If the world's nicest Tempur-Pedic and my pillow pet Martin had a baby, THAT would be the perfection that my head gets to sleep on every night.

And I mean, that’s just my pillow, guys. Just imagine how good everything else is here in Argentina!  Not to be dramatic or anything, but I think I'm in love with literally everything—from every afternoon café that is served, to each and every piece of cobblestone laid on the streets of this city.

To put it very simply (and perhaps archaic for my age), I am just smitten to be back in Buenos Aires. I’m giddy with happiness when I finally wrap my face in my dress (my makeshift eye-mask until I buy one) and fall asleep amidst the sound of passing buses through the night, sound of youngins on their way to the clubs, and to the general white noise that comes from being in a city of 2,891,082.

More than the city though, there’s a close tie for my favorite part of Argentina being the open-hearted nature of the Porteños and the gorgeous sound of the sing-songy words that come out of their mouths. For me, it’s a treat to sit for an hour or so after dinner and just chat with my wonderful host-mom (Gabe) and her boyfriend (Sebastian). My current life goal, to be a parrot. If all else fails I'd be an excellent Argentine mute. I look the part and can understand nearly everything perfectly…but reproducing the accent myself…well, let’s just say, I've set some pretty high standards for myself and it will be a while until I meet them.

And that could be a problem, I suppose—that I've been setting my own standards that are waiting to be met by the approval of fellow Argentines. And just like that, God has convicted me of, I guess you could say ‘putting all of my kinder eggs in one basket’. How tempting it was for me when I arrived to throw off everything that identified me as “North American” and to completely immerse myself into the Argentine culture. I’m prettyyyyy sure that’s exactly the opposite of what I learned in the pre-study abroad class…..my bad.

So I've been praying that God continues to keep me on guard against unrealistic ideals and most importantly, that I would continue to seek His praises alone. To balance the difference between appreciating this culture and the time that I have abroad while not seeking to find my satisfaction in it. That Christ would continue to be the well that I draw from to have my thirst quenched rather than from any well-dressed, tan, smooth-talking, smoke-caused-yet-charmingly-raspy-voiced Argentine. It’s so easy to become prideful whenever my Spanish is complimented, whenever I’m asked for directions on the street as if I live here, or when people want to go out with me, but I’m thankful that God keeps me in check and reminds me that when I am seeking the glory from one another rather than the love of God, I am not keeping my priorities straight.

My favorite hymn sings over and over that “You can have all this world, Give me Jesus”. All this world. That means Argentina too. The sovereignty of God knows no ends and if that’s the case, I know for certain that I don’t want to be caught up in the idea that "Argentina can do no wrong" and in turn miss out on opportunities in which God has prepared for me in Buenos Aires.  Instead of proving, whatever it even is I'd like to prove to these amazing people, what I truly want to exemplify is what it looks like to live a life compelled by Christ's love.

My prayer (and if you think of it, yours for me as well :) ) 

That I would not spend myself on men for the sake of their affirmation, but for the sake of drawing them closer to HIM.  More than desire the approval of Argentines, or of other students in the program, that I would truly only desire the approval of God. 

Nope. I did NOT sign up for this.

Despite what my brother likes to claim, I am NOT a Cat Lady yet and I honestly don't worry that I will ever become one.  I could say it's because I'm allergic to cats (which is true) but, that would be lying.  The real reason is, I kind of strongly dislike [I FIND THEM TO BE SOME OF THE MOST VILE CREATURES THAT GOD CREATED] cats.  

So, you can imagine my surprise after my initial surprise of what a large and spacious apartment I live in in Argentina, to walk into my room and find Piori just plopped on my bed as if he, and the other two cats that he ate, own it.  

But I wasn't going to let this little beast get me down.  'I just don't understand cats' is what I told myself.  But seriously, I don't.  And I don't think a week later I'm any closer to reaching a point of understanding or of losing my original notions of the creepy felines.  

