You Know You're Old When...

You know you're old when you cry during high school musicals.

Last night we watched West's production of A Chorus Line and Daniel and I both found ourselves choked up multiple times. Of course we are biased, but anyone who sees the show will tell you how well done it was. The kids on stage were fabulous, but I was struck by the back stage production as well. The lighting in particular was striking and created these beautiful stills of the dancers on the line.It is always special when some of the kids we know from Young Life are in the cast and last night there were a lot of them. I felt so proud of them when the spotlight was on each of them and was surprised by how emotional I became. Kelsey's big number came and she sauntered confidently singing about "this and that", the high school edit of the racier original lyric. She brought all her sass to the role referring to the other characters as "Honey". Kelsey hit her final note and luckily the applause picked up to cover the sound of me sniffling away. Hartzell, the Senior football player and track star, made his theater debut and I sat there wishing he would have started his stage career 4 years sooner so I could have enjoyed him in more performances. He brought his athleticism to the stage and his toe touch was higher than a lot of the girls'. And though known for his accomplishments in sports, he gave a sincere performance and showed he is just as great of an actor, dancer, and singer. Tyler, the veteran, didn't disappoint in his role as Don. And though he's always the first to break in the dance floor at the school dances, I'd never seen him dance like this. And he delivered in the comedy department as well, gesturing about a woman's large yahooz. And then there was the gorgeous Mandy as Judy. With her height, comedic sensibility, and honesty, she was born to play Judy. She looked stunning in her pink leotard and braided hair, but then when she opened her mouth to deliver her lines, she was quirky and silly and always got the laugh. I cried at the end of her number as well. The cast was filled with a lot of other familiar faces and incredible performances. Every member of the cast danced beautifully. You would have never known that most of them had never danced before. Someone observed it best by saying, "There wasn't a weak link in the whole group." Agreed. The final reprise of "One" while they each take their bow really made the lump in my throat rise and I was done for when the big backdrop lit up mid song illuminating those young kids in all their glory. The main reason I'm most drawn to high school ministry is because there is not another time in life that is so magical and mysterious and hopeful. For most of us, there is not another time in life where we'll have the opportunity to be on stage, to be the star, whether that's literally on a stage or on a court or athletic field.

As we slowly made our way out of the theater I told Daniel how old I must be getting because I can't get through many performances these days without crying at some point. I've cried at 2 of the 3 choir performances this year (Sam's solo pushed me over the edge). And I wept at the district finals of VOLLEYBALL! I got very close to the team this past fall and when they lost to our rival North in the finals, I couldn't contain myself when hugging the players after the game. All of the girls were crying themselves and asked me why I was crying and I didn't know what to say except that I loved them.

I know I'm married to the right person because when confessing my tears, he confessed his as well. He said he was just so proud and then mentioned what a mess we're going to be when we have kids of our own. Oh mercy, I can't even imagine.

Check out that gorgeous lighting! (Image from promo poster via facebook. Don't know who to credit for the shot. Anyone know?)

Photo taken by photographer Cyndi Morrow (and proud mother of Mandy/Judy).

Time to Start Running Again

Something is happening inside me. I am waking up from a slumber I didn't even know I was in. A friend prayed for me a month ago and said, "It's time for you to start running again." He meant figuratively. I felt like I was "running" during college, before the days of debilitating anxiety and bed-ridding depression. I so badly wanted his prayer to come true the moment he spoke those words. Joyfully I can say I think it's starting to happen. I feel my step quickening and a trot coming on. Before I know it, I could break out into a full on gallop.

