It’s a mirage, it’s an illusion this time

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Have there been moments in your life that you look back on with a sort of tantalizing bittersweetness? Where life seems to teeter on the edge of “just right” — but you know, with the benefit of hindsight, that the scale never quite tips in your favor?

I was making a list tonight of songs I’ve referred to in my journal over the past year and a half. I’m just a list-making, nostalgic sort of girl. But this journey took me back to a series of days (months, really) that were (are) sort of achingly sweet, despite their lack of fulfillment.

It left me craving my “Songs for the Almost” CD, and maybe that elusive fulfillment (that will not come). It left me, if not exactly sad, perhaps a bit melancholy.

I’m holding on underneath this shroud

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Death isn’t supposed to be scary when you’re a Christian – at least, I feel like it shouldn’t be. We have the promise of eternal life, that when life passes away, we’ll be with Jesus.

And that sounds good, and I do believe that. And yet, when someone I know dies, I find myself wondering: Are they really in a better place? Is there really life after death? Or is the end, the end?

Last summer I wrote two stories about Cassidy, a little girl who was battling a brain tumor. When I interviewed her mother for the first story, it was only days after Cassidy’s grandfather had died in a car accident on his way to visit the hospital. Talking to Suzie about her father’s death was the first time I interviewed someone after the death of a loved one. When I called the next month to schedule a follow-up interview, I heard Suzie’s husband, Sean, shouting in the background: “Be sure that CJ is the one who comes! I want to meet CJ!”

That was one of the best compliments of my career.

Cassidy and her family captured my heart. They entrusted me with sharing their story, which was at once heart-wrenching and hopeful. I got to see the community rally around the family and I saw how the family clung to their hope in Christ through their daughter’s illness.

Cassidy died Friday night. She was 6 years old.

I gasped (literally gasped) when I opened to her picture in the Birmingham News obituaries this morning. I’d kept up with Cassidy’s health in the seven months since she left the hospital using a Web site her family had set up. But I hadn’t looked in on her in several months, and had no idea that she had checked back in.

Among the many, many people thanked in Cassidy’s obituary, her family included The Tuscaloosa News. It amazes me that in what surely must be the toughest time of their lives, Suzie and Sean would think of what I wrote as a blessing. They, and their precious daughter, were the ones who blessed me.

I’m just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

My friend Luke wanted something to do at work this afternoon (he’s got a case of the Fridays, I suppose, instead of the Mondays … and I much prefer the Fridays myself!), so I asked him to be a guest blogger here. So here you go — Luke’s thoughts on multiculturalism, unedited and unfettered. 🙂 (PS – You can find Luke’s blog at www.xanga.com/zyncl19)

What does it mean to be multi-cultural, and do we really want that in the church?

My dad’s the pastor of a small non-denominational church in Wisconsin. Last weekend we were having a discussion about the state of the church as a whole, and came to the topic of diversity.

By my observation, the church in America is one of the last bastions of segregation. Whites go to traditional churches and blacks go to gospel churches. Hispanics and Asians go to churches where they speak their native languages. When is the last time you looked around your church and saw anyone much different from yourself?

(This isn’t necessarily about racial segregation. A church can be very racially diverse, but culturally not diverse at all. This is a discussion of cultural and not racial diversity even though the two usually go hand in hand.)

Many of the more liberal churches are making a big deal about this. “Why can’t we all worship together?” they ask, or “how can we be more culturally sensitive?” The idea is that since only one type of person is coming to a church, they must somehow be discriminating against all other types.

I think the reason is simpler than that. We all like to worship in our own way, our own style, our own culture. There are enough churches out there that any person can find one that fits pretty well. Automatically there’s no diversity in the church – the different people have found a place where they fit in.

Is this such a bad thing? If I went to a church where they had people dancing with brightly colored streamers during worship, I wouldn’t go back. But there are some people who like to worship in that way, and they stay. I choose to go to a church where I can worship the way I like to worship.

In order to make a church diverse you would have to include many styles of worship: the style of each culture that the church is trying to attract. I don’t think that multiple cultures can or want to worship in the same way – that’s why we have different types of churches in the first place. If a church somehow managed to put aspects from different cultures into their worship in a way that nobody disliked, I don’t think anybody would like it either – it would be too bland.

I think the system we have works just fine as it is. Everyone is happy in their own church, worshipping the same God in their own correct but different way. Each church may not be diverse, but the Church is. Is there anything wrong with that?

If you’re not happy with what I’ve written, and think me hateful, narrow-minded or just plain uneducated, ask yourself this: if diversity is more important to you than having your preferred style of worship, why aren’t you in a church where you’re the different one?

Count the miles on the highway, the sum of all my days

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Every time my computer dies, I’m convinced that it’s for good.

It does this obnoxious thing where it won’t turn on for, say, a week or so at a

  • time. I’ll mess with the power cord and such, but to no avail. Then, magically, it is resurrected. All is well, again. That is, until the next time it fails.

    It’s done it again, and we’re looking at about two weeks since I’ve been able to rouse the machine from its sleep. And again, I’m pretty much convinced that this is it. I need a new computer. (I also need it to turn on just ONE MORE TIME! I have a completed homework assignment on there!)

