Tornadoes in Tuscaloosa

Last fall I had the pleasure of spending time in Tuscaloosa, Alabama for my graduate school orientation. It was a beautiful town, friendly in its greenness and in the open, easy smiles of its people. Lazy Southern electricity, inspired by the humid heat and the newly born, wide-eyed ambitions of thousands of fresh-faced college students, buzzed through the heavy air, humming with a grace and charm as old as Alabama.


Last night, a tornado tore it to pieces. Hundreds are dead, and even more are injured, their homes demolished. Many are still missing.


My thoughts and prayers go out to my colleagues, friends, and the faculty and staff of UA, as well as all those impacted by the tornado.


For ways to help, check out my classmate Brittany's blog here.

seasons? sure.

I'm excited for fall. I've always loved fall (or autumn, for you sophisticated folks). There's something beautiful in the crisp edge that makes its way into the air, an exciting tingle that bubbles up inside me at the sound of crackling leaves and a cool breeze. In childhood fall was freedom from sweltering summer heat, a promise of black cats and jack-o-lanterns, crappy home-made Halloween costumes, and tables full of food at Thanksgiving. Fall was a returning to school books, pencils, and a new pair of shoes.

Now, as an adult (and I use the word loosely--I don't think I'll ever grow up), fall is still freedom from heat, Halloween, and turkey. It is football and corn mazes, popcorn and carnivals. I don't know why I associate these with fall, but I do. But for the past few years it wasn't school, only a continuation of the work that was summer. Those were the times I enjoyed fall the least, perhaps.

I was thinking of this the yesterday as I was traipsing across campus at the University of Alabama (beautiful campus, by the way!), where I've been participating in a weekend-long orientation for the graduate program I'm starting this fall. I'm excited to be starting this new program, though I was undoubtedly hesitant and intimidated until the moment I arrived (I'm still intimidated a bit). I'd forgotten how great it feels to be presented with the prospect of learning, of progress, of change.

Change.

Then I thought, that's really the reason that I love fall. Change.

Because I don't only love the fall. I love the Spring. Every year, I love the flowers, the explosion of azalea pinks, the floral-scented air and the welcome warmth after a frigid winter. I love the brightly colored skirts and sandals, and I love the way the marsh of the Carolina lowcountry seems to finally wake up, how the putrid smell of marsh-mud sweeps across the rivers as the spartina grass finally turns that perfect shade of green.

And I love the summer. I love that first day when the heat finally settles in, when it's so hot that people gravitate towards the water and its breezes and stay, still, too hot to move. I love the roar of waves, their steady report and hot sand under my feet. I love the thought of snowcones, their juices overflowing their flimsy paper cups; the anticipation of boats and jet skis and sliding across pluff mud while angry hermit crabs do their worst.

And I love the winter (at first--this gets old the fastest). I like pulling out my long, soft jacket and wearing it for the first time, wrapping up in blankets and drinking hot chocolate with friends. Sometimes, if we're lucky here in South Carolina (and last year we definitely were!), we might get to see a snowflake or two.

I love all these things about each season, but what I love most is the change. I love the change of seasons. That is what I look forward to more than anything else. After a while each season becomes dull, and tiresome, tedious and at times unbearable. Too much heat, too much cold, too much pollen. The fact that seasons are constantly changing, with a reliability as old as earth, is, I think, tremendous. And, as I walked across the humid campus here in Tuscaloosa, I had the thought that pattern of change God laid out on this earth ought to be a pattern for my life.

I am a firm believer that ours is a world made 'on purpose,' though the means in which it was created is up for debate. I don't know how God did it. Everything has a pattern, everything fits together in a sweeping, natural rhythm. Things are the way they are for a reason, and I should learn from them. I should embrace changes, and welcome new seasons of my life. I have always been a person reluctant to let go of good things, which is not inherently a bad trait. I try to cling to what was, afraid and unspeakably saddened at the prospect of good things fading away. However, there comes a time for summer to end, for fall to begin. In the world the most beautiful times of year are those times of change. Though for the plants and actual earth going through these transitions the change of seasons is most likely a difficult, strenuous, time-demanding process, from our perspective, we can see the beauty of it all.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm just thinking as I type, alone here in my giant hotel room (free upgrade to a suite? Yes, thank you!). Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that this new direction my life is taking, school and career-wise, is good. Maybe I'm just realizing something that I've theoretically known my whole life.

