Tonight I want to tell you about my friend Miss Kathleen. We met when I was 7, not too long after my family and I moved to Sugar Land. I had the privelege of being friends with Miss Kathleen all the way through high school, and I am not sure if I can think of another person who has marked my childhood the way that Miss Kathleen has.
I spent almost every weeknight at the dance studio Kathleen owned. I bounced around in different classes in elementary school, sometimes taking only jazz or tap classes, but by the time I got to 5th grade, I decided I wanted to do it all. Every class there was- no matter how crazy it would be to fit everything in my schedule. This meant my middle school and high school years were marked by quick changes into tights and leotards after cheer practice and doing all my homework up at the studio. This also meant my mother driving me to class every Monday through Thursday and for this I am very grateful. Because this was where I got to learn from Miss Kathleen- and she was the very best.
For those who do not know or care about dance, all of this may seem silly or trite, but Kathleen deserves all the praise in the world. So I want to give it to her. Kathleen was the best choreographer I have ever known. No one else at the studio ever came close to creating the art that she created- and all with such ease and care. More than that though, she was my teacher. She taught me lyrical and Jazz until I was 17. Those were always the nights I looked forward to the most- they were favorite classes because she was the best teacher. Kathleen knew what I was good at- leaps and turns- and knew what I had trouble with- turnout and well always, always my turnout. You see this studio was all about technique. She cared about the little things and made sure that we understood the fundamentals. We never competed and we only did a recital every other year, so that we would have a year off to get back to the basics. While everyone else was glam and glizty and doing quadruple pirouettes, we were getting down to the nitty gritty stuff and only allowed to do double pirouettes because "they are the only ones that are ever clean." Kathleen always wanted to make us better, but she never dwelled on our imperfections. Instead, she found what we were good at and focused on those. I think almost every leap I would do she would say "looking good Anna." Of course, when we would work on turnout it was a different story. But I never doubted that she believed in me- because she told me. Out loud. And often.
Most of all though, she loved Jesus with her whole heart. Just as she taught us 8 counts and bar exercises, she taught us how to run after the one who made us. She cultivated in me a love for dance, teaching me that what I was creating was important to God. And not only was it important, it was a way to worship Him. She was rare, Miss Kathleen. And after 56 years, and a battle with cancer, she got to meet Jesus face to face today. Even though tears are streaming down my face, they are tears of joy because when I think about Miss Kathleen I keep thinking of one word. Freedom. A dance that is beautiful and uninhibited. Just like Miss Kathleen.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
A New Year
Happy 2013!
I rang in the New Year with my high school gal pals at Young Life’s Crooked Creek Ranch. We danced the night away and toasted with apple cider and stayed up way too late. It was perfect. I tend to think that New Year’s Eve is overrated. Every year, part of me wants to go out and drink champagne in a sparkly dress, but what usually ends up happening is me sitting on the couch in stretchy pants watching the ball drop in every time zone, wondering how Ryan Seacrest still has a job.
When I think about a new year though, I like the idea of it. A clean slate. New beginnings. Hope and opportunity. But so far, I haven’t been able to look past the anxiousness that seems wedged in my heart in order to get to the good stuff. So I have been praying a Psalm over and over again. Because I know that God is the only one who can give divine comfort, but I tend to forget His promise most of the time.
“When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me JOY.” Psalm 94:18-19
I want to cling to this promise. To hug it tightly and hold it close to me. Thankful that He gives me a fresh start not just every year, but all of the time.
I rang in the New Year with my high school gal pals at Young Life’s Crooked Creek Ranch. We danced the night away and toasted with apple cider and stayed up way too late. It was perfect. I tend to think that New Year’s Eve is overrated. Every year, part of me wants to go out and drink champagne in a sparkly dress, but what usually ends up happening is me sitting on the couch in stretchy pants watching the ball drop in every time zone, wondering how Ryan Seacrest still has a job.
When I think about a new year though, I like the idea of it. A clean slate. New beginnings. Hope and opportunity. But so far, I haven’t been able to look past the anxiousness that seems wedged in my heart in order to get to the good stuff. So I have been praying a Psalm over and over again. Because I know that God is the only one who can give divine comfort, but I tend to forget His promise most of the time.
“When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me JOY.” Psalm 94:18-19
I want to cling to this promise. To hug it tightly and hold it close to me. Thankful that He gives me a fresh start not just every year, but all of the time.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
bookworm
When I was younger, I never really enjoyed reading. I read for school, and I read for those library contests in the summer, but mostly just because I got a trophy. Growing up, the rest of my family loved to read. Austin went through books at lightning speed, and my parents always read before bed. We would go on family vacations and at night, after we had gone to dinner, everyone would read, and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, but I knew I didn’t want to read. At some point in high school, I found a love for reading on my own, which is really the only way it can be found I think. To me, reading is one of those things you cannot force on anyone. It is always their choice, and growing up and being told in school what you need to read turns a lot of people off. But now, I cannot imagine life without books. They bring me so much joy and have so much wisdom to give. They remind me of who I am or really who I can be.
This winter break (don’t have a real winter break but humor me here), I cannot wait to sit by the fire and get lost in a good book. Here’s what’s on my list to read or re-read this Christmas season: Help Thanks Wow by Anne Lamott, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Still by Lauren F Winner. And I. can’t. wait.
“For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.” – Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
“For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.” – Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
create.
Today in magazine writing class, my teacher talked about creativity. And for the first time in a couple of weeks, I was actually paying attention. Senioritis okay- chill. I hadn't gotten the kind of grades I had wanted on my last few assignments, and I began to think that maybe I just was not cut out to write or that I was wasting my time. Granted, one was a restaurant review, and unfortunately, no one cares about how the kid's chicken fingers taste. But today's lesson reminded me of exactly why I write, and why you probably write too.