    That’s one reason why I’ve been blogging less (read: not at all) in recent months. It doesn’t help that my Internet access is only at work (although without a home computer, why would I need the it?). But I’ve also got a mental block that I better write something a-freakin’-mazing, since it’s been such a long time between posts.

    I’ve finally owned up to the fact that it just isn’t going to happen that way. This is what you’re getting instead: a vomitting of my thoughts onto this space, in whatever order they emerge as I sit at work and type between my real work.

  • I don’t care how cheesy it is, I love the song “Fast Cars and Freedom” by Rascall Flatts. It’s so dang cheery and sweet. It makes me happy. It’s on my work computer from the editor who sat here before me. I want someone to wonder why I put my make up on. It’s just cute.
  • Tomorrow I’m driving to Birmingham for a press screening of a movie. I’m interviewing one of the lead actors later this week, because he’s from this area. I’m rather looking forward to the drive down there, and to seeing a movie in the theatre for the first time in probably six months. The story should be pretty fun to write, as well.
  • I’m trying out a new foundation right now, from Prescriptives. It’s super expensive (well, I’ve seen worse, I suppose, but I haven’t bought worse) but I’m willing to pay more for a good product. Foundation, after all, is the FOUNDATION of your make up, soooo … if it looks bad, everything looks bad. (And this just after saying I wish I didn’t have to wear make up.)
  • Have you heard the song “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree” by KT Tunstall? It is so stinkin’ fun!
  • I get lonely a lot lately. I don’t have any friends in this city (yet), so I have been spending a LOT of time on the phone. Some friends have been subjected to more phone calls than others. 🙂 In any case, I had to go up a cell phone plan size, effectively doubling my minutes. Blah.
  • I’m totally addicted to American Idol this season. And Taylor is the best. Ace is a pretty boy. I don’t like pretty boys. Although his rendition of “Father Figure” was stunning. And Chris is awesome. My favorite girls are Paris and Kellie. I’m writing like a middle schooler and I don’t care.
  • I got this shirt the other day, and I stinkin’ love it. Lydia had a similar one that I always wanted to steal from her, except that she’s 6′ and I’m 5’3.

    • I think that’s enough for now. If you want me to blog more, you should buy me a computer. 🙂

    Sleepy sweet home Alabama

    Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

    On days like this, I feel more like a Floridian than an Alabamian. I’m wearing a short sleeve T shirt and my favorite hole-y jeans with the legs cuffed. I slipped on my pink Chucks when I left the house earlier, but now I’m sitting barefoot in my living room, enjoying the breeze from the open window.

    But on days like this, when I’m sitting in front of a college football game, I realize I’m more an Alabamian than a Floridian.

    As ESPN ran a montage of 2005’s greatest moments in college football, I searched out every shot of crimson and white I could spot. I beamed with pride as images of Brodie Croyle and Tyrone Prothro (the catch!) filled the screen.

    And I gasped at the first image of a Seminole. I had forgotten that I have another team.

    I know I should be ashamed. I am ashamed! I spent three and a half fantastic years at Florida State, and I enjoyed twice as many football seasons there as I did as a student at Alabama.

    But my home’s in Alabama – and now, so are my driver’s license and voter registration. I’m not sure what is required to call yourself an Alabamian, but I’m here, and I am one.


    Forgive me for blogging after the fact … I don’t have internet access at home, but I’ve been writing just the same. And I have a new year entry to make, it’s just still in my journal.

    Letters from home

    Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

    Some observations from the weekend:

