tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22146908832126095682024-03-04T23:14:00.181-05:00SpanglishSara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-15109900397766064402011-05-27T19:59:00.000-04:002011-05-27T19:59:06.322-04:00Moving<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thankfully a digital move isn't nearly as cumbersome as changing locations physically.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have a new blog: <a href="http://saraacosta.wordpress.com/">http://saraacosta.wordpress.com/</a></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Please go there to see my latest posts. The old posts are also imported there.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Cheers!</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-58321662882931657112011-05-21T08:22:00.003-04:002011-05-21T08:28:29.932-04:00I am VISTA, hear me roar<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7UGhqLdXNuwTBgXUVoLX-ujMm1Fo2F2GTwh4g3xO8KK3_R4ysAehkvIXPAvsr2zHv6Ty_1MYFF4PIwp-lMKkFUbK6KSWvsIQ1bd1uDLXqsOycgyvm3V8blXqgyVWeb9tpihKXB0JQ9aZ/s1600/supervista.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7UGhqLdXNuwTBgXUVoLX-ujMm1Fo2F2GTwh4g3xO8KK3_R4ysAehkvIXPAvsr2zHv6Ty_1MYFF4PIwp-lMKkFUbK6KSWvsIQ1bd1uDLXqsOycgyvm3V8blXqgyVWeb9tpihKXB0JQ9aZ/s1600/supervista.JPG" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Graphic created by Kara Quick</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I officially became an <a href="http://www.americorps.gov/for_individuals/choose/vista.asp">AmeriCorps VISTA</a> in July of 2010, my confidence in my title and position in the world was shaky. The ink on my bachelor's degree was still drying, it was the first summer I wouldn't be living at home, and in all honesty I wasn't completely sure what my job would entail. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I had confidence that whatever I was doing would be part of something bigger and much greater than myself, and that kept me going.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Though my first year as a VISTA won't end until mid-July, I can already tell you how eye-opening this year was. Some people like to automatically slam federal programs because it's easier than actually thinking, and also because some programs have indeed flopped. As someone who's spent a year in AmeriCorps and will re-enroll for another, I can show you how transformative VISTA life is, for the VISTA, for the community, and for the country.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There's a lot of information out there that can tell you <a href="http://www.americorps.gov/pdf/08_1210_ac_vista_report.pdf">what a VISTA does</a>, but I'll give you the skinny: VISTAs spend their days (full time, often more than 40 hours and sometimes weekends) putting together the pieces that your typical citizen doesn't have the resources or time to do. And all of these pieces are critical to maintaining and growing American culture and society.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAYEo7BcYBV9HvWAp9DMjwoSB1w5-vdZYFY-0yIRmDdM8UhtaEKU_fhNBJgxxXGRQtXYIE5aLfhkWwyeJd0SnnYIxvjUGfS-FMuKla1iklx5XYHrBpSbLtWEGjymVOV8vp0VbJ21Uz9Kn/s1600/vista.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAYEo7BcYBV9HvWAp9DMjwoSB1w5-vdZYFY-0yIRmDdM8UhtaEKU_fhNBJgxxXGRQtXYIE5aLfhkWwyeJd0SnnYIxvjUGfS-FMuKla1iklx5XYHrBpSbLtWEGjymVOV8vp0VbJ21Uz9Kn/s1600/vista.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yesterday about 30 <a href="http://org.elon.edu/nccc/about/index.html">North Carolina Campus Compact</a> VISTAs met for our end-of-year retreat somewhere between a pasture and a church in Gibsonville, NC. In the peace and quiet of a picnic area we shared memories and lessons from our VISTA year through show-and-tell and/or <a href="http://www.chocolatemintsinajar.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/kindylogo.jpg">story time</a>. It was so edifying to hear the words of my fellow VISTAS, some of whom I've known since pre-service orientation in June, and some of whom I met yesterday. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My VISTA colleagues all did amazing work this year. Some projects focused on literacy, some on partnership building, some on service learning-- but they all are dots we can connect to form a fight against <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_security">food insecurity</a>, AmeriCorp's target over the next three </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some of the gang at pre-service orientation in Atlanta.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qpwl-Rrln8CebD2jxzXe3Rg4wJQQW1ev6uQI3jn_PmuaDJp8cQ3Vug_dy_m7wLMlzc3OsA1WNRZVDRM-CFv2t-BWNCPM2A1vqI40vWEtYktiJoKv6pybZA864l1oRwQkJf5Gc_qUrrQG/s1600/baptists.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qpwl-Rrln8CebD2jxzXe3Rg4wJQQW1ev6uQI3jn_PmuaDJp8cQ3Vug_dy_m7wLMlzc3OsA1WNRZVDRM-CFv2t-BWNCPM2A1vqI40vWEtYktiJoKv6pybZA864l1oRwQkJf5Gc_qUrrQG/s320/baptists.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">These girls were strangers at orientation, and now we're <br />
table buddies at ever NC Campus Compact event.<br />
Photo by Jonathan Romm</span></td></tr>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Last summer when someone asked what I do, my response was almost in an apologetic tone. Not only was the explanation lengthy and potentially confusing, but the person might even question why I would spend my time serving instead of making a salary somewhere. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not anymore.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm incredibly proud of my time as a VISTA, and all because of the work <a href="http://org.elon.edu/nccc/VISTA/current.html">other VISTAs</a> have done, are doing, and will continue to do. This year AmeriCorps was on the funding chopping block and consequently under the microscope for effectiveness and quite frankly, how strong its return on investment is. I'll finish my first year as a VISTA knowing with certainty that capacity building and community enrichment is anything but discretionary.</span><br />
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</span></div></div>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-1326524920862587582011-04-27T21:14:00.004-04:002011-04-27T21:29:52.741-04:00The month of April and laundry<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Life as newlyweds has been pretty busy since October 16, but the month of April was by far the craziest: Campbell events, a visit from baby sister Catherine, road tripping home for Easter, and marking our sixth month of marriage. Okay, maybe that last one didn't make us any busier, but it certainly added to energy of everything.</span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh yeah, and Norton jumped out our second-story window. (He's fine.)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Eating peanut butter and playing at the park sure is tiring.</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Being married for six months isn't that big of a deal, but being married for half a year is. The next six months will dissolved away even faster as we celebrate more weddings, learn new recipes, have new adventures, and eventually celebrate our first anniversary!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm learning that marriage means a lot more than supporting just each other. It means supporting each other's families, working together to be parents (to a dog, but same goes for kids in the future), and taking responsibility for practicalities that keep life organized, like laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What I've learned the most over the last six months is time management. A typical day doesn't allow for a nap or three hours in front of Hulu or Facebook. In other words, shocking as this may be, marriage is not like college with a male roomie! Every day is an intentional effort to connect with Elliot, give 110% at work, be a good doggy mom to Norton, and keep up with chores at home. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I finally do plop on the couch in the evening, I like to look around to see a happy husband, happy puppy, and relatively clean apartment. I don't need every surface to be sterile. I just want a clean floor and a few pieces of clothes ironed. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-Yp3j6UWJZit3rTZH56wnlqe1_MvjR5GvdMRei1hbuI2_SUkSwfzBpY0XMvSwMWZ3jiDbRLtP3RCVBEH7hycmYq4M0uvGrRCSVYu66Syl5jihMe1sqhvLBDU5cRMWkeIuejZLx33v7XS/s1600/laundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-Yp3j6UWJZit3rTZH56wnlqe1_MvjR5GvdMRei1hbuI2_SUkSwfzBpY0XMvSwMWZ3jiDbRLtP3RCVBEH7hycmYq4M0uvGrRCSVYu66Syl5jihMe1sqhvLBDU5cRMWkeIuejZLx33v7XS/s320/laundry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Side note: Another big lesson from the last six months is that I can't do everything perfectly all the time. I just have to give what time and energy I have and be happy with it. This especially applies to laundry.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The highlight of April was having Catherine visit and then finishing up that week by driving to Massachusetts to celebrate Easter (my favorite holiday) with the family. I hadn't been home since the wedding, and my grandparents' failing health and overall homesickness made our time there extra special. Being home is one big sigh of relief-- I don't have to be doing anything in particular but eat delicious food and visit the people I love.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm looking forward to what adventures the next six months will hold. Birthdays, new furniture, a hair cut, mini road trip-- whatever it is, it's a special event because I can share it with Elliot and we make it part of our life together.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Photo by Story Photographers</span></td></tr>