Also, fancy hotel suites are boring by yourself. And lonely, too. I'll be glad to head home on Sunday. :)

Dear World,

I just want to say thank you for spinning so steadily. I really hate today, and it's nice to know exactly how much longer I have to put up with it.


Sincerely,


Caitlin

time

Sometimes, when neither I nor anyone else is paying any particular attention, I see flashes of people as they used to be. It sounds strange, but it’s true. Something in their walk, their smile, the simplicity of an expression without worry, flashes for the smallest of moments, and I see them as they used to be—young, happy, carefree—or, for some, young, ambitious, determined—some hopeful, some sad, some very tired.

It’s happened to me on occasion, but today, in particular, I saw it in my father. He strolled carelessly towards the car from the Krispy Kreme on Highway 17, the same swinging gait and lolling stride I’d seen a hundred times, his brow smooth and blissfully pensive—his mind doubtlessly filled with the peace that the freedom of random thought sometimes invites—and I saw him as he must have been years ago. I saw that he was still the teenage boy who drove his motorcycle through the high school just before graduation, the quiet boy with a laugh that can send a whole room into hysterics. I saw the youth and promise in his face, then the wisdom that grew as he became a father, and fatigue and disappointment in the world and, unwarranted, in himself. I saw contentment with the world as it was, happiness with a sunny Saturday morning and a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I saw all those things at once, but the flash of who he was resonated most with me.

I wanted to cry when I saw it, because in that moment I felt a kind of love for him that is almost too powerful for my body to contain. I loved him for everything he was and everything he had ever been, for the kindness in his eyes and the generosity in his spirit. I loved him for the sound of his voice and the tireless hours he has spent working for me, for my family, so that we may laugh and eat and complain about not having enough. I loved him for the way he walked and even for the way he squinted in the sunlight, and I loved him for every memory of him brushing my long hair before school each morning and purchasing us hotdog-breakfasts from the gas station on the way out to Mrs. Renee’s, our babysitter, in the summertime. I loved him, and I hated that I could never know those parts of him that disappeared as he grew older, into a graceful maturity that I was blessed to have the opportunity to pattern my personality and life after.

Nothing troubles me more in this life than the concept of time and the fact that so much is constantly changing and fading away into memory. It breaks my heart in ways that I cannot now and will not ever be able to put into words.

I saw the flash once in my mother, years ago, on a day when she didn’t have to make the hour commute to work, had no worries, and for once was not tired. I also saw the youthful flash once on my granny’s face, as I strolled through her backyard and spied her sitting at the kitchen table along with her older brother, his wife, and my aunt. She raised herself slightly up from where she sat and grinned widely as she waved at me, and I saw it then. She was sixteen, laughing on the beach, carefree and full of rambunctious life. I saw it there, still in her, and I know she will always be that lady, even if she is now much more.

I know that time exists only for this life, for earthly purposes, and my only solace from its resultant heartbreak stems from my knowledge that in eternity there will be no time. Everyone will once again be everything they ever were, in a good sense, and so much more.

**I wrote this a few weeks ago, but thought I'd post it in honor of Father's Day...I know, I'm late, and I know, it's not all about fathers. But it's my blog and I'll post what I want. :)

Update!

So, I'm not great at posting, and I'm not great at taking pictures, either. It's a combination that makes for a pretty pathetic blogger, but hey, what can you do?


I suppose it's time for an update (I feel like the guy at the end of Unsolved Mysteries: Update! After our broadcast Sally's long lost grandfather made contact with our operators, with all the information regarding Sally's missing mother and siblings!). Anyways, here's the update: I'm still living in beautiful South Carolina and loving it. It's azalea season, so it's hard not to be cheerful while surrounded by thousands of bright flowers of various shades of pink everywhere I turn.


I'm still working for the ophthalmologist, and it's still paying the bills. :)


I'm currently obsessed with this song. Can't stop listening to it. It almost makes me cry every time.


My sister Tori is graduating law school tomorrow! Three cheers for Tori! I suppose that's really her update, not mine--but I don't have anything exciting happening in my life, so I'll steal from hers.


This past Saturday was the Regional Southeastern Day of Service (I probably got that title wrong), and our little branch joined in by helping clean up a little place called Wide Awake Plantation in Hollywood, SC. Here are some pictures that I stole from someone else's facebook (I already mentioned that I'm horrible when it comes to taking pictures).

Hard at work clearing out some stubborn plants.



Still working, with Sis. Peterson & Brad. Well, Brad said he was working... :)


At the end of the day the mayor of Hollywood made us a delicious lunch (so nice!), including this lovely chicken and the most wonderful shrimp & grits I've ever tasted! Oh, and the baked beans were spectacular. Yeah, spectacular.


After we were done, we of course had to climb a tree. (See my cute boyfriend, standing up like a crazy person?)


The view from where I was working all day--not too shabby.

Tadaaa! I'm going to try to start taking pictures of my own, but I'm not making any promises.

Snowmen of a Snowless Town

What happens when snow falls in a place with no snow? Well, Charleston natives knew (from television and hearsay, of course) that when it snows you build a snowman. For some, however, execution of the enterprise proved more difficult than anticipated, especially in the creativity department. Here is a brief photo-essay displaying these inept snow sculptors' creations in all their pathetic glory.

Snowmen of a Snowless Town:

I Love Snow When It's a Novelty

All day long the weather-people were telling us that it was going to snow in Charleston, and all day long I rolled my eyes at them. Yeah, right. The last time it snowed on the coast of South Carolina and actually stuck I was four years old. That's twenty years ago, folks--and it was a freak occurrence even then.

But joke's on me--when I walked outside last night I was shocked to see SNOW piled on the ground and on cars, in tree branches and all over the roads. For a split second it was as if I'd gone back in time to Provo, but there's no mistaking the lowcountry oaks even when hidden beneath the snowflakes.

Now I've been up since 7:30 AM taking pictures and running around in the snow like a little kid. Gotta love the unexpected. :)

By the Citadel campus


Our backyard! CRAZY!

Jillian's super hot snow-woman. I like her colorful hair.

A little tree in our front yard

See how many inches there are!

Down by the battery with some excellent hot chocolate.


Next entry: Snowmen of a Snowless Town--a photo essay on what happens when snow falls in a place with no snow.

Everyone Is A Winner

While I was preparing for a talk I'm giving in church tomorrow, I ran across this quote in one of my old BYU packets from a religion class. It was just too good not to share:

"Don't ever call yourself a loser. Consider the fact that you were once a sperm! You were once with a group of more than five million of you lined up at the starting line. And at the end of a long, long tunnel there was one egg. There was a race!
And you won!

"Don't ever call yourself a loser. The odds were five million to one against you, and you came through. You're a winner! You make the Olympics seem insignificant by comparison. You are here by divine appointment. You are here because God chose you to be a winner in the struggle for existence."

--Tony Compolo

Would You Like To Have My Jacket?

I am currently employed by a retinal specialist and surgeon. I give vision exams and poke people in the eye all day--over and over and over again. I know, I know--it's not what anyone would ever expect me to be doing with my life, myself included, but for now it's paying the bills and keeping me from withering away to nothing. It's not something that I anticipate ever growing to love, and some days my only sanity is knowing that I'll find an escape from it eventually. But I'm very grateful to have a job at all in these times (seriously--who gets laid-off twice before they're even 25?), and I'm actually learning a lot, albeit about things I never really had an interest in. :)


Anyways, one of the most common problems with the retina stems from macular degeneration, which develops with age. For that reason, the majority of our patients are elderly, and it is not uncommon for the "big E" on the sight chart to be a mysterious or even invisible figure to a patient. In addition, a number of our patients are also affected by age in other ways, including difficulty walking and severe hearing loss.


Such was the case of an elderly gentleman who came in for an exam a few weeks ago, his wife of 60+ years in tow. My co-worker took the couple into an exam room to evaluate his vision, and as the minutes passed I could clearly hear her shouting things like "Are you having any vision problems?" and "Can you see the letters on the chart?" at the top of her lungs, repeatedly. Moments later she emerged from the room exasperated, proclaiming that no matter how loudly she spoke, the gentleman was unable to hear her.


"And do you want to know the craziest thing?" she asked me, shaking her head in frustration, "After I scream something at him for fifteen minutes, his wife then repeats it in the softest, gentlest voice in the world, and he answers! Somehow he hears her."


