Posts Tagged "Baylor"

Baylor Homecoming Top 10

Posted by Caroline on Oct 27, 2009 in Family | 0 comments

This past weekend was Baylor Homecoming, 100th Anniversary style.  It was a reason to celebrate tradition, heritage, college, memories, and family.  Here are the top 10:

1.  It was homecoming in the purest form.  Bonfire, parade, and costumes, yes, but home literally packed itself into the Blazer with sleeping bags, DVDs, and lots of home cooked food and came to Baylor.

Baylor Homecoming seemed like the perfect excuse to have another reunion.  Cousins, grandparents, cousins of in-laws, cousins of cousins, and brothers and more.  Home Came.

2.  Bush’s Chicken.  I live in Waco, and the only time I dare touch the greasy and oily chicken or come near the rolls caked in butter is when my cousins come this way.  When I drink the tea, it relentlessly reminds I did so all afternoon, but when you’re away from Waco, I hear you crave Bush’s.  In several years I’ll be the judge, and until then I’ll close my eyes and consider it a family thing.

3.  My closet is immaculate.  In my opinion, the most genuine way to serve is to clean one’s closet.  I’m blessed by my mother in countless ways, but one very tangible way is her drive to keep closets clean.  She enjoys my dreaded task.  If I do say so myself, we make a good team.

4.  These two pictures are my favorite.  James got his picture taken with a friend from our hometown, and then I humiliated Robert by asking the girls to take a picture with him.  Of course Robert got embarrassed though underneath I know he wants a copy to show his friends.  James openly admits he’s jealous.

5.  With lots of visitors and many eaters coming through The Mountain (my apartment), the sink built up with dishes.  My grandmother threw a towel over her Baylor attire (the outfit that was probably picked out last month) as a makeshift apron and a busted through the dishes.  My roommate Hanna thanked her, and her tender and lively response will stick for many years to come

“I’ve been helped a time or two.  Know that I don’t clean because it bothers me; sometimes things are more worthwhile than housework.  We all just help each other.  If you come to my house, I’ll put you to work too.”

I appreciate and treasure little spurts of wisdom.  Sometimes they find me when I need them.

6.  My family inspires me to become Paula Deen.  After eating from their kitchens (or from mine with their food), I desire to cook Thanksgiving dinners like it’s going out of style like they do.

This weekend the center piece of the Coke Cake went missing, and everyone was interviewed to find the culprit.  No conclusion was found, so the case was left open.  Right now, I must confess I stole the middle piece, and I am proud of myself for lying and keeping a straight face.

7.  I enjoyed defying expectations.  My brothers were the leading skeptics when they heard of Tortilla Tossing and spat out all of the normal accusations of lame fun.

Then, they loved it.  Robert threw 49 tortillas without hitting the cement block.  On the 50^th I caught his first success on video.  He was ecstatic and will never need to throw another.

8.  “I have the freedom to use my hands to reach the remote or read a book in total warmth and comfort. I can use my laptop or enjoy a snack while staying snuggily warm.”  I, Jane Caroline Gear, now own a Snuggie.  The phenomenon caught on in Missouri, and now it’s making it to the South.  Oh, and my snuggie is zebra; good choice James.

9.  Best line of the weekend:  James and I are talking to Robert about middle school.

James: Do you think the girls are pretty yet?

Robert:  Not yet, but I know that’s coming.

When I don’t see them for months, it obvious how my dear brothers are growing up.

10.  Reunion.  Robert and I went exploring through the SUB and accidently walked into a Baylor 50^th Class Reunion.  We did the math to find out everyone’s age, and I immediately envisioned myself returning to Baylor University.

Last summer I visited my old high school and was almost distraught at the behavior of the kids and lack of respect.  However, with Baylor, I know I will spruce up (an old person term I will unintentionally adopt) in my green and gold, and return with warmness of heart and dearest of affection.

Happy 100th Birthday Baylor. 

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Recognizing our Role Models

Posted by Caroline on Oct 4, 2009 in Amazing Grace, Family | 0 comments

While I did lose count of the chapters in this story, I don’t want to lose sight that each part of my story is traced back to the King who narrates my being.   Sure, I am the fingers typing away, but remember I retell a story that is the heavenly Author’s.  Call me His scribe.

I just recounted.  This is chapter 8.  So welcome back.

Chapter 8

You must be caught up on some trivial plot development in this story. Tonight I had a pizza party with the people I call my family here in Texas.  Friday I spray-painted my hair black and danced like crazy at a party where they prayed at the beginning, middle, and end.  I love Baylor, but now my shower is stained black from my hair dye.  I think the reason is just to remind me of my sillyness.   Today I bashfully (with a tinge of respect for his lack of inhibition) watched Clayton test every pillow in Kohl’s to ensure he brought the perfect one.  I ate a blueberry pancake at ihop at midnight last night.  It rained all day, and now my TOMS are soaked for a week.  And, of course, I’ve had many a cups of coffee.