Creativity comes in different forms for each person- for some it is music or dancing, and for others it may be painting or building. The thing about creativity is that is universal. Creativity has no limit on age, gender, religion or physical condition.
After all, God is a creator. And in some pathetic and tiny way, when I create, I know that it is important to Him. For me, it is writing. Though I do enjoy a good needlepoint.
When I actually sit and write something down, I learn and discover things about myself and the world around me. It can be ugly and messy, but if I linger there long enough, I can usually find the goodness too. Reminding me that when I wander, it might just be worthwhile. And that freedom can be found in writing the truth.
Anne Lamott says to write what you know. I think she is a pretty smart lady and despite the fact that she is about 50 years old and has dreads, I think I will take her advice.
Creativity comes in different forms for each person- for some it is music or dancing, and for others it may be painting or building. The thing about creativity is that is universal. Creativity has no limit on age, gender, religion or physical condition.
After all, God is a creator. And in some pathetic and tiny way, when I create, I know that it is important to Him. For me, it is writing. Though I do enjoy a good needlepoint.
When I actually sit and write something down, I learn and discover things about myself and the world around me. It can be ugly and messy, but if I linger there long enough, I can usually find the goodness too. Reminding me that when I wander, it might just be worthwhile. And that freedom can be found in writing the truth.
Anne Lamott says to write what you know. I think she is a pretty smart lady and despite the fact that she is about 50 years old and has dreads, I think I will take her advice.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
tunes
I would like to apologize for my short (long) leave of abscence. What can I say- October, November, December, January and February were boring?
I have always loved music, and I have had impeccable taste from the beginning. My very first CD was Leanne Rimes- the 14 year old who looked 40 on her album cover. But I listened to "You Light Up My Life" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water" on repeat because they are just like the cover specifcally notes- inspirational. And let's face it, I was inspired.
See what I mean? On another note, please notice her left hand. We just won't go there.
Let's rewind a few years...
At the ripe age of 9, I bought my first two cassette tapes. I was with the family at Wharehouse Music- THE hot spot to buy all of the latest tunes in the thriving metropolis that is Sugar Land, Texas. Sadly, it is closed now thanks to Napster, Kazaa, Itunes, ect.
I had a gift card from my birthday so I took some time perusing the store. I ended up being drawn to an NYSNC tape. My best friend Autumn talked about them and told me they were all the rage. I had to have it. "Space Cowboy" really is a work of art. JC Chasez quickly became my favorite. I would read fun facts about him-for instance, he hates shots. Fascinating. I was always pretty pleased with myself that Justin Timberlake was not my favorite because he was everyone's favorite. Some of my friends liked Lance Bass, but thankfully I didn't jump on that train. NSYNC was always and will always be better than the Backstreet Boys. There was no competition- NSYNC danced while they sang and the Backstreet Boys sat on stools. The reasoning is simple. Get off your rear ends and move around BB.
JC is in the middle.
The next 15 minutes, I walked around the store deciding how to spend the rest of my money. Deana Carter caught my eye. She was sitting in a field of flowers and looked pretty pleased with herself. I popped the headphones in and listened to her stuff. This girl was GOOD. I could not wait to listen to Deana in my lime green boom box.
At school the next day, I casually mentioned my new cassette tapes to my friends. One of my classmates, Marshall, said his 15 year old sister loves Deana Carter (score). My favorite song was Strawberry Wine. I liked it because it talked about strawberries and about 17 year olds. So sophisticated.
In middle school, I came to find out my childhood had been a lie. My precious, innocent Deana Carter was not so innocent. Her Strawberry Wine song was about losing her virginity. I was appalled that this blonde, wildflower loving woman would sing about such things.
I ended up forgiving her by high school.
I miss Wharehouse Music, Deana and JC...not really LeAnn though.
I have always loved music, and I have had impeccable taste from the beginning. My very first CD was Leanne Rimes- the 14 year old who looked 40 on her album cover. But I listened to "You Light Up My Life" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water" on repeat because they are just like the cover specifcally notes- inspirational. And let's face it, I was inspired.
See what I mean? On another note, please notice her left hand. We just won't go there.
Let's rewind a few years...
At the ripe age of 9, I bought my first two cassette tapes. I was with the family at Wharehouse Music- THE hot spot to buy all of the latest tunes in the thriving metropolis that is Sugar Land, Texas. Sadly, it is closed now thanks to Napster, Kazaa, Itunes, ect.
I had a gift card from my birthday so I took some time perusing the store. I ended up being drawn to an NYSNC tape. My best friend Autumn talked about them and told me they were all the rage. I had to have it. "Space Cowboy" really is a work of art. JC Chasez quickly became my favorite. I would read fun facts about him-for instance, he hates shots. Fascinating. I was always pretty pleased with myself that Justin Timberlake was not my favorite because he was everyone's favorite. Some of my friends liked Lance Bass, but thankfully I didn't jump on that train. NSYNC was always and will always be better than the Backstreet Boys. There was no competition- NSYNC danced while they sang and the Backstreet Boys sat on stools. The reasoning is simple. Get off your rear ends and move around BB.
JC is in the middle.
The next 15 minutes, I walked around the store deciding how to spend the rest of my money. Deana Carter caught my eye. She was sitting in a field of flowers and looked pretty pleased with herself. I popped the headphones in and listened to her stuff. This girl was GOOD. I could not wait to listen to Deana in my lime green boom box.
At school the next day, I casually mentioned my new cassette tapes to my friends. One of my classmates, Marshall, said his 15 year old sister loves Deana Carter (score). My favorite song was Strawberry Wine. I liked it because it talked about strawberries and about 17 year olds. So sophisticated.
