Heavy Heart

Today I just have a heavy heart. If only I could share all that I see on a day to day basis. I've been interning for a residential psychiatric hospital working with mostly late elementary school and middle school girls for almost 4 months now. This place is where kids go when they aren't stable enough to go anywhere else. They are either a danger to themselves or to others. I see children who have tried to murder members of their families. I see children who have trauma histories that you wouldn't believe if I told you. I see kids who often lose touch with reality. I see children who have tried to hurt themselves in ways that would make anyone cringe. I see emotions at their extreme.Every day is a new story.

As I leave...often much later than I expected...I take a deep, cleansing breath in and let it all out as I exhale. Still, some days there is still the lingering feeling of heaviness of heart, a deep-rooted sense of heartache and longing for Eden.

Almost every Sunday my church sings this song that has become my anthem for these girls. It goes,

"You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us."-Gungor's Beautiful Things

"That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." - 2 Corinthians 12:10

Carrie the Elf

This is a picture with my old college roommates in the Rinker pit at PBA 5 years ago. You see my pants? Do I look like I came for a photo or to help Santa and Mrs. Claus? This post is dedicated to my friend (the lovely lady on the left) Michelle who chose the topic of my crazy red pants for my first post back to the blog. She is also responsible for convincing me to start writing on the blog again. So, here's to Michelle...and the pants.Yikes.

The pants began their reign of terror about 8 years ago. The only good thing about them is that after 8 years they still fit. I decided two years ago it was time to retire them. No more Carrie the Elf. You see, I would wear them every year for Christmas parties and such with a bright green shirt. Yikes.

One thing you should know about me, I am overly festive. I go a little nutty around the holidays. So, every year around Christmas I would don the red pants and feel like a million bucks. Until a few years ago when I came to the realization that I was dangerously close to becoming the old lady with the Christmas tree sweater with jingle bell ornaments hanging from it. Yikes.

That is too closely reminiscent of a time in my life when I was completely clueless about the clothes I wore. In 5th and 6th grade I dressed like an old lady. I wish I was kidding. I was the fat kid with big glasses and thick bangs, hair parted down the middle, and braces. I have sworn off all of those things for the rest of my life. Let me describe one of the worst of my outfits. There was this dress, a denim, shapeless dress with a button on vest. Sounds horrid, I know, but that isn't the worst of it. My favorite part was that the vest was reversible, flowers on one side, bird houses on the other. O, yikes.

This is so embarrassing.

And some would try to blame my mom for letting me wear such terrible things, but she told me they looked like stuff old ladies would wear. I just thought they were awesome. And my mom had such a hard time finding things that would fit me, so she would cave. Man was I ever clueless. Sometimes, I am still clueless. I look back on an outfit and think, "What was I thinking?" Then came the pants.

You've heard of burning of the greens after Christmas. This year, I think it's time for burning of the reds.

My Journey: Part 6

I have been on vacation for a week now, so thanks for waiting patiently on the next part. Your comments have been so sweet and encouraging. I'm thinking I'll only write one more part to this series after this. But my journey is not ending, only beginning.

I told you about the 31 Days of Grace blog I have been reading. Well, I’m halfway through and boy is it hitting me in all the wrong places…or the right ones, I suppose. The next part of my story is when I began to start seeing glimpses of grace everywhere. And yet apparently I am still on the journey of grace. I felt Emily explained it perfectly on her 13th day of grace. She said she felt like all she had to share was a pocket full of vanilla jelly beans instead of a single colorful everlasting gobstopper. So my story is just that. A single vanilla jellybean. There are plenty more moments when I have been overtaken by grace, but I can’t give you one beautiful story to blow you away and make you comprehend God’s grace.

And I think that’s just how God works. We can’t have it all at once. Or even handle it all at once. It isn’t something to be achieved. We can’t control it or earn it. He gives it. Moment by moment. One single jelly bean at a time.

It was April when I actually went to my favorite Christian bookstore. The same chain store I had memorized as a teenager I hadn’t stepped foot in for months. It was my love of savings and all things frugal that brought me there. I had a coupon, a really good special birthday coupon. J

I went thinking I would pick up some new music or one of the books I had been eyeing the fall before. Even if I wasn’t ready to read it yet, I could have at least gotten it for when things were back to normal again. (That hasn’t happened yet.) So I looked. I wasn’t really looking for anything new. There is absolutely no rhyme or reason for me picking up that book that day. It can only be the working of the Holy Spirit. I say that with certainty.