    Apparently you don’t need to arrive at the airport hours in advance for holiday travel. Or at the very least, it wasn’t necessary for me on Friday. I got to the airport around 1:50 or so … and to my gate around 2. I had an hour and a half to chill out (so after returning some phone calls, I picked up the USA Today … I’d already read my paper, the Birmingham News, the Tuscaloosa News and the New York Times by that point. OK. Not in full. But all I wanted to, at least).
    My mom bought jingle bell collars for the girl cats (that’s three of five, for those who are keeping score). Whenever they run around the house there’s a merry ringing. I think sometimes they shake their heads just to generate that sound.
    Speaking of mom, while looking through the pictures I’ve taken since my last visit, she reached the conclusion that Philip looks like my brother. Now my sister has been saying this for years and years, but I didn’t agree until this summer, when I saw a picture of Philip from middle school at Jen’s house. It looked almost exactly like my brother. Anyway, mom made both Chad and my dad come to the computer and look at the picture, and then Chad went in the bathroom and practiced smiling the way Philip did in the picture and pretending to be frightened at the similarities. Sadly, the rest of my pictures from the Florida game didn’t elicit such an enthusiastic reaction. (C’mon mom! It’s the scoreboard! It says 31-3! We KILLED them! That was an amazing game! CARE A LITTLE!)
    I am apparently an old woman. I have been exhausted by around 10 p.m. eastern, even though my bedtime is really 10 p.m. central. I am only awake now because I took a two hour nap after the turkey.
    Nintendo DS is overrated (but don’t tell my little brother). Then again, I think most gaming systems are overrated. Just give me Mario Kart and Dance Dance Revolution and I’m set. (Nintendo DS *does* have Mario Kart, but it’s not as fun as on Game Cube, which isn’t as enjoyable as on SNES.)
    Back to getting old — all day on Saturday, my brother kept announcing “I can’t wait until tomorrow!” All but the VERY LAST TIME he said it, my reaction was, “Why, what’s tomorrow?” I did figure it out (Christmas) before the words left my mouth. When I told my mom, she was very proud of me.
    I think my New Year’s resolution will be to switch to decaf coffee. Now I’m not especially a caffeine addict, though a good cup does perk me up in the mornings. But I really think someday I’ll start having panic attacks/become OCD/something if I don’t take care of myself. I’m a big stress ball anyway, y’know? So I’ve decided I should reduce my caffeine intake, because that only exacerbates things, and also try to be less of a workaholic. (It’s not that I’m always working, but I am always thinking about work.) Plus I think I’d break out less with less caffeine, and I’ve been dehydrated a LOT the past several months. So once I finish the coffee I’ve already got (which is quite a bit — thanks Cristin, Cheryl and Aunt Laura!!!! and Alisa, but I’ve almost finished hers), I’m gonna go decaf for a while, with special occasions as an exception.
    Not that y’all care.
    I am apparently the cat whisperer. One of our cats had surgery recently and has to have a hot compress twice daily. He kept jumping out of my mom’s arms, but I took hold of him and rocked him through the rest of the treatment. Perhaps I am destined to be the crazy cat lady.
    Speaking of crazy cat ladies, I miss Emma.
    In Sunday School this morning, the guy opened by talking about how if you didn’t have the King James Version of the Bible, you needed to throw it away. OK, so he really started by saying that if your Bible didn’t say Mary was a virgin, but it quickly went the 1611 route. Because I am a snob and a pain in the butt, I tuned out the rest of his lesson. I read my NIV instead.
    That’s all I’ve got. 🙂 I’d apologize for being dull, but eh, you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. 🙂

    Merry Christmas, y’all. 🙂 I’m going to bed.

    I’m wide awake, it’s morning

    Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

    OK first off, there’s this adorable little redheaded girl at the next table over, and she is totally making me want to have children. I want redheaded babies, did I ever mention that? Or well, not necessarily babies, plural, but I’d like one.

    That’s probably why I agreed to go out with that crazy redhead that one time, but well, crazy isn’t going to keep me around. After all, I’ve got redheads in my gene pool already.

    But enough about the children that I’m not yet ready to have.

    I’m soaking in the small town atmosphere in this random city I’ve found. My accent is thickening and I’ve been recognized several times. (Yes. Recognized. They ran our pictures with a short article about staffing changes the first Sunday I was here.) I’ve had senior citizens imply that they want to set me up (with who, I have no idea) and I’ve found every place with wireless internet access (I think).

    And so far, I like it.

    The novelty will wear off, I’m sure, and there will be days where I’m frustrated with the lack of anything to DO in this town. (Why do you think I’m sitting on the internet on a Friday night?) I’m already frustrated with the lack of furniture options. 🙂 (I’m sitting on the internet because I got tired of sitting on my living room floor.)

    But it’s fun. It’s different, and it’s an opportunity — all the things I said it would be before I took the job. I’m still working with the future in mind, though I haven’t written anything that I’m too, too excited about just yet. But then, my first three assignments in Tuscaloosa were about a brick and mortar workshop, a college page story and an eight inch story about Stillman’s graduation. I feel comfortable with this start.

    I could stand to find some friends, though.

    I could spit on a stranger

    Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

    I’m a little late jumping on this bandwagon …

    1.Choose a band / artist and answer ONLY in lyrics of THEIR songs:
    Nickel Creek

    2. Are you male or female:
    You’re trying on a brand new dress
    But you haven’t worn the old one yet

    3. Describe yourself:
    Standing on a darkened stage
    Stumbling through the lines
    Others have excuses, I have my reasons why

    4. How do some people feel about you:
    Gray is the color I see around her
    She’s just a blur

    5. How do you feel about yourself:
    Hey what did I do?
    I’ve spoken too soon

    6. Describe your ex boyfriend / girlfriend:
    Honey, I’m a prize and you’re a catch and we’re a perfect match
    Like two bitter strangers

    7. Describe current boyfriend / girlfriend *or lack thereof*:
    Nobody’s happy while feeling alone

    8. Describe where you want to be:
    It’s foreign on this side but it feels like I’m home again
    There’s no place to hide, but I don’t think I’m scared

    9. Describe how you live:
    You’ve got to chase a dream
    One that’s all your own
    Before it slips away

    10. Describe how you love:
    It’s not like I want to get married
    I never asked you to kiss me
    I just don’t want you to be sorry
    You didn’t try

    11. What would you ask for if you had just one wish:
    I’m just happier being confused beside the fire, as long as it’s with you

    12. Share a few words of wisdom:
    Where can a dead man go?
    A question with an answer only dead men know
    But I’m gonna bet they never really feel at home
    If they spent a lifetime learning how to live in Rome