What I Owe Humanity

One of my dreams is to become all things to every living person.

 

But what will it take for me, in my factory-made clothes and with unscarred feet,

to place my heart in the middle of someone else's country?

Will my own pursuit of life suddenly make more sense

by cramming other wayward journeys in the files of my head?

 

In becoming every story that mankind has ever known,

to do more than merely sympathize, but absorb the pains of others

in my fragile little bones, I make myself understand the difference

between pain and fear. Fear precedes pain always, and pain

is the breaking down of purposelessness. Pain is for those

without mandatory suffering to justify the story.

 

To become every experience, I must learn to carry love.

I must carry on in heaviness the carefully-chosen words

designed to latch on searching hearts.

The "Someday" Fallacy

My ideal "someday" is hopefully not in the far-off, impossible to determine future. By this time next year, I hope -- expect? -- to be moving into my first apartment and starting grad school (some place far from Ohio, of course). I have no major expectations for this imaginary Apartment in the Sky, other than a) I get to have my princess bed, and b) a wall-to-wall bookshelf (no one will ever succeed in convincing me that it's better to have a Kindle for books because it's not as much of a pain in the butt to schlep across the country. Forget that, my books are as dear to me as flesh-and-blood children).

Except...here's where the fallacy part comes in...it will not be the perfect escape I imagine it will be, simply because perfection doesn't exist this side of heaven. Case in point: this entire summer. I can't believe LT is over already. I can't believe I've been home (whatever "home" is) for exactly a week now. I didn't have any plans, per se, for the summer, only expectations. And nearly every single one of those expectations were turned on its head. My plans for "someday" will inevitably be flipped as well. This does not necessarily have to be a bad thing. It's just an inevitable thing. And you would think, at 22 years old, I'd have figured that out by now.

I got a new job! I am now making yummy bagels at Bruegger's (see Facebook job info: "Makes yummy bagels"). Quite a fitting job for a born-and-raised Jewish girl. And it literally *just* happened. Hadn't even been home a full 24 hours and already got hired. In this case, the "someday" fallacy surprised me in a good way. I'd been feeling an increasing panic about what the heck I'd do for money as the summer was coming to an end and not one of the 30+ places had called me back yet...and then I got this one. I feel more at ease now.

Oh and I adopted a new member of the Caplin family...say hello to Pippa!

And this little dude was very grateful to see me after 3 long months (and I him, of course):

Apparently laptops are more comfortable than his designated place on the fleece blanket on my bed. Hmm.

Pray that the "someday fallacy" doesn't completely mess with my ability to handle real-life hardships. I pray so much for patient endurance.

Every journey has a name

In a few days it will be the six month-iversary of the legalization of my name. It's a key part of my testimony I can't leave out. It's a reminder I have a very strange, unusual history, but I didn't write it, God did. I am a weird but unique individual.


The briefest explanation I give to people when they find out is that I have hated my name my entire life, which is not a lie. It was frustrating having 5 other girls turn around at the same time whenever my name was called. To this day, I still cringe when new parents bestow common, un-unique names on their babies. But really, the reason goes far deeper than that, and it's not always appropriate to share that reason with each and every curious person.


God showing up in people’s lives like a stranger on their doorstep is not an uncommon theme in the Bible. In Genesis 12, God said to Abraham, "Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you.” God made a covenant with him and promised that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. In Scripture, such drastic life changes usually warrant a name change, to reflect the significance of these changes. Abram’s name was changed to Abraham, meaning “father of many,” and his wife Sarai (my namesake) became Sarah, meaning “God’s princess.”


Similarly, I knew I was going to emerge from my baptism as a new creation. I just went a step further than most people and drew a literal separation between my old self and new self with the replacement of my social security card. There are times when I feel disgusted by my old self. Maybe it's a little schizophrenic to refer to my old self as "her" or "she" and not "me," but whatever. In my mind, and in the eyes of the state, they are two different people.


Legally, Sarah Elizabeth Caplin no longer exists, for which I am glad. God doesn't remember anything of my previous life, therefore neither will I...except I know I always will. She's still a part of me, whether I like it or not. She made huge, life-altering mistakes, but she's still a part of my story. She gave in to peer pressure and cultural expectations, she got screwed over by someone who was supposed to love her...but I won't screw her over again by acting like she doesn't exist. I wish I could, but doing so would be morally reprehensible.