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</span></div>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-50136864733110561072011-02-19T23:06:00.000-05:002011-02-19T23:06:36.770-05:00The essentials of newlywed life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was just in the kitchen putting long-gone leftovers down the disposal while thinking, "Man, I wish someone told us to be sure to eat all the leftovers." Not as if forethought and advice were going to solve that problem, we just have a bad habit of neglecting leftovers (and I'm picky about how long food can remain safe in the fridge). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I sorrowfully scraped earthy smelling chili and crusted over casserole down the drain I mentally compiled a list of advice I would give my many friends getting married in the near future. These aren't things anyone suggested to us in a wedding card or a hug after our wedding ceremony. They're lessons we've learned in our three months of marriage.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Don't ignore your leftovers. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Grocery stores have the best deals Monday - Thursday. On that note, cut coupons.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Know who does what around the house.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Talk about sex and money, even if it's awkward. This means using words out loud to have a conversation.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">5. Go to the farmer's market. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">6. Buy trash bags in bulk. (We bought ours in July and still have plenty left.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">7. If your job allows you to talk throughout the day (a text here and there), do it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">8. Buy a Swiffer mop.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">9. Get a pet (or a plant) soon. Doesn't have to be a 50 lb. chow chow, just something you can care for and cherish together. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. No television in the bed room. I don't mean "no television during sex," I mean don't put a television in your room. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11. Be comfortable with farts. On that note, Febreze products on sale are awesome.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think we learn something new every day, though these are the big things after being bound to each other for a little over 90 days. I wish I had pictures for all of these (especially the last one) because they would make the list really hilarious. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Valentine's Day 2011... numbers 11 and 1</span></td></tr>
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</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-53983536668502356672011-02-03T22:09:00.016-05:002011-02-04T15:09:34.260-05:00Sweet relief on a Thursday morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpwlGqXJHMgNjwjJoFxlo4rwN8aWK1ZIikBAZwv71O-W5r-fl86VazlRSlzPasbKIxnvg6V19qyoM68wyFiUifoLlay3S5U0mDzrLVdvJgFJtoEwILTG6dm9S6cOTRX33aEpnXpTaPtui/s1600/the-obama-family-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpwlGqXJHMgNjwjJoFxlo4rwN8aWK1ZIikBAZwv71O-W5r-fl86VazlRSlzPasbKIxnvg6V19qyoM68wyFiUifoLlay3S5U0mDzrLVdvJgFJtoEwILTG6dm9S6cOTRX33aEpnXpTaPtui/s200/the-obama-family-photo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I'm just going to cut to the chase-- I watched the National Prayer Breakfast live this morning and have never felt so inspired by a president or his words.<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The power of President Obama's remarks didn't come from what side of the aisle he votes on, his vision for health care, or his ethnic heritage.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The magic was in the message: he feels compelled to serve others because of his faith.<br />
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And he very clearly defined his faith-- he said point-blank that he accepted Jesus Christ about 20 years ago. That's evangelical-ese meaning 20 years ago he adopted mainstream Christian beliefs that changed his outlook on life.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Every election cycle with a new candidate raises many questions, but a recurring topic is the candidate's faith, or perhaps lack thereof. What does he worship; how will his beliefs affect policy; will the Middle East care? etc. Or in the case of President Obama, because he's a shade of brown and his mom didn't consult the book of Anglo baby names: is he a Muslim?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I liked two things in particular about the speech:<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. The president, after years of mystery, came out and said what category of "believer" he falls into. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. He connected faith to service and reiterated Jesus' commandment to serve each other and those less fortunate, in both cases out of love (not pity or to impress a girl).</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I think, at the end of the President's time at the podium, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had so tactfully and eloquently explained the history of his personal faith, how he and Mrs. Obama share their faith, and that the motivation for serving in the Oval Office is, again, his faith. If anyone had questions about anything related to his faith before, they got several answers today.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Above all, Barack Obama became a human for those few minutes. To most of the world he's the leader of the free world, an unapproachable political rock star. It's hard to explain how sharing something as intimate as faith can form such a strong connection, but it does. And who doesn't want to be connected to the boss of the stars and stripes?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<i>Bonus: my favorite tid bits from the speech.</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"In the wake of failures and disappointments I’ve questioned what God had in store for me and been reminded that God’s plans for us may not always match our own short-sighted desires."</div></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"My Christian faith then has been a sustaining force for me over these last few years. All the more so, when Michelle and I hear our faith questioned from time to time, we are reminded that ultimately what matters is not what other people say about us but whether we’re being true to our conscience and true to our God. 'Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well.'"</div></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"And the last recurring theme, one that binds all prayers together, is that I might walk closer with God and make that walk my first and most important task."</div></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"And it is my faith, then, that biblical injunction to serve the least of these, that keeps me going and that keeps me from being overwhelmed. It’s faith that reminds me that despite being just one very imperfect man, I can still help whoever I can, however I can, wherever I can, for as long as I can, and that somehow God will buttress these efforts."</div></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
Read the transcript of the speech <a href="http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2011/02/03/remarks-president-national-prayer-breakfast">here</a>.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-56378815082343009072011-01-21T20:28:00.001-05:002011-01-21T20:32:26.492-05:00Learning how to be awesome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT93sah_MD2y7gFVAOUxHh_tmLW9oiNiaNwWuPY29CxU50yG9mf0BIDG8OfKGvDWyNy8PLePFDT0La7jjLgRfKeOQD_zgQ7pJbUoiwnI6zF5fqnz8ZNujm5niXgdfx3IiwwDrQQfcDF2Ik/s1600/norty2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT93sah_MD2y7gFVAOUxHh_tmLW9oiNiaNwWuPY29CxU50yG9mf0BIDG8OfKGvDWyNy8PLePFDT0La7jjLgRfKeOQD_zgQ7pJbUoiwnI6zF5fqnz8ZNujm5niXgdfx3IiwwDrQQfcDF2Ik/s200/norty2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alas, I have become one of those bloggers who writes steadily for a few months then suddenly forgets about it. I'm a fair-weather blogger, apparently.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The nitty gritty, in an organized list, of course:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Three weeks after the wedding we adopted a chow chow from the Wake County SPCA. His name is Norton, and if you're my Facebook friend you know how adorable and mischievous he is! </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. We've been church hunting since November and might have a winner. Only time will tell!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">3. House searching has also been on our to-list. We're quickly growing out of the apartment-- so much stuff and Norty needs a place to run around and be a doggy.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">4. I decided to stay with Campbell as its VISTA for another year and am very excited about what the future holds for a culture of service at the university!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On a more qualitative note, married life for us is lovely and every day is a new adventure. Norton is our dog child and satisfies our need to comfort and care for something... and my need to dress something (just being honest). We talk about how cute he is when he sleeps, we stare at him adoringly while he licks peanut butter off a spoon, and we love to show him off at public places like the dog park and Pet Smart. Minus places where we show him off, he is our child for the time being (and very proudly the first grand child in both families).