaps the two sets of friends who have brought their Bibles, seeking the Kingdom of God and putting holy words into relational terms. This moment is my favorite of the night. What a beautiful picture of the way God created us. We are so relational and a lot of times it’s easier to forget.

It’s the reason why hearing people sharing jokes and watching them stand to greet friends is so refreshing. The explanation behind why a handful of people joining together in song is so impactful. Don’t we all want to be shamelessly known? To be identified with a group and share moments of unity with others? And the best part is that we are. We are shamelessly and visibly known by Christ.

Now “Gravity” slows to an end and we all snap, glad to know and be known.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Pencils, Rulers, and School Supplies in General

I love the beginnings of things; especially beginnings that deal with buying school supplies. A handful of new pens and a package of freshly saran-wrapped Oxford index cards make me feel like a whole new person. In some ways I am a new person and don’t correct my professors when they call “Caitlin, Holman?”

Don’t even get me started about the official first day of class. Every year I wake up an hour before class, eat a special breakfast, neatly part my hair to the side, and almost whistle as I skip on my way to class… which happens on occasion if I forget to keep social appropriateness in mind. My new textbooks are likely to be sorted either by color or by class schedule in my backpack along with three different pens for me to choose from in the front pocket.  Throughout the year I will start every paper in my notebook with my full name and the date. Confessions?

In conclusion, I love the first day of school. The whole experience summarized by the smell of flippy spiral notebooks, slacker syllabus class meetings, and new pens that you have to swirl around before they'll write for you.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Old School

Some days… okay, let’s be honest, everyday, I try to kick it old school. Like when I dressed up as a 90’s soccer mom, or that time I played Aaron Carter during small group. And sometimes I have to keep my actions in check and use what I like to call my cool/un-cool gauge. I’ve got to be careful to make sure I’m still in the cool zone at all times possible.
1.       Wanting to play hand clapping games? Cool
2.       Secretly bringing my old gameboy color to school? Cool
3.       Tucking in my t-shirt? Uncool
4.       Wearing a fanny pack in order to listen my cd player? … Cool?

I dunno, I was just thinking about it. I think my mind still works in the 90’s and I’m secretly hoping we’ll have a relapse and go backwards.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Utopia

Day 1: Voyage to “The Hideaway”
Well, really Utopia, TX. We were supposed to have left three hours ago but we’re still parked in front of the house. Classic. Each of us is suped up with electronics. Ipods, cameras, gameboys, and Ben with his first ever cellphone. An amazing feat for a now fourteen year old boy. 
I'm the odd man out and have brought a book instead.
“Please drive to highlighted route”.
And we’re off!

Later that evening…
Phew! Already 60 degrees and dropping inside the cabin. I have doubles of almost everything on plus gloves! Ended the night playing Apples to Apples and laughing hard at the results.

Day2: Rain
Sprinkled all day. Not too terribly bad though! Found a flock of wild turkeys. Dad was excited and gobbled at them after taking pictures. We were schmucked out of $25 to get into Lost Maples State Park. Turns out it’s a hiking only park and who wants to hike in the rain anyway? We chanted “dirty double dealers” on the way out. Sat in a wooden bird blind… Stared out and saw one poor miserable bird.

Day3: Exploration
Went to Garner State Park today. Climbed part of the steep trail. After we got to White Rock Cave Alicia and I realized that converse plus muddy uphill hiking don’t mix. So, we all climbed back down… much to Ben’s disappointment.

The best part was tonight. We suited up into ski suits and waddled out into the night. We looked like astronauts which was perfect because of the abundance of stars overhead. Alicia, Ben, and I startipped while the parents took pictures. We swapped gobbles and hoots throughout the night, trying to persuade any creature to call out. We heard two hoot-hoots, some coyotes, and a few unruly dogs.

Got back to the cabin and scraped the 3-4 inches of mud off our shoes. Made tea, hot chocolate, and painted a rock with our names on it to display in the cabin. Now we’re waiting around to play a game, most likely Apples to Apples again, while Ben and Dad discuss why Jesus chose Peter.

Day 4: Departure
Dad has slipped into his Chinese accent and has walked around interjecting “Ah, so…” and “I tink maybe” into his speech. Peels of laughter break out anytime he says anything. We’re all packed and headed out. Many stops to “hysterical” markers along the way home. And frequent stops to take pictures of hawks and various other birds. Dad makes a game out of it by showing us the pictures he's taken and asks, “Who’s that Pokémon?”