But outside it’s stopped raining

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

We still don’t have power — in fact, it could be take as long as until Sunday to get it back. So I’m the rounds of free/cheap things to do in Tuscaloosa. The coffee shops have already taken a lot of my money, and now I’m parked in the visitors deck on campus, which will cost me $3 to get out of. It’s not the ideal, but well, it could be a lot worse.

Oh, and they cut off our gas, too, so we don’t have hot water either.

It’s kind of an adventure for Lydia and I, really. I mean, we’d rather have power any day (talk about realizing how spoiled we are..). But we’re making the best of it.

Tuesday night, Lydia’s boyfriend Michael came over. (His building is the only one in his complex without electricity, and he lives on the third floor, so his place was even hotter than ours!) We grabbed the bottle of champagne we had in the fridge and the three of us spent the evening sitting on the front porch with the cat and dog. We talked about playing Uno, but never got around to it.

The sleeping part wasn’t as much fun, though. It’s always harder to get to sleep when you’re sticky. But we survived. We would have slept in the front yard — it was much cooler out there! — if it were safe, but we don’t think it is… especially after watching this car circle our block roughly eight times. Sketchy?

Work was luxurious yesterday — which is pretty bad, given how much I like my job. 🙂 But it was nice to have A/C, my phone charger and internet. Yeah. I’m pretty much a big baby. I had PB&J from work for lunch, then Lydia, Michael and I went out for dinner.

Michael had to go home and sleep in the heat, because Lydia and I crashed at her sister’s SORORITY HOUSE! How funny is that? But it was so nice. We had beds, and A/C, and they provided us with towels, and the water in the shower was SO hot that I couldn’t even turn it to the strongest setting.

Through all of this, we realize how completely blessed we are. And how undeserving. Lydia had to interview evacuees (is that a word?) at the shelter on campus yesterday, and some of the stories she told me were heartbreaking.

Then today I was at Crimson eating breakfast when I started talking to the random guy trying to connect to the internet behind me. Turns out he and his buddies are from NOLA, so they were telling me all they had lost. (And it was a lot.) Somehow he finds out that I work at the newspaper, and he’s a photographer, so I set him up with our photo editor’s contact info. He’s looking to find a job and settle here, if he can.

As I drove away, I almost lost it. I mean, I’ve watched the news, I read yesterday’s New York Times — I know the stories are out there. But putting a FACE on it is what gets to me. That takes it from the “Wow, what a tragedy” level to “Holy crap, that man has no where to live and even though he’s got 35 years of experience, he has no one to pay him. He is going to move his entire life and rebuild in this little town because it’s the place where he ended up during the storm.”

Why does this city get destroyed and I’m so well cared for? (Well, because they’re on the coast and below sea level and I’m not… but that’s not what I mean and you know it.) I’m sure that’s a question we’re all asking ourselves right now. My thoughts aren’t anything different or profound. But somehow writing them down seems to be the thing to do.

But I’ll admit, I’m still really looking forward to having electricity.

We raise our glasses to puzzle pieces…

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:7

I’ve been all over the place, emotionally, in the last few weeks. I guess that’s kind of keeping with my personality; my best friend has been really into this Myers-Brigg personality stuff lately, and I am such a feeler. My emotions run deep and sometimes drive me more than they ought.

So I guess it’s kind of normal, for me, to experience these extreme (though not manic) highs and lows. I was freaking out several days ago about work, and now I feel like I could stick it out a few months.

I guess it’s just that, even with all my stress, I’ve begun to feel that this is somewhere I could stay for a while. I feel like I’m really connecting with a few friends and just having a generally fun time with others. I’m starting to develop a sense of community, and that’s desperately important to me. I love that even some of my newer friends will call when they’re worried and offer hug-like thoughts from miles away. I’m optimistic about church, though it’s early yet.

