How to Wake Up on the Right Side of Bed

Posted by Caroline on Nov 12, 2009 in Amazing Grace | 3 comments

A while ago I wrote about my new yellow backpack.  At the the time, the bright yellow backpack put a little skip in my step, but inevitably the backpack got old.  My organization failed; stray papers found themselves crumpled in the bottom, my many coffee spills dulled the yellow, and for about a week I even aimlessly carried around a hole punch without knowing it.  Little circle cutouts filled the bottom like an unwanted snow accompanied by crumbs, sticky-ness, and homework.  Newness completely gone.  Meh.

Growing up I would always buy my new school shoes during the summer and yearn for orientation when I was allowed to wear them.  The anticipation built so much that on the first day of school I would run home and clean the white soles.  However, we all knew by week 3 they would have been through puddles and mud and by Christmas I would be asking for/probably even needing another pair.

This weekend my mom and I went shopping.  We bought a new shirt and when I wore it, I got that little skip again.  No one knew it was new, but I certainly did.  However, every shirt in my closet was once new.

I’ve been reading through all of the Jane Austen novels, and as the narrative plays in my head, I some times have to chuckle about their society.  Idle women?  surely not! Oh the old times.

The new 2009 penny is only proud until 2010 comes.  And the video game my brother camped outside for will be a thing of the past next month.

I just pulled my backpack out of the washer.  It’s yellow once again, but I cannot trick myself into thinking it is new again.  I wish I could.  In a shallow human way, I like new things.

Things grow old. Sometimes they go out of style or they might break.  But most of the time they just lose their newness. lose excitement. lose priority.

There is only one thing that is new every day.  Yesterday I woke to it.  Today I did too, even before my feet hit the ground.  As will happen tomorrow.   :: His Mercies::

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

God’s love is always an unread email in my inbox.  Sure, I can read it, but there will always be a new one when I get back.

My alarm clock ushers in these new mercies.  AND that, my friend, might be the only redeeming aspect of my alarm clock.

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How to Transition into the Real World

Posted by Caroline on Nov 9, 2009 in The Backpack | 1 comment

One summer I went to VBS with my cousin in another city.  When I told them what school I went to they laughed courteously and said, “ha, that’s a funny joke.”  Thus, I had to repeatedly promise that yes, I really did go to Walt Disney Elementary.

Had they asked me a few year later, I would have had to confess that I attended Kickapoo High School.  Their laugh would no longer be a courteous laugh, but rather, a laugh that asks really?? And if I admitted our colors were brown and gold, even the most mature listener would be unable to contain his gut laugh.  All maturities enjoy bathroom humor.  Picture at the right:  Do YOU fear the poo?  We’ve been flushing the competition.

Walt Disney Elementary was perfectly fitting for the 6, 7, and 8 year old.  In art class we would draw Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.  We’d celebrate Disney’s persistence and his victory with his long lasting mark on the film world.  Who doesn’t love Snow White? However, imagine if Baylor were named Disney.  Try:  I attend Disney University.  Good luck getting into law school.

In honor of my little elementary school, here’s a quote from our man Walt:

“too many people grow up.  That’s the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up.  They forget.  They don’t remember what it’s like to be 12 years old.  They patronize, they treat children as inferiors.  Well I won’t do that.” -Walt Disney

I’ve been working on scheduling all week.  I love brainstorming about careers in publishing or moving abroad or simply being too scared to do either.  But, I must not ever forget the quiet girl inside that still likes to hold a doll and give it a name, organize book shelves in a make-believe library, or have slumber party at Grandmother’s house.  I still do all those things unashamedly.  Especially the last one.

I tell you all this because today I legitimately felt grown up for the first time.

Today I started my first real job.

I’ve had other jobs, but something about smelling like carrot cake and offering taste tests of differnet types of ham doesn’t seem professional.   Nor does watching movies and painting a mannequin head while babysitting seem resume worthy.  Even when I had a uniform at the YMCA, the referee jersey still didn’t seem to legitimize work experience  either.  What do I say?  I inflated the inflatables?

I don’t dismiss those jobs.  They’re the ones that I’ll look back and will ask why I ever complained.  It’s similar to raising your eyebrows to the high schooler who complains about homework or the Texan who complains about it being cold.

They grow you.  They grew me.  But I choose to still be growing up.  Forever.  There’s no harm in never stopping if you never silence the child inside.

I loved childhood– violin, choir, piano lessons and all.  But, I like this more:  It’s not over.  “It’s never too late to have a good childhood.”

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BearDowns Bike Race

Posted by Caroline on Nov 5, 2009 in The Backpack | 0 comments

I ride a bike to school and on some days I can even balance coffee while doing so.  My brother is into road biking, has a flashing light, and wears spandex some times.  I do like mountain biking, so a little race seemed like a good way to justify being lazy for the rest of the day.  I’m always up for an excuse.

Hence, I registered for BearDowns—a 30-mile relay bike ride.  

I like bike rides on idealistic Sunday afternoons and the word relay makes me think of youth group games and spinning my head on a bat and then jumping rope with a cup of water.  Plus, the race started in 1972, and you know I love tradition.

The info:  The relay teams consisted of 4 team members and the race was divided into 43 laps, each approximately .7 miles. Each member of the team rode the same single-speed bike, and after every lap the team members switched riders.

The EMT truck and the bales of hay snapped me into reality.  There were 19 teams competing, and my team—humble and scared to death—was the only girls team.

However, this simple truth meant we automatically won our division.  Thus, our goal was to finish alive without any crashes.  And since the race didn’t end until we did, we were in a hurry for our own pride’s sake.

The night before I rode a road bike for the first time and accidentally crashed by slipping off a curb.  The racecourse was lined with bales of hay, and my goal was not to crash into them (though the need for hay greatly concerned me).

Before even reaching registration I was dodging the teams warming up.  They were practicing transitions—the rider would hop off the bike with speed and then the second biker ran alongside and hopped on.  Looks like they borrowed the idea from the 70′s.  Please know we did not partake in such methods.

To add to the fact that we were out of place, spandex was everywhere, making me personally very uncomfortable.  I now hold an adamant stance against guys ever wearing spandex.

After we saw teams stretching, we decided we might do so as well, though I must confess the stretching didn’t help.  I’ve been struggling up and down the stairs all day.

Two and a half hours later, my team– the now proud Pi Beta Phi– actually beat three teams including the accounting team.  Be assured there were not counting errors; we were just fast—and persistent.

We didn’t fit on the starting line and certainly didn’t fight for it, but we still beat 3 of those bikers that stood up front.

We technically won our award before we started, but I’m honestly incredibly proud of our old, gold spray-painted wheel.  I see it as a token of survival. A tangible memory.

[photography credit to Baylor University]

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