In middle school, I came to find out my childhood had been a lie. My precious, innocent Deana Carter was not so innocent. Her Strawberry Wine song was about losing her virginity. I was appalled that this blonde, wildflower loving woman would sing about such things.
I ended up forgiving her by high school.
I miss Wharehouse Music, Deana and JC...not really LeAnn though.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Fallin'
Happy October!
I hope you are wearing scarfs and boots and drinking hot chai tea lattes. Even though it may only be 60 degrees, live a little and throw on a cardy. Usually not a big fan of colder weather myself, I was pretty much begging for it this year. When I visited my friend Mollie in Portland, Oregon before the semester started, I kept telling her how lucky she was to live in a place where she could breathe. Living in Texas all summer was like a never ending sauna that wasn't there just after you worked out, but all of the time, even when the stars were out. When I got to Portland, I let out a long breath that I think I had been holding for two months.
When I think of fall, I think of Boston. It is the only place I have traveled to in the fall where the leaves actually change colors and there are fruit stands and regattas. See proof of leaves here:
Fall at Baylor is one of my favorite times. The football, the homecoming, the weather, the pumpkins, the thanksgiving, the pigskin. And even though I always expect the seasons to change, it is still refreshing when they actually do because it reminds me that I can change too. That God can change me. He can help me to trust more and stress less and to stop talking so much and just listen sometimes.
So fa-la-la-la-la. Happy that fall has come because it has brought along a lot of goodness with it- like this new Coldplay video. Thankful for the little "paradise" that is Baylor.
I hope you are wearing scarfs and boots and drinking hot chai tea lattes. Even though it may only be 60 degrees, live a little and throw on a cardy. Usually not a big fan of colder weather myself, I was pretty much begging for it this year. When I visited my friend Mollie in Portland, Oregon before the semester started, I kept telling her how lucky she was to live in a place where she could breathe. Living in Texas all summer was like a never ending sauna that wasn't there just after you worked out, but all of the time, even when the stars were out. When I got to Portland, I let out a long breath that I think I had been holding for two months.
When I think of fall, I think of Boston. It is the only place I have traveled to in the fall where the leaves actually change colors and there are fruit stands and regattas. See proof of leaves here:
Fall at Baylor is one of my favorite times. The football, the homecoming, the weather, the pumpkins, the thanksgiving, the pigskin. And even though I always expect the seasons to change, it is still refreshing when they actually do because it reminds me that I can change too. That God can change me. He can help me to trust more and stress less and to stop talking so much and just listen sometimes.
So fa-la-la-la-la. Happy that fall has come because it has brought along a lot of goodness with it- like this new Coldplay video. Thankful for the little "paradise" that is Baylor.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
tangible
via
"That's what friendship looks like to me. Friendship is acting out God's love for people in tangible ways. We were made to represent the love of God in each other's lives, so that each person we walk through life with has a more profound sense of God's love for them. Friendship is an oppurtunity to act on God's behalf in the lives of the people that we're close to, reminding each other who God is. When we do the hard, intimate work of friendship, we bring a little more of the divine into daily life. We get to remind one another about the bigger, more beautiful picture that we can't always see from where we are."
-Shauna Niequist
Thursday, July 7, 2011
old people.
I love my grandparents. Though I miss my Shirley Nanny lots, I am lucky to have three grandparents still living AND a Jonita. What's a Jonita? Well, shes the fun-loving step-grandma who loves cats, wrapping presents and winning games. This can be tough since Papa rules at all games, and when we play spades he knows what card everyone has played and what cards they have left. It hurts my head to think about all of that. When Papa and Jonita were dating, if its called that when you are old (maybe courting?), Papa came down to Houston to stay with us. One night I couldn't find him, and I realized he was sitting in the hot tub talking to Jonita on the phone. I about died. I have never even talked to a boy from the hot tub. Would you be able to even hear with the bubbles? Would HE be able to hear with all the bubbles? Let's just assume he didn't have the bubbles on because he can't really hear me when I am about a foot away and yelling. Papa, if you are reading this, I think you are really good at poker, golf and snow skiing, and I am sorry for the previous hearing comments.
The thing about grandparents is that they are different from your parents. Wise words right? What I am trying to say is that while the word "parent" is in their name, they are a different breed of parent than your parents. They may not know that you stink at cleaning your room or that your favorite show is So You Think You Can Dance, because they aren't always around. Maybe your grandparents live far away and you don't get to see them much or maybe it's the other way around and you see them all the time. Like the kind of grandparents who were always at your volleyball games or choir concerts growing up. Either way, the role that they can take is pretty incredible. And for me, these people are pretty crucial in my life.
My dad's dad, Paw paw, is about as good as it gets. He loves to eat, and at most meals, even fancy ones, he tucks his napkin into his shirt, or jumpsuit. People laugh, I laugh, but he is just being careful y'all. Every Christmas, the kids switch off reading the Christmas story. One time, he skipped over my cousin Hayley when she was about 10, because he didn't think she could read yet. Hayley was offended, but I thought it was funny. He usually sits at the head of the table and talks to his grandchildren. The next year, he likes to see if we remember what he talked about, and I usually spit out the word reputation. Because that is what it's usually about. He cares a lot. Mostly he cares about if we are following Jesus, which is the best thing to care about. He still practices law and wonders why I ever switched my major from accounting. He wrote down the accounting equation for me at my cousin's graduation party, and even still, he asks if I switched back to accounting. I think I confused him when I got an internship at an accounting firm. I think I confused myself.
Lee Nanny is paw paw's sweetheart. She loves the Cowboys and the Mavs and gets super into all the games. Dirk, if you're out there, Lottie Lee Flagg loves you. Nanny likes having girls around since she raised three boys and is also married to a boy (man). Nanny and Paw Paw had a motorhome for a long time and would take lots of trips with their friends and explore new places, always parking at Wal-Marts along the way because it is free and they have a map that shows where all of the Wal-Marts are in Texas. At 7, I was mesmerized by it. So many Wal-Mart dots everywherrrre. When they would come visit us in Houston, they would drive the motorhome and park it in our driveway. They would not even stay inside our house. Because why stay in a house when you can stay in a motorhome with a 6 foot pull out? They would wake up and eat breakfast there and then around 10 trapze into the house from their mini vacation in the driveway. Nanny pronounces the game washers- worshers and feeds her dog Fred too much food. He smells a lot and is not really liked by anyone, but her. Someones got to love to Fred I guess.
Papa is my mom's dad. He has always seemed younger than he is- besides the previously mentioned hearing issue. He still plays golf with my brother and dad, which is pretty special, and he got to go to the Players Championship this year. He sat in the chalet Austin got him and loved every minute of it, whether he was surrounded by family or sitting by himself. He loves to travel and he has about a bazillion friends. When he got re-married to Jonita, their wedding was massive. All these people that we guessed wouldn't come, traveled from all over, simply because Papa is a good friend and they wanted to be one too. Since my dad isn't quite the fix-it man, Papa always comes over to help my mom hang pictures or put up hooks, things like that. When he orders food, he sometimes takes forever to decide what he wants or says it extremely slowly like the waiter is incapable of properly listening. I'm sitting here thinking, since I was 9 I have known I wanted the cheeseburger and Dr. Pepper. Omg grandpa decide. Papa's favorite thing is poker night with his buds, and he loves the Texas Tech Raiders. Someone's got to.
Shirley Nanny is last but certainly not least. She died when I was a sophomore in high school. I still remember Mrs. Rigby coming to my chemistry classroom and pulling me out. And in the back of my mind I didn't want to think about the possibility of her death, but she brought me to my mom who worked at my high school, and we cried. Cried for my grandpa, my mom, my aunt and cried for me. I decided to stay for chapel and then go home. Taylor knew something was wrong when I walked in and I remember my friends literally bear hugging me for about 5 minutes, which was good since I was practically sobbing. They wrote me a sweet card the next day that I still have. Because Dani's handwriting is really good, but mostly because the words were heartfelt and I needed them. Her alzheimers came when I was in elementary school. It's a really mean disease that doesn't just cause you to forget things, it can change who you are and the way you act towards people. You are physically healthy, but it just isn't the same you. There were some great moments though, and I am especially thankful that I got the chance to know her both before and after alzheimers. She was so talented. The most beautiful calligrapher I've known. And now I still have some things with her calligraphy on them that I treasure. I miss her, but I am grateful I got to know her. That I have will always have the memory of her with me. The memory of singing "There will be no more night" at her funeral between tears and a runny nose and a sad heart. Realizing that God's glory can be shown even in death.
All this to say, I love my grandparents. Even like them. It is from them that I have witnessesd the importance of patience and selflessness, because most of the time they aren't the center of attention and they don't mind when things don't go as quickly. And when I listen to the John Mayer song "stop this train," I want to disagree, but deep down I want the train to stop because I really like where I am and would like to stay 21 forever. But then I listen to the end of the song, and I remember that age can be beautiful. That though this world doesn't quite glorify age, it is much more than wrinkles and grandchildren. That there is always more to learn and to teach, more love to be given and had and for certain, more life to be lived. Time goes on. We get older. Jesus stays the same. We get to know him better day by day. And life gets even sweeter.
The thing about grandparents is that they are different from your parents. Wise words right? What I am trying to say is that while the word "parent" is in their name, they are a different breed of parent than your parents. They may not know that you stink at cleaning your room or that your favorite show is So You Think You Can Dance, because they aren't always around. Maybe your grandparents live far away and you don't get to see them much or maybe it's the other way around and you see them all the time. Like the kind of grandparents who were always at your volleyball games or choir concerts growing up. Either way, the role that they can take is pretty incredible. And for me, these people are pretty crucial in my life.
My dad's dad, Paw paw, is about as good as it gets. He loves to eat, and at most meals, even fancy ones, he tucks his napkin into his shirt, or jumpsuit. People laugh, I laugh, but he is just being careful y'all. Every Christmas, the kids switch off reading the Christmas story. One time, he skipped over my cousin Hayley when she was about 10, because he didn't think she could read yet. Hayley was offended, but I thought it was funny. He usually sits at the head of the table and talks to his grandchildren. The next year, he likes to see if we remember what he talked about, and I usually spit out the word reputation. Because that is what it's usually about. He cares a lot. Mostly he cares about if we are following Jesus, which is the best thing to care about. He still practices law and wonders why I ever switched my major from accounting. He wrote down the accounting equation for me at my cousin's graduation party, and even still, he asks if I switched back to accounting. I think I confused him when I got an internship at an accounting firm. I think I confused myself.
Lee Nanny is paw paw's sweetheart. She loves the Cowboys and the Mavs and gets super into all the games. Dirk, if you're out there, Lottie Lee Flagg loves you. Nanny likes having girls around since she raised three boys and is also married to a boy (man). Nanny and Paw Paw had a motorhome for a long time and would take lots of trips with their friends and explore new places, always parking at Wal-Marts along the way because it is free and they have a map that shows where all of the Wal-Marts are in Texas. At 7, I was mesmerized by it. So many Wal-Mart dots everywherrrre. When they would come visit us in Houston, they would drive the motorhome and park it in our driveway. They would not even stay inside our house. Because why stay in a house when you can stay in a motorhome with a 6 foot pull out? They would wake up and eat breakfast there and then around 10 trapze into the house from their mini vacation in the driveway. Nanny pronounces the game washers- worshers and feeds her dog Fred too much food. He smells a lot and is not really liked by anyone, but her. Someones got to love to Fred I guess.
