Posts made in November, 2009

The Oxymoron of God

Posted by Caroline on Nov 30, 2009 in Amazing Grace | 1 comment

Cough.

Cough.

Cough.

Coughing has been my background music for the past week and a half.  I walked out of class twice today to allow my cough the opportunity to be unladylike without restraint.  I excused myself from the Thanksgiving table to cough.  I have been coughing myself to sleep and awaking to the same music.

Hence, today I went back to the doctor– the first time was merely a week ago.

I told the doctor all of my symptoms.  He asked.
I told him freely, concealing none of the details.  It was better to be gruesomely honest.  He understood.
I waited while he tested things I didn’t know could be measured and answered his questions I considered irrelevant.

I wanted to tell the doctor what I needed, but I had not a clue how to fix anything; in fact, I could see nothing other than my present conditions.  He listened while I talked, so now I was to listen.  Trust his wisdom and follow his instructions.

And I saw a little picture of my God.

God is nearby filling the bewildered’s empty cup.
God is big, keeping the earth turning.
He is close to us, lending an arm to the stumbling.
God is ruler, bringing the waves in with a planned tumble and crash.

He silences the wind; He hushes the cough.
Yes, He is big.
Yes, He is near.

David understood the oxymoron of God’s magnificence and His approachability.  Look how he switches between the two.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names.
Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure.
The Lord lifts up the humble.
Psalm147

God pulls out the starry hosts one by one and keeps creation in motion and deserves a shudder when He speaks in power.  But this same God, binds up our hearts, asks our symptoms, and sees our symptoms as a starting ground for grace, growth, and redemption.

A much bigger lesson than a silly cough.

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Recognizing the Gift of Water

Posted by Caroline on Nov 22, 2009 in The Backpack | 0 comments

The lake.  Swimming pools.  Showering.  Rain.  Drinking water.

I’m a fan of water.

Especially after giving up soda, water has become my dearest friend.  And water became even more fun to drink in this new water bottle (thank you, Clayton).  Now I’m hip and healthy.

Tonight with dinner I ordered water and they charged me $0.25.  Until there’s a sin tax on soda, I guess I’ll pay for my water.  I was slightly frustrated.

Then I felt stupid.

Had I not seen it on the screen, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed the extra cents.

And hundreds upon thousands of hundreds of people would gladly pay $0.25 for a lovely cup of water.  They work for days to carry it.  They go for days without it.

I did some research.

• More than 1 in 6 people in the world don’t have access to safe drinking water.
• 1 out of every 4 deaths under the age of 5 worldwide is due to a water-related disease.

• Nearly 80% of illnesses in developing countries are linked to poor water and sanitation conditions. (From the water project)

A little reminder of how I’m blessed quiets my complaints.  Actually, they shush me with a stern look.  Be thankful.  It’s the season, right?

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My Experience Joining an Internet Church

Posted by Caroline on Nov 19, 2009 in Amazing Grace | 0 comments

It’s after midnight and I’ve been at the library since 3:30.  (That is, except for the Thanksgiving Dinner break I took.  It was wonderful and festive, complete with Christmas music).

Despite my hours here at the library, I only two things to show for it.

1. I joined a church (I guess there’s not really anything to show).
2. And here’s my introduction for my paper.

An advertisement asks readers to “imagine church with no cobwebs, wooden pews, hymn books, overhead projector, leaking roof, organ fund… or even church building.”  Remove the hindrances of a physical meeting place because, as one cyber church beckons, “God is online and waiting for you!”  Beginning with the first congregation in 1994, new stand-alone online churches have begun to form with their only presence being online.  No buildings are needed.  There’s no need to leave one’s home or even get ready for church; attend from home.

My upcoming paper is on religious trends in America, and landing upon the idea of online church communities, I’ve been reading books, journals, websites, and even tried it out myself.

It’s fascinating.  Slightly addicting.  Controversial.  And disheartening.

I joined St. Pixels—the church of the Internet after reading about its history in several articles.  The church began as an experiment by the United Methodist Church in Britain.  Its 3D graphics allowed members to walk into a church building (much like the Sims), mingle, and shake hands.  Music would be played and the members (envision wii avatars) could raise their hands, kneel, and even shout a hallelujah! A sermon was delivered and fellowship (aka chatting) would follow.

However, after outbreaks of flooding the pulpit and disruptions, only certain members were allowed in the sancturary.  Others could silently watch as ghosts.  The security eventually broke down and hackers broke into the church (remember this is all online).  Thus, St. Pixels emerged.  It’s not completely 3D, but I did create a image and walked around a building.  Tonight on the porch I chatted with several members.