</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I guess you could say the theme of life right now is growth-- growing into a married couple, growing into professionals, and growing into care takers. Eventually we'll grow into home owners and some day we'll grow into parents (calm down Mom, not too soon).</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the moment we enjoy growing closer to each other and enjoying one another as spouses. Nothing in general is terribly different in our routine, though we are a bit busier and the pile of ironing is perpetual. Corny alert: we have each other forever, and that makes every day really awesome.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlNLkMocuhY9Z2xixxcHyb9KO9AsyArKi5-j5JoZhZozhcwDqM5swdvDyh2DGGxoa-_FGoMMj5U7cobbDg5ZAOlad4Ezhc5hz-VwcvpGj9rcFUrItca7Z4meiTEbghq9XIOqXVzAfdwHP/s1600/norty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlNLkMocuhY9Z2xixxcHyb9KO9AsyArKi5-j5JoZhZozhcwDqM5swdvDyh2DGGxoa-_FGoMMj5U7cobbDg5ZAOlad4Ezhc5hz-VwcvpGj9rcFUrItca7Z4meiTEbghq9XIOqXVzAfdwHP/s320/norty.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-25640065482634630952010-10-28T13:19:00.000-04:002010-10-28T13:19:23.885-04:00In the beginning...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg015b2DdA9r-PSwO0uVYUFsj6VwN84bvQSAPCGRssC3ltGeK6G_dVjEPZwfll_U7JpbqvsslE-hIBsGTWLWLk9IwLmBqSkQmSE2kxtJxucH8DUIHUNX8j6wsu04DOc71uPylFKUC012DQ3/s1600/church+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg015b2DdA9r-PSwO0uVYUFsj6VwN84bvQSAPCGRssC3ltGeK6G_dVjEPZwfll_U7JpbqvsslE-hIBsGTWLWLk9IwLmBqSkQmSE2kxtJxucH8DUIHUNX8j6wsu04DOc71uPylFKUC012DQ3/s200/church+sign.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">... okay, I won't insult<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201:1&version=NIV"> Scripture</a> by making it into a play on words. I just wanted a catchy title for this post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two weeks ago life was in the process of plucking me up in cyclone of lists, plans, and details as the wedding creeped ever closer. Last minute preparations haunted the short days leading up to October 16, and as the peace after a storm, the day of the wedding was the comfort and salve to relieve the stress of the last ten months.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I won't give you a play-by-play of the <a href="http://justin.tv/saraandelliotwedding">ceremony</a> and reception, but let me tell you-- the day was fantastic and we really couldn't have asked for anything better. Granted the weather was less than perfect, but once photos were done and we could warm up inside, our angst for the wind and chill melted away into what became the best dance party New England has seen since Bostonians flooded the city's streets to celebrate the Sox winning the World Series.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now that the wedding itself is in the past, what Elliot and I are appreciating right now is just being together at our home. We've never lived together before, so coming home to each other, cooking dinner together, and making the bed together are new and exciting activities for us. We unpack boxes of wedding gifts, make fun of Fox News, and discuss which shade of brown the bedroom curtains should be (I think you can guess who cares about that more)-- all such simple things, but thrilling when done with the person with whom you're spending the rest of your life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mushy, mushy, mushy... I know. But such is the life of happy newlyweds. A few months ago it felt so cool to choose our wedding invitations and which food to serve at the wedding because those decisions represented the next big step for our relationship and individual lives. Those decisions, however, were for the short-term and now the big stuff like buying a house and swirly babies (don't get too excited yet) are on the horizon, and those are the decisions we can enjoy for decades to come.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you didn't get to see the online footage of the wedding, the archived video is below.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's all, folks!</span><br />
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<object bgcolor="#000000" data="http://www.justin.tv/widgets/live_embed_player.swf?channel=saraandelliotwedding" height="300" id="live_embed_player_flash" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.justin.tv/widgets/live_embed_player.swf" /><param name="flashvars" value="channel=saraandelliotwedding&auto_play=false&start_volume=25" /></object><a class="trk" href="http://www.justin.tv/saraandelliotwedding#r=-rid-&s=em" style="display: block; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; padding: 2px 0px 4px; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; width: 345px;">Watch live video from saraandelliotwedding on Justin.tv</a>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-31884722117885571912010-09-28T21:59:00.004-04:002010-09-28T22:02:56.618-04:00Waiting for the fireworks<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kE3PSBe_VjI8kgoJIuzt7-G750W2oT1cx0BK8I7NAynO1jol6SxGk67bzfcOSArvvyMvOXGJfjcRMhSIrMzRvE5xZNkObBofYQcnDPioKPO8yJsCKO9YN3x41ODF4j5avN6KjKEbR8wl/s1600/engpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kE3PSBe_VjI8kgoJIuzt7-G750W2oT1cx0BK8I7NAynO1jol6SxGk67bzfcOSArvvyMvOXGJfjcRMhSIrMzRvE5xZNkObBofYQcnDPioKPO8yJsCKO9YN3x41ODF4j5avN6KjKEbR8wl/s200/engpic.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(No, I'm not picking Elliot's nose.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I decided to dive into my current job with AmeriCorps, I questioned my future as a writer. Was I going to do "community stuff" until retirement, or was I going to get back on the journalism bandwagon after a few years of attempting to save the world? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Questions, questions, and more questions.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I began preparing for my position over the summer, answers to that question trickled in ever so slowly. Early on I created a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://whereserviceexcels.blogspot.com/">blog for service learning at Campbell</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (which right now is more about community service) that soon began serving as a creative outlet for me at work. It doesn't exist as a catharsis for myself, but I certainly enjoy writing it. Not having to read and write for hours at a time (a.k.a. college) made me hunger for the written word. I was reading nutrition labels and evangelism literature in Spanish to get my brain to calm down.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I decided that my vocation is supposed to involve writing when I realized recently that I can only go so long without writing, and at this point by "writing" I mean posting on here because it's the best place to write. I'm not a journalist so I'm not crafting news and my brain works way faster than my hand so I don't keep a diary... but really, I don't write at all. I type. Blogging will tie me over for now.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Also in the arena of changes (but with not so serious questions) is moving permanently out of Buies Creek and 30 miles north to <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=68402&id=1241490009">Elliot's place in Raleigh</a>. Everything I own inside NC lines, minus clothes and toiletries, is either in one of our vehicles or stacked up in our apartment. Talk about transition. Buies Creek is a special place, but I've been looking forward to moving out. Living here is keeping me stuck in the student mind-set, and naturally I'd rather be exploring Raleigh with Elliot than becoming addicted to Hulu in the Creek.</span><br />
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</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's no secret that the wedding is coming up so I won't bore you with<a href="http://yankeeschick.mlblogs.com/happy20and20excited.jpg"> my excitement</a> about that. It's surreal that the countdown is in the teens, and such a short time ago in college I thought October 16 would never arrive. I feel like Elliot and I are watching fireworks shoot up into the sky and reeling in the suspense of them exploding in an unthinkable array of color and beauty. We've been waiting for and working towards this day for what seems like a long time, and if wedding planning has taught us anything, 'tis that the wedding day is just the launch pad for a beautiful and colorful life.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Elliot's camera magic at Walt Dizzle World.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLxHHChbMpNU23qQ8oXo54jaJT7XC9yE-wdicDiKs6JYe4tNcqTuGNknVNn2_ne64qLaR9_YHPf8e0xw__PckZCth4pzoHbUwuPqGRfvGnIgEX2Iav76Zrls2BSJIeE2HzWWTgnNPIPUl/s1600/nose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLxHHChbMpNU23qQ8oXo54jaJT7XC9yE-wdicDiKs6JYe4tNcqTuGNknVNn2_ne64qLaR9_YHPf8e0xw__PckZCth4pzoHbUwuPqGRfvGnIgEX2Iav76Zrls2BSJIeE2HzWWTgnNPIPUl/s320/nose.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Actual nose picking. What a couth man I have.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></span></span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-75698784519549158442010-09-01T10:56:00.006-04:002010-09-01T12:50:39.989-04:00Stories from my journey<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7J3cpgEXN-mwds78oUWhJ-rKurxuvPn9-wpDQIlOqXa-5l_515p9ZSAG0h0mpadiiXjUIfIai4Kav1bR287t0CFXCmo8mM933ved1ATTzoKTIzYKJ9I-ZTdJfIfZxWKlDQUp8FFqe40Z/s1600/photo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7J3cpgEXN-mwds78oUWhJ-rKurxuvPn9-wpDQIlOqXa-5l_515p9ZSAG0h0mpadiiXjUIfIai4Kav1bR287t0CFXCmo8mM933ved1ATTzoKTIzYKJ9I-ZTdJfIfZxWKlDQUp8FFqe40Z/s200/photo2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old school Sara and Elliot </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>This morning I spoke at Campbell University Worship (CUW), Campbell's weekly chapel session required for freshmen and sophomores. When our campus minister asked me to be the first speaker of the semester I was honored. Not only was it an opportunity to speak to approximately 1,000 students, but it was a symbol that the Campbell community respected me and thought I had something valuable to say to students.