The name of the book was Craving Grace by Lisa Velthouse. The last thing I want to do is start a theological debate, and I don’t consider myself a Calvinist; but there was something irresistible about that book. I bought it. And although I didn’t really have time for it, being around final exam time, I couldn’t seem to put the book down. I haven’t been able to say that about a book in a long time.

I don’t think I can explain it to you, except that it was like the book was written about me, to me. It was a memoir and the girl was learning lessons I was either beginning to learn or was yet to learn. I was completely captured by this thing called grace.

Reading this book marked the beginning of my being able to see light at the end of the tunnel…

My Journey: Part 5

Some time on a Sunday in January I had a phone conversation with my mom that went something like this...

Mom: So where did you go to church today?
Me: I decided just to stay home and get some rest today.
Mom: You couldn't find a friend to go to church with this morning? Jamie? Andrea? Kelly?
Me. I just decided to stay home and get some rest today
Mom: Well maybe next week....

Some time on a Sunday in February I had a phone conversation with my mom that went something like this...

Mom: So have you gone to any new churches recently?
Me: Yeah, I went to Kelly's church a couple of weeks ago.
Mom: O great! And how was it?
Me: It was good. All churches are kind of feeling the same.
Mom: Well, I know you'll find the right place soon. You just have to keep looking

Some time on a Sunday in March I had a phone conversation with my mom that went something like this...

Mom: So what did you do today?
Me: I just slept in and did some reading down by the river.
Mom: O ok well your dad and I ...

These conversations look like they would come from a girl who didn't really care what her mom thinks about what she does and who she is, but I wouldn't say that is true of me. But from November until this past May I only tried about 5 different churches, and I usually didn't go back a second time. And while my mother was concerned about my faith, I just wasn't in a place to fix that. I needed something from God that couldn't be found in aimlessly wandering from church to church. I refused to go to church by myself, something I had been doing for a year and half.

Not only was I not going to church, I was tired and frustrated with all "good" Christian things. I stopped reading my Bible. I would not pick up Christian books. I didn't really pray for others.

And here's the hardest thing I had to wrestle with....God was giving me permission to do all these things, or I guess better put would be to not do these things. Do I recommend this or think God often tells people not to read their Bible or pray? No, not necessarily.

But I had been living off of a checklist of spiritual things that had lost their meaning. God didn't want me to read my Bible everyday because I felt like I had to. He wanted me to want Him.

There were times I felt like reading my Bible during those months, because I thought it would fix everything. And God would tell me no, not yet. Not as an obligation. Or as leverage. Or to feel better. But when you are drawn to it.

It was funny, how God started showing up in other ways. Through art. And nature. And people. And in really small, insignificant events.

And my prayer life was changing too. I wasn't wrapped up in praying specific things or specific ways for specific amounts of time. It was becoming an ongoing conversation. Brutally honest conversation. Raw. Unpolished. Unapologetic.

I had always had glimpses of these things, but now I was living in a much freer relationship with Him. There wasn't anything forced about it. I was learning "the unforced rhythms of grace."

Wow. I just had a moment. I couldn't figure out where I had heard that phrase, so I did what any 21st century person would do. I googled it. And though I don't think it's where I originally heard it, it's found in the Message, a modern translation of the Bible into everyday language. And although my hermeneutics professor might die to hear me quote from it, it has been the only translation I have picked up to read on my own, outside of church since January. God will use anything to speak to His children.

Matthew 11:28-30

The Message (MSG)

 ^28-30"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."


Wow. Thank You, Jesus.


Hang in there. We are getting close to being caught up. We just have March-July to go. I have shared my whole life with you in 5 posts. You are very patient readers. I would so love your feedback.

31 Days of Grace

I found this website a few months ago and remembered that I wanted to go through these posts and learn from someone else about grace. So as a new month begins, I take yet another step in my journey of learning about God's grace. And I wanted to invite you to come along with me. Emily Freeman has written 31 Days of Grace, 31 posts on the topic of grace. I know it's already August 2, but you can catch up! I forgot about it yesterday, but I caught up today. Since the post are a year old, they are listed backwards. So scroll to the bottom and read up. To go to the next page of posts scroll to the bottom and click Newer Posts.

I leave you with a quote from her first day.

"I will not give you a list of things to do; I want to inspire you to receive the abundance of that which has already been done."

I have the tendency to think that I need to do something first in order to receive grace. What a great reminder that it's already been done. The price has already been paid. I do nothing. And who needs something else to do?? :) Come do nothing with me!

