House on the Rock

I think I finally found a summary of my year. Just like every year, I'll write a post which recaps many moments big and small, but yesterday I heard a simple phrase which brought a sort of closure. A synthesis, if you will.  I was walking a loop around Cool Creek Park - the conveniently-placed nature center directly across from our apartment - with Alex Francis. It's a concrete lap surrounding trees and trails that measures exactly one mile, strangely akin to the loop that borders Taylor U. Despite only living here for six months, I've probably walked close to 70 miles around this park. There are days I've done four to five laps, simply because there's something so healing about the strangely-placed serenity of woods and streams centered directly in the fast-growing suburb of Westfield. I told Alex of the way Joe and I frequent this park for runs and walks, but lately have found it hard to push ourselves. The park, after all, is quite hilly, and the moment my legs s...

 I remember being about six months into my relationship with Joe and thinking that nothing in the world could possibly make me happier than being engaged to him. I Pinterest-saved every ring I saw; I dreamed of our wedding day; I made lists of all the details on every scrap piece of paper. In my mind, nothing would beat that feeling. December 5, 2021 was the one-year anniversary of our engagement. And yet, by the grace of God, the same day one year later far surpassed even the most joyous excitement of his proposal. My sweet love was baptized at Castleview Church - a day full of excitement, tears, celebration, and praising God. I never, ever want to forget it. He'd been thinking about getting baptized for about a year. He did it at his home church when he was twelve, but mostly because his friends were and it was the natural next step after his confirmation class. The Lord continued to stir his heart toward that public declaration of faith, and by the fall of this past year, the st...

Last year I wrote a post about turning twenty-two, with a few tendencies still trickling over from twenty-one and some from years before that. I'll turn twenty-three on Wednesday, and I'll have to sit cross-legged in front of my small group, Bubbly in one hand, Bible in the other, and I'll blush from the birthday song and answer the birthday question: What is something you have learned in the past year? In the spirit of anti-procrastination (and frankly not wanting to look a fool), I thought I'd start brainstorming. A week ago, I was turning across traffic from 146th to 131st in Carmel, one hand on the wheel, one hand picking microwaveable Healthy Choice Meal Chicken Pesto out of my still-gappy teeth. The dentist told me my wisdom teeth would come in and push all my teeth together so I wouldn't need braces, but I'm fully wisdom-toothed and alas, no movement. As I took a risky turn and nearly found myself T-boned by a suburban mom in her Suburban XL, I sighed. I ...

 The bell finally rang, signaling the end of fifth period and the beginning of fall break. Joe and I mostly just took deep breaths over celebratory Noble Romans - the kinds of deep breaths you take after surviving a near-death experience or finishing  a hundred-yard all-out sprint. That's not to say that the past trimester wasn't good- read my  previous post for proof of that. It's just that we were made for rest. And this time, I felt unprecedentedly desperate for rest.  We spent Friday night packing and praising God for Factory Warranties that allowed my broken transmission to be repaired at no cost. We picked up our Equinox from the service garage and headed for the hills with one goal in mind for fall break: rest. Our drive to North Carolina was nearly seamless. The primary crisis was that by the time we were hungry enough for Chick-Fil-A, we were in the thickest part of the Smokies without a  restaurant in sight. Joe wove through curvy mountain roads while ...

The minutes leading up to the 3:39 bell on the Friday before Fall Break might as well have been hours. I had pretty much resigned to letting my students just hang out as the countdown drug on at the speed of spilling molasses. I thought we'd all be  much happier people if we allowed ourselves an early descent into "Fall Break Mode" rather than fighting our way through Thematic Statement versus Thematic Idea, learning nothing except that the Thematic Idea of the Friday before Fall Break is Low Expectations and the Thematic Statement is Students and teachers alike do not want to do  anything on the Friday before Fall Break. The moral? Don't make them.  My projector didn't even work so we couldn't play our review game; instead I passed out children's books and said, "Try to find the theme of this." They grouped off into breakout rooms and when I walked by, students  were mostly watching Tik Tok or discussing weekend plans. They're good  kids and...

 7:00 rolled around with a backstage dance party, followed by one more group prayer, and finally, the sweetest ceremony  of all time. Dad and I laughed from the lobby as we watched late-arrivers attempt to shuffle in unnoticed and beautiful bridesmaids try not to trip on their gowns. The doors opened, piano music filled the room, and I started my walk down the aisle.  Despite my love's sentimental tears, I couldn't stop laughing. My joy couldn't be contained by a smile and it bubbled out as laughter as I watched my dad and my dude fight the flood of tears. I don't remember much about the ceremony, but I'll recap the best I can. Jeff opened the show with a  beautiful message about joy, love, and commitment. He rattled off two-minutes worth of straight up puns which had the whole crowd laughing. Dad handed me off and we ascended the stairs of the stage, unable to take our eyes off each other (uh, me and Joe, that is. Not my dad and I. that'd be questionable). Past...

Blogging, as much as I want it to be hassle-free and purely for my own enjoyment, can become a bit of a burden. The enneagram-3 achiever in me insists on near perfect punctuation and compelling language even though, again, there are exactly two people who ever look at this blog. But every once in a while, I pop on here and reminisce on the hills and valleys of life. It is crazy to think that at end of a  2019 recap, I talked about going on a date with a man. Reading  that blog post brings a fresh wave of nostalgia as I relive that awkward Starbucks handshake, that coffee I was too nervous to drink and those blue eyes that I couldn't pull away from. The hand that I once nervously shook now bears a ring which symbolizes an eternal  covenant...to me. A life so crazy it often doesn't make sense, and a moment I hope to never forget. So that's why I pop back on every once in a while. I want to remember these days. Blogging is a more convincing memory vault than, say, my nearly-...

We're done. The days of reading Wendell Berry and worshiping at chapel and clapping way too long with a thousand other classmates are behind us. So long to the black squirrels, easy friendships, and freely crossing every street with the knowledge that cars yield to pedestrians 100% of the time. Taylor is a bubble and I know that outside this one-mile loop, cars don't stop for street-crossers, most squirrels are grayish-brown and life isn't always a worship service. Not everyone will wish me "shalom" and there will be confrontations that end in angry resentment rather than prayerful reconciliation. Life outside the bubble is about to be drastically different than anything around the loop, but it's what we're called to- it's where we must go. In the spirit of (frankly sucking at) reflection, here are ten Taylor lessons I hope I never forget. Beyond the bubble we go! N O T E  T O  S E L F : 1. Honesty isn't optional. It's not the best policy- it...

I had scheduled a couple of office hours the next morning as dead week culminated and I strived to make a couple extra bucks before summer. As I was walking to the admissions office, my eyes still puffy, the Spirit prompted me to call Joe. He picked up and my voice trembled so I could barely speak. I reiterated the message God had laid on my heart - the same message delivered  by Reyna, Jeff, and Steph: "Baby, I am so sorry I have never paused to acknowledge how hard your job has been."  Joe responded with such grace, such kindness, and in a powerful act of mercy, he comforted me, "You're forgiven times a million. And I don't care what that email said - I'm praying specifically that you hear today and that you get the job today. "  Peace flooded my soul. His steadfastness and confidence moved me, even more, to tears.  I was overcome with a sense of hope and joy - for the first time in what felt like a long time. The morning that followed was restful. Amy...

I feel like I just got off the Voyage at Holiday World: a ride that takes you from the highest heights and plummets you deep into the earth only to shoot you skyward once again.  May 5th was a low. I got an email from Westfield with an update in their interview process. Basically, they had offered one of the jobs to a different candidate and they were waiting on her response. Not necessarily a closed door, but certainly not optimistic. They kindly concluded that they forwarded my information onto another principal at a different school. That most certainly felt like a no. My spirits were crushed. That same day, I got to speak in chapel about the comfort I had found in my Taylor community (see here ). The speech concluded with all my job rejections and how people kept pointing me back to THE Comforter, the one who wipes our tears and handles our messes, and how we all had the privilege of running to him as we grieved. I had no idea I would get to live out that speech so palpably wit...

 I had the opportunity to share this message at our senior share chapel. The prompt answers the question, "What does Taylor community mean to you?"      I didn’t have Christian friends until I came to Taylor. Not until my two random roommates, Maggie and Maggie, got us all matching grey-and-yellow comforters to match the hand-painted 406 that we mounted with sticky tack on our Bergwall door. We thought that everyone got matching comforters and were shocked to find that we were the only three out of sixty on our floor who had gotten the memo. But It wasn’t long before those matching grey-and-yellow comforters were stained with We Covs from mid-day coffee breaks, seasoned with movie-night popcorn salt, and soaked by tears from the trials of freshman year – DTRs gone wrong, tests failed, jobs rejected, hard conversations, doubts and lies and tricky friendships and the time they sat me down on that grey-and-yellow comforter and said, “Cali, we think you’re a little too f...

 I was sitting at my favorite Panera booth sipping a half-dark roast, half-medium roast, half-hazelnut blend (sorry bout that math Joe) and reflecting on God's movement in my life over the past few months.  I had a rock-bottom moment with heavier tears, darker thoughts, deeper pain, and more all-consuming anxiety than I had ever felt before.  It was the day Joe accepted the job at Westfield, and even though I was giddy with excitement for him, I was pierced with fears for myself. This would be even more crushing of a blow when I didn't get the job. The devil was force-feeding me lies about the goodness of God and I was chewing on them, swallowing little by little, letting the lies leak into my body.  I felt paralyzed.  And yet God in his mercy saw me on a friend's brother's futon, four in the morning, forcing myself to try to  remember Scripture while my wicked heart wanted to fixate on fear, and He held me. I felt the presence of God tangibly, palpably, su...

I've never thought too hard about the saying, "there's a light at the end of the tunnel." But when I really sit and ponder it, it implies that the tunnel is dark. If the only hope we have is the glimmer of light at the end of it, there is certain darkness for the rest of the tunnel ahead. And that's exactly how the future feels: dark. It is impossible to see, to see through, to feel our way forward when we can barely see our hand in front of our faces. That's the path I've been walking. And even though there is a light at the end, the tunnel I'm in now is dark. You're probably tired of reading about this journey by now but it has been one of the most soul-shaping endeavors I've been on. From the torrential tears to the moments of rejoicing, I've felt more stripped bare and desperate for the presence of God than ever before. It seems like time and time again, Psalm 139 has been making an appearance in my life. A professor quoted it. A chapel...

What has been really cool throughout this entire process is being able to look back and see God's hand in all of it. Moments that felt so foggy are now crystal clear and we have no choice but to say, "Wow God. You did that!"  We had been praying for clarity. Not finding a house felt like a frustrating cycle of God-absenteeism, praying without answers, and running hard into closed doors. Getting rejected from different jobs seemed to be nothing more than an instance of God smiting me, a silly sinner, for my pride and thinking I know best. Paving out our path only to find it reach dead end after dead end put me in a place of wondering whether God was hearing me and questioning how he could really be working things for my good. And yet in the midst of it all, we prayed for clarity. I finally found a school that wanted to hire me - a successful middle school not far from my home with Christian administrators and a friendly workplace environment. It seemed like maybe I had fin...

 A chapel speaker came to Taylor and talked to us about a vehicle accident which robbed the lives of his wife and children. Leaving him completely alone, he thought there was absolutely no way his pain could get any worse. He was at his lowest point. There was no going any lower. And yet, he said something I will never forget: "Every time I looked down, I saw the face of Christ on the cross. When I thought I was at my lowest, Jesus stooped lower still." Jesus Christ left heavenly glory to come to Earth, die a brutal death he did not  deserve, and meet people in their deepest suffering. He is the relational answer to a world of hurt and brokenness. He was there with Job on the dung heap. He suffered a death we cannot fathom to a world that shook their fists at him and said, "how could you ever let this happen to me?" After reading chapter 31 of Job, I feel for Job. I understand why he would feel so fist-shakingly robbed and discarded. He really does seem to be the pi...

Throughout this whole journey, I have been so quick to turn proud and bitter. I want this job, I believe I am qualified for this job, everything about my life feels like I should have this job. I was on a walk with Kate and started to explain to her my thinking: "I just wish God knew..." I stopped in my tracks.  I wish  God knew? The omniscient, all-seeing star breather who hems me in behind and before and holds the sum total of my very hairs in his hand? Did I really just attempt to claim that there is something God does not know? And I realized that has been my entire mindset throughout this whole process. I have been proud, thinking my way is best, trying to force my will upon God's. I've been treating life like an emergency where it is up to me to get my plans to God just in time or else my entire future will fall apart. There has not been a single moment where I have slowed down enough to ask God what his will for my life is. There has not even been a time where ...

