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: