i’m not who I was

There are a few dents in my fender… they have only been there two weeks but a trip to All-Ford Dismantlers “If we don’t have it, Ford don’t make it”, and a little bit of duct later, you can hardly tell. It’s been a journey since the end of classes, and papers, and roommates, and cafeteria food. There has been loss, adjustment, change, and finally two weeks later a new normal. 

It started on Saturday morning. Instead of going to my Mary Kay breakfast I went to CBU graduation. Next on the agenda was prom makeovers. But before then, I had to pick up product so on the way from getting product to driving to the makeover, my mind was wondering as I drove down Indiana. Then when I look up, I see break lights of a stoped car three feet ahead of me. “Maybe I can stop in time” I think as I hit the brakes. But as I inch close, staring at the back of the stopped car in front of me, my thinking changes - “I’m going to hit it.” Then I hear a crunching noise as my car collides with the one in front of me. 
Thankfully, I left early and twenty minuets later, after exchanging information I was back on my way to make one high school senior beautiful for her prom. When I walked in and saw her hair all done and the excitment in her eyes, I couldn’t cloud her day with talk of car accidents. 

From that to canceled appointments, to my birthday celebration, to mother’s day, it was a rough first few weeks of summer. For awhile I even forgot who I was, sitting at home by myself all day. But once I realized that and realized who I WANTED to be, everything changed. Then when I allowed God to control my day, not me, I gained back my excitment and also gained new spontanuity.
On Friday night, 4 faces and $250 in my pocket later, I decieded I would like to go to Biola for the day. So I did. And I had a great time, able to make one delivery, 10 calls, and $40 before I even left.

I love my job. I love my life. I love flexability and I love being able to decided when I get to work and when I get to play and also being able to do both at once. On God’s shoulders I am free to be me

I sat on a cold metal chair at a metal table at 11o’clock outisde talking with my childhood friend. We grew up together. Went to the same church together. Went to the same school together. But our lives are completely different. My parents never made me go to college. My parents never helped me with scholarships. My dad doesn’t pay me allowence. Yet here I am at a four-year college, getting by and getting A’s. And there my friend is — high hopes of college no longer in sight. Just two classes at RCC. A few hours of work. “I realized I just can’t be alone.” So busy not with school work and homework but life - alcoholic mom “it’s a disease, so I’m not mad.” Yet how could you not be affected - calling me at 11o’clock at night to pick you up from the hospital because she had a 5.2 blood alchol level. “She should have been dead” you said. “Thank you Jesus she is still alive.” I say. And you say nothing.

You stoped going to church a long time ago. And I’m wondering now if I still have a church. Another friend: when she left to college, her parents stoped going to church on Sundays. Or any days I guess. Their marriage is falling apart. Yet she is still here - taking 18 units.

And it all started when his dad remarried. Bought a big house, everything changed. It all started when my mom died. Everyone left the church. I cried. Now what am I to do? Is sitting in a dark living room on a couch listening to your dad talk about a passage that he just read that morning while your brother lounges almost horizontally and snorring - Is that church? Is getting together Sunday mornings opening your Bible, muttering a few words with eyes closed, closing your Bible. Leaving to lunch. Is that church? I miss the days when we would sit out in our hammocks after Sunday breakfast and dig into the word. When we would have communion when we felt like it and we took turns leading worship. Without guitar. Or muric sheets. That was when mom had hair. And she wore pink plastic house shoes that squooshed when she walked and rubbed against the floor a little smoother than sand paper. Before she limped and had to go to singapore.
My cousin has cancer.
My cousin
has cancer. She is 24. She will loose her hair.

What if my best friend is pregnant? And what if she is not even really my best friend at all - just a title that I put her in because she has no where else to go? College changes people. I remember when we went swing dancing and you smelled like smoke and you had me drop you off at the plaza so you could buy some cigarettes before you walked with your boyfriend back to his appartment. I acted like I didn’t know cuz you didn’t say - but I suspected. I remember when you called me at 1am because he “broke up” with you. I could hardly sleep in the same bed with you - your breath stunk so much of cigarettes. I did not know what to do. And then I saw you. With a cigarette in your hand. You were wearing sweats - it was a Wednesday. What can I say? You are freaking 20. All I can think of are the times in elementary and middle school and high school when they tell you smoking is bad. Its bad for you. But you’re an adult, you make your own descions. What can I say.

College changes people. If you don’t work hard now - when its easy, what makes you think you will work hard later - when no one is making sure that you do? After graduation, life doesn’t get easier. You just realize what kind of people your friends really are. Your childhood buddy is going nowhere. Smokes. Is pregnant. Looses her hair. Takes responsiblity for their own mother. Doesn’t attend church. Fails out of school. If this is where my friends are, I am wondering how I ended up where I am? Only by the grace of God.
I’m not a kid anymore.

I walk into the house after dropping Amy and Faith back off at CBU. “Did you get eggs,” Alisa asks as I walked over to the kitchen. “Oh no, I forgot,” I say, feeling so bad about the half-made cookie dough sitting on the counter.  As I set my red bag down on the table, Alisa looks at my hair and says “What do you think about some caramel highlights, Cara.” She was talking about for MY hair… “Or maybe like burgundy,” she says again.
Surprisingly I do not immediately resist or say no. I stroke my hair, “… yeah,” I say thoughtfully. Dani Lynn sits across the table from me. “Yeah, I think caramel,” I decide. But Dani has other ideas - “No, I think burgundy is nice. Because caramel would hardly show up.” There is awhile of talking, then -  ”Let’s just do your whole head,” Dani says spontaneously. And to my own surprise I agree.

“It’s a whole new Cara!” Laurie says when she sees me. I smile and tell her the story, not only proud of my hair but also my spontaneous decision to do something different I had never done before.