Love letters – Page 4 – Carla Jean Whitley

I need a man who knows how the story goes

Posted on September 23, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

Some girls make lists of what they’re looking for in a man, ranging from the serious (a godly leader) to the physical (blond hair, blue eyes, killer grin). I shredded my list years ago because I realized I was dwelling too much on finding a man. (Well, that and I kept liking guys with all sorts of hair color/eye color combinations. Kidding! I’m kidding…)

I think it’s time for a new one.

I present to you CJ’s ridiculous list of what she wants in a man:

He should like the same kind of coffee as me. Mind you, he doesn’t need to take it the same way (though living with Alisa proved how convenient that is). He just needs to enjoy the same roast. I hate seeing a perfectly good bag of Starbucks go bad because I couldn’t drink it quickly enough.

He must understand the importance of college football. There will be Saturdays where I don’t spend a minute watching the game(s) in favor of doing something more important. Even so, he has to be O.K. with me checking the scores of my teams, the top 25, the SEC and the ACC when we return home.

He can’t differ from me too greatly on what beverages merit our refrigerator space. Right now, for example, I have a gallon of milk, a bottle of grape juice and a pitcher of iced Tazo Passion tea in the fridge. I’d add a bottle of V8 Splash, but I figure my grandmother deserves some space, since she pays the bills and all!

Last, and perhaps most importantly: he should know when not to put up with my crap. Sometimes I’ll push the boundaries just to see if he’ll cave. I don’t want a doormat. I need a man who will bend when it’s important and put me in my place when I’m ridiculous, modeling Christ’s love all the while.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you? 😉 Leave all applications in the comment field. Requests will be answered in two weeks to four years. Bonus points for good dancers.

It’s a great day to be alive

Posted on September 22, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I think I’ll fall in love on a Tuesday.

Okay, it may not be such an instantaneous process. Maybe I’ll just realize I’m in love on a Tuesday. Or Tuesdays could be otherwise significant in a future relationship.

Whatever.

I’ve noticed a tendency to spend my Tuesday evenings in a mushy, wistful state of mind. This has been happening (on and off) for about a year. I’ll admit that, at the time it began, much of my giggling was incited by e-mails from a certain man. For whatever reason, I found the things he’d say particularly charming on Tuesdays.

Strange, I know.

Maybe it was because my Tuesday evening class was fairly basic and therefore allowed time for girlish daydreams. (When will I see him next? How should I respond to this comment? I can’t wait to tell him about…) By the time I left class, the University seemed aways with a rosy glow.

In fact, I think I finally decided I liked that guy on a Tuesday.

But it’s not necessarily linked to flirting with someone. I can recall the occassional Tuesday mood cropping up this summer. That was our women’s Bible study night – and we did not sit around talking about marriage and what we wanted in a man.

(Well, maybe one night. But I think I kept my mouth shut.)

The past couple of Tuesdays have involved long drives across town. It’s hard for me not to get pensive about something when I drive past the towering buildings downtown. It may not be “mushy love stuff” on my mind, but something will be stirring in me.

I dunno. I think Tuesdays are a nice night.

Disclaimer: No, I’m not dating someone. I have not brought out the hoops. I know some people say they can tell when something is going on based on my away messages and blog entries. Not so this time! If you spent three hours stuffing envelopes for bridal advertisements, you’d be contemplating mushy things, too.

Protected: It’s one of those days to take a walk outside

Posted on September 21, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I get in these moods where I’m convinced the weather is perfect for falling in love. It tends to happen most in the fall. (I think it has something to do with football. How many women do you think will say that?) But, like many boy-related things, these moods get me in trouble.

I think it’s hormonal.

We all know our feelings get a little crazy during “that time of the month,” and I’m no exception! I tend to be little miss “I don’t need a boyfriend,” but only for 24 days each month. There’s always a week when I’m convinced I need a good cuddle.

When that happens, my mind immediately reverts to the object of my most recent crush. It doesn’t matter if that was a month ago (as is the current situation) or if he’s someone in my life right now.

That bugs me. I don’t need this man who isn’t in my life dancing through my mind.

Why can’t I make it through my period without daydreams of something (someone) I don’t need?

Blah!

I do my little turn on the catwalk

Posted on September 20, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m not the most athletic or the most spontaneous woman in the world, but I’m generally up for an adventure. A few weeks ago, that meant a four mile hike on a Virginia mountain. Adventure this weekend translated into a night out on the town.