What I’m saying is that, although I don’t know what to expect from week to week, I feel like I fit in west central Alabama. I’ve got at least a dozen people who really care about me in an 80 mile radius, and that warms my heart (cheesy as it sounds). I get a little scared, and I don’t know where I’m going, but I know that He — and you! — will still be there.

And all today’s uncertainties
And all of my impatience
Will just be flecks of color
In the picture that He’s painting
–Tara Leigh Cobble

I boast no more…

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Just in case you didn’t know, Tim Keller, yeah, he can put together a pretty OK Bible study. This is what I was just reading, and I liked it so much that I wanted to share.

An excerpt from Marth Luther Treatise Concerning Good Works (1520), followed by Keller, followed by more Luther:

All those who do not in all their works or sufferings, life and death, trust in God’s favor, grace and good-will, but rather seek His favor in other things or in themselves, do not keep the [First] Commandment, and practice real idolatry, even if they were to do the works of all the other Commandments, and in addition had all the prayers, fasting, obedience, patience, chastity, and innocence of all the saints combined.

Comment: Luther says if you look to your moral performance of the basis of your relationship with God, then you are breaking the first of the Ten Commandments: “Have no other gods before me.” If you fail to grasp and believe the gospel of free justification through Christ’s work you violate the first command. How could this be?

“If we doubt or do not believe that God is gracious and pleased with us, or if we presumptuously expect to pleae Him through our works, then all [our compliance with the law] is pure deception, outwardly honoring God, but inwardly setting up self as a false [savior]…”

That is exactly what I have been wrestling with lately. And I’ve said it a thousand times. But I like the way Luther says it and Keller elaborates on it better than the way I mumble.

And now I have to go to work until midnight.

Some things you want will just never be right

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I left my parents’ house in 1999, and never once have I been nostalgic for Jacksonville. I wish my parents lived closer to me, of course. (Mom just can’t seem to convince Dad that Birmingham is the place to be!) But I left that city without a glance back.

It seems strange, then, that visiting Birmingham feels like coming home. I realize my roots here don’t run deep — I lived in the ‘ham only eight months before moving back to Disgustaloosa. I don’t have the sort of network of friends here that I have in other places (that is, ridiculously deep and connected).

But man, does it feel good to be back, even for a weekend.

I went to a Barons game last night, just for something different. (We got our butts kicked, but that’s another subject I think.) Then I spent today at coffee shops — three of them, actually. My aunt and I took up space in a couple different Starbucks, then I had some much valued CJ-time at O’Henry’s.

Then it was to my much-missed, dearly-loved RMC for church. I’ve enclosed the prayer we used for confession at the end here… it was like a punch to the stomach. Oof.

I watched daylight fade to dusk on the deck of this amazing house atop one of the “mountains” in town, then spent the next hour transfixed by the city lights and enjoying conversation of friends as it swirled about me. It was so good to see my community group again, to get caught up on what’s happening in people’s lives and to just hang out. I love those guys!

As I sit now in my old room at my grandmother’s house, I feel kind of like I’ve returned to my high school bedroom. I know I was way out of high school when I lived here, and like I said, it wasn’t for that long… but it’s just comfortable, y’know? A lot of my stuff is here — I’ll even be sleeping on my own sheets tonight!

I don’t know where I’m going, only from where I’ve come… and it is a road lined with fond memories and friendships, even amid the potholes and confusion. My God is good.

Our Father, though we take your name on our lips, our hearts are far from you. The words we speak are untrue. When we say “yes,” we don’t mean “yes,” and when we say “no,” we don’t mean “no.” We like to think well of ourselves, and yet we are finding that our hearts are laced with self-protection, malice and deceit. O Lord, for the sake of your name, do not remember us according to our sins, but according to your great love.

Feeling like I’m feeling now, in between the sky and clouds

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?
Galatians 3:2-3

“A Christian is not just someone who knows about Jesus, but one who has “seen” him on the cross. Our hearts are moved when we see not just that he died in general, but that he had to die for us. When that knowledge becomes affecting and life-changing, we are Christians. We see the meaning of his work for us.” –Tim Keller

How easily I forget…

I mistake my happiness for blessing

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve become pretty crap about actually talking about how I feel or what’s going on inside my mind. My standard response as of late has been, “Oh, I’ve just been working.” And y’know, that’s part true–work has consumed most of my waking hours and thoughts over the past six weeks. But that’s really another story.

