To Nana and Pepere

Pepere & Nana Mary,

Hello, my sweet grandparents! How I miss you. I had hoped to visit you earlier in August with Auntie Fran, but unfortunately my budget, as well as my schedule didn’t allow for it. As it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I thought I’d email you with an update of what I’ve been up to recently. It’s my desire for you to know my heart, as well to get to know both of you better.

            Today was the first day of my senior year of high school (I can hardly believe it) and the summer leading up to this school year was absolutely swamped. I frequently babysat for a number of families that go to our church and in June my godparents, who own a management company for Christian musicians, invited me for the third year in a row to accompany them on a retreat they hold for their clients. My role was to be a nanny for the musicians’ children, and my best friend, Chloe, and I joined them for a four day weekend in the Smokies and cared for the kids during the day while their parents attended various workshops. It was a wonderful experience, and I love being around such musically gifted people who love Jesus as much as I do. Here’s a picture of me and some of the artists:

       Besides working, I got to spend a lot of time with various friends groups. Some of my favorite things to do with my friends include going to live shows (Nashville, being Music City, holds quite a few free concert series), hiking, watching movies, picnicking on nature trails, visiting coffee sops and bookstores. The weather has been gorgeous this summer so I’ve spent absolutely every spare second outside, which I love! Here’s a picture of me and a few friends at an outdoor concert in downtown Nashville:

And here’s one I took of my favorite local hiking trail:

Other than nannying and hanging out with friends, I’ve begun to look at potential colleges and majors for next year. I have a passion for speaking truth and a gift for writing, and I feel as though I could be instrumental in reforming mainstream news media for a more biblical worldview. I’m praying about specifically where God would have me, but I have big dreams for using the gifts He has given me for His glory. I’m looking into majoring in journalism, potentially with a double major in political science. I was recently invited for a special tour of the University of Missouri, and I had the privilege of sitting in on a live news broadcast. Here’s a picture of Carly and I at the news desk after the broadcast:

Other than that, I’m looking forward to the fun of my senior year. I’m part of a four-person leadership team that heads up the Freshman Mentor Program at my school. The program is made up of about 60 upperclassman who dedicate one class period a day to building relationships with freshman students and helping them acclimate to the high school experience. My favorite part is getting to meet new people and hear the stories of freshman students who may otherwise be too shy to branch out. I recently met a young girl named Priya who’s family moved from India and then France and has a passion for travel. She’s very quiet but I hope to get to know her better and be someone she can look up to and ask questions. I’ve been blessed to have been poured into by Godly women from my church, and it’s such a blessing to be able to extend that love to someone younger than me. I’m also involved in what’s called The Movement. It’s a school club who’s mission is to bring awareness to orphan care in the student community, as well as reaching out to local foster homes and orphanages. The Ravenwood chapter is still small, but my friends Max, Jesse, and I hope to see that change this year. As well as FMP and The Movement, I’m still very much active in the theatre department. Here’s a photo from April’s performance of Hello, Dolly :

And another from junior Prom:

I miss the two of you dearly and hope to visit at some point. In the mean time, I thought I would give you a glimpse of my life via email. So how are the two of you? How are the dogs? Nana, are you still painting? I love you both very much and you hold a special place in my heart despite the distance of years and miles. I will be praying for you and I’m so glad to call you my grandparents.

Love,

Caetlyn Ashley

The Worst Thing in the World Isn't So Bad

Do you know what I think the worst thing in the world is?

Loneliness.

It feels like a ruined art project. You stare at a blank canvas, and hope rises in your throat, swollen with possibilities.

You raise your fistful of color and press the paintbrush or marker or crayon to that endless white space, envisioning just what shapes you will bend and what beauty you will produce. But the first stroke is laughable. It looks childish and out of place and not what it's supposed to be.

That's what loneliness feels like. Like everything is not what it's supposed to be.

It's like a Pandora station that consistently plays The Killers when you asked very nicely for The White Stripes; something that's not what it's supposed to be.

But my kindergarten art teacher, who incidentally never learned to pronounce my name right, once said that art is never ruined, but that you just have to work with what you've got. Even if it's not what you envisioned. And I know that sometimes being lonely is healing and healthy and good, especially for me who loves to be surrounded by people.

So I'll guess I'll acknowledge and accept my loneliness and know that it's okay. Sometimes I need to be forced into spending time with myself, and with Jesus. Sometimes what I want for myself is not what I need.

And also, I really do like The Killers. Almost as much as The White Stripes.

Number 8

I suppose everyone has words they wish could be taken back. Occasionally, the words haven't even fully left one's mouth before the thought forms:

Goodness, why did I say that?

The conversation went a little like this:

"You and I are going to lunch tomorrow."

silence.