It was a silly situation, but somehow that statement was beautiful to me. It's hard for me to put into words how the thought impacted me. Over sixty years of love, marriage, and friendship had bred a familiarity so intimate that although most sounds of the world had long since stopped penetrating the man's senses, he still could hear her voice.

Somehow he hears her.

Later that day, as the couple waited patiently for the doctor to come into the room, as I was rushing by I overheard the woman say that she felt cold. Her husband asked her to repeat her statement, and she kindly did, in a slightly louder voice that was still anything but a shout.


"Oh," he said when he understood, then without hesitation added: "Would you like to have my jacket?"


That small, tender consideration reinforced my earlier thoughts about the couple. The sweetness of his simple desire to make her feel more comfortable was once again beautiful to me, and made me reflect upon the sweet and simple things that I have in my life. I learned in that instance the power of love and devotion, and also the opportunity that I have to learn and grow every day from every situation. Even though my job is nothing I ever wanted, this, and moments like it, are a highly unexpected silver lining.

Is it November already?

I was thinking the other day about how slowly time used to move when I was a kid. Back then a summer stretched on into oblivion, countless days of sunshine followed by long, lazy nights of moonlit swims and fireflies. A school-year was a lifetime, and goodness knows it was an eternity between Christmases. The future seemed so far away, and all that mattered was what I was doing right then, at every moment. I think that's one of the reasons children are so happy--they live in the moment, never questioning that it's exactly where they should be.


Time doesn't move so slowly anymore. Sometimes I even doubt that it exists at all, because each day seems to superimpose itself right on top of another, blurring all sense of the passage of time. I have to make plans now, to consider each step I take and am forced to recognize that moments are precious and fleeting. It's good in many ways, being "grown-up," because I can appreciate life in a deeper way than I could when I was younger (though to be honest, sometimes I miss the joy of childish simplicity--but only sometimes).


The point of this rambling is that it's already November, which has long been one of my most favorite months of the year. Early November in South Carolina is beautiful, and I've always loved it. October was over in the blink of an eye, and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow it will be Christmas. I'll try to be better about posting to the blog, but let's be honest...it probably won't happen. I'm just not that dedicated.

Anyway, here are some pictures from Halloween--was it really only this past Saturday? Cray-see.

We spent the day at the state park at Fort Dorchester, where I went nuts and climbed trees like I was ten, or like I was a monkey. But I don't like monkeys, they stink and pick bugs and are ugly, so I'll stick with the ten-year-old analogy. I was in a good mood all day after the tree-climbing. It's impossible to be in a bad mood when you've been climbing in the boughs of oak trees all day--especially when the boughs hang over a river. Dad joined in the fun, and he looked like Mowgli shimmying up some of the trees.


Jillian and I also went to a ward Halloween party, and her costume pretty much rocked like the giant wooden-rocking chair upstairs in Granny's house. Mine was more of a last minute "I guess I should dress up" deal, but eh, who cares. It was a good night!

Life & love were easier when we were kids...

My Aunt Cheryl posted this picture on her blog the other day, and I just think it is hilarious. Not the beautiful blond baby sitting on her mom's lap--there's nothing funny about that breathtaking child--but the dark-haired sister sitting next to her cracks me up. Check out the adoring expression as she gazes lovingly at the mountain of toys next to her (particularly at the Cabbage Patch doll). Have you ever seen such a true expression of contentment and happiness?

Seriously, though, I love this picture and everyone in it!

So maybe I'm not the only one.

"...Inside something gnaws at me; some presentiment, anxiety, dreams - or sleeplessness - melancholy, indifference - desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death; some kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness..."

-- Chopin.

Folly Beach Pharaohs

The ancient Egyptians have got nothing on us.

Peace out, Drayton

Today was the last day of my internship at Drayton Hall, and in honor of that auspicious event I am posting a few photos. I should have taken tons more, because we did so many things, but today was the first time in over a year that the batteries in my camera weren't dead. So this is all I've got. Sorry.

The looong driveway, leading up to the house.

Taa daaa! Drayton Hall! The Draytons were all about symmetry, folks.


The dig site. You can't really see me, but that's good because I'm dirty and sweaty.


The archaeologists' current project. The painting was a mystery donation...oooooh.



The site close up. Sorry if you're bored. Go check your facebook or something.


Sorting the artifacts by layer. There were zillions of pipe stems. Yes, zillions. Apparently the Draytons were also big on tobacco.


