February…How Do I LOVE Thee? (Song 9 in the Countdown)

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Love Songs to Melt Your Heart and Move Your Soul: Song 9

Love is…unselfishly handing over the last piece of chocolate (and smiling when you do.)

One of the most quoted scriptures in the Bible (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) begins with these words, “Love is patient, love is kind….” Often read aloud at weddings this verse is actually not an ode to romantic love, but rather a call to love one another and to live in a spirit of cooperation and mutuality. In this type of existence, men and women would equally look out for one another without reservation, sharing and giving wholeheartedly. When I think of that kind of love, this song by Jason Mraz comes to mind. In an interview Mraz says that these lyrics speak to “giving yourself or your time to someone else.” As we near Valentine’s Day (and the pressure to find the perfect gift mounts)—I can’t help but wonder if today’s definition of love centers around quantity or quality? How many of us would happily accept an hour of uninterrupted time with a loved one (romantic or otherwise) over a box of chocolates or a dozen roses? In so many instances giving a gift is the easy thing to do while giving yourself is what really matters most. In this Valentine season, will you be a giver or a taker?

Coming Up: Love Songs to Melt Your Heart and Move Your Soul: Song 10

***This post is part of an ongoing series. As part of my cup half full approach to loving the month of February, I vow to jump in with both feet and embrace the whole Valentine thing with my own custom list of Love Songs to Melt Your Heart and Move Your Soul. Ambitious? Yes! Bold? Absolutely! Crazy? You betcha! Pointless? On just about every level. Regardless, let’s give it a go—I mean it’s February and how else am I going to get through the coldest, bleakest, cloudiest, shortest (and longest at the same time) month on the calendar. Let the countdown to Valentine’s Day begin! I (gritting teeth) LOVE February, how about YOU?

It Really is HOW You Play the Game….

Posted on January 20, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Let me begin with this: I don’t have an athletic bone in my body. So, for many, I have absolutely no cred when it comes to talking about sports of any kind. That’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it anyway 🙂 In fact, it’s not so much the sports aspect that caught my eye this weekend…it’s more the human reaction to it. Look, they say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but you can pretty much get the gist of it by reading a chapter. Satire, mystery, fiction, inspiration…you get the point. And if the old adage also holds true—“you only get one chance to make a first impression”…then we all might want to check ourselves before, well…you know.

Flashback photo…Raising little Kansas Jayhawk fans.

So, here goes nothing. Like most people, I’m a sports fan. My favorite team in this great, big, wonderful world is the Kansas Jayhawks (for a myriad of reasons, but we’ll save that for later date.) But I also enjoy many different types of sports and follow several other teams as well. In my community, circle of friends and in my family for that matter there’s a wide variety of sports fans. Some of us live for football, hockey, and tennis. Others can’t get enough NBA, golf and volleyball. Personally, I’m a college basketball and baseball fan and thanks to my kiddos, I have a great appreciation for soccer. Different strokes for different folks. Amen, right? Still, one of the things that always strikes me about some fans is their (my) deep, die-hard passion for our sport of choice. We not only follow our designated tribe, but we support it with our time, energy and often, our money. No judgement here…I’m right with you.

Where things get tricky, though, is when we start to dis each other and personally belittle our perceived opponents. I can hear the groans and comments already…“this is why girls shouldn’t watch sports, you’re ruining the industry, this is how the game is played, if you don’t like it–don’t watch it.” I hear you and I understand. But it still begs the question, do we really accomplish anything when we put down our foes? What does it prove? Especially, if we’re on the winning end. I’m asking…. It seems that anytime you give your heart over to something…there’s going to be passion and intensity. Just like any relationship there will be huge highs and deep lows in fanhood. And since our teams foster a family like comradery…things can get personal fast. And not only do they get personal, but they can also get ugly.

This morning everyone is talking about the NFC Championship game and some of the post game antics. It was a hard-fought game. Can we agree on that? Depending upon who you were rooting for (and for the sake of disclosure I will tell you that my team lost), you were either right there with this (now notorious) cornerback, Richard Sherman, or you’ve reactively thrown your support behind a man who many describe as THE All-American quarterback, Peyton Manning. It doesn’t take but a second to scroll through any number of social media outlets to see the reactions and commentary. It’s been less than 24 hours since the hoopla aired, and arguments have been made on both sides. Some have tried to rationalize and excuse the behavior by calling on player intensity and testosterone. Others have written him off as classless and a thug. We’re all entitled to our opinion, it’s how we choose to express it that matters. In fact, I’ve been sort of surprised to see which side fans, sports gurus and radio personalities have signed on to. It’s also been equally interesting to see where my own circle of friends stand on these events.