My Journey: Part 4a

I wanted to write this a few days ago, and it wasn't until I had written half of a story that I realized it was not the part of the story I had intended on writing. Funny how that happens. It must have been heavy on my mind.

So here's the fourth part of my journey, the part I had intended to write several days ago.

I have said for a long time, mostly to myself, but sometimes to others, that I am part crazy. Don't call me crazy, because I'm not all the way crazy...just partly. It comes out in small bursts. Sometimes in what I say. Sometimes in what I think. Sometimes in what I do.

It reminds me of this Scrubs episode where Elliot is having a hard time hiding her crazy from her new boyfriend and is afraid she is going to mess up another relationship. She turns to her best friend Karla who tells her let it out in small bursts to total strangers, until her boyfriend is committed enough not to jump ship at the first sign of crazy.  She ends up telling the chief of medicine that she used to peel off her scaly sun burnt skin, put it in a pile, and eat it. I'm not that crazy. No really, Elliot is crazy. I am not... At least not that crazy.

But sometimes I do things that make me question my sanity. Like how I moved to one of the biggest cities in the country where I did not know a soul. And how I wasn't near home. And it wasn't like college where you live in a dorm surrounded by hundreds of people your age. I moved into a one bedroom apartment, to live by myself. I started grad school. And have you heard how much I dislike school? I felt a little crazy.

And other people made me feel crazy too. Like how my first week of school, I was so desperately trying to make friends, but everyone else seemed only concerned about learning to do this whole grad school thing. Or how I went to church and Bible study at that church, and people couldn't understand why I was there to meet people. Wait, so you aren't here to learn more about Jesus??

About the grad school thing. I started in on the track on crack. My plan was to get it done in two years, and while some people can do that, I wasn't one of them. Especially, after what I mentioned earlier. I was taking 7 grad school classes and I knew no one and was by myself all the time studying, reading, writing. Not healthy by any stretch.

That was the loneliest, hardest semester of my entire life. It was also the semester that everything I knew got turned upside down. I started going to a church almost as soon as I got to Atlanta. When I walked in those doors, I could literally feel the Holy Spirit in that place. This was ironic, because I was about to find out that I didn't know didly-squat about the Holy Spirit. I felt more free to worship the Lord than I had felt in my whole life. Every once in a while, I would just cry, and I never worried who was watching. It was the most honest and passionate place of worship I have ever been.

Enter Thursday night discipleship.We were studying the book of Acts, and I was there almost every week to study chapter by chapter, verse by verse. It was the first time I had ever studied the book of Acts all the way through. And it changed me. And by changed me, I mean messed me up. How had I missed this? The God that I knew was so small compared to the God of Acts. And what did I know about the Holy Spirit? Apparently nothing. It was too much for my Southern Baptist brain to comprehend. Now, I've never been too tied to my Southern Baptist roots, because I feel like no one denomination has it all right. But this has been very difficult for me.

Now, before you started thinking the wrong thing about what was happening, this is NOT my journey from becoming a Southern Baptist to becoming a Pentecostal. In fact, sometimes I cringe to even speak in those terms, because God does not live in denominations. He lives in His followers. But my heart was growing and the ideas I held about God and the Holy Spirit were growing. And all too fast too...

Camping

About a month ago, I went camping with some friends in the North Georgia mountains. They aren't from the South, so when they asked if I wanted to go with them on a camping trip in the middle of the summer, I thought they were a little crazy. I thought it would be miserable. But it was the most beautiful and perfect weather. I couldn't have asked for more. The first day we hiked Desoto Falls, both the upper and lower falls which was where we were camped. They were easy hikes and we were just enjoying the weather and each others' company. We ate about a hundred s'mores and mountain pies. It was a great time.

The upper falls

I let my friends blaze their own trail to halfway up the falls. It was too steep for my liking. Yes, I was a wimp, but in my defense, two of them came back down on their rears. It was that steep. And I am accident prone. So, I took pictures instead.

The lower falls

the gang at the lower falls-gotta love asking strangers to take your picture. They almost always cut out the scenery.

It was Bob and Jamie's anniversary that weekend, and I still can't believe they wanted to spend it in the woods with us.

I named this picture "Accomplishment" in my album for several reasons. This is at the top of Blood Mountain, right after a rigorous 2.5 mile hike up and right before my first time ever peeing in the woods. :) I know you probably didn't want to know, but it was a very proud moment and at least I spared you the details.

Grace and Peace,
Carrie