While I drove from my side of town to meet Alicia for a movie, she changed our minds for me. Instead of bumming it in a movie theater, we were dolling up and going out for a little dance music.

I wasn’t dressed appropriately (though don’t worry, I was wearing a trusty heels-with-jeans get up), so I played dress up in Alicia’s clothes. A new outfit and shaved legs later, I was dressed and we were off to the 22nd Street Jazz Café.

Here’s the thing about Alabama: every day is a fashion show. Going to class? Pair your jeans with a sassy top and your favorite heels. Sunday morning demands attire almost as formal as the average business wardrobe. If you look at the south end zone of Bryant Denny on game day, you’ll see the dress required of our cultural events.

The unusual thing about this evening at the jazz café was the range of dress. Everything from jeans to denim skirts to pink skirts with tanks were represented. Alicia and I took our places on the dance floor and lightened the club’s atmosphere.

We were later joined by some friends of her boyfriend and his roommate. The guys obviously knew Alicia was off-limits, so one of them turned his attention to me. I carefully, politely indicated that I wasn’t interested in him or any of the other men who tried to join us on the dance floor. Within moments, they would turn up with other girls.

I tell this story to make two points:

In this atypical atmosphere, no one cared that I was clutching at my lime green pants as I danced. They were a bit baggy in the waist, and my hair and makeup were nothing to brag about. I was as laidback as I could be in capri pants and heels, but the boys came anyway. The lesson? People aren’t always as obsessed with appearances as I’m afraid they are.

The next morning, Alicia and I “debriefed” from the night. She pointed out that I could have walked away with the digits of any of a number of guys, then proceeded to share her philosophy on my dating life. “You’re single,” she reminded me. “You can go on dates with whoever you want, and if you don’t like him, just don’t call him back. Enjoy it!”

But I don’t want to, I said. What’s the point in meeting guys at a bar? They might be perfectly nice guys; after all, I’m a nice gal and I was there. 😉 But you don’t get to know someone by chatting about why you’re in Birmingham and whether or not you want a drink from the bar.

I may not be obsessed with knowing that someone is the “man of my dreams” before I accept a date, but I like to know that he at least has that potential. I know I’m picky, I know I’m less than perfect myself. Regardless of what I’m wearing, my standards are still a bit higher than that… and I think they’ll stay that way. 🙂

On shoes and commitment

Posted on September 9, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I ran into another pair of beautiful brown heels in Nashville this week. Like the others I’ve considered, they featured a low heel and a pointy toe. But these babies would look good with pants and skirts – and they had a fun steel-heel look that I was diggin’.

I didn’t get them.

I suppose that supports Alisa’s hypothesis that I’m a commitment-phobe. I maintain that my hesitation to buy shoes is out of wisdom, not fear. (The problem here? Will these shoes still be worth their money after I wear them three or four times? The leather was already starting to crease, and I was afraid it would destroy their appeal.)

Alisa’s not completely off, though. When I began to consider what I would look for in a church, I had to face a hard truth about myself.

You see, I tend to think that commitment will be fairly simple within the context of marriage. I know I’m never going to find Mr. Perfect, but I believe love is a choice. I will choose to love even when there are hard days, even when Mr. Right-for-Me is showing his bad side(s). Maybe I’m a little idealistic, but these ideas led me to an important comparison.

Husbands are supposed to love their wives as Christ loved the church. Wives are to submit to their husbands as though they’re submitting to Jesus. I think that’s one of the coolest things ever. But I never stop to look at the other side; what does this say about my relationship with the church?

I don’t have the best church background. I’ve attended countless churches since becoming a Christian five years ago, none of them for much longer than a year. Daydreaming little CJ thinks she can accept the faults of a man, but how can she expect that when she can’t accept imperfections in the church?

Granted, I don’t want to attend a church with faulty theology or unfriendly demeanor. There are certain “non-negotiables” in a searching for a church home – just as there are in looking for a mate. The difference is I rarely recognize the difference between non-negotiables and deal breakers when it comes to the body of Christ.

I think the fault lies with me.

That’s why it’s been so important to me to pray about what I must have in a church and what I prefer. I’m only “guaranteed” four months in Birmingham (well, three months and 9 days, at this point), but I want to maximize that time. I don’t want to dilly dally between congregations forever.

