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.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I love seeing the shock on people's faces when their first impressions of me are proven wrong. I like playing this game with myself, getting to know a person and learning later on just how wrong I was in the beginning. I used to people-watch and make up stories in my head about what kind of jobs and lives they must have based on their actions/appearances (and possibly store that information in my filing-cabinet mind as inspiration for characters in my future novel).

First impression...

Alter ego!



(Future seminarian, anyone?)

Much of my life is a double-edged sword. I am a walking definition of irony, and I'm learning to love it.

Down and out is overrated

Each of these mini revelations probably deserve individual blog posts of their own, but if I don't blurb about them now, I'll forget, so here we go:

I have learned that the likelihood of finding a relationship has more to do with motives than what you look like or what kind of personality you have (face it, if the world's fattest man can get married at 1500 pounds, your appearance isn't keeping you from getting any dates, I'm positive). The more that people, and particularly women, view significant others as a means to complete themselves, the more they will whine and complain about being lonely and unfulfilled. If we looked at life partners as more like complements rather than consolation prizes or easy access to gratification, the better chance 80% of us would actually find one.

Not every difficult person is a terrible person by default. The person who got the evil eye from me at Starbucks from talking loudly on his cell phone probably thinks I go through every day of my life with a giant stick up my butt. And okay, sometimes I'm made aware that that's true. I've mentioned before that patience is not my strong suit. However, if I don't want to be judged as a bitchy person every time I lose my cool and slip up, I can't look at every difficult customer that comes into the Craft Shop as permanently awful people either.

This is the coping mechanism that has gotten me through many a difficult misunderstanding with someone who seems like they only want to cause trouble: maybe he/she just got laid off. Maybe he/she just found out his/her boss is having an affair with his/her secretary. Maybe the fact that we are out of purple glass beads was the last straw that made them snap. Sometimes you never know. And the more I pray to have patience, the more opportunities I get to practice patience. Go figure.

You have to face pain if you want your life to count for something. Quite honestly, I am astounded by people who have no problem trusting God despite knowing innocent people were brutally killed in a shooting in Norway, tornadoes destroyed homes in Joplin, and innocent people get hit by drunk drivers, but the moment something bad happens to them personally, all faith and goodness in God or humanity goes out the window.

Why are people shocked by suffering? Sh!t happens. That's just how it is. And yet so many people go through life as if they're somehow immune to it. These are character-building events. And why do some people try to comfort themselves and others by saying there is no rhyme or reason for it? How is anyone comforted and able to learn anything by asserting the ultimate meaninglessness of whatever the bad experience was? "There was no reason behind this tragic accident, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sucks to be you." Most people wouldn't respond so bluntly, but that is the reality behind what they are saying. No wonder so many people give up on God, it just takes too much effort to look beyond tragic circumstances and find what can be learned and even gained from suffering.

You don't become refined and thick-skinned by having everything handed to you. And some crap things that happen lead to awesome things that could never have happened otherwise. I've met two women here that I bonded with by sharing our stories of a mutual tragedy. They are encouraging me in ways not many people have been able to. Which leads me to this point...

Healing doesn't happen immediately because it isn't supposed to. Those aforementioned women have reached a place where they have found true joy again. But it's been several years since their initial struggle started. It's barely been a year for me. As much as I prefer otherwise, I know I won't return to Ohio a completely healed person. But I've made some baby steps toward progress, and that's a huge accomplishment.

Conquering the world one mountain at a time

(Pretending I'm back at Stonehenge)

Man makes plans, but the Lord determines his steps.

Proverbs 16:9

What makes a leader?

With only 3 weeks left in Colorado, now I'm starting to freak out about whether I made the most of my time here. I'm pretty sure I did, since I made a quasi-official decision to apply to Denver Seminary when I never thought I'd want to end up this far west (though I need to do the "responsible" thing by checking out a few more schools before I make my official decision. Anything is possible). The chaplaincy program is four years long, which will give me more than enough time (hopefully) to discern if this is actually what I want to do. Or, better yet, what I'm actually called to do. Then again, I can make a ministry out of anything. Even bagging groceries can be a ministry of some sort, somehow.

Can't say I never had any suspicions before, but I have learned that one of my spiritual gifts is definitely NOT patience (though I am convicted of it). In many instances I've learned more about what I'm not or don't have than what I am, and do have. Sometimes I feel like I'm not cut out for spiritual leadership because the thought of being responsible for helping to shape other people's souls terrifies me. It terrifies me because I feel my own crap makes me unqualified.

But according to last Thursday's talk, the best way to be a successful leader is to not brag about your awesome leadership skills; instead, own up to your own weaknesses and shortcomings, because leaders have to be real people living in the real world, not on some towering pedestal, in order to be taken seriously and effectively lead people to Christ. And if I keep on waiting for my life to get cleaned up before I can effectively lead people, I'll never do anything productive. Maybe one crap issue will be resolved, but several years from now, another one might come up and then I'll be back where I started. But even if I can't speak with any kind of authority on some issues, I know something about others that could be, who knows, actually helpful to somebody.