1. Disdain.  He always looks at me like he hates me.  Like he's judging me.  YOU DON'T THINK I REALIZE HOW RIDICULOUS I LOOK WHEN I'M DOING PILATES?! YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE IN THE ROOM, PIORI!!  But not just pilates, I'm innocently sitting at my desk and this is what I look over to see.

Can you see the look of pure hatred on his face??!  I literally can't see anything else.

2. He's bipolar.  One minute I'm lying there reading and he comes up on the bed and so I go out of my comfort zone (you know, because I'm in another country and need to be practicing doing that and stuff) and so, I pet him.  And it's all fun and games ok, I guess, AND THEN OUT OF NO WHERE HE HISSES AT ME! WHAT THE WHAT PIORI!?!  

3. Perhaps the most concerning though, is how he gets along (or doesn't get along, I should say) with my friends.  One in particular.  I mean, if things are going to work out for me here, he needs to be respectful of the fact that not only will I be in my room, but so will my friends.  SO STOP GIVING MARTIN THE COLD SHOULDER, PIORI, YOU SNOTFACED CAT!!

4. I JUST DON'T GET WHAT HE WANTS!! I want to try to be his friend, well, maybe just to have things be civil between us, but I don't know what he wants! (Other than the cans of tuna that he was attacking in my grocery bag...like, how did he know there was tuna in there?! DO CATS HAVE A SUPER SNIFFER LIKE GUS?! SHOUTOUT TO PSYCH WHICH PREMIERS AGAIN TONIGHT!! HOLLA'!)  Sometimes, he walks around purring and purring and I think he wants to be pet so I reach out to pet him and HE SNAPS AT ME. Oh, okay.  Last time, I try to be nice. Gosh.  

Just look at this face.  How, like, really, tell me, how can you love this...thing?!  

This was the moment I saw my life flash before my eyes. 

 And this was the moment I thought I was forever freed of Piori.  I was almost certain that he was reaching for the light, and then had, well, for lack of better words, died.

 But trust me, he's still here.  Watching me.  At this very moment.

Always.  He and his judgmental  glossed over, golden-glowing eyes are always watching me.

Prayers appreciated.

And for all of you "cat people".  Like, WHY?!!

To share in joy rather than solder with jealousy.

Guys, today my mom won her age bracket for the 5k that we ran!

Here’s the thing. She also beat my time. Here’s the other thing. She’s 56 years old.

You can imagine that for a competitive, prideful person (not to not name names—I’M TOTALLY TALKING ABOUT ME, CAROLINE, HERE!) having your mom beat you takes a swooping chop of a leg from that pedestal that I went ahead and put myself on. Not even the winner’s pedestal, mind you. 

You’re probably thinking that this is the lamest example of jealousy that you have ever heard. Worse than a Focus on the Family Kids’ Devotional where Katie gets jealous of Melissa for having the Powder Puff Girl lunchbox that her mom wouldn't let her get. All right then. I’ll see your story and raise you one. How about Facebook. How about how often I go on only to catch myself stalking someone, and without realizing it my thoughts start flashing. Bam! Just like that. We’re not talking Good Will Hunting-genius-type flashing here but more like the petty-comparison-make-myself-feel-better-game. I see a post about someone succeeding in some way and automatically my thoughts flash to examples that I can come up with of how they haven’t succeeded. Or sometimes even worse, I’m ashamed to admit, I fall back on judging physical appearances. Why?! Why in the world would I be part of such a fruitless game?? Like, if I wanted to do that I might as well head on over to District 10, throw my hands up in the air and volunteer. 

Well, to answer my own question. Being human is a messy ordeal. 

I’m a prideful being. But the funny (but not really) thing is, the only thing I should be prideful of is God. My talents, my successes, my opportunities, my family, my friends—all the blessings that I have are not my own but all by the grace of God, a gift poured out onto me. 