Understandably, I hate being called Sarah. Hardly anyone but my parents call me that anymore, and turning around every time I hear that name being called is no longer an instinctual response. But she's still with me. And reconciling the two sides of me will be a life-long process.


As for whether I'll change my name again if I get married...who knows. I'm not feeling called to marriage as much as I used to be, but if it happens, I'm leaning toward keeping my maiden name, and maybe "assuming" my hypothetical husband's last name, sans paperwork. Replacing all your old IDs is expensive! But, no sense worrying about it now. Ask me again if/when it actually happens :)

The newest addition to the Soundtrack of my Life

I listen to this song about 5 times almost every day. I love it so much, and it was released just when I needed to hear it. It's These Old Wings by my favorite forgotten artist, Anna Nalick.



He raised his hand
for the last time she could stand.
That room was a grave at night.
She left a note that said I'm not coming home.
He took courage, but she took flight.

What are you really holding onto?
Life is a tightrope and you're burning, burning, burning both ends.
You don't always move the way you'd like to,
but don't let the ground drag you around.


And these old wings,
they've been a long time, been a long time coming,
these old wings, they just gotta be good for something.
Burn these strings, so I can see what these old broken things,
what these old wings can do.


She sold the car for eleven hundred bucks
and bought a bottle of something sweet.
She caught a train, and counted seven stops
and got off when she felt free.

She found herself where people go in gloom
for friends that are buried there.
She wrote a note to God on a balloon,
and watched as it disappeared.


What are you really holding onto?
Life is a tightrope and you're burning, burning, burning both ends.
You don't always move the way you'd like to,
but don't let the ground drag you around.


And these old wings,
they've been a long time, been a long time coming,
these old wings, they just gotta be good for something.
Burn these strings, so I can see what these old broken things,
what these old wings can do.

Making relationships count: the honesty challenge

Recently I overheard a conversation between two international employees who were very confused about American ways of greeting. They didn't understand how a person can ask "How are you?" but keep on walking, without even waiting for a response. They didn't understand that "How are you?" has turned into more of a greeting than a genuine question of concern for your well-being.

I've been feeling convicted of how often I do this, and I'm trying to be more conscious of how often I ask it without actually stopping to listen or care. You have to wonder what social interaction among aquaintences would look like if everyone was suddenly honest about that question.

LT has probably messed with my head regarding the "Don't share your junk with strangers" rule of society. Outside this little bubble of Estes Park, most people will respond with something like "Oh, I'm good" even when they're not. It's just expected, and with good reason. If you're brutally honest about how you're doing with everyone you come in contact with, it's the quickest way to avoid making new friends. We don't want to freak people out. If you were to respond with "Ugh, I'm so pissed at my significant other for leaving the toilet seat up again, I just got laid off, my cat won't stop peeing on the carpet, and my PMS is out of control" to the unsuspecting cashier making small talk, you'd be alienated, without question. People would be afraid to talk to you if you're THAT honest.

But, here at LT, those old rules are tossed out the window. It doesn't matter that there are over 200 people in this program, and you'll never remember all of their names. They're still brothers and sisters in Christ, and by default, we are expected to be open and transparent with them (well, with some more than others, obviously, but being real about our lives is the main priority). As previously discussed in the entry about the Night of Confession, what good is the church if people can't be honest about what's really going on in their lives? What do we gain by bottling up? While everyone is entitled to have secrets, it's the relationships in which we cut through the emotional BS that end up mattering the most. Everyone else, we tend to forget.

I have been challenged this summer to question how I am making my relationships count.

Few people I've met this summer have impacted me as much as my "Jew Crew." I couldn't hide anything from them if I tried. Which is kind of annoying at times, but still pretty awesome. This is Closing Ceremonies night for LT, where each project group picked a theme and dressed up. Sharon is an owl, Justin is Shlomo, Rudolph's Jewish cousin on his mother's side (don't ask), and I'm a pirate. Can't help but wonder what the caterers at the reception hall must have thought of us Jesus freaks all dressed up like Halloween in the middle of the summer. Would have been fun to ask.