I explained this to my friend Justin at lunch today, and he said "So if the thought of being a spiritual leader scares you, why are you considering chaplaincy?" My response: "Well I'm not a chaplain yet." :)

The staff Talent Show was last week. I got to dance for the first time in 5 years. I tried to load a video, but the internet is being stubborn so pics will have to do for now. Check out the video on Facebook instead (if you feel so inclined...).

The jacket came off when the music picked up ("Alive Again" by Matt Maher, one of my favorite worship songs). It was kinda epic.

Intense concentration!



For the record, pretzels are more valuable to me than flowers. :)

Choosing Joy when life is sucky: the story behind my new tattoo! (Kinda)

Today was one of the better days I've had in Colorado. The last few LT talks have been a little hard to handle: first the "night of confession," then a discussion on being refined and strengthened through trials. Naturally, all this has gotten me thinking more about my own trials and how many of them were unexpected this summer.

But during the "night of confession," I made friends with a girl I probably never would have gotten to meet had we not gone up on stage and confessed our feelings about an ugly, awful thing that happened to us that we have in common. I got to meet with her today, and then finally caught a shuttle into town to one of my favorite coffee shops in Estes Park, where another friend happened to be. I finally got some of the alone time I've been craving for weeks -- not to mention great coffee. And coffee makes everything better :-D

My life group has been dubbed the "hardcore" life group because of our impromptu decision to drive to Boulder last week and get tattoos (not matching tattoos, though. We're not cult-ish). While the decision to get them together was a little impulsive, my decision about what I wanted was not. I came up with the idea about a month or so ago, and it was oddly inspired by one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. LT has challenged me to think of how God can make the worst of our choices and experiences work for our benefit...and while it sucks to suffer from the consequences of bad choices, God made sure I met up with some truly amazing people to demonstrate what grace looks like.

I have been learning that happiness is not my goal in life, but joy is. And the difference between the two is that happiness is fleeting and dependent on feelings, whereas joy is a deep-seated state of being that has nothing to do with circumstances. Joy is an actual choice, one I will be reminded to make every time I see this:

...and I'll be reminded of the suffering I endured to get it. And if I can endure that, pffft, I can handle anything!

(This was when the tattoo guy called me a drama queen. You'd think he'd never seen a girl afraid of needles before!)

And the actual tattooing process itself...I think I'm done after this one. I know I said that after the first tattoo, because as my mom said when I told her, "You don't need a tattoo for EVERY major revelation in your life, you know." And as Sam put it so eloquently: "I love tattoos, but getting them makes me feel like a masochist." Now I understand what she means!

Keeping calm, carrying on

A typical work day usually starts out like this:

Alarm goes off at 7. Cathy and Maegan are already gone or on their way out. I'm always the last person to bed, last person to get up. Hit snooze button at least 5 times. Get dressed, get ready, head out. I never have time for breakfast. I clock in, sit down in my little section of the craft shop and wait for customers. And since I'm not "from around here," they ask me lots of questions. I swear if I had a quarter for every time I've heard "How long are you here for?" "What school do you go to?" "Oh, you graduated? What are you doing with yourself now?" I could retire by the end of this summer.

It's that last question that I don't know how to answer. Am I supposed to already have my post-college life planned from the moment I receive my diploma? Why do people act so shocked when I say I have no idea what I'm doing? The job market sucks, and I had a major revelation mid-sophomore year that drastically altered the career plans I already had. So no, I don't know what I'm doing with myself once this summer is over. Stop reminding me (okay, that was a little bitter. I'm really much nicer than that, I promise!).

I've been told to find a "niche" in ministry based on personal experience, and go with that. Problem is, I have too many experiences to choose from. So far the most definite career plan is chaplaincy while writing books on the side, but I know better than to say that that is a sure plan.

My ministry doesn't really have a name. My ministry is, or could be, working with people whose loved ones have been affected by cancer. My ministry is working with women who feel trapped in abusive relationships, whose dignity has been stripped from them. My ministry is reaching out to "spiritual orphans" who left the traditions they were raised with, believing God is calling them elsewhere, but feel like they can't ever belong anywhere.

My ministry is all over the place.

I might be making this decision process a lot more confusing than it has to be. I'm checking out a potential grad school in Denver with my parents in a little over a week, and maybe that will help clear things up from me. I never thought I'd feel comfortable this far from home, but now that the summer is already half over, I need to get away again.

Why can't every day be filled with views like this?

(Not gonna lie, I was definitely singing 'Colors of the Wind' in my head when this was taken)