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 #2

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

October 25, 2002

“I know that I’ve acted as though I’m interested in more than just a friendship… I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to pursue that.”

A general air of icky-ness had surrounded me all evening. Those words settled around me, carrying with them an unwelcome but expected wave of nauseau.

I had been uneasy all evening. After a potluck dinner with my Bible study, I met several old buddies of mine for a night of line dancing. I was quiet that evening, observing the interactions of those around me instead of contributing my thoughts to the conversation. So much had changed in the past months, leaving me isolated from this group that I once called “friends.”

Bring on the dancing, I thought to myself. It was a night where losing myself in music and motion would be therapeutic.

I drove to Stetson’s separate from the group and listened to country radio as I waited. Carolyn Dawn Johnson’s “Complicated” hit home more strongly that night than ever before, and I sobbed as I listened. Something was about to change, and I could feel it coming on.

Hours later the aforementioned blow struck. Through tears, I wrote in my journal, “Reasons Why” on repeat in the background.

God, thank You for the freedom this brings.

Freedom, indeed.

Love your wives as Christ loved the church

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

This is an excerpt from my journal on August 31. I know I’ve been rambling about love a lot lately. It’s been on my mind a lot, courtesy of upcoming weddings. Don’t count on these thoughts fading just yet – I’m reading Wild at Heart now, too.

Sweet Jesus – Your relentless pursuit of me is beyond incredible. It bewilders me.

I love that You’ve given us marriage as a picture of Your love for us. I want to experience that – but I want to experience it as the analogy of our relationship with you that it is meant to be.

So often I reduce my view of marriage to a self-serving institution. I want someone to keep me company and to baby me when I’m sick. I want affectionate expressions, and I want to be told that I’m beautiful.

What’s amazing is that – someday – I may have a physical manifestation of all of that. But I’ll only be blessed with such a gift to help me better understand how You love me.

I have all of those things already. You shower me with Your affection daily. Sometimes I choose to look away in disbelief – just as I may when a man echoes Your sentiments.

Your love is greater than my doubt.

Your pursuit of me is why I must allow myself to be pursued in relationships. To take the reigns of romance into my own hands is to destroy the gorgeous analogy You long to draw out for me. The man is the leader because You have chosen him to be equated to You in this depiction. I am to be pursued as the church. You’ve gifted us accordingly.

Someday, Jesus. I pray he’ll make my heart more fully Yours.

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

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I wonder if my cynicism toward romance is rooted in personal insecurity.

One of my favorite ‘love songs’ by John Mayer neatly sums up my feelings on the subject:

Sitting home alone on a Friday
Flat on the floor looking back
On old love (or lack thereof)
After all the crushes have faded
And all my wishful thinking was wrong
I’m jaded, I hate it

I’m facing an inner struggle that I’m not certain I can resolve. I don’t believe that I am loveable, that a fallible human being could truly care for me.

Oh, but I do long for that manifestation of my Heavenly Father’s love for me! It is too tempting to push the notion of love away ‘ to determine that I’ll never fall for it. A life as a career woman wouldn’t be so bad.

But to set myself firmly against a gift that my Lord could hold in store for me is less than holiness demands. My deepest desire is to be made holy, to be perfected.

The idea still frustrates me. I have been the initiator in the relationships I’ve been in. I’ve never dated a guy who not only brought out the best in me, but challenged me to grow spiritually. (In fact, they’ve all done just the opposite!)

I dream of being pursued. I refuse to settle for less. Too often, my type A personality rears its manipulative head. The temptation to control relationships is difficult to beat ‘ especially when I know some guys would welcome it.

But it’s crucial that the man be the spiritual leader of a couple. I insist upon being chased after because of that principle. If I hunt a man down and initiate the relationship, I have no basis for confidence that he’ll be a trustworthy driver when I let him into the driver’s seat.

That’s not a risk I’ll take. I’m a grown woman with goals, desires, and ambition, but that doesn’t make me a feminist. I believe in the biblical model for marriages. If we can’t strive to uphold that standard, I’m better off single.

I realize that my ideals are lofty. Perhaps they offer explanation for my singleness ‘ so be it. I’ll be an unmarried woman for the next seventy years if that’s how long it is before a man is welcome to fill that role in my life. Rest assured that if he ever steps into that part, I will spend every remaining day striving to love him and submit to him as the church does to its Head.

Mr. Whoever-You-Are, I’m willing to put forth time and effort if you will do the same.

I do believe – help my unbelief!