So I might settle on a church before I pick up a pair of brown heels.

I’m okay with that. I think it means I’m growing.

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

Posted on August 26, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

Today I went shoe shopping.

Whoa now, don’t turn away from me just yet! There’s greater truth to be told here – or at least, my former roommate thinks so.

I’m in dire need of a pair of sassy brown high heels, and work starts next week. With my personal shoe specialist at my side, I hit the streets in search of the perfect chocolate-colored complement to my wardrobe.

We spotted a pointy little number with a kitten heel that slipped onto my foot nicely. It looked stylish with my jeans, and promised to be just as flattering with dressier attire. So I did what comes naturally – I replaced the shoe in its box and walked away.

When I recounted this tale hours later, Alisa accused me of having commitment issues. She mentioned that yesterday in relation to boys, and she decided that my shoe shopping episode was the perfect analogy.

Perhaps it is, I agreed. But maybe not in quite the way she was thinking.

See, when I’m going to drop a significant amount of cash (or credit, as the case may be) on something, I give it time. I mull over the purchase for at least a few days. Buying a pair of shoes is a serious commitment, and in my opinion, not something to take lightly.

So are men. Okay, okay – I haven’t had to deal with any real commitment issues because I haven’t dated anyone for longer than three months. But Alisa will be the first to mock me for the length of time I take to admit interest in a guy. [Cue “Winter’s Ending”]

I’m a firm believer in giving appropriate weight to decisions I make. I’ll admit that dating a guy is a bit more serious than buying a shoe. 😉 But who cares if I give both careful consideration? With the time, money and potential for pain invested in each, I believe they’re worth the thought.

(Can I get an “amen”?)

All I want to do is exalt You

Posted on July 16, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve been surrounded almost exclusively by Christians for the past five weeks. Not surprisingly, this is an atmosphere where “Christianese” may freely flow. Terms like “a heart for” and “saved” are tossed about without explanation because we all understand them.

In a similar vein, “life verses” have come up many times. I’ve always thought that a funny term – I’m 23 years old, and I’ve only been serious about God’s role in my life for 4.5 years. How do I choose a verse that describes my life’s theme? Is that even important to me?

Probably not. I enjoy hearing what others consider their life verses, but I’ve had three different verses that have really hit home during this journey I call my “walk with Christ.”

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

The first couple of years that I spent growing in my Christian faith were filled with trials. Many of my high school friends were turning to me for advice on weighty problems. I spent my time trying to learn how a Christian life should look. In the midst of so much learning and change, this passage offered encouragement.

One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. Psalm 27:4

As I graduated from college and sought new direction for my life, I questioned my priorities. What goals did I have for my life? What steps were necessary to achieve those ends? In processing through these questions, Psalm 27:4 gave me guidance. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew that the ultimate purpose must be to know and glorify God, because that is why I was created.

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. Psalm 45:1

This verse seems to scream “CJ!” far more than the others. I am at my most comfortable with a pen and pad of paper. Writing isn’t something I do just because I enjoy it; I am passionate about using what skill I have to encourage Christians and non-Christians alike. I don’t know that I’ll be employed by a Christian publication, but that circumstance is irrelevant to my goals. I want my words (both spoken and written) to edify readers, whether I write for Relevant, a Campus Crusade publication or Southern Living.

You are the most excellent of men and your lips have been anointed with grace, since God has blessed you forever. Psalm 45:2

What’s funny is that the lines following my “life verse” are beautiful but distinctive in a completely different way. Verse one of this psalm calls to mind my life’s goals, but verse two taps into a different desire: a husband.

I’d like to get married someday. Should that day come, I would love to recite these words to my husband. Surely he’ll be the “most excellent of men” in my eyes – that’s why I’ll marry him, after all.

The idea of lips “anointed with grace,” however, blows me away. I’m not sure what the author had in mind when penning this psalm, but to me they draw out a powerful image.

The man I imagine isn’t a wimp who is soft of speech and lacking confidence. He’s a man who is self-assured, not because he’s got so much going for him (though he probably does), but because his worth is tied up in Jesus. He’s the same person regardless of circumstance.

That includes his relationships. Instead of mocking the girl who tries too hard or the guy who flirts with every girl, he embraces their contributions to the world.