Okay...so there are more pictures, but it takes too long to upload them into blogger. Maybe I will add the rest to facebook. Someday.

Preparing for grad school

A word to the wise: Don't ever let your brain stop working, because once it stops it won't want to start again.

Hurry up Courtney & Andrew!

Because I'm excited to see this.






Oh, and I'm also excited to see you!

For John

It's hard to know what to say sometimes. This is one of those times. I've put it off, but I feel like I need to say something, so here's my best effort.


My Uncle John passed away just over a week ago, and it was completely out of the blue--a total shock. I wonder if it always feels like that when someone dies, because I've yet to have it happen and not feel that way.


My uncle and I weren't close, as I grew up over a thousand miles from his home, but I do know a little about him. At six and a half feet tall Uncle John was a pillar of love and patience. He was the youngest of seven children, and was a wonderful father to his own little ones. His life wasn't easy--it was hard, in fact. But his soft-spoken hello and friendly smile were always ready whenever we met, and that's what I'll remember most.


Keep your loved ones close, because life is fragile. Don't put things off. Your world can change in an instant.

disney dorks :)

Some of my favorite quotes from the family trip down to Orlando:

• "Disney World should be air conditioned!!"
• "I think I thought Disney World would be more......magical."
  
• "Couldn't he see I was busy holding a noodle?"
• "WHY isn't there a Hunchback of Notre Dame character OR ride?!"
• Q: "Colton, have you seen Jillian's flip flop?" A: "It's in the safe."
  

I realize these quotes might make us sound a little negative (and also weird), but I promise you we weren't! The trip was overall a very good one! Here are just a few pictures--

get out of town!

My mandatory vacation is drawing closer and closer, and I'm more than ready for a road trip. T-minus 24 hours and counting. Orlando, here I come.

firehouse prayers

Yesterday was hectic. I spent the morning at work going through hundreds of student files and creating new intake packets for the entire next year (hey, my boss is using me while she's still got me--it's only another week before the big lay-off). Inside the office the phone kept ringing, the computers were slow, and the paper shredder was constantly roaring in the background. Outside it was hot and sticky, and a very loud team of landscapers/earth-drillers/concrete levelers had set up camp right outside my door.

I spent afternoon sorting boxes of artifacts gathered and never labeled in the 1970s, and then hauling buckets of water away from the dig site (stinkin' thunderstorms!) while simultaneously dodging a couple of very irritated spiders. Today my back and shoulders are still sore, but I managed to get rid of the mud and grime.

Between the two I got lunch. Ah, lunch (and all food in general)--the salvation and momentary solace of an otherwise busy day.......Yeah, right. I decided to hit up Firehouse subs, because sandwiches are delicious. Plus, last time I went they gave me this nifty punch card that gives me a free sub if I buy six (the hole-punch is shaped like a little fire hydrant!).

Wow, I'm typing a lot in parentheses this post.

Anyways, I only had a half hour to get my food, eat it, and get to Drayton Hall, and the line was abysmally long. Two TVs were set up in either corner of the restaurant, and the volume, in my opinion, was louder than necessary--though I suppose it had to be in order to be heard over the shouting of orders and low mumble of conversation. Plus that stupid bell kept ringing every time someone opened the door. I took my spot in line, trying not to check the my cell phone for the time every two seconds, and noticed in front of me a cute elderly couple. He wore a button-up shirt with red, yellow, and blue classic race cars on it, and she wore gold-sequined sandals. There was an air of calmness about them, an innate patience that seemed to encompass their own little world. His voice was low and kind, and the two were incredibly considerate of each other as they ordered and selected a table.

I almost forgot them as I hungrily waited for my order (I was going to have to eat it on the road, and was thinking bitterly that they'd better not put any stupid pickles and onions on it), but after a moment the flutter of motion caused by the waiter delivering their sandwiches caught my eye. The couple set their sandwiches carefully in front of them, and then reached across the table and clasped each other's wizened hands. Oblivious to the blaring television sets, the hustle and bustle, and nosy strangers, they closed their eyes an offered an unmistakable prayer of thanks to heaven.

They opened their eyes and began eating, and my name was called, so I took my food and was gone. But now I was smiling. I don't know who they were, or even what religion, but theirs was a small and unexpected act that reminded me of the many, many things I have to be grateful for.

Like my sandwich, sans pickles and onions, for starters. :)