Memories #6

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Top Ten College Memories: Memory #9

April 19, 2002

When it comes to nostalgia, I’ll admit that I’m a blubbering mess. I hate crying in public, but I express my emotions through my eyes so frequently that it’s hard to avoid. 🙂

That was the case on a spring evening in 2002, one week prior to my college graduation. I was active in Campus Crusade for Christ during my years at Florida State, and we celebrate the graduation of our seniors every spring by hosting a banquet for the entire ministry.

The banquet for this particular year was slightly different from the others I had attended. Instead of church clothes, we went semi-formal. Our staff interns were leaving that semester, as well. We opened the banquet with several ladies performing a dance to “I Can Only Imagine,” and concluded with music and dancing.

But of course the biggest difference in my eyes was that I was graduating. This evening was a celebration of all that had happened in the three years prior – while it was a tear eliciting event, it was also a joyful occassion. The words that my friend Stacy spoke about our friendship were a blessing, but I don’t think I started crying until after I saw tears running down my roommate Alison’s face. We had lived together since our freshman year, and God did a lot in both of our lives during that time.

After all of the seniors had been introduced, we moved into the music and fun portion of the evening. Heather approached me with a gift that Joyce had sent with her. (Joyce was in Minnesota preparing for a mission trip and getting to know her future husband. 😉 ) I read the card included and laughed as I reached the end – “Please ask Heather to hug you right now… pretend those are my arms.” Hebs gave me an authentic Joyce hug, and I laughed through the tears.

(I guess you could say that Joyce and I have developed a habit of missing these events in each other’s lives. It’s funny – though not in a “ha ha” sort of way – how that works out. She missed my senior banquet and I believe my graduation party, I missed her wedding…)

That evening holds memories that won’t quickly be forgotten. I treasure the picture of some of my favorite Crusade guys belting out “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” I still dance around a room whenever I hear “I Can Only Imagine.” But most of all, I continue to celebrate the friendships that God continues to use to sharpen me and mold me in His image.

Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:23-26

Memories #5

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Top Ten College Memories: Memory #1
I realize that I’m going out of order for a typical countdown. However, this particular memory celebrates its anniversary today, so I thought it appropriate to post now.

November 2, 1999

“I can’t do this on my own any more,” I prayed silently. “I’m either doing it with You or not at all.”

Those words, uttered in the public bathroom of my freshman dorm, have colored the four years that have elapsed since. I didn’t realize how significant they were at the time, but it was on this day four years ago that I began to walk with Jesus.

My story isn’t a drastic one. So many people who become Christians during college are turning from a rebellious lifestyle. Technically, I did the same, but my rebellion was much quieter.

I was the quintessential “goody-two-shoes” – rarely in trouble, good grades, active in school. I talked back to my parents and I thought I knew far more than I did, but otherwise I was much less mischevious than the typical teenager.

As my high school graduation approached, I began to question my behavior. Why did I do the things that I did – or not do them, as the case may be? In the past, my answer was usually, “Because God said not to.” I proclaimed a belief in Christ, but I didn’t understand what difference He made. Though I called myself a Christian, I lived for my own purposes.

That tendency was amplified as I graduated from high school and entered college. I searched for meaning in my friends, in boys, in a sorority, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I watched the people around me and saw that most of them were as lost as I was.

The difference was in the friends who were following Christ. Through their lives, I saw that Jesus was more than a ticket to heaven. He impacted how they lived each day on earth, as well. I wanted that – and so that is what I asked for that November afternoon in Dorman Hall.

In compiling a list of my top college memories, it was inevitable that this one had to be listed first. It wasn’t a dramatic day for me – I went about my business as usual, and no one knew the difference. Still, it marked a turning point that has influenced every following day. At the time, I wasn’t sure that I would still be following Jesus after six months. I’m still young, but it’s already been quite a bit longer than that.

My life is markedly different now than it was during the first few months following that decision. Then I was zealous, eager to learn all that I could. What those first months contained in breadth, the years since have made up for in depth. Now, each day is a steady step onward. Sometimes I long for the days of my youth – spiritual milk is easier to digest than the meat on which I now dine.

Memories #4

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

The basement of Strozier Library will always be a scary place in my mind. As a freshman at FSU, I vowed to avoid checking anything out of that library if I could help it. It was a naive promise, and one that was broken within several months.

I reluctantly accompanied Heather to the library one night. I was desperate to get out of the dorm (it had been a hard night with a lot of tears), and I needed to do some research anyway. It was on that night that I paid my first visit to Strozier’s basement.