Papa is my mom's dad. He has always seemed younger than he is- besides the previously mentioned hearing issue. He still plays golf with my brother and dad, which is pretty special, and he got to go to the Players Championship this year. He sat in the chalet Austin got him and loved every minute of it, whether he was surrounded by family or sitting by himself. He loves to travel and he has about a bazillion friends. When he got re-married to Jonita, their wedding was massive. All these people that we guessed wouldn't come, traveled from all over, simply because Papa is a good friend and they wanted to be one too. Since my dad isn't quite the fix-it man, Papa always comes over to help my mom hang pictures or put up hooks, things like that. When he orders food, he sometimes takes forever to decide what he wants or says it extremely slowly like the waiter is incapable of properly listening. I'm sitting here thinking, since I was 9 I have known I wanted the cheeseburger and Dr. Pepper. Omg grandpa decide. Papa's favorite thing is poker night with his buds, and he loves the Texas Tech Raiders. Someone's got to.
Shirley Nanny is last but certainly not least. She died when I was a sophomore in high school. I still remember Mrs. Rigby coming to my chemistry classroom and pulling me out. And in the back of my mind I didn't want to think about the possibility of her death, but she brought me to my mom who worked at my high school, and we cried. Cried for my grandpa, my mom, my aunt and cried for me. I decided to stay for chapel and then go home. Taylor knew something was wrong when I walked in and I remember my friends literally bear hugging me for about 5 minutes, which was good since I was practically sobbing. They wrote me a sweet card the next day that I still have. Because Dani's handwriting is really good, but mostly because the words were heartfelt and I needed them. Her alzheimers came when I was in elementary school. It's a really mean disease that doesn't just cause you to forget things, it can change who you are and the way you act towards people. You are physically healthy, but it just isn't the same you. There were some great moments though, and I am especially thankful that I got the chance to know her both before and after alzheimers. She was so talented. The most beautiful calligrapher I've known. And now I still have some things with her calligraphy on them that I treasure. I miss her, but I am grateful I got to know her. That I have will always have the memory of her with me. The memory of singing "There will be no more night" at her funeral between tears and a runny nose and a sad heart. Realizing that God's glory can be shown even in death.
All this to say, I love my grandparents. Even like them. It is from them that I have witnessesd the importance of patience and selflessness, because most of the time they aren't the center of attention and they don't mind when things don't go as quickly. And when I listen to the John Mayer song "stop this train," I want to disagree, but deep down I want the train to stop because I really like where I am and would like to stay 21 forever. But then I listen to the end of the song, and I remember that age can be beautiful. That though this world doesn't quite glorify age, it is much more than wrinkles and grandchildren. That there is always more to learn and to teach, more love to be given and had and for certain, more life to be lived. Time goes on. We get older. Jesus stays the same. We get to know him better day by day. And life gets even sweeter.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
look rick I'm in an old person parade.
To kick off July 4th weekend, one of the best weekends of the year, I would like for everyone to turn their attention to the following:
The first time I saw this video- I thought it was funny. A few ha-ha's here and there, maybe some chuckles, nothing special. Now, after about the 25th time, give or take a few, I think it is hilarious. As in ROFL. Some good SNL action right here ladies and gentlemen- even without JT.
Gosh it just makes my night.
So does Mogely. Can't wait to see this face. Isn't she beauuuuutiful?!
So natural. So pure.
Happy Weekending and God bless America.
The first time I saw this video- I thought it was funny. A few ha-ha's here and there, maybe some chuckles, nothing special. Now, after about the 25th time, give or take a few, I think it is hilarious. As in ROFL. Some good SNL action right here ladies and gentlemen- even without JT.
Gosh it just makes my night.
So does Mogely. Can't wait to see this face. Isn't she beauuuuutiful?!
So natural. So pure.
Happy Weekending and God bless America.
Monday, June 27, 2011
summertime.
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~John Lubbock
pool days with elly and taylor
the fam
dad turns 55- much to his dismay
icehouse with em
katie bob
mavs parade
grandma shyln
houston with shan
meg's new puppy
danielle's rehearsal dinner
yummy
salado
the players
pool days with elly and taylor
the fam
dad turns 55- much to his dismay
icehouse with em
katie bob
mavs parade
grandma shyln
houston with shan
meg's new puppy
danielle's rehearsal dinner
yummy
salado
the players
Friday, June 10, 2011
the help.
I know I am a little behind the times, but I love The Help. This is one of my favorite parts. Skeeter is 13 here and talking to her maid Constantine who she is extremely close with, more-so than her mother. This reminds me how blessed we are to have choices, and that sometimes we have to make a conscious decision to drown out the other noise and listen to the only Voice that matters.
'Why you crying, girl?' Constantine asked me in the kitchen.
I told her what the boy had called me, tears streaming down my face.
'Well? Is you?'
I blinked, paused my crying. 'Is I what?'
'Now you look a here, Egenia'-because constantien was the only one who'd occasionally follow Mama's rule. 'Ugly live up on the inside. Ugly be a hurtful, mean person. Is you one a them peoples?'
'I don't know. I don't think so,' I sobbed.
Constantine sat down next to me, at the kitchen table. I heard the cracking of her swollen joints. She pressed her thumb hard in the palm of my hand, somthing we both knew meant Listen. Listen to me.
'Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision.' Constantine was so close, I could see the blackness of her gums. 'You gone have to ask yourself, Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?'