Plot development: Check.

Now a bit of character development. Shaping. Molding. Sifting. Disciplining. Eye-Opening.  Heart Renewing.

Setting:  I’m going to zoom into a circle of three chairs from tonight.  Warning:  There’s no climax.  No surprise.  It’s merely a small group of college students with a sheet to facilitate discussion.  We have one older adult leader in the Leadership Community and we invited him to our group (Note: there are now four chairs).

The man marked with humility sat down in our group, and by the end of the 40 minutes, he calmly had reminded us of the faithfulness of Jesus Christ and the genuine, lasting satisfaction of knowing this Redeemer.  He shared of tragedy.  Of unexpected losses.  Of life-changes.  He flipped through the worn pages of his Bible as if he’d spent hours upon each page of what I am again reminded to look freshly upon as THE Word of God.

He spoke of doing anything in our own strength as pride with a sobering reality.

He spoke of living a life full of gentleness and patience and showed it by merely being present.

He spoke of praying what you desire to desire.

And now I have a new glimpse of what I desire:  Humility.  Tonight the word humility has been stuck in my mind.  What does it look like?

I found an answer pretty quickly:  Dr. Robert Bernard Beach, Sr.—my Granddaddy.  He lives just across town from the house I’ll always call home in Springfield.  This man is not only well-read enough to help my sister write papers over books she hasn’t read, he can rattle off Cardinal’s baseball statistics to keep up with the fanatic fan I am proud to call a brother of mine.

Granddaddy and I would go to McDonald’s every Wednesday when I was in pre-school, and some of my earliest memories are swinging my legs in these concave, orange Missouri State chairs outside of his office.

He gives with unwavering selflessness:  Time, Piano Lessons, Rides, my beloved Baylor University, Wisdom, an Example.  He worries a bit, I’ll admit, but it’s always about someone else.

That’s humility.

I grant Granddaddy bragging rights for himself all day long.  However, I know he won’t use them.  Grandmother will have to brag for him (though I think she already does).

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A New Perspective on Finals

Posted by Caroline on May 9, 2009 in The Backpack | 0 comments

Every time my History Professor hands out one of his nearly impossible reading quizzes, he kids that our quiz is a “Celebration of Knowledge.”  Such an idea is pleasant until you rack your mind aimlessly to recall the answers you end up concluding were not in the reading at all.

Coming this Monday, I’ll be taking my final for this professor’s class, and here it is—Saturday night—and I’m complaining to myself about having to study.   It’s not ideal; I probably wouldn’t have planned it; my friends are being Trekys at the movies, and here I am.  Yet, I ought to celebrate.

I know it’s an oxymoron.  I should celebrate something I ought to complain about?

The need to celebrate is valid because of my job title.
If written, here’s how it would read:
Learner, listens to researched and trained professors to expand knowledge of the areas of her choice.  Through testing professors encourage her to solidify concepts heard audibly.

Quite a hyperbole of a definition, yet if I could grasp the joy that comes with my duty as a college student, I’d see an immeasurable opportunity to soak up what can be learned.

Most likely I won’t be ecstatic for the next quiz or look forward to my exams; there’s not a party in sight.  However, a healthy gratitude and thanksgiving for knowledge should flow forth.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to prepare for my Celebration of Knowledge.

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Directionally Challenged Nose

Posted by Caroline on Apr 29, 2009 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Being that I prefer to study in my room in a perfectly quiet environment, I normally don’t venture to the library.  Last night, however, because the color printer at the library computer lab beckoned me,  I went.

I found myself amidst the chaos, surrounded by studiers, freaking-outers, and socializers.   It was almost therapeutic for me to see my peers in the same pinch as I was– time running out to turn in the last round of projects and papers.

Not long after staking my claim at a computer did I begin to smell something.  Even though I was sure my body could not emit such a grotesque and disturbing odor, I checked and then concluded that something was very wrong with someone way too close to me.

My conclusion:  I had dog poo on my shoe.

Being slightly embarrassed knowing that other people must have smelled it also, I announced my finding.  I didn’t want anyone thinking that I personally was emitting the smell.

Everyone did the “I’m zoned into my screen and am not hearing you” act, but I knew they heard me.

Because I’m selfless (but really for my own sake), I tried to find a way to clean my shoe so they could have their clean air back.  The courtyard seemed perfect, yet when I got there I found no grass and found that the doors lock when you exit after midnight.

Yes, after midnight.

I tied my shoe to the roof of my car, and I’m currently dreading dealing with the issue.

Moral: check every part of your being before you mentally accuse others of smelling.  Don’t judge when it’s your poo’d shoe.

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