Also, I’m a foolish being. How petty are the things that I value and often put my confidence in. To be funny, to look good in a picture, to be complimented…(“wow Caroline, slow down! Don’t share all of your overwhelmingly attractive qualities right away! I mean, save some for the third post!”...I know I know, I’m told I can come on a bit strong)…Things that are important to me for the sole purpose of lifting me up.

But what a transformation it would be if I stopped deceiving myself into saying that I was truly doing all I could to glorify His name, and I actually lived that out as best as I could. What if with every Facebook post that I looked at I rejoiced with the person celebrating rather than try to devalue their achievement!? What if I praised God for the beauty of His every human creation rather than allow myself to feel insecure or judgmental?? What if instead of looking at celebrities as being created “under the knife” I remembered that they’re also created in God’s image and ought to be loved the same as you or me?? What if I thanked Him for giving me a mom that has the discipline and child-like enthusiasm to KICK BUTT running her races rather than let myself get jealous?? 

Guys, we’re talking about a transformation even better than when Heimlich the caterpillar emerges as a butterfly in A Bug’s Life ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlERKIzEddE ). Big stuff here. One that if I tried to do on my own accord, I would be completely overwhelmed and simultaneously weirded out by the way my head works. A transformation of the mind. And already I have found that it truly is a joy to continually have an awe-set heart at the generosity of our God rather than an envious mentality toward …well, what, after all? What do we lack that we have to be desirous of??

So here’s to God taking my every thought captive before I allow it to become a prized catch. To striving to live an awe-stricken, joy-filled life. A life where I am thankful for my blessings but never feel entitled to any of them. And that the only pedestal I would ever put myself on would be the one in front of Peach’s castle as DK tries to gracelessly balance his kart amidst the falling confetti.

Sissy, Dad, and me with the winner! So proud of her!!! 

If 'expectations' were a medicine, any company wanting to avoid a lawsuit would be sure to throw on a "Caution: may be detrimental to your happiness" label.

Maybe the reason I like to claim I'm not a daydreamer is because instead I like to think that I know how everything will turn out. I'm not 'daydreaming' per se, but rather, "preparing" or "planning", if you will.

Like, remember that time I went to Argentina and suddenly felt that after all of these years of being Argentine by birth (and pride) yet a US citizen by blood (and the massive amount of cheese curds I have consumed) I suddenly felt as if it all became crystal clear?!  Remember how I left Argentina after five months and I was able to feel as if my puzzle-piece identity wasn't all corner pieces anymore, but that I completely understood how to balance my love for two different cultures and came home and suddenly everyone else understood too and we all danced around eating dulce de leche and singing praises to God?! And also! My voice! Remember how I suddenly found out that all these years I just had a "tickle in my throat" which was ALSO cured while in Argentina leaving me with the voice of an angel, wait! no, even better, of Beyonce?!

Oh Caroline, Caroline, Caroline... (I can feel you all shaking your heads and face palming me all the way over here and I know what you're thinking....She will NEVER be able to sing.  No matter what Paula says when she plays American Idol on the Wii…)  

So let's leave that argument until the next time you hear me sing "My Heart Will Go On" and instead think how, in the words of Queen B. herself, all of these expectations I have are just going to leave me one 'broken-hearted girl'.  There is a huge difference between having expectations that will satisfy my own desires for my life and having faith that will satisfy God's purposes for me—which after all, should be my desires anyway.  I "know" this, but my Type-A personality trying to predict and control every aspect of my life is quick to forget.  But how thankful I am that I have a Father who doesn't give up guiding me even when I would often prefer it.  Ultimately, I'd much rather follow after (what often appears to be) His trail of crumbs than the path I've taken the liberty to deem "good" and have decorated with gold.  The beautiful thing is that those "crumbs" will guaranteed always lead to satisfaction and blessings—whether the way we had imagined or in a way far beyond our initial understanding.

A prayer as I prepare for my time abroad:

May my desires align wholly and excitedly with Yours.  That all I would ever "expect" is that You are at work in and around me—having the discipline, discernment, patience, and obedience to experience You.