I can’t remember what book I was looking for or what kind of assignment I was on, but I found myself in front of rows and rows of crankable bookshelves. Have you ever seen these things? They’re used in tight spaces to cram in as many books as humanly possible. Before you open the aisle where your book is being held hostage, you have to peer down surrounding rows of books. The last thing you want to do is crank open a case and trap someone between rows of books.

As I’ve already explained, I was feeling rather emotional on this particular evening. Instead of distracting me, the library heightened my fears. I sat on the floor between two sets of shelves and cried. I couldn’t find the book I wanted, the boy I liked wasn’t interested in me, and the library was creepy. I was blowing things out of proportion, I know, but I sat on that basement floor and wallowed in my self pity.

I’ve grown up a lot in four years (as one would hope!) I spent two and a half hours of my Saturday in Gorgas Library. Again, I sat on the library’s bottom floor, this time prowling through Readers Guide to Periodical Literature, volumes one and two.

The musty smell bothered me, but I plodded along in my search for materials. When I left several hours later, a lengthy list of sources in hand, I reflected on that night four years ago. I’ve matured, not only in my use of university libraries, but in my relationships with men and in how I deal with my emotions. (Thank God I’m not still the child I was at 18!)

Memories #3

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

(Inspired in part by Heather’s post of the day – which I highly recommend you read, by the way.)

Top Ten College Memories: Memory #10

We sat around the dining room table, our formal attire a humorous juxtaposition to our bare feet and plans to spend an evening in. These are the evenings a young woman remembers – applying make up and curling hair alongside three roommates ensures a good time, regardless of the occassion. Paula, Alison, and I had selected gowns that we felt were appropriate for the evening’s activities. Not one to be left out, Heather donned similar attire. As the sun set over our forested neighborhood, we worked together, both in getting dolled up and in the kitchen.

We solved the corn chowder problem (too runny? add flour!) just before our guests began to arrive. Four gentlemen joined us, decked out in an array of garments ranging from a run-of-the-mill suit and tie to an ascot (with a cane as an additional accessory) to a turban. This colorful cast of characters sat down to dine at the same dining room table that had hosted countless bottles of make up moments before.

Breaking bread with brothers and sisters is always a treat, but the fun truly began as the eight of us moved into the living room. It was there that we ceased to be CJ, Heather, Paula, Alison, Philip, Jesse, Andy, and Scott. We resumed new roles for the next hour, assigned to us from a cardboard box bearing the name “Alfred Hitchcock” and the promise of a mysterious night of fun. Andy – or should I say, Dr. Lees – narrated as Catherine and Mary (played by Paula and I) were eliminated from the game by a murderous Brit. We victims proved to be the only ones able to successfully solve the case (Heather, as the bitter midwife, killed us off in a jealous rage).

The laughter continued in a rousing game of Psychiatrist. When the girls acted as our cat Emma and the boys as our dog Tessa in one round, Heather dissolved into laughter. Our impressions of the animals were apparently so good that she guessed immediately who we were. (Philip was on all fours beside me at the sliding glass door. Confusion led him to playing the part of Emma, though it wasn’t his assigned role. Our interplay was still so convincing that it led to Heather’s accurate guess.)

My ability to laugh at myself was tested in a later round. 🙂 All seven “actors” were assigned the role of imitating yours truly. The noise in that room nearly reached a level that only Tessa could detect as everyone imitated me in their best shrill voices. I laughed so hard that I could barely stay in character – and I am me!

Later, we sat around the television while Hitchcock’s Rear Window played. The dark room and the comfortable atmosphere lulled most of us to sleep while the video quietly rolled on. Truly, my friends, these are days to remember.

Let the phone ring, let’s go back to sleep

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

As reported to a friend via email half an hour ago…

If I were to look in the mirror right now, I’d see a face still surrounded by bedhead. My unmade bed is covered with roughly thirty articles detailing the contributions of weblogs to journalism and thoughts on media ownership. A plastic cup, empty save for the ring of OJ that graces its bottom, sits on my nightstand. A pile of highlighted and otherwise marked up articles is growing beside my bed. This is my Tuesday morning. (It’s a beautiful world.)

Jeremy the Perfect Boyfriend – now available in stores?!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

*You know honey, why don’t you just relax and let me make dinner tonight.
*The ball game isn’t really that important, I’d rather spend time with you.
*Why don’t we go to the mall, didn’t you want some new shoes?
*You know, I think it’s really important that we talk about our relationship
*You’ve been on my mind all day. That’s why I bought you these flowers.
*Here, you take the remote, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we watch.

Alisa and I saw this in Bed, Bath, & Beyond the other night and were immediately reminded of Jeremy the Perfect Boyfriend. You could buy me one of these, but I might light it on fire. 🙂