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m surrounded constantly by romantic notions. Few forms of media refrain from throwing relationships in the face of the consumer. My roommate is head over heels for her boyfriend, who takes pride in leaving mushy messages on our answering machine. Many weddings approach, one of which will feature me marching down the aisle in a dress matching those of several close friends. Even my bedroom ‘ my own personal sanctuary, my chance to escape the swoonyness ‘ throws my own girlish dreams back at me.

Despite this constant deluge of input, I’m mystified. I don’t understand how a man comes to love a woman.

Oh, and vice versa. That’s a crucial note to add ‘ love reciprocated leaves me awestruck.

I’ve developed my share of crushes over the years. Believe it or not, there’s even been the occasional boy who is charmed by my wily ways.

But this is a game of hit and miss, and my tally marks lie predominantly in the latter category. Sure, there have been offers to pursue relationships that were almost tempting. Occasionally a truly stellar guy will develop ‘feelings’ for me, and the recognition of how great a catch he is leaves me wishing that the interest were mutual.

My dreams are bigger than that, though, and he deserves better. I grew up on Disney movies. To this day, I dream of a prince falling in love with this princess. The words ‘happily ever after’ conclude my daydreams, however fanciful that thought may be.

Perhaps I’ve chanced a meeting with said prince, but he’s failed to make himself known thus far.

With so many people in this world, I can only hope that somewhere there is a man that I will love, who will love me as Christ loves His church.

Faith.

What type are YOU?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve discovered that I have a dangerous tendency when it comes to how I look at men. More often than not, I split them up into three categories.

Yes, you read me correctly. I am admitting guilt in a subconscious attempt to neatly categorize the men with whom I interact.

The first type is the ‘Jason’ category. Jason was my first boyfriend who I began dating after plucking him from the grasp of a then-close friend. (Our relationship was doomed from the start!) Besides the obvious guilt that plagued me, our break up was incited by suffocation. I was teetering at the top of a pedestal he had built for me. Several attempts to leap from this lofty position proved unsuccessful. He continued to smother me with adoration as he wound himself more tightly around my pinky finger. Wearing the proverbial pants in the relationship did not appeal to this girly-girl.

Other boys may find themselves lumped together with boyfriend number two, Brian. Ours was a relationship built solely on physical attraction and a need to stroke our egos. We were young, foolish, and self indulgent. It was the perfect deal until I realized I needed more than an inflated self image. In fact, I had begun to derive my worth from my value in his eyes. This physical fling had to go.

The third category is one more flattering to all contained therein, and a fairly new face in this show. Philip and I never dated, but I have recently realized that I’ve begun to compare guys to him. Reminding me of this fella is a good thing. A former crush of mine, he was (/is) also a good friend and someone for whom I retain respect. We have always had a lot of fun together, whether engaging in a battle of wits or a serious conversation.

There you have it ‘ a confession of my neurosis. I’ll go out on a limb and say that 80% of guys I know remind me of these fellas in one way or another. That’s not to say they can’t break free and make their own mark. (Like I said, until recently I was aware of only two divisions!) But yes, I suppose I do compare to men to those who have been there before them. Frightening.

Should I hold you close, should I push you away?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

If you haven’t noticed already, let me clue you in: I’m a bit of a music geek. I beam when commended for my CD collection. I burn mixed CDs for every occasion. I troll local music stores for fun. When a tornado warning is in effect, I take my guitar and CD collection to my ‘safe place’ with me. Yeah, I guess I’m a little weird.

Another indicator of my ever increasing geek status: just how often do I write about music? Can’t I talk about something else for a change?

(Yes, you should consider yourself warned. More music inspired ramblings are to follow.)

I am constantly surrounded by music. It’s on in my car, in my bedroom, when I’m sitting around with friends, while I shower, when I cook, while I write. I relate to it, okay? I know I’m not alone in this ‘ most people do.

But you know what I’ve realized lately? So many of the songs out there are about male ‘ female relationships. Think about it ‘ how many songs can you think of in the next minute that aren’t sung from a guy to a girl, or vice versa? (CCM songs don’t count. And y’know, even some of those are about boys and girls.) Ready? Go.

Okay, I came up with two ‘ ‘Reasons Why’ (Nickel Creek) and ‘Just the Two of Us’ (Will Smith). I know there’s more out there, but the point of this exercise was to illustrate the vast imbalance. How many songs did you think of and have to rule out? Yeah, me too.

Y’know, I can relate to these relationship songs in many ways. Though I haven’t dated in ages, I’ve had a few crushes over the past several years. Songs like ‘Complicated’ (Carolyn Dawn Johnson) and ‘New Favorite’ (Alison Krauss) are suited to my situation.

