Smart Movies with Caroline: Les Miserables Ain't Miserable!

"Les Miserables was the WORST play ever! Everyone dies and then they sing all the time while they die. Yuck!" my mom told me after seeing the theater version of  Les Mis. She still refuses to watch the movie with me! LAME.

And what about my sister Melissa, who saw Les Mis with Mom? To answer that, she showed me this meme the other day:

I had no opinions on Les Mis until my boyfriend Andy's sister Anna encouraged me to see the new movie version with her. Since she and I tend to have really similar tastes in movies and books, I decided to give it a chance. 

Three hours later, Anna and I left the theater sobbing, red-eyed and for the rest of the day drove the other Hazeltons nuts with our "Meh remember when Jean Valjean blah blah blah? THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL!" shrieks all day. I loved Les Mis so much I drug Andy to see it again for Valentine's Day. That dummy laughed hysterically when I cried quietly during "I Dreamed a Dream." Hmph.

But what makes Les Miserables beautiful instead of miserable like we cognate-noticing folk might assume? For me, Les Mis takes the cake on its themes. 

Redemption. Jean Valjean is a convicted thief. Serving a  19 year jail term, he was known nothing more than "24601," his prisoner number. Released on probation, no one will give him a day's work and he finds himself dying of starvation until a priest has compassion on him and gives him food and shelter. Still a thief, 24601 steals the church's silver. Instead being sent back to jail after his capture by the guards, the priest insists that he gave Valjean the silver as gift. Shocked, the priest tells Valjean to take the silver and to use it to turn his life around.

Valjean does so and more. Years later when the story returns, he's the mayor of a town with a  purpose of rescuing those who have fallen.  He saves Fantine, a woman whose affair left her as a single, struggling mom who resorts to prostitution to care for her child Cosette. He redeems Cosette from her orphan status upon Fantine's death and saves her lover from death in a sewer. He even forgives Javert, his mortal enemy.

Love. "To love another person is to see the face of God." When we see at the end of the movie all of the people  that Valjean has helped through the love the priest showed him long ago with the silver, we see how sacrificial love's chain reaction originates from God's flawless love.

Hope. " I love Les Mis because it's real. Life is full of pain and rarely goes the way we want it to. We never move forward, like boats in a harbor.

For the poor of France, their short-lived revolution ends in blood soaked streets and "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables." For Fantine who once had hope, "Life has killed the dream I dreamed." 

Yet when this world fails us, when this world kills our dreams, there is a "world beyond the barricade that you long to see." Our mistakes have left us 24601s but God's redemption has re-birthed us into Jean Valjeans. 

And that's the truth. We spend our life here as les miserables, meaning the wretched ones, but when tomorrow comes we will cross the barricade into God's presence forever. 

Baker County High School Lunch Days

Lunch. 

It's one of those things I'll remember the most about Baker County High School. I sit here in my apartment now, mentally smelling yet again burnt pizza and Mom's PBJs. Chances are if you ate lunch with me, I just thought about you. And if you're a student I will teach in the future, I just thought about you and hoped you'd feel welcome to come to Srta. Rambo's room to chill during lunch. Because I see the people who changed my life each year. And each year flashes through my mind. 

Freshman year.

It was 11:05 and I was hiding in the bathroom stall. Only ten more minutes of lunch remained. 

I was a lonely freshman girl and was baffled by the hundreds of students I saw in the BCHS cafeteria. Out of the 750 students who had Lunch A, I knew one fellow freshy..but  he was a jerky wrestler. Yeah...no.

I tried making friends, but no one was friendly. So I resorted to sitting by myself, but then a upperclassmen group of mean girls decided it'd be fun to make fun of the terrified freshman girl sitting all alone. They did it one day, then they did it a week later, and then they started doing it every day around 11 on their way out the cafeteria to play hackeysack.

I'd rather hide in a bathroom reeking of weed and hairspray than be made fun of. And so I sat in the stall.

Sooner or later I realized how pathetic that was, and I spotted my church friend, Gil sitting with two of his friends-Corryn and Rebecca. Meekly asking if I could sit with them, they greeted me with kindness and enthusiasm. I felt at home.

One lunch came when  Corryn and Rebecca weren't there. Awkwardly sitting alone, I saw the group of goth girls starting to approach me with their cruel-hearted smirks and shouts of "HEY GIRL!"-even before 11:05. I was so alone, so scared that I just couldn't take it that day. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pretty, kind looking girl who was also sitting alone. I jumped into her booth before my own set of Mean Girls could even screech at me.