I don’t blog spitefully or to paint the idea of online church as an evil.  From my little experience tonight, I am a firstly astonished by the number of people involved already.  And then I am saddened by the community that is sought online that already exists with power in our churches.  Yes, these churches meet in buildings, but I promise the cobwebs aren’t that bad and waking up early starts my day off with a kick.  I wanted to tell my new friends tonight about genuine community and acceptance face-to-face that I am confident that they too could find.

I joined the church for research purposes.  I’ll write more as I work on my paper.  For now, I’m more grateful than ever for the sound of voices singing together praises to the King, to the hello’s while walking into church, and the touch of a comforting hand.

Real presence cannot be substituted.

For where two or three come
together in my name, there am I with them.

Matthew 18:20

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Happy Birthday Granddaddy

Posted by Caroline on Nov 16, 2009 in Family | 0 comments

The older I get the more sappy I become.  Only one part of this alarms me:  I’m only 21.  Already I look back with a constant smile, despite the fact that a good fourth of my life is too early to remember.  How I was born I know not and my scattered memories of pre-school pick out silly favorites:  riding a donkey outside Carpenter’s Kids and stealing (oops a confession) sticky-tac off of the back of displayed pictures in the hall with my sister.

I’m sure as I get older I’ll become sappy about the formals, drive-in movies, late night coffees, and the beartrail.  But for now, they’re the norm and these are what I miss:

The weekends at 2231 S. Oak Grove at the Grandmother and Granddaddy’s.  The memories that stick out do so with resilience.  Here’s a peak into my weekends.

Saturday mornings meant I would attend group violin on Missouri State campus.  For the first few years my friend Anna and I were certainly the youngest and were too young and naive to realize how ridiculously early those Suzuki mornings were.  Plus, we were too much in our own worlds to be intimated by all of the Branson child protégées and insanely talented home schoolers surrounding us.

Every recital Granddaddy would pick some of his roses and put them in a vase.  Things like this make all girls grow up loving flowers.

Saturday nights around 6:  The Statler brothers would come on TV and with a snack the grandkids would plop down in front of the TV on the red checkered tablecloth.  I’m not sure if the tablecloth really caught our spills but even at age 3 and 4 we knew to humor Grandmother.

Around 7:30 Grandmother would point out the night sky and try to convince us it was bedtime, but even at that young age we read the clock and teased her back.  I’d wear a nightgown that was pulled out of the bottom drawer of the chest Granddaddy made.

Sunday morning Granddaddy would give me a dime to put in the offering plate.  Considering I had an income of $0, my 10 cents was well over the 10% command to the Israelites.

Every Sunday night I would spend the night on Oak Grove Avenue.  I would wake up to the McDonalds biscuit (complete with grape jelly) that Granddaddy brought home from his morning coffee.

More often than not, I would play sick on those Monday mornings and sit beside GG and watch Pastor Hagee along with whatever other preachers were on the lineup for the day.  If I didn’t venture to school, 3:00 would bring me out of my nightgown when I went to piano lessons.  Granddaddy would sit outside with his thick book and NPR and afterwards we would drive to Sonic.  Same kids meal every time.  Then, off to choir practice across town.

The weekend was repeated each week.

I treasure the hours spent with Granddaddy. When I set my Pandora station to classical music, I always think of Dr. Robert Bernard, and I am more than grateful for all of the music lessons he encouraged so I can appreciate Beethoven and Mozart.  I like brushing by a piano and remembering Halloween recitals in band uniforms and Christmas carols in October.  McDonalds makes me think of every Wednesday I would order chicken nuggets with my friend.  I remember the PlayPlace wasn’t appealing, because even as a pre-schooler I’d rather talk.  I wear my seat belt now, because I still feel badly about getting him his first and only stop by the police.  And the library fine, I apologize on mandating his (again first and only) 10-cent donation to the library.

Happy Birthday Granddaddy.

I won’t ask how old you are.  Instead, I’ll count something else:  my blessings.  You are at the top.

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The Meaning of the Color Red

Posted by Caroline on Nov 15, 2009 in The Backpack | 1 comment

Our reaction to color is instantaneous—or it should be.  Ideally, a yellow light slows you down and red makes your foot slam against the brake.  We all inherently respond to colors within the first seconds of seeing them.  Who can pass by a tree of changing leaves and not get a warm feeling?

However, what I’m constantly plagued by is this:  is the way I see a color– say red, the way you see it?  I want to articulate what a color is, but doing so is a chase around a hamster wheel.

Webster’s definition says red is a color at the end of the spectrum next to orange and opposite of violent. Sounds like a cop out to me.  Here’s my try:

Red:  bold, strong, love, passion, energy, fire, confidence, daring.

Oh, and we mustn’t forget Christmas, the Cardinals, roses, Target, and my hair the first time I dyed it.

Actually, the color red in particular has more associations than any other color, so maybe I should just let these pictures speak.

Fire Dance 2009.  Red. Dancing. Fun.

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