This summer at Young Life camp with my high school kids I had a brief near death experience on the back of a horse. Our scheduled horseback ride kept getting delayed due to lightning, but after an hour of waiting in anticipation, we finally saddled up and set out on the trail. Not five minutes into the ride, the downpour started. Typically the ride at camp is a slow walk with brief, planned stretches of trotting. But with the rain, our wranglers broke the group in half allowing the first eight or so of us to speed ahead. What resulted was an adventure through a North Carolina forest in a torrential downpour that I will never forget. The rain was so heavy it blurried my contacts and rendered my sight blind at times. To keep up with the wrangler, our trail horses took off in a speed not typical for them. I kicked and kicked and felt the stride beneath me change. The bumpiness of the trot had transformed into a rhthm I had never felt before. I am an inexperienced rider, but had heard our wrangler describe the speeds of her horse while waiting out the rain. This was a smooth, graceful rhythm. This was a gallop. It took me a moment to recognize it, but it was just as she had described it. So there I was tearing through the mud, my jeans heavy and soaking wet, half blind from the rain, hanging onto my leather reigns not to steer my horse but to keep from falling off. It was loud in the woods with the thudding of hooves to the ground and the beat of the rain. And at the same time, though impossible, I remember it as quiet. In the midst of the chaos, surprise, and adrenaline my thoughts somehow cleared enough to form a prayer and make my peace with God. I remember feeling at any moment my horse could throw me or take a wrong step and we'd tumble down into the rivine together. And I spoke this to God, "If I'm going to die right now, I'm going to die happy...really, really happy." I remember thinking, "What a cool way to die. People will remember me as cool." The danger felt very real at the time and as inexperienced of a rider as I am, it probably was just as dangerous. I can't think of any other experience I've had like this that can be described as an adventure. I was terrified and rejoicing at the same time. Nothing comes close.

That's my fondest memory of running. It happened not on my own legs, but on those of another. I was not in control, but rather letting another lead and carry me. In the midst of the chaos and confusion I'm feeling in my current circumstance, I would love to hop on the back of that horse and let it carry me out of the woods. So yes I want to run again. But maybe to be more accurate, I want to gallop again.

Did I mention my horse's name was Hattie? (Technically it was Hatteras, but the wranglers called her Hattie.) I wouldn't want to share this experience with anyone other than a namesake. And I fear that by posting this dorky picture of me pre-ride instantly takes away the coolness of the story. If anything it gives you a better picture of the mismatch of me and galloping gracefully on the back of Hattie.

I found this the other night from Phil Borst. He has done some videos for Standard, but I'd never visited his site before. This video nailed how I've been feeling and even mentions the phrase, "I can run again." Something is a stirrin'.

Home from Phil Borst on Vimeo.

Remember Flying

Remember Flying was originally my title posed as a question (Remember Flying?), but I think I prefer it as a command (You...Remember Flying.).


Tonight's post is just a continuation of the inspiration gleaned from last night's online treasure hunt. I can't get the Peter Pan idea out of my head. There's so much to that story that is resounding with the sort of awakening I'm experiencing. So much of one's powers and abilities in Neverland have to do with belief that you simply can. Flying is the ability I'm most taken with.

Today on NPR's Fresh Air, I was listening to Terry Gross interview James Cameron about Avatar. She was picking the brain that envisioned another universe complete with creatures, vegetation, and a new language. It was a fascinating interview, but the one comment that I was struck by was Cameron's observation about the unfiltered imagination and conviction of children. He was saying exactly what I was trying to say in yesterday's post. He pointed out what we all know to be true: that as children not only do we truly believe we can do anything, but we believe we will do anything and everything. He said studies have shown that children dream about flying frequently, whereas adults rarely have dreams of flight. Have you ever had flying dreams? I remember having them when I was younger and each time I awoke I wanted to go right back to sleep and try again. I longed, and still do, for those dreams. Flight for me in dreams always consisted of the same technique. I would pump my legs almost like riding a non-existent bicycle and lift off the ground. I had to maintain that circular motion to stay in flight. I never flew very high, always hovering around ceiling level inside my house. It doesn't sound that freeing, but it certainly felt divine.

Last night during part of my online "experience", I saw some beautiful pictures depicting children in flight. Caroline Hadilaksono , one of the founders of The League of Moveable Type, posted them on her blog. They are from German photographer Jan von Holleben's Dreams of Flying series. They portray everything I wish I could articulate more clearly about tapping into my fourth grade heart and living life believing I can fly. A Peter Pan life.

Wishing you all sweet dreams of flight and other magical adventures in your very own Neverland.