Even the songs that are more specifically about two people who are dating/married/in love I am able to appreciate. I’ve dated before, and God knows I have the desire to fall in love and get married someday. But right now, those two things are far removed from me. I’ve never experienced either of them before, and while they would be welcome, I don’t anticipate doing so in the near future.

I don’t really have a point to this story, a lesson to be learned. I don’t imagine singing a song about my real great blue shirt would have as much impact or popularity as a song about a guy who I’m interested in. Such is the plight of the songwriter, I suppose. But I do have to ask myself: will my views on these songs be altered when I am with someone?

What happened to Miss Independent?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I have an important announcement to make.

I don’t even want to be a June bride, okay? But around this time each year, I find myself longing for an excuse to snatch up every bridal magazine on the newsstands (Martha Stewart, here I come!) and a man to assure me that no matter which ridiculously expensive white gown I end up wearing for the thirty foot long walk down the aisle, I’ll look ravishing. (Somehow, I doubt he’d really notice that much of a difference between the fifteen or so dresses I’ll inevitably consider.)

But yes, for no rational reason, I’ve found myself dreaming of something that doesn’t seem to be in my near future. (Well, unless you consider being almost 22 years old and realizing that it’s been almost four years since your last boyfriend as sensible cause for these thoughts. In that case, I’m perfectly justified!)

The funny thing is, 90% of the time, I am actually quite content with my singleness. I’d say that’s a pretty decent percentage, seeing as how it’s the gift that no one wants. The idea of balancing a serious boyfriend with a forty hour work week baffles me. I’m so tired when I get home from work that all I want is an hour of Friends and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I do realize that someday I’ll have to reconcile having a life with working full time ‘ but I’m grateful that the time is not now.

Besides, the freedom afforded by singleness has its perks. I don’t feel guilty for spending my spare money on CDs when my sweet boyfriend is busy doling out his hard earned cash to take me out. I can pick up and drive to the art museum in Birmingham and wander for hours without accommodating someone else’s schedule. A week long trip to Florida isn’t out of the question, and there’s no one left here to cause the dull ache that so often plagues the heart of one separated.

Even so, I did find myself envying Monica and Chandler as they walked into one another’s open arms tonight. Yeah, I did have my fellas (the aforementioned Ben & Jerry) there with me, but it’s not the same.

It’s not so much that I want to be off the market now. But it would be nice to have reason to believe that someday my husband will wrap his arms around me so possessively.

I wouldn’t mind going on a date, either. 🙂

Behind all this make-up, there’s no one you know

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ll warn you up front that you’re probably going to think that I’m fishing for compliments as you read this entry.

Get over it. I’m not.

That sounded harsh, but I’m being serious. I don’t want to find fifteen comments at the end of this post that all read something like, ‘awwwwww, but you’re great, don’t think that way, okay?!’ If you have insight to offer, please do. That’s why I have that comment link down there ‘ and I love reading what y’all have to say. But let’s not use that as a tool for building up my too fragile ego. Deal?

I wish I could articulate why the significance of outward appearances has been weighing so heavily on my mind lately, but I don’t understand it. All I can tell you is that I have been observing how concern for beauty (on the part of me and others) affects my life and how I handle myself.

I fear that I’m not going to come close to saying what I mean. Let me try to explain this to you.

I’m not one of those quick-shower-and-ready-to-go kind of girls. When I ready myself to face another day, it’s a full out event every morning, regardless of what I’m doing that day. I bathe, I moisturize, I pluck my eyebrows, and I do my make up. I will not leave my house without taking these steps.

In fact, it’s a rare day that I’ll leave the house in jeans and a t shirt. I don’t like wearing t shirts. They’re not dressy enough for me, and I am generally trying to look my best at all times.

But why? Why is it that I am constantly powdering my nose to reduce shine, even for just sitting around the apartment? When I glance in the mirror, I quickly evaluate myself and decide if I’m looking cute enough. Who am I trying to impress? Does anyone really care about how I look as much as I care?

I’m frustrated with myself. I fear that I’m placing too much weight on my outward appearance, and not enough on more important matters. I feel superficial and ugly in this, if you want to know the down and dirty truth. I don’t like this aspect of my personality.

I suppose insecurities lie at the root of the problem. All throughout my life, I have been compared to people around me, and without fail, I’ve been told that they’re more attractive than I. These evaluations haven’t been made by evil boys who were out to break my heart (a shocker, I know ‘ I’m not proclaiming the wickedness of men at all). Instead, I’ve been informed repeatedly by important women in my life that someone else is prettier than I am. So-and-so is always the gorgeous one, and I’m considered cute, at best. (Ordinary is a word used more often.)