I’ve learned that it’s important to not only know my standards, but to become my standards. Am I the sort of woman that would attract the kind of man I desire? Moreover, am I bringing glory to God?

This idea has resurfaced many times lately, particularly regarding speech. I try to be an uplifting influence, but I often pepper my speech with sarcasm or crass words. A friend informed me recently that it’s not ladylike to say things like “butt load.” While I think he was mostly kidding, he has a point. My purpose isn’t to impress boys, and butt load may not be derogatory to God – but is it edifying?

Romans 12:1 instructs us to be “transformed by the renewing of your minds.” The Christian bubble in which I dwell may not represent “real life,” but it is serving as an incubator for these thoughts. August 14 may find me a changed person.

Are you strong enough to be my man?

Posted on July 1, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

“But I have to warn you; this may make me a better person and that is not the man you fell in love with!”
–Chandler Bing in “The One with the Nap Partners”

I don’t know how it came up. Perhaps it was because relationships are a hot topic on summer projects. (This is “Campus Crusade for Couples,” after all.) But yesterday I found myself explaining my love of Chandler to my friend Daniel.

“I like guys who are a little bit of a jerk,” I said.

I couldn’t make him understand why that is, or even exactly what I meant by that. Then I realized that I wasn’t sure what those words signified.

I spent the rest of the afternoon pondering that statement. There’s a difference between a healthy dose of sarcasm and jerkiness, of course. So why did I phrase my thought in that way?

You know what I think it is? I have this stereotypical image of my Christian brothers. Those that actually date are gentle, soft beings – whether in my erroneous view or in reality. If they show interest in us (specifically in me), they must be weak.

What a ridiculous idea! Am I so afraid of fitting into some preconceived mold that I look down my nose at perfectly fine men? Are my standards so high that they’re unrealistic?

I don’t know the answers to those questions. The men who have been and who will be in my life often don’t fit the boxes I’m trying to draw. And what of the guys who do slip by my crazy ideas of what I want? How do my words reflect on them?

I don’t want to be what I mentally paint as a bland, cheesy Christian. I long to be someone who is making a difference, who is living. Somehow I want relationships that reflect that desire.

It’s cold, baby

Posted on June 16, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley

I took the first several steps cautiously, fully aware of the other women around me. I was teetering on black heels as I embarked on a mandatory prayer walk around the church parking lot. My words were soft mutterings even after I separated from the group.

The assignment was in conjunction with the evening’s Bible study. We’re focusing on the heart, and tonight’s lesson asked us to examine ourselves for bitterness. We were each given a slice of onion to represent the “bitter root” in our lives. After praying about it, we were to symbolically throw the pungent food away then return to be cleansed from its odor.

My roommate Jillian referenced my bitterness, only partially in jest, as we set about the task. She knew I had some stuff to deal with, and I knew I wasn’t excited to confront it.

I’ve referenced my skepticism about men many times to most people who know me (Jillian and our other roommates included). Those feelings aren’t directed at any particular person, but they are the residue from past moments of anger.

As I prayed through these thoughts, I began peeling away the onion’s layers. I paused at the second layer to snack on a bit of the raw vegetable.

That snack was just as crucial as the rest of the task. Much as I like onions, I enjoy bitterness. It’s a defense mechanism. When I’m defensive, I push people away. In theory, I minimize my chance of hurt. The bitter sarcasm even garners a few laughs along the way. But like the onion turns my breath sour, that bitterness stinks up the rest of my being.

I continued to peel away the layers as I prayed. It’s been quite some time since I’ve harbored bitterness toward an individual. Perhaps that’s what makes it so hard to move on?

I’m comfortable with the walls bitterness has constructed around my heart. To let go of that is allowing God full control of that portion of me. I know He is trustworthy and good. His provision and protection are far greater than anything I can construct.

Even so, I didn’t want to release the tiny portion of onion that remained after the peeling. What I was left with was too small to hurl away, but I needed to relinquish it nonetheless. As I flicked it away, I prayed in faith for God to revolutionize my heart. It’ll take His power to eradicate the last bits of bitterness from my life. I feel naked before Him; less than 24 hours later, I struggle not to clothe myself with that sin.

But the one who calls me is faithful. He will do it.

I’m tired of being alone, so hurry up and get here

Posted on June 6, 2004 by Carla Jean Whitley