She kept her thumb pressed hard in my hand. I nodded that I understood. I was just smart enough to realize she meant white people. And even though I still felt miserable, and knew that I was, most likely, ugly, it was the first time she ever talked to me like I was something besides my mother's white child. All my life I'd been told what to believe about politics, coloreds, being a girl. But with Constantine's thumb pressed in my hand, I realized I actually had a choice in what I could believe."
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Untitled
I am not good at coming up with titles. Especially right now because I have no idea what I am going to write about. One time I thought my titles were so dumb, I went back and deleted all of them. Then I re-did them, but I think they are even worse than before. I really do not understand how people come up with titles, because how do you condense everything you want someone to perceive about your writing into a few words. So I will now take this time to name this post, "untitled." Totally brill, so indy.
Speaking of indy, my brother is home this week. Not that he is anywhere close to being indy, unless you consider wearing vineyard vines and straps around your sunglasses indy, but he did show me a funny video having to do with hipsters and people of the sort. I think these people are so funny. I still wonder if that is just the name of the group or if they are really a sailing team from Harvard?
I am currently blogging to Blink-182. My iTunes is on shuffle, but I cannot bring myself to change it. The song is called "shut up" from the album entitled "Take off your pants and jacket." Apparently these punks really know how to name songs and albums. Don't worry I won't talk about taking anything off in my next title. Nor will I tell anyone to be quiet.
Lastly, I would like to inform you that I should not be in any more weddings ever again. I wore my heels for about five minutes before complaining that they really hurt my feet. I took my shoes on and off close to 20 times. And then complained a whole lot more than that to anyone who had not heard me complain yet and then ran out of people so had to repeat. I got into bed the night of the rehearsal and thought I should go ahead and chop them off to stop the aching. During the ceremony, I had to lean on the rail when we prayed because I was afraid I would fall over. We stood up there for so long that I tried not to lock my knees and instead probably looked like I was squatting or getting ready to build a stunt. Dang shoes. At the reception, I was told by a staff member of the Petroleum Club that I needed to put my shoes back on. I slipped out during the sit down dinner to use the restroom barefoot- she judged me. As would most people.
At the rehearsal dinner, a lot of the groomsmen had given toasts and not many bridesmaids so I thought I would start the trend. Being a a terrible public speaker, I forgot to introduce myself and went on ahead to making fun of the bride. People were probably wondering why this unknown sarcastic girl was invited. Last weekend was my very first wedding, if you could not already tell, and not one made for a rookie like myself since the isle was about the length of a football field. My mom said I had a beautiful smile as I walked down, but she is my mom so she has to say things like that. I got so bored of smiling for that long that when I saw my dad in the pew about halfway up, I did a headnod. Not just a little nod, but a very visible one. If Beatrice the wedding coordinator would have seen me, she would have had a cow. But besides my shenanigans, the wedding was a blast and Danielle looked beautiful!
I tried to think of a title now that I have written this, but all I have is - hipster wedding internship goes punk.
Monday, May 23, 2011
a gift.
I like to read. The thought of curling up next to a fire with a really good book and a comfy blanket will never stop sounding appealing. Lately, I like to read even more because I like to write...in my journal, on post it notes, on my blog, anywhere really. Words are the forefront of everything it seems. To produce a movie, there has to be a script. To sing a song, there has to be words. And to call someone, you have to speak.
What a gift God has given us.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we talked like we wrote. It seems to me that we would be in less trouble, we wouldn't talk back to people as much, and we would not say things we did not mean. The thing about it though, is that when you talk to someone, face to face, it is much harder than writing. And much more rewarding. Telling someone something is more difficult than writing them a note. Because it takes courage. It takes their reaction into consideration because you watch it play out, right then and there. Which is what makes telling them all the more special. That is why it is so important that we tell the people we love how much they mean to us and how glad we are that they are in our life. That they have stuck around despite the fact that now they really know us. They do not just see us at our best, but they see us at our worst, and they do not run off. So the least we can do is say thank you.
The thing about writing though, is that it inspires us. It is what inspires us to share and speak and show wisdom. Words, written down, are timeless. People have been writing for ages, and here we are today, and people are still writing. That makes it a pretty big deal I guess. The Bible is the most beautifully written book. One that I never grow tired of, and one that I always come back to, thinking, why did I ever live a day without the truth. When I read it, I discover, I learn, I repent, and I love. It is these words that have caused people to do great things, say great things, and share with the world the love of a Savior that matters most. The book that is a daily reminder of who God is and how much he loves us, just in case we ever forget. And it is these words that connect us back to the believers that lived before us, because we are all reading the same stories.
What a gift God has given us.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
cousin.
I have some cousins, but I would like to talk about one in particular. How rude of me to wait this long to introduce you. His name is Troy Cartwright Dixon. Musically though, he goes by Troy Cartwright. Isn't that artsy and neat of him? This was partly because there was another Troy Dixon already out there, and he wanted none of that. The real Troy is extremely talented and is cool enough to attend Berklee College of Music in Boston. Not only is he gifted musically, but he is smart, well-read, knows the news like the back of his hand and is just plain funny. He wrote a song for his sister, Shay, who is getting married to a very special boy on September 24. I like them both a lot, but I like them even more together. More on that later. You can listen to Troy's jam here. And I say jam lightly...it is kind of Damien Rice-y so if you are into that you will definitely like it. The words are so simple. So sweet. Go and see for yourself.
Love you T-roy.
Love you T-roy.
Friday, April 29, 2011
happy birthday lauren.
Today is your day.
You are so dear to me, my roommate and my friend and everything in between. So happy to celebrate your life with you. Here's to your 21st birthday and the many more birthdays yet to come!