I won't burden you with the details of my graceless outburst towards my dad in response to his innocent initiative, but I can tell you it wasn't pretty. You see, I'm not one who likes to be told what to do, and for some reason that particular week had supplied quite a few males who seemed to think that they knew what was best for me. But please, don't pity me. It's them you should be concerned for.

Anyway, this man was my father, and quite above all the immature and overly confident boys I had been putting up with.

A few days later, I begrudgingly traipsed down the stairs and mentally prepared myself for "lunch with Dad". But when he handed me the keys to my own car and instructed me to drive without telling me the destination, I became furious.

I dislike not knowing The Plan almost as much as I dislike being told what to do. The Plan is safe. The Plan insures my control over things. The Plan is comfortable, predictable, and easily manipulated to my own selfish gain.

As I drove, we sat in silence for a few minutes that stretched like hours, until finally the first instructions were revealed:

"Take the interstate. We're having lunch in Alabama."

Now he had done it. Terror gripped me. Not only was he forcing me to do something that absolutely terrified me (driving on the highway), I had been given absolutely no warning or time to prepare myself before we embarked on the trip that was sure to end my life. What little (perceived) control I had was slipping fast, and there was nothing that I could do about it. Shoot.

The first few moments as I reluctantly steered my little Honda towards the on ramp were a blur of complete and utter terror. As I gripped the steering wheel and did my best to avoid the massive semi-trucks that seemed to be closing in on all sides, I was struck by the lack of control I had over the situation. Sure, I was the one physically driving the car, but I had no idea what I was doing. I was completely dependent on the gentle guidance of my Daddy, as he graciously taught me the rules of the road. Although I was responsible for the car's movement, I had to trust my dad to instruct me as to the direction of the vehicle.

Needless to say, we made it safely over the Alabama state line, and enjoyed lunch at a poorly decorated, but cozy little cafe. The mood was lacking and the food was mediocre at best, but the time I got to spend catching up with dad was priceless. We talked about college, and the future, and he indulged my appetite for stories by recounting his young days in the Air Force. It was perfect.

An hour and a half and three snicker doodles later we were home safe, and I had learned more than a little about my dad, myself, and life in general. I'll spare you the sentimental wrap-up where I drive home the "moral of the story". I think the story speaks for itself.

I will however, share with you one of my favorite parts of the day: Dad even remembered that "Get over my fear of the interstate" was number eight on my New Year's list.

 Picture taken a few minutes beyond the Alabama border:

2013 (and beyond.)

It's been an absolutely marvelous winter break so far, and so much has happened that would make excellent material for my December post. But I just saw Les Mis (for the second time) this afternoon and I'm feeling a bit dreamy, etc. In any case, I decided to dedicate this post to some desires of mine for this next year.

17 Desires for 2013

By Caetlyn Norman

1. Read 10 classics.
2. Travel to an exciting city.
3. Babysit more.
4. Learn to dance. (a little)
5. Get over my fear of the interstate.
6. Expand my artistic pallet. (translated "visit an art gallery and refrain from judging")
7. Improve my music reading skills.
8. Get to know my neighbors.
9. Invest time in my sisters' lives.
10. Go on a date.
11. Eat more healthfully.
12. Commit to going to yoga more often.
13. Be more adventurous.
14. Spend my weekday afternoons with purpose and intention. (so, do my homework)
15. Learn to love Jesus more everyday.
16. Give of myself.
17. Wear less makeup.

Grace for Juice Gulpers

I was sitting at my kitchen table one morning, velcro shoes swinging and wild hair frizzing, attempting to drink my orange juice out of a cofee-stirrer straw.

Why I remember this strange moment so clearly, I have no idea. But my little-girl philosophy has followed me into teenagehood, so I suppose I should take this moment seriously. Analyze it, try to make sense of it.

Anyway, there I was, straining to sip my favorite drink through that tiny opening, slurping and causing my mother a considerable amount of distress. And when she asked me why I insisted on drinking through that ridiculously small contraption, I told her:

"I enjoy things more when I have to work for them."

And as the seven-year-old me spoke these words, I felt an immense sense of satisfaction. Certainly those that work hard for their earnings are better than those that don't. I knew immediately that I was above those spoiled kindergardeners who simply brought their orange juice to their mouths in large, messy gulps. They didn't deserve the juice if they weren't willing to work for it like I was. In fact, I intentionally made the task of drinking more difficult just to prove how worthy I was of the tangy goodness.

Oh, how wrong I was.
Oh, how wrong I still am.

I am seven-year-old Caetlyn every single day of my life.
I sit in front of an ocean of freshly-squeezed orange juice, and yet I refuse to drink freely. I bring my sad little straw with me and bruise my cheeks in my effort to do things "The Right Way". I refuse to accept that anything as sweet as orange juice, as sweet as unconditional love, as sweet as grace, could be mine without me earning it. So I make rules for myself and others. I judge, I compare. I stick my  straw in places where it shouldn't be.