Lest I blame others for my problems, I remind myself that I shouldn’t place too much weight on the opinions of others ‘ nor on physical appearance! (Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.) The Holy Spirit within me reminds me to busy myself in growing my character and studying the Word, but my flesh is all too excited when learning that my Mary Kay lady is having a 40% off sale. (Perhaps a new shade of blush would perk these cheeks up’.)

As I’ve pondered this particular hang up of mine, I wonder if it has any connection to another question that’s weighed heavily on me. I seem to be bonding more quickly with guys than girls lately, and that’s a phenomenon I don’t understand. I’ve always been closer to the women in my life than the men; in fact, up until the past few years, I’ve practically been frightened by the opposite sex. But suddenly, I find myself launching into entertaining conversations with them quite comfortably. How odd.

Or perhaps it isn’t. Again, I question my motives. Am I striving to build up my self esteem by gaining acceptance by men in an area where women have so often put me down?

Many of you know that flirtation has been an area of struggle for me in the past several months. This is perhaps the ugliest portion of my personality that I could reveal. I’m a woman, and therefore a successful manipulator. {Insert wry smile here.} I’ve discovered a knack for getting attention when I want it, and I hate it.

When the boys are flirting, I feel desirable ‘ whether the guy is actually interested in me or just messing around. I put on the coy act like it’s a second skin. It’s an attempt to come off sweet and innocent and cute as all get out, but when I step back and look at myself, I see so much ugliness.

(Again, the holy side of me argues with the flesh. One laments the situation and prays that the poor boys see my ugliness for what it is; the other nervously hopes that they’re thinking to themselves how great I am.)

I recognize this sin, yet I have the hardest time tearing myself away from it. Too often it takes place in private, where there is no accountability available except for from the object of my flirtation himself. What can I say? It’s fun. That’s what disappoints me the most.

If this sounds all too familiar to you, as you may be one of the boys I’ve flirted with, I apologize. I don’t need to offer anything with my words that I’m not willing to back up with my actions. Until I am willing to offer you my affections (should you even be interested in accepting them!), I need to cut it out.

I am longing for fellowship. The craving for women who I can share these struggles with is deep (but the women who have been closest to me in the past are hundreds of miles away). And you know, I truly love my brothers as well, and I love the insight that their perspective offers to me.

The love of people who see the ugliness of my sin and yet still consider me their friend amazes me. I’ve had a few reminders of such friendships lately, and what blessing they have been! I wouldn’t trade them for a quick ego boost. But these ridiculous attempts on my part to build up my self esteem ‘ I would love to bid them good riddance.

If you want my glory, you gotta to take my sin
If you want my future, you gotta to take my skin
If you want my heart, you gotta to take my blood
If you want my bed, you gotta to take my lust
–Derek Webb

The music of my heart

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

It seems that the word “romance” is a favorite in my vocabulary. I use it quite a bit, especially as of late. But look around – there is so much “romantic” everywhere!

Now, you must keep in mind that when I use the word romance, I don’t necessarily mean flowers and love songs and swooniness. That’s one type of romance, yes, but in my opinion, that’s not all there is to it. I find a romantic quality in so much of what I see in this world, as though God is wooing us to himself through His creation.

The romance doesn’t end there. I love to lose myself in a painting – my mind goes a wandering. Where am I? What’s going on here? What did the artist feel when he was painting this picture? What about it appeals to me?

But I think that perhaps the most romantic thing to me is the power of words. When used adeptly, the words that compose a good book can transport me to another time and place. They can take me outside of myself and my tiny little world and teach me new things, serving as my tour guide on an exploration of time, place, and knowledge. (Everything I need to know I learned at my local library!)

When set to music, the power of words are somehow amplified. My appreciation for good music is forever growing, and I’m not entirely convinced that it’s a good thing. 🙂 I’ve purchased four new CDs in the past month – and yes, that does add up to roughly sixty dollars! (Think of how many cute new shirts I could buy with that!)

Yet I consider it a worthy investment. I’m not sure that my words can adequately convey to you the way that these discs impact me. Silly though you may think me for saying so – music challenges me as a person. It’s often a tool of growth in my life.

You see, music isn’t merely background noise to me, but rather the soundtrack to my life. So many songs have challenged me to examine who I am – my faults, insecurities, strengths, deeply held beliefs, and dreams. For a song to send me to my knees in prayer or to a passage of scripture is not unusual. Many times, the song may not be explicitly about God or “spiritual things” – but the truth is that God is real life. He’s in everything. Whether the song is designed to praise His name or whether it speaks of locking doors, it all comes back to Him.

If that isn’t a sacred romance, I don’t know what is.