You are so dear to me, my roommate and my friend and everything in between. So happy to celebrate your life with you. Here's to your 21st birthday and the many more birthdays yet to come!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
home.
I like my home. The one with the trampoline in the front yard, the hammock on the porch and awkward sayings written on the brick that I thought would be funny. They aren't. It is where I have lived the past two years. Sure, some of my roommates have changed, the decorations have progressed, and neighbors have moved in and out, but deep down it feels the same as it did when I first moved in. Somehow consistent, despite all of the changes. Some changes have been more welcomed than others. The picture below was taken when I visited Waco the summer after my freshman year. I had no idea what memories this house would hold. And no idea the grass would never again look this good. You should see it now...shambles.
At the start, I was a little jealous of my friends who were moving into cute houses or apartments with pretty countertops or places with driveways. Now I realize, what a foolish thought that was. I would not trade my house for anything in the world. The experiences I have shared, lived, and witnessed in this home are so dear to me. And though we do not always get along perfectly or I forget to buy the toilet paper or the dishes pile up in the sink, it all seems petty when I think about the real stuff. The relationships and the love that are intertwined in this place. I have even grown accustomed to hearing the boys downstairs, waking up when Lauren showers in the morning, and trying to cram all of our (mostly their) groceries into the fridge. I love the creepy alley and the noise the shambly tiles make when you walk on them.
It is here where I am fully myself. It is here where I have learned to be by myself. And it is here where I have fallen more in love with Jesus and discovered that life only makes sense with Him. It is here where I come back to after weekend trips and feel a sense of relief to be back where I belong. It is here where I do not have to be perfect. Where I won't get judged for watching the O.C. on a Saturday night and eating cookies and milk. It is where I can come home crying and be comforted or come home estactic and be rejoiced with. It is here where I have faced harsh realities about myself and about life that have caused me to refocus and grow in a way that has been refreshing and much needed, even when I didn't agree. I know that this place will not always be my home. I know that change is good, and that living in a place a certain amount of years is not what makes it a home. I know all of this. Which makes me want to wear this home out even more in this coming year, because it is all I have left.
But it is comforting to know that there are no specific qualifications of what a home should be or how it should look or even who should live in it. Maybe home can't even be defined as a specific place, but see that's the thing. Home means something different to everyone. Because everyone needs somewhere where they can feel at home. I think we all long for a place of stability, a place of calmness, a place that is ours. A place that may not matter to someone else, a visitor or a friend, but it doesn't bother you because it is not their home, but your home. And it makes sense to you.
At the start, I was a little jealous of my friends who were moving into cute houses or apartments with pretty countertops or places with driveways. Now I realize, what a foolish thought that was. I would not trade my house for anything in the world. The experiences I have shared, lived, and witnessed in this home are so dear to me. And though we do not always get along perfectly or I forget to buy the toilet paper or the dishes pile up in the sink, it all seems petty when I think about the real stuff. The relationships and the love that are intertwined in this place. I have even grown accustomed to hearing the boys downstairs, waking up when Lauren showers in the morning, and trying to cram all of our (mostly their) groceries into the fridge. I love the creepy alley and the noise the shambly tiles make when you walk on them.
It is here where I am fully myself. It is here where I have learned to be by myself. And it is here where I have fallen more in love with Jesus and discovered that life only makes sense with Him. It is here where I come back to after weekend trips and feel a sense of relief to be back where I belong. It is here where I do not have to be perfect. Where I won't get judged for watching the O.C. on a Saturday night and eating cookies and milk. It is where I can come home crying and be comforted or come home estactic and be rejoiced with. It is here where I have faced harsh realities about myself and about life that have caused me to refocus and grow in a way that has been refreshing and much needed, even when I didn't agree. I know that this place will not always be my home. I know that change is good, and that living in a place a certain amount of years is not what makes it a home. I know all of this. Which makes me want to wear this home out even more in this coming year, because it is all I have left.
But it is comforting to know that there are no specific qualifications of what a home should be or how it should look or even who should live in it. Maybe home can't even be defined as a specific place, but see that's the thing. Home means something different to everyone. Because everyone needs somewhere where they can feel at home. I think we all long for a place of stability, a place of calmness, a place that is ours. A place that may not matter to someone else, a visitor or a friend, but it doesn't bother you because it is not their home, but your home. And it makes sense to you.
Monday, April 11, 2011
my friend emily.
This past weekend, Em and I ventured to the blessed city of Austin, Texas. It was refreshing and wonderful and full of happiness. We drove with the windows down and the music too loud because we are 21 and we can. I let my bare feet hang out of the car, but Emily kept hers in the car since she had to drive. We felt the wind on our faces and worshipped and sang and danced. We drove up and down the driveway at the lake, because it is hilly and fun when Emily speeds up towards the end. We talked about life and jesus and how those are pretty much interchangeable. We tried to tackle fears and questions. At the lake we layed out and soaked up the warm sun, jumped off of the dock into the freezing cold water, kayaked awkwardly in a kayak for one, and literally danced like no one was watching (but sometimes we did have an audience...Emily bowed to a boy). We shopped at Anthro, perused the isles at Book People, ate sandwiches and muffins on the patio of Whole Foods, and drank yummy champagne in small little glasses with frozen strawberries and tiny spoons.
As, we were driving home, I began to think that this weekend wasn't simply fun because of everything we did. It was fun because of who I got to do it with. I am thankful for my friend Emily. Thankful that we share in the same truth. Thankful that the fun isn't over just because we are not in Austin. And even though she goes to bed at like 10, I am thankful that I have the fun with me in Waco. Susie, if you are reading this, I think you are fun too. You too Sara. And Will. And the Will I have not met, I hear you are pretty fun as well.. Thank you for letting me into your home and for teaching me even though you probably don't even realize that you did. That is the best kind of teaching I think.