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Typically before speaking publicly my heart beats out of my chest and my mouth dries up. Today, however, despite a nasty cold and not preparing heavily, my heart beat was calm and cotton mouth didn't kick in. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Below is the story I offered: </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you know me in anyway capacity you know that my life is a series of awkward moments and bad hair days. Over the years those awkward moments have become the kind of memories that make you laugh so hard you cry … and the bad hair days haven’t changed.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My friends will agree heartily that I have many stories to tell, and do so willingly. Escapades from my childhood, tripping up the stairs in a skirt at Marshbanks, to an embarrassing run-in with airport security all color my life and provide my friends a good giggle.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The most profound story of my life thus far, however, is how a small town girl from Massachusetts ended up in a smaller town in North Carolina to have a four-year adventure to experience another culture… and how she ended up staying. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I grew up with the same people from pre-school through high school. The kids who ate glue in kindergarten were the ones in detention every day in middle school, and the girls who sang the Lion King theme song with me in first grade were my lunch buddies until the day we graduated.<br />
<br />
Despite the deep roots I had in the no-traffic-light town of Warren, Massachusetts, I felt called to a place different than what I was used to. And when I say “called,” I don’t mean the universe whispered in my ear and I don’t mean I wanted to travel. I mean God had plans for me elsewhere in the world.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That’s where Campbell came in.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After introducing myself for the first time to people, the most frequent first question is, “How did you get to Campbell?”</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My response by this time is rehearsed. My answer is always “I used Google,” and after seeing a confused face I continue with my explanation. I grew up wanting to represent people in some way. I flirted with the idea of becoming a pediatrician so I could heal sick children too poor to buy band-aids and thermometers. I thought about becoming a teacher so I could teach the world to read and write.<br />
<br />
By my junior year of high school, however, neither of these ideas seemed to settle. I didn’t have peace about my post-high school future until one day, the answer literally opened up in front of me.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The principal of our high school asked me to be the editor of the school’s first student-run newspaper. I had read magazines, filed through newspapers, and listened to the evening news my whole life, but I didn’t know the first thing about crafting it myself. This new situation was intimidating to me. Looking back, God was throwing me into a situation He knew would take me to greater things.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Senior year rolled around, along with college application deadlines. While working on the student newspaper I grew to love writing new stories. Though only about seemingly trivial topics like a high school dance or the annual essay contest, something inside me yearned to perfectly mold a story from the endless details and facts floating in the air. I wanted to catch the sights, sounds, and smells of everything I wrote about so the reader could best understand what happened. I decided I would major in journalism so I could learn how to better tell stories.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, to Google I went. I wanted a Christian school… or did I? I grew up in church but wasn’t sure if I wanted a “churchy” environment for the next four and very formative years of my life. I thought long and hard about it and gave myself a question to ponder. Was I ready to go out into the world and live my faith by myself, or did I need a few more years of an encouraging Christian environment?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I chose the latter, and searched in Google for Christian schools on the East Coast with journalism programs. Well, what do you know, those are pretty narrow parameters and I literally ended up with just two results: a tiny, faith based college outside Boston and a slight less tiny faith based university in rural North Carolina, placed quaintly between a few cotton fields and churches of every breed. As the oldest of four children, my mom and I ventured out on my family’s first round of college visits. We took the tours, read the brochures, and bought the t-shirts.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And I had yet another decision to make—do I stay in my comfort zone and send my deposit to the school in Boston? I knew the culture. I was part of that culture. I would be close to home and people talked like me. Or I could be almost 800 miles from home and sleep in my cozy, full size bed only during Christmas and summer breaks. I would miss birthday parties, snow storms, and weekends visiting with my grandparents, who’s health was deteriorating more than any of us wanted to admit.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Campbell was the last school I applied to, and the first acceptance letter I received. God had placed my destiny in North Carolina, and I knew I had to go find it, even if I had to call my grandparents every Saturday instead of having lunch with them.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Summer of 2006 came and went with the breezes of the season. I graduated from high school, went on a couple shopping sprees at Linens ‘n’ Things, washed my clothes and packed up the family minivan. I was ready—way more than I should have been. At that time of my life I was so shy I dreaded Sunday school and meet-n-greets at church because I hated talking to new people. I didn’t like change. I ate Life cereal almost every morning since I could chew. But somehow I wanted to ship off to North Carolina for four years. I had no friends there, didn’t know the area, the people talked funny, and I sure wasn’t going to eat fried everything. But somehow, somehow… I was ready.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Strangely enough, I immediately acclimated to college life. I took advantage of some AP credits to take only 12 credit hours the first two semesters. I spent my extra time dabbling in SGA, CAB, and the Campbell Times. I had lots of friends in each of the four undergraduate classes. I loved my life at Campbell and felt I was truly myself here. While I brought the baggage of my pre-college life down with me, no one else knew my past, and I knew nothing about anyone else. At first my new college friends didn’t know the size of my family, that I’m afraid of heights or that as a child I cut my own bangs into the shape of a triangle. I was a new person at Campbell.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Little did I know how much my first year at Campbell, those fewer than twelve months, would ripple effect my whole life. I met people who became my mentors. I met people who I never want to be like, and I met people weirder than myself, which taught me that there are all kinds of people in the world but really we’re all just as weird as the person next to us. Of all the people I met that year, perhaps the most important was the man who next month will become my husband.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The whirlwind of freshman year passed, and the following three dissolved away as I learned more, grew more, and spent more time thinking about my life after Campbell. For so long Campbell was my entire life. For four years Buies Creek was my final destination. My time revolved around classes, extracurriculars, traveling back and forth between Massachusetts, and developing my relationship with my fiancé. Beyond that, I had been a student in some capacity for almost two decades. I was good at being a student, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure if I could do anything else. Like I said, change wasn’t on my list of favorite activities. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I stuck with journalism and made writing my niche. I had finally learned how to craft a story. But really I had accomplished a goal I didn’t know I had until recently—I had learned how to tell the stories of others; those who can’t speak for themselves. Sure, I could cover a house fire or election, but my passion lived in the projects, behind convenience store counters, and in shelters. I didn’t want to interview the policy makers to get their side of the propaganda. I wanted to be the voice of the citizens who live those policies or die because of them. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After Christmas break of senior year I decided to start the job hunt. The doom and gloom forecast of the print media, also known as newspapers and magazines, didn’t deter me from finding a writing job. If I had to write obituaries and wedding announcements for three years, I was going to do it. I didn’t spend four years writing story after story to sit at home until something better came long. Resume after resume and e-mail after e-mail went out. I was shocked, in a good way, to get an interview, then another, and at one point I had four interviews in a week, and two call-back interviews lined up. I was pretty sure a job offer was coming down the pike, just in time for graduation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6hy55RD5ARag5J75eo6_FBPaM5WspDyd9CQHWu_8CTxmizBk6scWMJ2hnMtHyRTzNhtlRIHjLNqTHYlztlw9x6DEO-uHrHj1ykq_z0Q_m3AXyi5tEQbulaS4e1K_JUwAcSH6qLrMkftE/s1600/photohuck2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6hy55RD5ARag5J75eo6_FBPaM5WspDyd9CQHWu_8CTxmizBk6scWMJ2hnMtHyRTzNhtlRIHjLNqTHYlztlw9x6DEO-uHrHj1ykq_z0Q_m3AXyi5tEQbulaS4e1K_JUwAcSH6qLrMkftE/s200/photohuck2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me being an awesome reporter. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJ-OP08cq4BiTpwrBLq7bbn9BKsAnAk1mfeeYGca0LK26n93TSjAJzr24m9IeFEVRcNOrM1Cv1wSxZO3fBcugT-VaXcpWk1NSkLncC2caBixHs6EHReAu68vPmmPjjO_nbfWBR8Vt8nto/s1600/photohuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJ-OP08cq4BiTpwrBLq7bbn9BKsAnAk1mfeeYGca0LK26n93TSjAJzr24m9IeFEVRcNOrM1Cv1wSxZO3fBcugT-VaXcpWk1NSkLncC2caBixHs6EHReAu68vPmmPjjO_nbfWBR8Vt8nto/s200/photohuck.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But, even if I had a job eventually… where would I live after graduation? Would I be close to my fiancé? Could I afford to live on my own? All these questions lingered in my mind, invading all my thoughts until the weekend of Operation Inasmuch 2010, when hanging outside in the heat and among the bugs was never worth it so much as that day.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was helping the university’s public relations office cover the projects at Erwin River Park when I spotted Faithe Beam. I knew Faithe somewhat from previous mission trips through her office and I wanted see how she had been the last few months. She told me about a new position her office was looking to fill, something brand new. They needed a recent graduate with good communication skills to, according to my memory at the time, do something or other with community service and the migrant community. She asked me to keep that job in mind among my interviews with local newspaper. I put the thought on the back burner, fully expecting to steam through to a job offer in the coming days and leave Campbell as a gainfully employed newspaper reporter, living the dream.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Later that day, to Google I went, again, just to read up a tiny bit on the job Faithe had mentioned. I read a tiny bit, some more, a little bit here and there... and before I knew it, I couldn’t read enough about joining the AmeriCorps VISTA program. Despite not being a reporting job, it was right up my alley. I wouldn’t be a reporter of course, but it was a way for me to speak up for the invisibles around us who can’t speak for themselves. I came to the conclusion that I could be a reporter later in life. This was a unique opportunity.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, after graduation I joined AmeriCorps, bought some “grown up” clothes, and moved into a new apartment on the edge of campus. After years of transition and decision making, I ended up exactly where I needed to be—telling the stories of others, all of whom are part of the story of my journey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo1GdgSLrB11w87qhDWBflwgIZh0LxSJeqCwQBdiuNRLsfdQl9Uv7q5gi3SaNRGEqXblQWDF4b1uvkAwZmSSSyy75GkLU1eLa6CwGraKlv8aKo2GZtynRfpleCrWyACyEtJZ5Pw8Vle3G/s1600/photo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpo1GdgSLrB11w87qhDWBflwgIZh0LxSJeqCwQBdiuNRLsfdQl9Uv7q5gi3SaNRGEqXblQWDF4b1uvkAwZmSSSyy75GkLU1eLa6CwGraKlv8aKo2GZtynRfpleCrWyACyEtJZ5Pw8Vle3G/s200/photo3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More old school Campbell memories.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Da5rTNTO6QnLnFb43oGE7WeirJMs69mTH7pWYUzZ3VKcGM5FhhxnGtzinbyGDkXSbQvIGbHPCdyokW22GUTMKrW0RaMxnz2norJtYLzcJbZ92kriPMBlAf0HObe-x2gT9-P_dfkPTAEm/s1600/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Da5rTNTO6QnLnFb43oGE7WeirJMs69mTH7pWYUzZ3VKcGM5FhhxnGtzinbyGDkXSbQvIGbHPCdyokW22GUTMKrW0RaMxnz2norJtYLzcJbZ92kriPMBlAf0HObe-x2gT9-P_dfkPTAEm/s200/photo1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-23275663519849412302010-08-08T22:59:00.004-04:002010-08-09T17:42:24.963-04:00If I'm stressed it's because I'm blessed.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViiHbI3fSR8_DHuAFwAuWpd9Ea-G3GgG8Y3mYrRTmQvTAPGWHk9Qc-tMMerj7COio6dNklOLVpBxyxxe-QzgaCUBrcDyrmHEwp0Dt_PhOAiHyq8CgNRV_s4TumnW6kLaPKnMzt-FJy-sh/s1600/eng1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViiHbI3fSR8_DHuAFwAuWpd9Ea-G3GgG8Y3mYrRTmQvTAPGWHk9Qc-tMMerj7COio6dNklOLVpBxyxxe-QzgaCUBrcDyrmHEwp0Dt_PhOAiHyq8CgNRV_s4TumnW6kLaPKnMzt-FJy-sh/s200/eng1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I like to rhyme the words<br />
"bless" and "stress."</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let me tell you something.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nothing makes you want a glass of fermented fruit juice more than planning your long distance wedding that's two months out while starting your first job.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'd also like to tell you that nothing electrifies my life more than </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">planning my long distance wedding that's two months out while starting my first job. Talk about blessings.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The third week of my job at Campbell is on the brink, and I'm realizing how time flies post-grad. I'm not napping between bouts of cafeteria food and doodling during class. My days start with spacing-out at my awful 80s floral valance for a few minutes, daydreaming about flying through Harnett County in a tiara and cape while Outlook loads and cyberspace delivers reality one pixel at a time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Each day is a small adventure, sometimes involving a golf cart with nine lives or donuts no human pancreas is prepared for.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The pace will only pick up once students move in next weekend. It'll be strange to not only be a professional at Campbell, but to be seen as one. No more wearing yoga pants just because I didn't' feel like washing my jeans that week. But hey, now I have an excuse to go skirt hunting! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The wedding planning process has reached the point where the women around me tell me it's all going to be okay, that it'll come together, and that I'll live through it. Similar reactions to a diagnosis of pneumonia or heart break... in some ways wedding planning can be equally traumatic.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nonetheless, I'm working on reminding myself that the purpose of the day is to marry Elliot, not to make sure the card stock of the escort cards and invitations are the same shade of white. I never thought I'd be considering details beyond matching my socks, but alas, this is the one time I can choose my card stock and its varying shades of white... or ivory... or bright white? The options are endless.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I'm stressed it's because I'm blessed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-60171890284752024732010-07-19T14:07:00.001-04:002010-07-19T14:08:57.313-04:00Hotlanta is really hot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwjAVPr_6BtGPE2C4-Tbkp_mY7-QgcWkg51DcwBUhteiGVixm2-ZhDrSmU-Y4Fk-EeqkFtHpAkZtQ3bejM9qEN1z0J29uXK8XaALwJbnMapUclqofD5svdJkORnKXIWC39FhXNX9hwvx8/s1600/painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwjAVPr_6BtGPE2C4-Tbkp_mY7-QgcWkg51DcwBUhteiGVixm2-ZhDrSmU-Y4Fk-EeqkFtHpAkZtQ3bejM9qEN1z0J29uXK8XaALwJbnMapUclqofD5svdJkORnKXIWC39FhXNX9hwvx8/s200/painting.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I doubt if anyone actually tracks my blog, so I won't apologize for not writing in almost a month. But I've missed writing, so here goes.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The last month has been a whirlwind of small steps leading up to two big milestones: beginning my AmeriCorps VISTA job at Campbell (July 26) and marrying Elliot (October 16).</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the arena of marriage/wedding preparation, Elliot moved into a new two bedroom apartment in Raleigh that will be ours come October. We spent a weekend with some helpful friends moving furniture and boxes of odds and ends. Our biggest adventure so far was painting the master bedroom... which turned out great except we also painted part of the ceiling. But we're proud nonetheless.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I just returned from spending a few days in Atlanta (properly nicknamed "Hotlanta") participating in Pre-Service Orientation for my AmeriCorps position. The entire Southern Cluster of new VISTA volunteers met in Atlanta to learn about what we do and why we do it. It was great to meet so many other people from so many places in life and all over the world with have similar aspirations.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If your assumptions of AmeriCorps volunteers are anything like mine were before last week, you probably think it's a bunch of hippy college grads who don't want a corporate job. Well, like me, you'd be totally wrong. I met a lot of recent college grads, a few hippies, and a lot more parents and married people than I thought I would. More surprising was that a lot of the married volunteers are my age. Most of the volunteers have left great paying jobs to serve.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Fun fact: AmeriCorps volunteers make $10,000 a year.