I Was Wiser at 8

In elementary school you are asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" My answer was always a list of three possible options: 1. veterinarian (duh, every kid wants to do this) 2. an artist and 3. an author. These were my answers from a young age and I think the desire for all three still remain somewhere in the recesses of my heart. Aside from owning two dogs, over the years I have quieted these desires and shelved them in favor of more productive and useful activities. God has been stirring Daniel and I both over the past six months to allow ourselves to dream again. It was around the same time that we were each feeling stimulated creatively but had no outlet to explore and experiment with these new (or just repressed) desires. After admitting this to each other, we gave ourselves "permission" to be creative. I know this is sad that we felt like we needed permission to dream and I'm not sure how we got to this point of stifling ourselves. In elementary and middle school we were both involved in the gifted program which was basically an independent study program where you got to choose areas for study, exploration, creation, and experimentation. It was awesome. To be gifted in high school somehow meant to be book smart and to take the honors classes. Creativity was replaced with academic accomplishment. Continuing into college and the workplace, by my own choosing, I elevated performance and achievement over imagination.

So here I am at 28 experiencing a new liberation. This blog was intended as online therapy and after two weeks or so I realized how much I had been writing. I thought I would just post pictures and quick thoughts about the day, but I haven't just been posting, I've been writing. And it feels good. Really good. Whether it's good writing or just mediocre, I'm coming to find that I don't really care. The blog project was always supposed to be more about the process than the product created in the post...and I am loving the process. I feel like Robin Williams as the adult Peter Pan in the movie Hook who has forgotten who he is. I had forgotten.

I am remembering now.

I found a lot of things online tonight that inspired me and stirred that fourth grader who wanted to be an artist and author (oh, and veterinarian too). Tonight I'll share just one and it is my new love affair with fonts and typography. The League of Moveable Type runs a gorgeous site and blog that led me to the designer Jessica Hische. The piece at the top was birthed out of inspiration from all the great sites I stumbled upon tonight. The second piece I created in honor of the empowering quote from Jessica Hische herself.

The small things matter. Hobbies can become passions. Art may not provide a paycheck, but it is still worth creating. Sometimes the fourth grader in you knows what's best.

Love in the Photo Booth

I tried to set up a photo booth for the party but the sheet I hung for the backdrop fell before we even took the first picture. Failure, but no one seemed to mind (as you can see below).

Nothing Says Party Like Donuts on a Stick

I hosted a Valentine's Ladies Luncheon for my Young Life girls this afternoon. Everyone was required to wear a fun hat or headband, so the attendees all came dressed in style. I'll post pics tomorrow of the girls dressed to the nines in pink and red and fur. Below are some pics of the decor and menu. I'm not much of a cook/baker, but out of the box cupcakes are doable, so I made it work. I was most proud of my donut hole skewers. Presentation is everything, so by stacking donuts on a stick this normal junk food became cute party food. I also painted the tablecloth myself since I couldn't find one (or even fabric) with the design I was looking for.

Despite the many imperfections of the day, I was actually really proud of my efforts. Slowly but surely I am embracing imperfection and trying new things. The failure of the day was the inability to create "x's" out of brownies. I procrastinated so the xo cookie cutters were sold out when I tried to buy them on the 14th. Cutting out brownie "o's" is no problem, but completing the xoxo theme proved impossible for me. So I presented a platter of "o" brownies. The question then became, "Is that a platter of hugs or kisses?" We looked on the internet to see if "o's" represented hugs or kisses. My thought was hugs, but the google search produced varying opinions. Some said "o's" represented kisses because of the shape your mouth makes when smooching. Another site said they represented hugs as you wrap your arms a-ROUND someone. The debate goes on. Anyone know the official consensus on the xoxo debate?

Nothing Says Romance Like Zombies

Enjoyed a lovely Valentine's Day with DC. Dinner at La Bodega and watched Zombieland on the new Blu-Ray player I got for my valentine. Hilarious movie. And I mean really is there anything more romantic than brain hungry, lesion covered, blood spewing zombies? Well, probably, but it was still a lovely evening.