"Hi, I'm Caroline." My cheeks blushed as red as my hair.

"I'm Le'priesh." She gave a sweet, warm smile.

And that's how I met my best friend when I was 15. I never ate alone again.

Sophomore year.

I never really had a brother. I do have a brother, but his disability prevents me from being able to talk to him or communicate with him. For that reason, I never learned about "dude things" most sisters learn from their bros, thus making me super naive.

Looking for somewhere to sit that first week of school, I spotted the senior boys from youth group. Josh waved at me, so I thought they wouldn't mind if I sat with them just for one day. But I ended up sitting with them every day that year.

Hanging at that Jesus and testosterone-filled table was a highlight of that year, cuz I gained a pack full of big brothers who loved their "little sister" to death! Kyle Stone, Evan Ward, Timmy Mason, Dane Unklebach, Josh Trippet, and all of your various manly friends, y'all meant the world to me when I was 16 (and still do!!) Because of y'all looking out for me, I went from being the freshman hiding in the bathroom during lunch to having a pack full of friends I couldn't wait to talk to each day.

And I can't help but laugh at those memories now!! There was that  day Josh paid me a dollar to eat a rotten banana, the time Evan showed up to school in dreadlocks and yelled strange things at the kid Melissa was trying to get me to go to prom with, all of the donuts Dane brought us from his parents' shop, the many concerned looks we got from Mr. Jacobs, and when I FORCED all of you to be in the skit I was making for church (heh). I. Love. You. Boys.

Junior year.

By junior year everyone had basically turned into the person they were destined to be for life. For most of Baker County, that usually means you get your high school diploma, cheer for Gator football (yuck), and make babies. The end. 

Well, Carissa Ward, Danielle Cole, Rachel Davis and I wanted more than this, so we had to stick together. We were lunch buddies. A pack. We were the smart girls. Danielle and Rachel would quiz me on Spanish note cards each day over burnt pizza. We were the good girls-our biggest drama was Mrs. Mann telling us to pull up our shirts up once-but even then she did so kindly because we were good kids! We discussed boys-Danielle, remember how much we laughed nervously when I got asked out to the military ball? Rachel, remember the many talks about that one boy? Even at graduation, we were still a pack..here is Rachel and I!

Soon Amber (who reminded me much of myself as a freshman) and Krista joined our lunch pack of giggling goody two shoes. And we were set. And we were happy. 

Senior year.

I don't even know where to begin. I had so many awesome lunch packs.

Like there was Amber from last year, who made great company! There's a reason I kept bringing my nasty burnt pizza tray over to where we sat the last year with you, cuz you were awesome! Sorry I spilled chocolate milk all over my books and your books that one time heh ;)

If I needed to laugh after a long day, Wyatt Milton, Lindsey Roberts, Taryn Stevens, Trista Burnham and Katie Demers never stopped to make me crack up! I will never forget the time we were all obsessed with flicking the water bottle cap and then it landed right in front of Mr. Hill-the man who signed my paycheck as the student front office receptionist!! He nicely asked me about the "fun we were having "later that day at work.  I wanted to kill you, Wyatt!!!!!

Outside I could find Carissa Ward, Heather Cales, Hannah Jackson and Katie and Kristen Higens. One day for Character Day on  Homecoming Week Carissa and Heather were Mario and Luligio, and I was the tooth fairy! We were so cool that Heather convinced us to take our picture with Mrs. Payne (the other administrator who signed my paycheck!!)

Another senior year memory comes after this. Shortly after we took that picture they announced senior superlative at a pep rally. Not only was I one of the Titan Twelve (a leadership award given to 12 outstanding seniors annually at BCHS) but I also won Class Friendliest!! Um, I was the girl who spent the first nine weeks of lunch freshman year hiding in the bathroom stall!!! I know it was my decision in high school to follow Jesus and the incredible people I ate lunch with who changed me.

High school lunches will never end for me. This August, I will be a certified K-12 Spanish teacher (thanks to Rachel and Danielle helping me with Spanish flash cards for Senor long ago!!) and will hopefully be teaching Spanish at a high school in the fall. And you know what? I hope to have a TON of students who eat lunch in my classroom everyday. 

Because I know what it's like to be a lonely freshman hiding in a bathroom stall. I know what it's like to have people love you and accept you and to blossom as a result. But most of all, I know my teacher "lunch pack"-my students who eat with me- will change me, just like my BCHS lunch packs did. 

Postcard from Granny

There's a postcard hanging up over my desk. But it's not just any postcard, it's one my grandmother wrote me.  My dear Granny, whose life was claimed by cancer about 2 1/2 years ago, was visiting Hawaii (Granny LOVED traveling when she could) when she sent this to me a year before her death. It's nothing much, it's just a postcard with a small message on it.  But just seeing her familiar, perfect, old lady handwriting makes me smile and feel like I'm over at her house all over again. And seeing Granny's handwriting, who taught for 40 something years and taught me how to read and write, is inspiring me to write right now.

As she traveled throughout Hawaii, she was planning on seeing some awesome thing while she was there. I'm hoping to see some awesome things in my life as God leads me. If I could write a postcard about the things I hope to do, be and see, this is what I'd include.

I'd love my Maker and the people He made.
I would marry the man that I love and serve him as God loves us :)
I'd pour my heart out into being the best Spanish teacher my students deserve.
I'd teach English as a Second Language for those who come to my country for a better life.
I would continue to do mission/volunteer work overseas.
I would lead either a immigrant or youth ministry, perhaps both, with my husband.
I would be the best mama I could and adopt orphans or anyone needing a mama.

I hope I can do all of these things with my life and more, I just gotta keep following where God leads. I know if I follow Him as my tour guide, I'll see some pretty awesome things. Granny saw awesome things, not only in her life but also that trip to Hawaii. I'm looking at the postcard again. It says:

"Dear Caroline,

We are enjoying the many places we have been. I will tell you all about it when I get home.

Love,
Granny."

When I do get home, to my real home, I know Granny will great me and say a big happy Texas "Hey!" like she always did. She'll tell me all about the places she's been in God's presence. Hopefully I will have gone to many places in life, too, where God leads me.

I will tell you all about it when I get home, Granny.

English Conversation Club

When I was eight years old, I used to be scared of the Chinese family who owned China Dragon (a tasty Chinese take out place in Macclenny). They were some of the only Asians I had seen before, because I'm from the rural South you see. But when they spoke English, they talked funny. It was then when I realized this: not everyone speaks English as their first language. These people spoke Chinese like I spoke English, but just like I sounded funny when I tried to say the Chinese word I learned off of Arthur, these people sounded funny when they spoke English.

But as I grew older, I began to grow fascinated with languages and how people learn them. You see, my brother has a severe disability that affects his developmental and communication skills, so basically he's not capable of holding a conversation or understanding one. This fascinated me so, even at the age of 12. I mean, how do we learn a language? How do we learn to speak? After we learn our first language, why is it so hard to learn another one? I wanted to help people who came from other countries to have a better life in the United States, and since the number one language of these people is Spanish, I wanted to learn Spanish to help them. I still love Spanish. In fact, I'm about to earn my Bachelor's in it! But I soon learned that not everyone who immigrates to the States speaks Spanish as their first language-they speak hundreds of them! But what I could do was teach them English and help them this way. 

Since my senior year of high school, I've found many ways to do that! From the Mexican and Honduran families I helped when I interned in Houston to the 9-year old boy from China I tutor in English, I love teaching English as a Second Language. At FSU, one of my favorite things  I've done is tutor with English Conversation Club for the past three semesters. Hence the title, I meet with international students and families an hour a week and help them improve their conversational English.  Here is some of my bunch from last semester!

Students are from all kinds of countries with all kinds of backgrounds, all of them being cooler than I'll ever be!! I've had Olympic athletes come in, women whose husbands were studying at FSU, several Fullbright scholars, former Korean government officials, brilliant scholars, the list goes on and on! These students come from India, China, South Korea, Turkey, Pakistan, Iran, Spain, Germany, France, Taiwan, Belarus, Colombia-everywhere. We talk about everything from politics to Taylor Swift to dating! They really have helped me understand soooo much more about the world with all of us having different cultures, languages, faiths and food! I am constantly learning new things from them every week!

But not only am I constantly learning from these students, I'm also getting to make some awesome friends. From my first semester, I met Fatimah, Leticia and Elise-three awesome ladies who over coffee, free FSU events and the occasional chick click I would giggle and talk to about my new relationship with Andy! I would hang out with Lulu and now that she's a busy mama I love playing with her baby Emily and making Chinese food with her as her husband and Andy do manly things like playing tennis :D Last semester I met Naon, who just gets me, and Yu-ting, who is one of my best friends in Tallahassee and is always bringing me awesome Taiwanese food! Naon and Yu-ting still come this semester, and I've also gotten to know Suheyla and her husband who are such a sweet couple and are constantly teaching me something new.

I Exalt Me

I always loved high school pep rallies. It's not that I actually cared about any of the football players, in fact, I couldn't stand most of them, because the ones I knew were huge jerks in my eyes. But there was just something so fun about screaming for my class, painting my face, playing stupid games, getting baby powder thrown on me as a freshman, you get the picture! Pep rallies were crazy, loud and a break from class!

The first pep rally of my senior year I walked in surrounded with a group of my girlfriends. We were talking and giggling as girls tend to do when an unpopular, socially awkward girl started yelling my name.

"Caroline!! Hey!!! I missed you this summer! Give me a hug!!!"

My friends giggled mockingly. I cringed. We were just acquaintances, so I had no idea why she was fussing over me. But I gave her a hug anyway and gave her a small "How are you?", quickly jumping back to my group of friends and hoping to not be associated with her. But at that moment another person started yelling my name. It was a friend of mine who was pretty, well-liked and also the head cheerleader. I ran over to her and started freaking out. "Ahhhh I've missed you! How was your summer? I love your haircut..I need bangs like yours!" Soon the music began, and I ran to try to get a good seat in the senior side of the gym.

At that moment, it wasn't about treating all people like they were made by God and worthy of love. It was about paying attention to not only the person I liked the most, but also the person who could make me look the prettiest and most popular-the cheerleader. The uncool girl made me look bad, so I dreaded saying hi to her. Yep, I was exalting me.

This time I'm a senior at Florida State University, and there aren't really any pep rallies. But there is another tool I use to try to exalt myself to me and the world...Facebook. It's supposed to be just a web site where you can keep in touch with people easier. But I instead use it as my identity. If you see my cover photo of me in rural Peru with my high school English students, maybe you'll think I'm some type of world traveler. When you see my profile picture of my boyfriend and I with our friends from Taiwan, I hope you'll think I'm cool and diverse because most of my friends aren't American. I list every job I've ever had to prove I’m well –rounded because I've worked at an all-girls' summer camp, inner city mission, tutoring center, etc. But most of all, I’m proud of my 1,000+ friends that signify my popularity.

I also like to keep a mental list of my accomplishments and compare them to the accomplishments of other people. If mine is “cooler” than theirs, then I win and I see myself as better than they are. But if theirs is cooler, I lose and I always try to prove to myself why I’m better than they are. This covers everyone from my boyfriend’s ex’s to the girl I talk to in Spanish linguistics.

But such judgments hold me constantly wanting to succeed so I can give myself more value. When I’m constantly trying to make sure that I have value, I’m giving others less value in comparison.  I see people as one of three things-worse than me, equal to me, or better than me instead of how God sees them-they are all worth dying for.

In the Gospel of John, John writes about his personal encounters while with Jesus. But in his letter, he doesn't call himself "I" or even "John". The only name he gives himself is “the one who Jesus loved.”  Really, that was all that mattered. Your titles don’t matter. Do you really think that a year from now anyone will care or remember that I was the vice-president of Friends of Internationals when I was at FSU or that I was voted Class Friendliest in high school? Do you think that in eternity it matters how many Facebook friends I had, how many countries that I have traveled to, or how many international students knew my name when I walked down Woodward Avenue? But will matter is that Jesus loves me. And He just doesn’t love me. He loved that girl I was too good to talk to at the pep rally, all of Andy’s ex girlfriends, and the girl in class who I thought I was cooler than just because I speak Spanish faster than she does. 

My life needs to be about making people know that Jesus loves them, no about how awesome I am. But as far as I see it, I don’t exalt God. I exalt me.

Pain Before Joy

When a tragedy happens, those affected by it will often approach each anniversary of the event with fear, sadness and questions towards God. For many of us from Macclenny, we'll face this each year in just before Christmas, the time when our pain began and our joy died.

On December 1, 2012 three of our own teenagers were enjoying their weekend away from school-going to the Christmas parade,  talking with friends and just enjoying the holiday season. But as the teens were riding in their friend's truck, the driver lost control. Jordan Sommise, just 14, was ejected and was killed instantly. Corey Craig, a high school senior, was also thrown out of the truck, hitting a tree. Severely damaging his spinal chord and spending a month in intensive and regular care, he's now going through extensive therapy in Atlanta as we all cling to the hope that maybe he will be able to walk again. We also can't forget about the pain of the driver, who is drowning in unfathomable guilt and depression.