It became pretty obvious pretty quickly that things were not going to fall into place at the same time. It was mid-March when we felt like Westfield might be the move. Joe would have to tell his principal that he was leaving his current school long before he would even have an offer. I would have to commit to that area, which might mean turning down job offers from previous schools, even if I didn't know that I would have a job in the Westfield area. And, to make matters worse, we would have to commit to a place to live regardless of whether we had a job. A lot of saying yes with not a lot of visibility.  One night, at premarital counseling, our conversation drifted to the future. Jeff looked at us and said, "at some point, I just need to know how committed you are to moving here with us." Without really thinking, Joe and I looked at each other and nodded. "We're in."  And there it was. We were committing to a place where we had no guaranteed jobs, no place ...

A weird thing is that ever since I was in high school, my grandma has always told me about the English department at Westfield High School. She had heard sparkling reviews from friends in the area. I had always dismissed it, thinking, "I surely won't end up there." I knew nothing about it, but a fact about me is that I always think I know what is best for my life. So it had not been much of a consideration. As you probably know from my last post, I really wanted to be in the city. When I found out our friends, mentors, and premarital counselors, Jeff and Steph, were going to be planting a church in Westfield, I thought, "cool! Maybe one day we'll drive up from the city and check it out."  But strangely, the city lights grew dimmer in my eyes. Jeff mentioned something in passing about us "needing to be in community," echoing the nostalgic sentiments I was feeling for the tiny town of Upland. I scrolled the Westfield website and sent my resume over t...

Ever since my sophomore education class took a field trip to Chicago,  I thought I wanted to teach in the city. I loved the hustle, the noise, the people, the diversity, and the opportunity for impact. Urban schools were such a stark contrast from any of  the  cornfield-surrounded monotony I had previously known. I felt called, maybe, to teach in the city. So to meet a man who was teaching in the city? Huge. To marry that man? What a dream. It felt like everything was falling into place. I applied at a school three minutes from his, so close to the White River that we could kayak to work together. We had found a church we enjoyed, people we knew well, and something about the roar of city life felt like the lifeblood of my teaching career. It seemed perfect.  Sort of. Around March, we started looking for houses. Joe and I spent hours driving around, envisioning our lives in "the house with the red door" or "the watermelon house on 58th." We scrolled Zillow as if ther...

I have been ridden with a weird assortment of dietary hangups lately, resulting in days worth of constipation or (sometimes) the opposite. And that's not really relevant but last weekend, Joe said, "you know what you  haven't done in a while?" And I panicked because I thought he knew. But then he sweetly said, "blog," and I sighed a relieved, "you're right." So here's to blogging. And hopefully the other thing I haven't done in a while will happen soon. It's April 19. Every square inch of my agenda is covered with to-do lists and countdowns. I have a test I should be studying for but hot-gluing boutonnieres sounds better. Graduation is right around the corner, followed by a week of what Joe House calls, "Just Chillin," and then moving everything we own into an apartment, making an eternal covenant to each other, partying in Mexico, and starting life as husband and wife. It feels surreal.  Everything I do is the tempura mut...

There’s a lot I’ve learned about love that seeps beyond the surface of what Pinterest would deem a “perfect love story” or “relationship goals.” In a world that thrives off of immediate gratification, instant attention, and the “I want it now” mentality, I think sometimes we grow disillusioned to what love really looks like, feels like, and how to make it last. I’ve been engaged for nearly two months now and I'm learning that there is so much more to love than the seemingly mandatory “if he doesn’t bring you chocolate and Chipotle EVERY MORNING, be done with him” brought to you by all our favorite influensters. In fact, there is a lot of what I would venture to call “un-glamor” that is really indicative of deep, beautiful love. More importantly, I think that is a more accurate reflection of Christ’s love for his bride (a reflection that serves as the entire purpose for our earthly relationships anyway!!!) It’s been pure bliss, seriously, and I cannot thank God enough for blessing m...

 As we sat down to dinner, I had an inkling I knew everything that was going to happen. Presumably, the waiter was going to walk out with a decorated cheesecake and Joe would get down on one knee. How else would the hostess have known about our engagement? I nervously nibbled through dinner (and by nervously nibbled I mean devoured a sirloin), anxiously awaiting the moment Doug the waiter walked through that shiny glass door with a cheesecake. Dinner wrapped up and Doug brought out a mud pie. And Joe did not propose. Suddenly I was stumped. But I'm no quitter, and my presumption knows no limits. Surely now he would drive me to the pedestrian bridge over the Wabash River where we had our first date. We would look over the water and he would propose then. Guaranteed. "Do you know where we're going?" He asked.  "Mm.. I'll just smile when I'm right."  His truck pulled up to the entrance of the pedestrian bridge and I grinned. Under my breath I whispered,...