caroline holzberger

Hello, My Name Is:

Do you know my name?

No, really.

I am wondering what your answer is.

Could it be, Caroline?

Carrie?

Pele?

Mrs. H?

Coach H?

Crazy woman?

It all depends on how long we’ve known each other and in what capacity our paths crossed.

Did we dance to ‘Lean On Me’ or share s’mores over a camp fire? If so, you are awesome and an absolute treasure to me! Love, Pele

Did I try to teach you algebra or volleyball? If so, you too are a treasure to me and I hope you remember ‘You Are Special! You are the only YOU the world will know, ever!’ Love, Mrs. (Coach) H

Did we share good times over NKOTB or Green Day? If so, please don’t post old pics of me. Ages seven to seventeen were my awkward years. Not. Cool. Love, Carrie

Or maybe we’ve spent time digging into God’s word together, or swapping Mama-woes amidst the screams of the McDonald’s play place. If so, I truly thank you. I can’t do this life without you. Love, Caroline

When I first discovered planet earth, in 1979, my parents purposely named me Caroline, without any intention of ever actually using the name. They liked the name Carrie. And despite the random warnings from strangers that I would be cursed and never asked to prom, they stuck to their guns and called me Carrie. (I did go to prom solo though, just for the record. Coincidence? Maybe.)

This was the name I went by for the majority of my life thus far. Until college graduation. I was now officially a grown up with a fancy piece of paper stating I was capable of molding young minds in the classroom. I had interviews to schedule, resumes to create, and a career to begin. I was tired of correcting people every time I handed them my resume. “Oh ya, sorry, I actually go by Carrie. Sorry.”

This often threw people off. “Carrie? How did you get Carrie from Caroline?” “Well”, I’d respond, “I didn’t get Carrie from Caroline, I just got born.” Sometimes people would even give me a back-handed compliment, “Oh, you don’t go by Caroline? That’s such a beautiful name. I really like the name Caroline.” Ok, obviously Carrie is a crappy name, thank you very much.

So, in interviews, I just stopped correcting people. But, then I was actually hired by one of them. And since I failed to correct my principal prior to her introducing me as Caroline to the entire faculty, that sealed the deal.

So, here I am…that person who decided to go to their grown up name once they were…well, a grown up. And, although I’ve been pleased with my decision, I think this club I joined is looked down upon by others. There’s some sort of assumption that those of us with ‘big girl names’ are conceited and ostentatious. I have received looks before from people who I know are thinking, “Oh wow. Aren’t you special with your big girl name? I guess you’re somethin’ else then, aren’t you?”

No, Tristyn, I’m not. And to be honest, Kylie, I’m kind of a fan of both my names. I love that my family along with my oldest and dearest friends still call me Carrie. But, I am happy to be Caroline from here on out. You call me when you’re seventy and look silly.

The Bible is chock-full of people who know the importance of a name.

Just ask Saul, I mean, Paul.

Or Abram and his wife Sarai.

Don’t forget Simon, who became Peter.

Or Jacob, renamed Israel. From ‘deceiver’ to ‘God prevails’ – talk about a name change to celebrate.

That’s how I feel…like celebrating!

I believe your name matters.

It is an important thing.

Warning: Soapbox moment – We all have pet peeves, this just happens to be mine. I am fairly annoyed with the new trend of naming your child that is sweeping the nation. People choose some sort of funky spelled version of Matthew (Math-you, Mathyew, or Mathu for Pete’s sake… Or should I say Peet’s sake) or they name their child after some sort of inanimate object or office supply. I mean, seriously!?! Can’t you people take up water colors or something to express your creativity? Find a different outlet, for the love of everything pure and holy, and let your poor child have a hopeful future, not an embarrassing one.

Ok, I’m back.

Because I understand how important a name change is, it is with great prayer and consideration that I have decided to change the name of my blog.

Almost exactly two years ago, I began this blog. I can’t believe it’s been two years. What a ride. Not one I would have chosen on my own, but God sure allowed it. I chose the name “Praising God From My Couch” because that was my life. That was what I had to wake up every day and do to survive. Just to get through the day, the week, the month, the year. I still feel passionately about praising God from my couch, but lately TO HIS GLORY, I haven’t been on my couch much. I have been praising Him a lot more from my stove, my minivan, my backyard, my lane in Wal-Mart. Praise GOD! And since that would be a very long name…”Praising God From My Minivan/Backyard/Sideline/Toilet” I’ve decided to move on in joy.

I still love my couch. It’s stained, warped and lumpy. It’s been through a lot of extra stuff than a normal couch should expect. We have a lot in common that way. But, friend, I want you to know God met me on this couch. My best friend wisely reminded me “Take care and look fondly on the couch groove… it’s where God made you more like Himself.”

Amen, Linds, amen.

So. It is with great joy and tear-filled-eyes that I change the name of my blog to “My Nutsy Faith”. No, it’s not a typo. Nutsy. Not gutsy, but nutsy. Although one letter different, still very close to each other. I have had to have a gutsy faith over these last few years and it has almost sent me to the nutso looney bin. But, I believe God gave me this name for a few reasons.

First, I had a profound experience with an acorn this last fall. I bet you didn’t know someone could be so moved by a nut. But, I will never forget it. Ever. And now I can’t see an acorn without being reminded of His abounding faithfulness.

Second, if you know me at all, then you know I am an absolute nut. Like, seriously. And, I’m not the only one. You have to be nuts to be my friend. My closest nuts can attest to that for sure.

Lastly, I love where I live. My home is my haven. My safe place. My refuge. Our humble abode is surrounded by about a hundred and fifty towering oak trees. I really love my trees. Because of this, our land is covered with acorns. Cov-ered. It has afforded me the opportunity to often remind my kids of how big God is. “Can you believe that all God needs to make one of these huge oak trees is already all-wrapped up inside this little bitty acorn?” Abigail couldn’t believe it. “No way, Mama!” “It’s true baby girl. This could be a mighty oak tree someday!” She still can’t wrap her head around it.

After all, she is her mother’s child.

Four years ago, if you would have taken me out for ice cream I’d be your best friend and laid out for me, month by month, what my world was going to look like for the next few years, I would have said the same thing. “No way, Lord!” To which God would have faithfully replied “It’s true, my child. You could be mighty for me someday!”

I probably would have run screaming in the other direction been scared. Thankfully, God didn’t give me the choice. Thankfully, He knows I’m nuts and that without Him, I’d have no future at all.”

So, my precious friend, thanks for being here. Thanks for reading what God says to me and through me.

For the last two years, I have been blessed to invite you onto my couch. And now, God willing, I invite you to many other areas of my world, as well.

So, welcome, my fellow nuts.

I’d offer you a seat on my couch to chat…but how ‘bout we go for a walk together instead? In Jesus’ Name!

And all God’s children said…