Seriously though, the other night I was in a room of people who were discussing church and what they’d been thinking about to that end recently. And I had thoughts to share but I decided not to. Why? I’m not really sure why, except I guess I kind of thought, “Well, I just met them, maybe they don’t care what I think.” But that’s really stupid because they’re nice girls and generally if you’re talking about something, don’t you want to hear what other people have to say on the matter? (I guess it could also be because I was pretty tired. 🙂 )

I was thinking about all of this last night while I was driving home from the outlet mall in Bessemer. (Again, that’s another story. I’m not really sure why I went, since I didn’t buy anything. But drive time is good thinking time.) For some reason as I was walking to my car, I nearly burst into tears. I was reminiscing on things that happened several years ago and I just got emotional.

When I got to my car, I let the tears flow and I popped in a Caedmon’s mix I made years and years ago. (Well… actually, about the time I was thinking about that got me crying in the first place. Which, by the way, doesn’t make any sense. Do you ever cry without knowing why? I do, about one day a month, so I’m pretty comfortable with it. Sometimes you just need a good cry I guess!)

So there I was, flying down I-20/I-59 with tears alternately pouring down my cheeks and drying up, depending on which song was on. I listened to “Somewhere North” for the first time in AGES and it made me BAWL. I hate that song for that reason, it always makes me sad. By the time I got to “Thy Mercy” and “I Boast No More” I was grinning like a maniac…

Because the truth is, I try to be perfect, and really my motivation is because I want CJ to be perfect. It has very little to do with God. But He accepts me even in my self-righteousness and pride and stubborness. I think I can make it on my own, which is probably why I go through these phases where I refuse to talk about my emotions. But I can’t, because I pretty well suck on my own. Okay, I guess it depends on who you’re comparing me to; I’m not a “horrible person,” but stacked up next to Jesus I’m pretty crap. (Why do I use that word so much? It’s so ugly! But it fits here.)

I’m not sure why I’m vomiting all this in an online journal, because while I was doing all this thinking last night, I thought “maybe I should tell people what I’m thinking/feeling instead of saving it for a long blog post.” But I’m home alone this weekend and so here I go anyway. I think I’m going to try to stop doing this, though. Well. Not that I’ve been doing it that much lately anyway.

Okay, and I’m going to leave you with these lyrics, because this is where I am today. And I don’t care that it’s a country song sung by an American Idol contestant. I LOVE IT. So there.

Sometimes I feel like I need
To shake myself
To wake myself
I feel like I’m just sleepwalkin’
Through my life
It’s like I’m swimming through
An ocean of emotion
But still somehow slowly
Goin numb inside
I dont like who I’m becomin’
I know I’ve gotta do somethin’
Before my life passes right by

I want to cry like the rain
Cry like the rain
Shine like sun on a beautiful mornin’
Sing to the heavens like the church bells ringin’
Fight with the devil and go down swingin’
Fly like a bird,roll like a stone
Love like I aint afraid to be alone
Take everything that this world has to give
I want to live

Sometimes I wonder
Why I work so hard to guard my heart
Till I hardly feel anything at all
I’ve spent my whole life building up this ivory tower
And now that I’m in it, I keep wishing it would fall
So I could feel the ground beneath me
Really taste the air im breathin’
And know that I’m alive

Somethin deep inside
Keeps sayin
Life is like a vapor
Its gone in just a blink of an eye

I want to take every
Breath I can get
I want to live

Underneath this age is the heart of a child

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

It’s been three years since I graduated from FSU. I remember much of that day vividly, though I really didn’t journal about it. I remember crying when Philip and Stacy left my house the night before because I didn’t know what to expect of our still-young friendships. I remember pulling over on my way to Schoolfield’s graduation party and crying off my make up. I was suddenly unsure about the early graduation I’d so long anticipated. I remember an early dinner at Carraba’s and running from Wescott to the Civic Center after taking pictures. I remember the blisters that made for a painful walk across the stage. I remember a half-hearted visit to Stetson’s.