"All who share in this activity will be our companions; but the ones who share something more will be our friends. In this kind of love, Do you love me? means Do you see the same truth?--or at least, 'Do you care about the same truth?' The man who agrees with us that some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance can be our friend. He need not agree with us about the answer."
C.S. Lewis
As, we were driving home, I began to think that this weekend wasn't simply fun because of everything we did. It was fun because of who I got to do it with. I am thankful for my friend Emily. Thankful that we share in the same truth. Thankful that the fun isn't over just because we are not in Austin. And even though she goes to bed at like 10, I am thankful that I have the fun with me in Waco. Susie, if you are reading this, I think you are fun too. You too Sara. And Will. And the Will I have not met, I hear you are pretty fun as well.. Thank you for letting me into your home and for teaching me even though you probably don't even realize that you did. That is the best kind of teaching I think.
"All who share in this activity will be our companions; but the ones who share something more will be our friends. In this kind of love, Do you love me? means Do you see the same truth?--or at least, 'Do you care about the same truth?' The man who agrees with us that some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance can be our friend. He need not agree with us about the answer."
C.S. Lewis
Friday, April 1, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
satisfy.
I will never forget that morning. Even if I wanted to. I remember trying so hard to ingrain it into my brain. To plant my feet in that very spot so I would never have to leave. Reminding myself to never forget that pure and easy joy and satisfaction I felt that day. You see, I was in Honduras that morning. I had just completed an obstacle course that had begun at 5 a.m. I should have felt tired and worn out, but I didn't feel that way. I looked like I got run over, and I smelled like a garbage disposal. I should have felt ugly and gross, but I didn't. Because that morning none of that mattered. Honestly, I wish I could say none of those things ever matter to me, but that is not the truth. That morning, God stilled my soul in a way that I will never forget. It was more than a feeling. More than a realization. It was a glimpse of what true satisfaction is. Moreover, what heaven beckons. I wanted to stay there forever, right there in that very place where it was just me and Him. Remembering that place of true satisfaction, not with who I was or am, but who he was and is. Here's to finding my fulfillment in Him daily and learning from time spent with Jesus.
"Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days." Psalm 90:14
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
#ilovetwitter
Why do I love twitter? Let me tell you.
1. The symbol is a bird. I really like birds. There are three paintings of birds hanging on my wall- mind you Kathryn admitted to me last year she thought they were ugly, but they aren't. They are from Hobby Lobby for heaven's sake. Whatever, she was homeschooled. I also just purchased three notebooks and two folders with bird designs. Lastly, I just changed the background of this blog. Don't be surprised if you see a few birds flying around by the title. Birds are like so in.
2. It is okay to inform people of useless information. I used to shun these people on facebook, but I now welcome them and encourage them to tweet whenever they feel led. This does come with a few exceptions. After following all of the hot celebs duh, I came to a gut wrenching realization. Justin Bieber is a horrible tweeter. I began to debate, pray and slave over the decision of if I should unfollow him. I mean its the Biebs, you can't just ditch him. But he was taking up all of twittersphere with his endless amount of retweets from tween girls so he just had to go. I think my heart broke a little that night.
3. I still do not fully understand hashtags, but I like to use them out loud more than on twitter because I can never think of them when it is crunch time. They just come to me ya know? I am sure you understand.
4. Kambly is going to be annoyed of this post. Because I, Anna Sheridan Flagg, used to dislike twitter. This MAY come to you as a shock, but I would even go as far to say that I was a twitter judger or even a twitter hater. But secretly deep down, I knew there was something more to life. After countless times of looking at twitter on Kam's phone and wondering what on earth all this fuss was about, I realized it was time. So on the blessed day of February 18, 2011, I entered twitter world. I think going from a twitter hater to a twitter lover has really made it even more special.
5. I have used the word twitter now nine times in this post and I am not even annoyed. Wanna know why?
Because I love twitter.
1. The symbol is a bird. I really like birds. There are three paintings of birds hanging on my wall- mind you Kathryn admitted to me last year she thought they were ugly, but they aren't. They are from Hobby Lobby for heaven's sake. Whatever, she was homeschooled. I also just purchased three notebooks and two folders with bird designs. Lastly, I just changed the background of this blog. Don't be surprised if you see a few birds flying around by the title. Birds are like so in.
2. It is okay to inform people of useless information. I used to shun these people on facebook, but I now welcome them and encourage them to tweet whenever they feel led. This does come with a few exceptions. After following all of the hot celebs duh, I came to a gut wrenching realization. Justin Bieber is a horrible tweeter. I began to debate, pray and slave over the decision of if I should unfollow him. I mean its the Biebs, you can't just ditch him. But he was taking up all of twittersphere with his endless amount of retweets from tween girls so he just had to go. I think my heart broke a little that night.
3. I still do not fully understand hashtags, but I like to use them out loud more than on twitter because I can never think of them when it is crunch time. They just come to me ya know? I am sure you understand.
4. Kambly is going to be annoyed of this post. Because I, Anna Sheridan Flagg, used to dislike twitter. This MAY come to you as a shock, but I would even go as far to say that I was a twitter judger or even a twitter hater. But secretly deep down, I knew there was something more to life. After countless times of looking at twitter on Kam's phone and wondering what on earth all this fuss was about, I realized it was time. So on the blessed day of February 18, 2011, I entered twitter world. I think going from a twitter hater to a twitter lover has really made it even more special.
5. I have used the word twitter now nine times in this post and I am not even annoyed. Wanna know why?
Because I love twitter.
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