A few weeks later, our town mourned the horrific Newtown shooting with the rest of our nation. We hugged our children tighter, cried and held our families closer, and asked God why He would allow hell to be nearer. But as we sat sobbing at our television sets, we had no idea that pain would awaken us once more the next day. On December 15, Brooke Rhoden Treece and her husband James were riding in a four wheeler when James, who was driving, lost control. Brooke hit her head on the road and died at the scene. A few days later, we packed the pews at First Baptist Church of Glen St. Mary, wondering how we could have been attending the funeral of a 20-year old woman who had just married her high school sweetheart in this very church six months earlier. 

We felt so much pain, just before Christmas. Pain is real. Pain is intense. When we are overwhelmed in our pain, we don't want to think about God. We're angry at God. I remember choking back tears when I found out about the death of my childhood friend and beloved classmate/class president. "Oh my God, why? Why on earth would You take Brooke? My God, why? You just don't make any sense! I can't believe You!" And we sit and cry and laugh and roll our eyes at the people who remind us that God will bring something good of our pain.

I just looked at Brooke's wedding pictures on Facebook again here in my dorm room and I cried again. I don't know why God did this. I really don't. I especially don't know why God chose "the happiest time of year" to bring such pain.

But night precedes day, and pain precedes birth. Before the birth of Jesus, there was pain-labor pain. Mary screamed in pain. But in order for something new to be born, there must be pain. We don't want to ironically think about joy while we're in pain, but when the pain is over we will have joy. 

I know that each year we'll feel pain just before Christmas. But before Christ was born, there was pain. Yet when He was born, there was joy. Eventually, our joy will be reborn. "I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born," says Isaiah 66:9.

But as for now, there is pain.

Why I Hate Saying I'm a Christian..in Political Season

I get embarrassed of admitting that I'm a Christian a lot. I've found that is has nothing to do with the God I follow, but that a big problem for me lies with those who claim to follow Him, the Christians, and what we do to give the title of "Christian" a bad rep to have.

One of the biggest embarrassments to me in the Christian world is our words and actions during political season. Honestly, every time I saw a hateful post about another political party, it made me cringe for a number of reasons-that person was being uninformed,  was trying to start unnecessary quarrels, and being hateful and judgmental towards people they don't even know. You guys honestly had me really embarrassed, and I tried to stay out of political posts as much possible for that reason.

Why do I say I hate being a Christian during political season?

 First, we often have zeal without knowledge. We tell ourselves "Republicans=good and Democrats=bad" or vice versa without even researching the issues. We vote for one candidate because we feel like as Christians that's who we're supposed to vote for without even thinking for ourselves. Then, we get flat out ugly with anyone who disagrees. Suddenly our political views turns more into a whole Twilight craze "Team Edward" or "Team Jacob" thing-you're either the hero or the enemy. The question is, can we provide true facts, thought-out opinions, or just a bunch of political propaganda when talking about our candidate? As Proverbs 19:2 tells us (and I have this highlighted in my Bible), "It is not good to have zeal without knowledge, nor to be hasty and miss the way." I think that our intentions are good, because we want to convince ourselves that we are fighting for God and standing up for His truth. But I think that in the long run, God wants us to fight for truth in our daily actions in our lives that show other people God is who we say He is, not posting political propaganda that we think is true.

In fact, that's one of my biggest pet peeves-starting unnecessary fights and quarrels-and its prime time is during political season. I've seen people call Obama supporters "ruthless baby killers" to be exact and harshly argue on Facebook with people they've never even met before. I pray that people realize that their words and actions are not going unnoticed by many people of my generation who already have a bad taste of Christianity. If the point of a debate is to share in love something you feel convicted about, that's fine, but very rarely that's the case. Pride is the main contributor to a debate. Be careful-Proverbs 20:3 says "It is to a man's honor to avoid strife, but every fool is quick to quarrel."

People honestly just like a good fuss, and Christians aren't excluded from this. But our judging hearts turn people away much more quickly from God than they turn people towards the idea of God. Our Facebook rants about how we despise Obama-a man we do not know, probably will never meet, and is not responsible for the moral decline of our country but instead we as the American people are-just comes across as hate-based to me. It especially comes across as hate-based and judgmental when the next status that comes up on some people's newsfeed is something completely un-Christlike.

I don't have my political views listed on Facebook, and I probably never will have my true views listed. Instead, I quote this from Micah 6:8: "seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly." God never commanded us to be conservative or liberal, Obama-adoring or Romney-rooting, but to do these three things. Perhaps this is where most of my embarrassment comes from-the lack of these things in our Christian bubble.