Then just as quickly as it began, it was over. I was a college graduate, young and uncertain of what was next. I had a graduate school acceptance on one hand and a whole lot of nothing on the other.

I don’t remember when I decided not to go to Alabama, though I remember the fear and self consciousness that held me back. And I can still vividly recall the night when I began to reconsider that decision.

I’d been a graduate for almost six months by then—I was actually one day shy of that anniversary. I knew I couldn’t stay in my current master’s program. I was clinging to memories that had passed and friendships that were changing.

Against that backdrop, a stranger innocently asked why I hadn’t gone to Alabama. Though I risk crediting that simple question with too much power, it was then that I began to take slow, tentative steps toward Tuscaloosa.

It was in a coffee shop in that small Southern city that I celebrated the first year I’d held a bachelor’s degree. That degree hadn’t gotten me far at that point—I hadn’t even decided yet to enroll in the master’s program from which I would eventually graduate. But I was finally at a point where I was willing to take risks (however small). I was only 21 years old.

I guess I have grown up a bit in the years since my college graduation. I’m more confident in my relationships. My friends are still terribly important to me, but I don’t base major life decisions on them anymore. Though they do provide a sense of security, I’ve seen how my relationships grow, change and encourage me regardless of what city and state I call home.

Now I have a master’s degree. I guess that’s the most obvious difference, but its significance is more in the gamble and passion that earned it than in the degree itself. Student loans and writing at the risk of rejection aren’t what most thrill seekers pursue, but they were big steps for a little girl who thought she had life planned out at age 20.

I’m where I dared to dream I’d be. When I took the GRE with little preparation and a runny nose, it was with the hope of earning an education and a job in Sweet Home Alabama. On this day three years ago, I was scared to take that chance.

I think the 20-year-old me would be proud of who her 23-year-old self has become.

I have seen you at your worst and I still love you when you’re down

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I started a new journal a few weeks ago. That used to be a pretty common occurence (as evidenced by the 14 journals scattered across my bedroom floor, all from the last five years), but this was my first new journal in almost two years.

When I inked my first words into these leather bound pages, I was sitting in a familiar coffee shop. I guess it’s been almost three years since I worked on a journal entry in that place. The memory is still dear, though… I remember sitting between two friends, writing while they studied… with bellies full of barbecue.

I began my newest journal at a table with two different friends, one old and one new. As I wrote, I wondered how much I’ve really changed in the elapsed time. Though I live in a different city in a different state, I was back in that coffee shop. I’m still friends with several of the people I was with that night years ago. I’m still clueless about what’s next in life.

But the more I thought, the more I realized I have changed in the (almost) three years since I graduated from college. I guess that’s part of why I ended up with these journals scattered across my room tonight. I’ve been flipping through their pages, recalling the over-excited girl I was and comparing her to the woman I’m becoming. (There is no excuse for three exclamation points in a sentence, ever.)

Some of the changes probably aren’t so great–I’m definitely more prone to cynicism now than then. But I’m also more prone to realism. I’m more likely to be honest about my struggles (and I’m more likely to punctuate a sentence correctly).

(My finances were better off when I was an undergrad, though. I thought it was supposed to be the opposite way around?)

I wish the changes were more obvious… I wish I was certain that I’ve lost that chip I carried on my shoulder after I graduated… but on days like today, I’m not quite convinced. When I’m discouraged, though, it’s comforting to look at the journals that hold my story, the friends who have remained by my side (or left and come back or appeared somewhere in the meantime) even when I’m at my worst.

And it’s comforting to know that God has a history of coming through for his people, even when they screwed up… and that he’s opened his promises to even me.