And then Jesus, being the magnificent savior He is, breaks that straw into a thousand pieces.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2:8

Did you know, friends, that orange juice taste so much much sweeter when gulped straight from the glass?

We Still Love You, Boys

The opening game.

Students file through the gates, dripping red and black.

Metal bleachers groan under the weight of sweaty bodies, packed like sardines and buzzing with anticipation.

Spontaneous chants break out in a frenzy; morale is high and loud.

And the question, like an unspoken plea, rolling around everyone's mind:

Is this the year we win?

Surely, this is the year.

Our boys have worked so hard.

The coaching staff is fresh and ready with a new plan.

We threw such a good pep rally, painted beautiful signs, wore so much paraphernalia; certainly our support is enough to make it happen.

But as the valiant team fights hard against boys that are bigger, faster, and better prepared, the answer to everyone's question becomes obvious: Not this year. 

The minutes tick by and the scoreboard reluctantly reveals what no one wants to accept: we're just not good enough. 

And then the chant begins. Slowly, cautiously at first, but growing louder as the loyal fans recover from their disappointment. Because we're not here for the win, but here for the team. Our team.

"We still love you."

In those moments, I am reminded where I've heard this kind of unconditional love before. 

When I'm up until 2 in the morning doing AP homework because I didn't manage my time well.

I still love you.

When I hurt my mom because I had a terrible day and I'm feeling worthless.

I still love you.

When I am selfish, reckless, or uncaring.

I still love you.

So thank you, Ravenwood High School for modeling unconditional love to your team and your community. And thank you, Jesus. For loving me no matter who I am or what I do. I'm grateful for  You and hope to be more like You.

And remember: we still love you, boys.

What'll It Be?

"As soon as the school year starts, I have no life."

A quote from a heavily "involved" friend of mine. The four of us were sitting at a mentor's house, enjoying each other's company and wrapping up the last week of shared time and looking forward to the coming school year. It had been wonderful; full of picnics and talking, Heath Ledger & Chris Hemsworth movies, cheesecake, and simply being in each other's presence. Full of life.

And then begins what some would call drudgery.

Chloe has lacrosse workouts every day starting in October. Her long weekdays don't end with the ringing of a bell. Mental and physical alertness is demanded of her into the evening. Not to mention trying to squeeze in babysitting jobs to keep her Honda full of gas and ready to drive her fellow lax girls to workouts, games, and tournaments.

Isabella couldn't have been happier to make the Varsity cheer squad. She deserved it. Practices, conditioning, fundraisers and community service are what fill her calendar now. And just wait till football season starts. She'll cheer the boys on every Friday night and wake up the next two mornings, slip her swimsuit on and get to lifegaurding.

Mary Claire is not used to boys. No, really. This is her first year in several that she's not attending a private, all-girls' school. I can't imagine the stress. In the midst of her own chaos, MC has single-handedly started a youth worship program at the church her dad pastors at. With the help of the team she's put together, she is changing the way high school students view worship.

When I look at my friend's schedules, I don't see lack of life. In fact, I see just the opposite. I see Chloe's servant heart in her willingness to caravan her team all over the place. I see Isabella's fierce spirit in taking her roll as a leader seriously and not giving up even when it's hard. I see Mary Claire using her musical talent to change the culture she's living in. I see abundant life.

I see a three girls making a very important choice.

I have come that you may have life, and have it abundantly. - Jesus

Does Jesus offer us abundant life? Absolutely. But he doesn't say that we will have it. He says that we may.  If we want it. Our Creator has graced us with the greatest dignity of all: free will. We get to choose. In the way that we spend our time, in the responsibilities that we carry, we are allowed a decision.

When I try to do things on my own, I implode. I simply cannot juggle being a student, a mentor, a babysitter, and a friend. Yet those are the roles that have been entrusted to me. To step into those responsibilities and truly live an abundant life, I must trust it to Jesus. I have to decide to let go of my desperate control and allow my Savior to do for me what I can't do for myself.

Live in my passions.
Enjoy the work that I have been given to do.
Invest in healthy friendships.
Serve those around me.
Change the world.
Live abundantly.

Alone, the responsibilities of the day seem like drudgery. At the end of the day, I'm too weary from trying to check boxes that I don't have time to think about anyone else. Other people's burdens are overwhelming; can't you see I don't have time for you? But when I do things in the strength of Jesus, he carries the weight of the day. This opens up every possibility. I have time to invest in those around me. I am equipped to serve those in need. I can dream about what I'd like to do; I am free to pursue what I was meant to do.

So, what'll it be? You get to choose.