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm still processing everything I learned at PSO. It was information overload with lots of good food and great people. If I came away with anything from my time in Atlanta, it was that the projects we accomplish as VISTAs have a huge impact on our respective communities. (If you want to read more about my AmeriCorps project, check out whereserviceexcels.blogspot.com)</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Summer 2010 is turning out to be one of preparation, a kind of spring board for the next few years of my life. The events of these hot and humid days give me excitement, anticipation, and joy for my future.</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-41388510710522027702010-06-25T20:34:00.001-04:002010-06-25T20:35:09.953-04:00Orange colored lens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUmDBBySeo86j_GXPrFtd6-1MC0vmLT_54MQC_mEGY3SX2030NE9t5YYkPgGmte2qOb9PjrTdjeCV8d5R6mxrG364Ya4LTRHhgsj6RQBg_lh7FOpinl6HmDmGJ9wn1xsnr4eziSlMp5iZ/s1600/halloween.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRUmDBBySeo86j_GXPrFtd6-1MC0vmLT_54MQC_mEGY3SX2030NE9t5YYkPgGmte2qOb9PjrTdjeCV8d5R6mxrG364Ya4LTRHhgsj6RQBg_lh7FOpinl6HmDmGJ9wn1xsnr4eziSlMp5iZ/s200/halloween.bmp" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ladies and gentlemen, it's official. I graduated from college.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now, of course, May 15 was the day I received my diploma and took 10,876 pictures in my sweat-soaked polyester graduation gown. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But I haven't really "felt" like a graduate until today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I lived today in a new role that not only changed how I see myself, but also how I see other people. My professors and other Campbell faculty are now colleagues. Incoming freshman seem so young and so babyfaced-- me only four years ago. I've jumped to the next lillypad in life. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And it's weird.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Usually at Campbell events I don't need to know where to go or what to do because someone else makes the plans and herds us around. Today I was one of the the ones answering questions (sometimes with the wrong answer) and appearing to students and parents as the where the information buck stops. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As unusual as the day was, it was enlightening and enjoyable. I grew to know better my Campus Ministry colleagues. I saw a lot of puzzled looks from other Campbell staff who were wondering why this "I've never seen you before" girl has an official name tag (by the way, it's magnetic and awesome).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I spent a few minutes observing the incoming freshman. The girls wore their favorite clothes and their shiniest lip gloss. The guys put on airs of nonchalance, of course. We had preppy kids, tech geeks, jocks, shy kids, and your average <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Joes</span> and <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Josephines</span> who are okay with collecting at least 15 orange shirts over the next four years. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I guess I was a little sad I was no longer one of them. I became very comfortable with college life. I was good at it. Now I have a new life that I'm 85% unfamiliar with, and sometimes it's overwhelming, but really-- what do I have to fear? My dream job, a community I've grown to love, or awesome colleagues? I'm the weakest part of that equation because of the doubts I lay on myself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This summer I have a different and new purpose at Campbell, and I'm embracing it once crooked brick at a time.</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-82475479170478141372010-06-17T21:15:00.000-04:002010-06-17T21:15:40.147-04:00Mis amigos nuevos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/object2/1160/63/n148769453182_3412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" qu="true" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/object2/1160/63/n148769453182_3412.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've been hanging out with one of the best kept secrets around: the immigrant families of Angier, North Carolina.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Of course it's no secret Angier is home to many immigrant and migrant worker families. The secret, however, is that they matter and that they contribute to grace more than any other sub-culture I've come in contact with.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Immigrants and migrant familes easily become invisible to those of an outside culture. They blend in as "just another Mexican" and as part of the Southeast's skyrocketing Hispanic population.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Someone needs to speak for these <em>personas</em>, people, and tell their story. Someone needs to be their representative against the unspoken, cyclical forces that imprison them in poverty and poor health.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I don't know the details of the life of any one student, but I've gethered some general information about most of the students. They have siblings they love and fight with, friends they miss in a far-away land, and parents who work too much for too little money. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sound familiar?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's the story of so many Americans from every color in the rainbow and every generation since the American Revolution. The only difference is that for most of us, <a href="http://www.uscis.gov/portal/site/uscis/menuitem.eb1d4c2a3e5b9ac89243c6a7543f6d1a/?vgnextoid=db029c7755cb9010VgnVCM10000045f3d6a1RCRD&vgnextchannel=db029c7755cb9010VgnVCM10000045f3d6a1RCRD">red tape</a>, cultural hurdles, and <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/POLITICS/06/01/obama.arizona.governor/index.html?iref=storysearch">ignorance</a> didn't prevent us from learning how to read, getting a job, or having our kids vaccinated.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">These children are happy to have a summer free of teachers and homework. They love to play in the water and watch movies with their friends. They like hugs and the little boys blush when the college girls smile at them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">What will happen if we ignore an entire generation of children because of paperwork and owed taxes? Hopefully we won't have to find out.</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-74262449543702929852010-06-13T09:41:00.012-04:002010-06-13T09:51:42.712-04:00All things new<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrpph4__Qoc1g-O-mqY68PpMI7kQFFQ0xFwIN-3NZC81Wfqp9DWzmQ2_RNXk8j39_mDByPnDlBBA9op_9r30xYm5UqHFPyOJ8TLa4T5b7Dal3aE20QegtdCQz9yRz5jb4EAIx9uZnmoFG/s1600/tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrpph4__Qoc1g-O-mqY68PpMI7kQFFQ0xFwIN-3NZC81Wfqp9DWzmQ2_RNXk8j39_mDByPnDlBBA9op_9r30xYm5UqHFPyOJ8TLa4T5b7Dal3aE20QegtdCQz9yRz5jb4EAIx9uZnmoFG/s200/tree.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For those of you who just graduated from college, you understand how this summer is so different from all others in my life. No summer reading, no tuition payments, no moving back to student housing. This summer arrived with a new purpose-- to mark the beginning of my life as an adult.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And if you want to hear a story about blessings, you've come to the right place. I left Campbell with a degree in <a href="http://www.campbell.edu/artsandsciences/communication/">Communication Studies</a>, but my concentration was in print journalism. Since high school I knew my future lied in a news room. I wanted to use writing to tell the stories of the invisible layers of society-- those who couldn't tell their own story.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The job hunt begin in January. Elliot and I hunted the Web for openings at community newspapers from the North Carolina mountains up to Washington, D.C. I had interview after interview, raise hopes after raised hopes. Some openings proved promising in the last week of April when I had four interviews. Needless to say, I was surprised to be getting so many bites in a time when not only are jobs scarce, but newspapers are a casualty of the technology war.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The end of April also brought <a href="http://www.campbell.edu/life/campus-ministry/operation-inasmuch/">Operation Inasmuch</a>, which I was helping the university to cover as part of the media team. At a park in Erwin I saw our campus minister, Faithe Beam. Conversations with Faithe are typically enlightening, but little did I know how much our chat that day would change my life (and Elliot's life).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I updated Faithe on my promising job leads. I was prepared to graduate and take a reporting position, no questions asked. It's what I had wanted for a long time and I had worked hard to prepare for a life as a journalist.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As it turned out, God had been preparing me for the last four years-- but not to become a journalist (at least not right away). He had been honing my communication, writing, speaking and Spanish skills in order to make sure I would be ready for the job He basically dropped in my lap the day I spoke with Faithe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">In the last three months or so, God has given me a fantastic job, a new place to live, time to see family, and the excitement of my upcoming marriage to Elliot. He has given me a new life to make my own with what He has given me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=revelation%2021:5&version=NIV">He makes all things new.</a></em></span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-58694805924726388052010-04-19T23:17:00.002-04:002010-04-19T23:19:07.547-04:00Sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aiIAmRwGQ0OznvBApEz0u0-HH9I9rnFVyG3Yhk5KceBKupndIazoV0mBo0QpLR2LXyfC8I5rEIn7Yla6avkEbnBXH2apBwNqh59BOYXzvzIFRI13dSycuBBI5oVV1u3BCAOA75UOVe26/s1600/campbell+times+plaques.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aiIAmRwGQ0OznvBApEz0u0-HH9I9rnFVyG3Yhk5KceBKupndIazoV0mBo0QpLR2LXyfC8I5rEIn7Yla6avkEbnBXH2apBwNqh59BOYXzvzIFRI13dSycuBBI5oVV1u3BCAOA75UOVe26/s200/campbell+times+plaques.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I walked into a grungy and damp classroom, soon to discover I was the only freshman and the only one without a clue.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pretty typical of my first few weeks of college.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was mid-way through my first semester that I found myself in a Campbell Times meeting. I was ready to conquer the world with witty banter and Pulitzer photography.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ha.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I gleaned the first issue of the paper at the meeting. That summer was so hot that I wasn't the only thing sweating profusely -- my desk was perspiring into the newspaper's low grade paper. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Through smudged words and spotty photos I knew I had found my niche. I found a venue to test my writing, to learn the craft... to screw up enough times that a byline was extremely humbling.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My time on the school newspaper has in many ways defined my career at Campbell. In the news room I encountered some of the most landmark personalities of the last four years of my life. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I grew up in the Communication Studies Department and the Campbell Times was my playground. I made friends, tested my skills, skinned my knees, swung the highest on the swings, and gossiped a lot with other girls.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I won't go in to all the ways a student paper is vital to a university, especially a private one. I will, however, tell you what a trial, tribulation, pain in the butt, and how totally awesome it is to be a part of the few pieces of paper that frames student culture and represents thousands of people.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The school paper taught me thousands of lessons, most of which I won't realize for years to come. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tonight's Campbell Times banquet marked the end of my time with the paper. In a month my name will be in the archives. No more bylines, no more copy editing, no more drama with the administration. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cue the cheesy closing line....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All good things must come to an end.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
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</span>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-59569541066396248112010-03-29T01:25:00.002-04:002010-03-29T01:27:20.336-04:00Perspective<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWWtdzZBENYNgS0RIPahdB5JU41VnAudDZ7PwW-6vn_X2UAMtkPzrfkhWJalUBhIJ6wqvurMYyeAf1hU_hCx769vXfwXLfC_FTxhjuoDb1GbpQEjUDOzOLbNNChsEIAVsJhhw88lV-RyE/s1600/100_3692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWWtdzZBENYNgS0RIPahdB5JU41VnAudDZ7PwW-6vn_X2UAMtkPzrfkhWJalUBhIJ6wqvurMYyeAf1hU_hCx769vXfwXLfC_FTxhjuoDb1GbpQEjUDOzOLbNNChsEIAVsJhhw88lV-RyE/s200/100_3692.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>I grew up in a middle-class town with middle-class friends. I go to school in a middle-class town with middle-class friends.<br />
<br />
For the sake of explaining my thought process, I'm going to loosely define "middle-class" as having everything you need to live comfortably, and nothing more. You pay the bills, feed your kids, grow your savings and go to bed at night on sheets you got on sale at K-Mart (a small victory).<br />
<br />
Never in life have I felt I didn't have the basics: food, clothes and my health. Until recently.<br />
<br />
(This is going to sound like some big dramatic story, but it's not supposed to be. Bare with me.)<br />
<br />
I recently had to see a doctor for chronic fatigue and a misbehaving heart. My seemingly imminent cure came in the form of a slew of appointments-- cardiologist, neurologist and a follow-up with the first doctor. I was so relieved that someone was going to be able to tell my why I had to sleep 12 hours every day in order to barely function.<br />
<br />
And then my bouquet of balloons popped.<br />
<br />
Of course I had to call Blue Cross New England to notify them of all this new medical stuff. After a web of phone calls between the insurance company, my mom and myself, turns out Blue Cross New England won't cover anything but an emergency room visit because the doctors here are outside the New England network.<br />
<br />
So, tomorrow I'm canceling all those appointments. My parents had to pay the office visit fee of $170 up-front because my insurance would have nothing to do with it.<br />
<br />
I can't do anything about my health problems until I'm on Elliot's health insurance in October.<br />
<br />
I'm an American citizen who sought health care in the United States and I got the door shut in my face because I'm a full-time college student outside my insurance's network and I don't have thousands of dollars to get my heart and brain checked out. You can imagine how crappy my day was.<br />
<br />
But I'm not writing a sob story about myself. If I'm pissed I can't do anything for six months, I can hardly imagine the lives of real-life, actually poor Americans who have <i>never</i> had insurance, health or dental. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me after my relatively not-a-big-deal experience, and there are millions of other people in these 50 states who wouldn't even be able to afford that one office visit.<br />
<br />
The recent health legislation apparently is going to cost a bunch of money. And apparently everyone is going to be taxed, and apparently it's going to help a lot of people and improve their quality of life. <br />
<br />
People will be pissed for a few weeks and find something else to complain about. Probably something related to reality television. In the mean time, people across the country are rejoicing because finally, finally... their kids can have an annual check-up, they can get a mammogram, they can get their mom's diabetes checked. All without cringing as they hand over the cash, as they sign the check and without working overtime to barely be able to pay for it.Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-61231503976118861202010-03-05T09:52:00.000-05:002010-03-05T15:55:15.682-05:00Pride and Prejudice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMQcWIx0eewwjku_ZtZrqzAgbTbfpglQza0XZX23svnEuL_9QU9r6KHIrp3Tf3k3oNjK2q0QP6BT2kFkuFKruYZcOqhEkdGTkh7bUmfgj1LjFht9voD1ddOKWnzR1N2ProVh_EDpalmGw/s1600-h/587_2908.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMQcWIx0eewwjku_ZtZrqzAgbTbfpglQza0XZX23svnEuL_9QU9r6KHIrp3Tf3k3oNjK2q0QP6BT2kFkuFKruYZcOqhEkdGTkh7bUmfgj1LjFht9voD1ddOKWnzR1N2ProVh_EDpalmGw/s200/587_2908.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445246170537612882" border="0" /></a>The wind cut through my North Face knock-off and stung my bare toes (earlier the day struck me as one for flip-flops) while I waited outside the library to meet up with a stranger.<br /><br />Don't worry, I was meeting him for the first time to tutor him, not to take free candy.<br /><br />A few minutes passed, and naturally, and selfishly, I hoped I would get an "I can't come" text so I could trudge back to my apartment and return the circulation to my toes.<br /><br />My position near the front door allowed me to observe every person approaching the library. With each new face my mind would whisper a wish, "Please not him..." or "Hopefully it's that guy?"<br /><br />My inner thoughts seemed automatic until an especially drab and awkward looking student came on his merry way to pursue his education via the rented reference. By "drab and awkward" I mean he was very pale and not exactly dressed the the nines. I interpreted his skin tone as malnutrition and wardrobe choice (it may not have been a choice) as poverty.<br /><br />If I had a thought bubble over my head, any anglophone near me would have witnessed the judgments and assumptions forming so erroneously in my head. I classified each person's worth according to what I perceived to be their socioeconomic class, based on their clothes and otherwise appearance.<br /><br />In those dark moments of selfishness I didn't want to have to tutor a smelly student or someone with a lisp. I didn't want this new person to be a creeper or extremely fat. Those characteristics make someone abnormal and weird, which typically leaves them at the back of the social line.<br /><br />But Jesus healed the weirdos. He had supper with hookers and his best friends were outcasts. So who am I to not want to help a smelly kid with a little Spanish?<br /><br />As soon as my thoughts about the pale person dissolved, I realized what I was doing and immediately reset my attitude. First of all, I was being hypocritical. I was wearing a too-short jacket from Wal-Mart and flip-flops in February. Who looks more poor? On a more serious note, I know better than to judge anyone on any basis, let alone one I basically fabricated via appearances.<br /><br />Definitely not one of my finest mental moments.<br /><br />What's the morale of the story? I consider myself to be a relatively well-rounded person with few vices outside ice ream and babies. Despite a lifetime of education, sermons and the occasional History Channel special, at age 21 I'm still bucking a very basic teaching of Jesus: don't let your pride get in the way of your ministry.Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-41612501004893881112010-02-25T23:31:00.000-05:002010-02-26T00:37:55.220-05:00Turn, turn, turn...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaDhsMURHnjsISGx65N-4WI494ifYIiUqCxqBO9yBoMk74XSWB9izFDcLsOGes6ZCl7B-D85RwnbaHqfsk3flrgBgNQnk7p1RBAWmybzOeiFU_fZBMKmXfGkRlXAJkbG999jy0tJXFP7J/s1600-h/100_3225.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaDhsMURHnjsISGx65N-4WI494ifYIiUqCxqBO9yBoMk74XSWB9izFDcLsOGes6ZCl7B-D85RwnbaHqfsk3flrgBgNQnk7p1RBAWmybzOeiFU_fZBMKmXfGkRlXAJkbG999jy0tJXFP7J/s200/100_3225.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442410754675233570" border="0" /></a>I've had a few great realizations over the last few years. Most of them involve miniature foods and ridiculous cakes.<br /><br />Today, however, I had a realization that doesn't involve preheating to 350. Student government elections are right around the corner, which means the big wigs already elected into student government are campaigning for next year. One of the guys in my Spanish class is a candidate and was handing out persuasive, free pens with his name and tag line on them.<br /><br />While I appreciated his gesture and the time he took to speak to us, at the end of the conversation I still felt pretty unconnected and quite frankly, I felt indifferent.<br /><br />Oh, how much has changed in a year.<br /><br />Campbell's student government used to piss me off a lot. I allowed myself to become entrapped in the web of pride and ego that student government (on any campus) weaves. I cared so much because school was my life. Also, at one time I was editor of the school paper and had to keep a close eye on events like elections, so I was especially aware of the wheeling and dealing.<br /><br />Okay, back to my point. This year I have no interest in student government. I have no interest in most, if any, campus activities. My lack of curiosity and passion isn't a result of boredom or ill will for anything... it's just that my life has a different epicenter these days.<br /><br />My college life doesn't revolve around social activities and cafeteria food anymore. It's about making the best of these last couple months, graduating with good grades, finding a job and preparing for newlywed life with Elliot.<br /><br />I've come to realize that every day of college doesn't have to involve silly pranks, staying up late despite homework and getting by on Raman Noodles. There comes a point where you have to begin turning the page to the next chapter. Just to take a peek.<br /><br />The Byrds got it right with their song, and King Solomon (or whoever) got it right in the Bible:<br /><br /><h4>Ecclesiastes 3 (NIV)<br /></h4><h5> A Time for Everything </h5> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17361">1</sup> There is a time for everything,<br /> and a season for every activity under heaven: <p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17362">2</sup> a time to be born and a time to die,<br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">a time to plant and a time to uproot</span>, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17363">3</sup> a time to kill and a time to heal,<br /> a time to tear down and a time to build, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17364">4</sup> a time to weep and a time to laugh,<br /> a time to mourn and a time to dance, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17365">5</sup> a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,<br /> a time to embrace and a time to refrain, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17366">6</sup> a time to search and a time to give up,<br /> a time to keep and a time to throw away, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17367">7</sup> a time to tear and a time to mend,<br /> a time to be silent and a time to speak, </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-17368">8</sup> a time to love and a time to hate,<br /> a time for war and a time for peace. </p><br /><p>And now is my time to uproot.<br /></p>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-1004587223092679802010-02-15T09:57:00.000-05:002010-02-16T00:54:03.849-05:00To Infinity, and Beyond!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQZAoE1-1qVPs_FjDHXwgcIrwHn3tEKDZzXuZ-7CKChuudolMT1OdxkoRWu-NRSQV9wpGWtmaU8mlodXqpRwNYOK9J7CKSZypaZQP5e-SLXSiQma0zB_YU0U8bZGJZBp_ECi5Z-2IzuOd/s1600-h/100_1338.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQZAoE1-1qVPs_FjDHXwgcIrwHn3tEKDZzXuZ-7CKChuudolMT1OdxkoRWu-NRSQV9wpGWtmaU8mlodXqpRwNYOK9J7CKSZypaZQP5e-SLXSiQma0zB_YU0U8bZGJZBp_ECi5Z-2IzuOd/s200/100_1338.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438715515145800962" border="0" /></a>Today is February 15. Graduation is May 15. In exactly three months my college career will be complete. Kaput. El fin.<br /><br />In August of 2006 I arrived in Buies Creek blindly confident and unaware of, well, everything. My step-dad parked our family minivan behind Hedgpeth Hall, and my first steps onto campus were in that faded parking lot. My last steps as a student will take place across the stage in the new Convocation Center.<br /><br />Hopefully I don't trip.<br /><br />Graduating doesn't really scare me. I'm excited about moving to the next chapter in my life. I can finally realize my dream of becoming a legit journalist, not just a summer intern or campus newspaper writer. Not to mention a life with Elliot lies on the other side of graduation. I'll find a place to live and I'll find a job.<br /><br />Optimistic? Yes. Just as much as I was my first days at Campbell, when I arrived with no friends and too many Red Sox t-shirts.<br /><br />I've noticed a pattern in my life. I think about long-term changes, get scared, experience more life, and on the way God prepares me for the next step-- the same step I was so scared of only a few months prior. In December the thought of graduating and having to become "a real grown up" festered uncertainty and fear within me. Job, apartment, blah, blah.<br /><br />I'm scared of the dark for the same reason I was scared of finishing school-- I don't like the unknown. I don't like not having control over my life.<br /><br />Alas, the big man upstairs works out the knots of pride within in my heart, takes my hand once again and continues to lead me.Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-5433070200432837402010-02-12T23:11:00.000-05:002010-02-12T23:35:18.912-05:00Old Blogs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf57j-LUfd-Jl8m0jrCAdNI6EPHJmpOxRHAlL5VFhNyCkEit_8nXtIaemhyphenhyphenUjttfV3YdL8ZCJry2Dg-h5pCeOEdQpbN7_hoho5GwlittJAkGfzELWlQgiVpUAPe8Qg03HvEn1EeG5zeEfs/s1600-h/587_2892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf57j-LUfd-Jl8m0jrCAdNI6EPHJmpOxRHAlL5VFhNyCkEit_8nXtIaemhyphenhyphenUjttfV3YdL8ZCJry2Dg-h5pCeOEdQpbN7_hoho5GwlittJAkGfzELWlQgiVpUAPe8Qg03HvEn1EeG5zeEfs/s200/587_2892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437581974566995794" border="0" /></a>If you want to check out my old blog, I would recommend the following posts. I like them, they're relevant and they give you a better idea of my writing and who I am. The Campbell posts are interesting if you have enough energy to care about the topics.<br /><br /><a href="http://saramccarthy.blogspot.com/2009/07/is-us-christian-nation.html">Is the U.S. a Christian Nation?</a><br /><br /><a href="http://saramccarthy.blogspot.com/2009/02/numb3rs.html">NUMB3RS</a><br /><br /><a href="http://saramccarthy.blogspot.com/2009/01/gods-financial-planner-too.html">God's a Financial Planner, Too.</a>Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2214690883212609568.post-40756066191770430422010-02-12T22:41:00.000-05:002010-02-12T23:34:27.570-05:00Round Two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKd2IO5K-Qjgm3ARI1_tRGmfo9-4CMpnOB2QiVjbmClJLZkp4VI-MVhBjhae7Uq3QIDL6ffPnRbXgdOygzd4QM7LgQTuWZ7XbS7NY8bSP368dL7SEOj9U9kLslGQufH_Rva9gR0qi5hsw/s1600-h/587_2887.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKd2IO5K-Qjgm3ARI1_tRGmfo9-4CMpnOB2QiVjbmClJLZkp4VI-MVhBjhae7Uq3QIDL6ffPnRbXgdOygzd4QM7LgQTuWZ7XbS7NY8bSP368dL7SEOj9U9kLslGQufH_Rva9gR0qi5hsw/s200/587_2887.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437581756821683362" border="0" /></a>I created my <a href="http://saramccarthy.blogspot.com/">first blog</a> as a medium to express my views on Campbell-related issues after completing two semesters as Editor-in-Chief of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Campbell Times</span>. It was a place for a cathartic release of thoughts after catching wind of a lot of information I couldn't publish in the paper but felt the student body needed to know and/or understand.<br /><br />After not posting anything on that blog since July, not only have I forgotten the password and can't log in, but many things in my life have changed that make the blog moot. Not only have I emotionally severed myself from university matters (aka I don't give a crap), but college will be over soon and I'll have more interesting things to write about. For example, <a href="http://www.theknot.com/ourwedding/SaraMcCarthy&ElliotAcosta">getting married</a>, moving permanently to North Carolina, and hopefully starting a job soon.<br /><br />The main reason I have a blog, however, is to keep writing. A post may be about a hot button issue, or maybe just how much I love wide-leg pants. I'll also record the adventures I share with Elliot throughout our upcoming marriage. I don't expect anyone to care. I just like to write and share my thoughts with the world via blogging, the new form of global conversation.Sara McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01648897761292668890noreply@blogger.com0