Life in Progress is, well, a work in progress. The end of my third year is here. I'm itching to make some big transitions. I've slacked off on my blog, and it's something I've missed.
I promise I'll be back soon with a new look and renewed energy.
Until then, have a great rest of the semester my friends!
xx.
Caroline
April 24, 2013
i should've posted this march 24: On Regret
I’ve somehow managed to convince myself, in recent years, that I don’t have regrets. Yes, I have made plenty of mistakes. But I think regret is such an unhealthy concept–it causes you to focus so much energy on things that cannot be changed. I try my hardest to treat my mistakes as lessons and move on and grow from them.
But this morning, it all hit me. I do have regrets. Well, I have one big one: I regret the pain that I have caused for other people. I regret the fact that I have said things and done things that have broken peoples’ hearts. I haven’t acted out of grace and love, and it has caused a tremendous amount of hurt for some people. Granted, this is something to learn from. But given the chance, there are definitely some times I would go back and change.
March 5, 2013
Let Us Live; Let Us Love
Let us live, my Lesbia, let us love,
and all the words of the old, and so moral,
may they be worth less than nothing to us!
Suns may set, and suns may rise again:
but when our brief light has set,
night is one long everlasting sleep.
Give me a thousand kisses, a hundred more,
another thousand, and another hundred,
and, when we've counted up the many thousands,
confuse them so as not to know them all,
so that no enemy may cast an evil eye,
by knowing that there were so many kisses.
I had to translate this poem when I took Latin in high school and it has remained one of my favorites ever since. Catullus definitely knew how to write a love poem, if you ask me.
Translation found here.
March 1, 2013
On Hurry
I sit in the car and wait for her every Thursday at 3:15.
Some days, she's there on time. But most days, she saunters up, taking her sweet time to get in the car.
This particular 12 year old has become oh so close to my heart, but, boy, does she move slowly sometimes.
She opens the car door and lowers her backpack into the back seat. We're late to flute lessons...again. She unzips the bag and, at the speed of molasses, removes her snack and her book. Running later by the minute, girl, I think, as my brain sets into that mustgetdown29atthespeedoflight gear.
I watch her settle into hear seat and buckle up tight.
And I wonder, was I that way once, too?
At what point in our lives do we develop our sense of hurry? When do we become so vulnerable to that feeling where your heart tightens up and your brain starts spinning oh-so-rapidly? I can't remember when it started, but I know it hasn't been there all along. My heart yearns for the sweet days when I was blissfully unaware of time's all-too-fast pace.
But for now, in this season, I am at UVa. And time here--goodness gracious--moves along so quickly. And if you don't fill every second of every day with utmost productivity, you're doing it all wrong. There's no time to root yourself in the present and take it all in. "Pausing" and "resting" are not words you can put on a resume and therefore they have no place in our vocabulary.
And I hate that. You know, we're not created to live life at a speed that will break the sound barrier. How are you supposed to build relationships and create meaningful experiences if you don't slow down every once in awhile? When I make my schedule each morning (yes, I make an hour-by-hour schedule for each and every day) and don't fit in time to be still or invest in the people around me, what does that say? Even if I do fit in a lunch date with someone, I feel like I'm reducing them to a bullet point on a scrap piece of paper. I so want to be present. But if I'm constantly hurrying through a to-do list, all that's on my mind is crossing the present moment off so that I can move on to the next task.
Now doesn't that sound like a horrid way to live? At this point, I don't know how to make the feeling of unending hurry to go away. But I do know it's wrong.
My Thursday routine started so that I could be the one helping this family out--I help with driving, homework, meals, etc. It's funny though because God has underlying purposes for every aspect of our life. I'd say there's a large chance my Thursday routine actually started so that these children can help me. Maybe instead of getting flustered over being late for flute lessons, I should take a second and learn from this precious 12-year-old; I should remember to breathe...remember that it's okay to get there when you get there sometimes. It's okay to be slow sometimes. It's okay to pause to wonder sometimes. It's okay to play sometimes. It's okay to rest sometimes.A time for everything, right? Well, thinking all of this is one thing; living like it's true...that's an entirely different matter. But if I make any progress, I'll be sure to let you know.
Some days, she's there on time. But most days, she saunters up, taking her sweet time to get in the car.
This particular 12 year old has become oh so close to my heart, but, boy, does she move slowly sometimes.
She opens the car door and lowers her backpack into the back seat. We're late to flute lessons...again. She unzips the bag and, at the speed of molasses, removes her snack and her book. Running later by the minute, girl, I think, as my brain sets into that mustgetdown29atthespeedoflight gear.
I watch her settle into hear seat and buckle up tight.
And I wonder, was I that way once, too?
At what point in our lives do we develop our sense of hurry? When do we become so vulnerable to that feeling where your heart tightens up and your brain starts spinning oh-so-rapidly? I can't remember when it started, but I know it hasn't been there all along. My heart yearns for the sweet days when I was blissfully unaware of time's all-too-fast pace.
But for now, in this season, I am at UVa. And time here--goodness gracious--moves along so quickly. And if you don't fill every second of every day with utmost productivity, you're doing it all wrong. There's no time to root yourself in the present and take it all in. "Pausing" and "resting" are not words you can put on a resume and therefore they have no place in our vocabulary.
And I hate that. You know, we're not created to live life at a speed that will break the sound barrier. How are you supposed to build relationships and create meaningful experiences if you don't slow down every once in awhile? When I make my schedule each morning (yes, I make an hour-by-hour schedule for each and every day) and don't fit in time to be still or invest in the people around me, what does that say? Even if I do fit in a lunch date with someone, I feel like I'm reducing them to a bullet point on a scrap piece of paper. I so want to be present. But if I'm constantly hurrying through a to-do list, all that's on my mind is crossing the present moment off so that I can move on to the next task.
Now doesn't that sound like a horrid way to live? At this point, I don't know how to make the feeling of unending hurry to go away. But I do know it's wrong.
February 16, 2013
Valentine's Day Reflections
Last Valentine's Day, I decided that I was most definitely a Valentine's Day Hater. It had nothing to do with Single's Awareness Day...I wasn't really even single at that point. I just decided that it was way too commercialized; the Hallmark stereotype of the "most romantic day of the year" automatically made it the least romantic day ever.
I realized that, if you tune out all the tacky, typical Valentine's Day chaos, it's really not bad. It's a day for appreciating the people you love and making sure they know you're thankful for them. And what's not to love about that?
Well, I confess: I changed my mind. And all of a sudden, I love Valentine's Day.
The day started with coffee and pancakes with my wonderful suitemates, was filled with sweet deliveries, baking and crafting, and ended with a fabulous dinner at C&O Restaurant downtown (with some amazing company).
I've been converted, y'all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)