Personally, my heart hurts for Richard Sherman. I saw his post game interview live like many other football fans. His moment on national television, the replay of his butt slap, choking gestures and trash talk against Michael Crabtree were truly baffling to me. Here was a man who had just demonstrated that he’s at the top of his game. He played a key role in his team moving on to the Super Bowl. I think the whole world expected him to be excited and amped up (and does it really matter who started it?) but using his airtime to disrespect an opponent…well it doesn’t add up, especially now that countless reports have come out about Sherman’s educational accolades, his communications degree from Stanford and blog writing/interviewing abilities. In a world where image is everything and first impressions are lasting impressions, Richard Sherman just cast himself as a football villain and in the hearts of many that role will last a lifetime. Football players often live and die in the moment. Whether it’s a consequence of personality or just the nature of the athletes who play the game, he has just categorized himself in a less than ideal light and he may spend his career (and life) trying to undo the damage of a few seconds on national television.

Unfortunately, fanhood means that we’ll never know the hearts and minds of those sports figures we idolize, but let this be a lesson to all of us. The way you play the game…your game, my game…will be noted. The world keeps records, it profiles and categorizes, and is not always gracious in forgiving our wrongdoings. How much more important does it become for each of us to live our lives more thoughtfully. Our words and actions are and will be judged. That’s a fact. If you don’t care, more power to you. Still most of us, if we truly examine our hearts, want to know that we have lived life well. As a sports fan, as part of a sports family and as a human being I want to live a life without regret. We all have our moments…where we wish we had done things, said things, differently. We can make amends and there are roads to reconciliation and redemption. Thank God for that. But wouldn’t it be better if we could just be better people? If what spills out in our words and actions really reflect our heart wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t look and sound like self-centered, entitled, thoughtless, rude men and women?

I don’t mind telling you that I won’t be rooting for the Seahawks on Super Bowl Sunday. In the same breath I can tell you that I also won’t be cheering on the Broncos either (I’m a Chiefs fan, and therefore diametrically opposed, you understand.) Chances are, however, that as sports fans we’ll be checking in on the game, rating the commercials, and eating more than we should. I’m going to keep Michael Sherman in my prayers and hope that he and all the other athletes on the field play their hearts out, take in and savor their moment in the national spotlight and finally, make good choices…because the whole world is watching (and I’m trying to raise sports fans.)

You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else. –Albert Einstein

What a Difference 20 Years Does (and Doesn’t) Make….

Posted on July 25, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Best friends…summer of 1993.

High school looks so much cooler on TV. –unknown

A 20 year high school reunion…sign me up! Couldn’t wait to get there. Loved high school. The opportunity to see familiar faces…not just classmates, but people who I had grown up with and those who helped (in big and small ways) influence and shape my life. Yes, yes–a thousand times yes, I would definitely go!

As the momentum for the big weekend began to build, my mind was flooded with memories. Memories of old friends, teachers, dance team days, newspaper staff, cruising Main Street, school projects and parties. The floodgates really opened up while looking through the school yearbook, hearing songs from the “glory days” and chatting with my best friend about who might attend (do you think he’ll be there…and would she actually show up?) The “do you remembers” tapped into a part of my heart that burst with good times and great adventures. Let’s do this!

Imagine my surprise when the RSVPs started to roll in (thanks to facebook we could see this in real-time) and not everyone clicked “yes.” What???? This was going to be great, this was going to be so much fun! How could you not want to be a part of this? My mind quickly rationalized the obstacles of time, distance and money. The realities of job and family commitments. Okay, I understand that, but if you could attend…wouldn’t you want to? Shouldn’t you want to? As I counted the days and shared my excitement with family and friends their comments and perspectives gave way to a different idea. What if, they suggested, high school wasn’t so great for everyone. That our teen years can be/are/were difficult, lonely and confusing. The possibility that maybe there were people who one couldn’t and wouldn’t want to see (ever again?) That perhaps there were some who just wanted to move on and did so without ever wanting to look back. To be honest, I just had a hard time accepting this…until….

A mere two hours before the first scheduled event, a panic ensued that I had not anticipated. Not really prone to nervousness, I immediately dismissed the incredible dread that was building up in my stomach and the wave of jitters that was creeping in from all sides. And a nagging thought settled on my spirit–did I really want to do this? Followed by a worse thought–COULD I REALLY DO THIS? I remember sitting across from my best friend at our hometown Pizza Hut and NOT being able to eat a thing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I hadn’t driven four hours for this. I hadn’t made plans to meet up with old friends only to become a “no-show” myself.

20 Year Reunion for Garden City High School Class of 1993

In my 20 minute panic attack I think I experienced a little bit of what might hold someone back. Doubts that probably mirror some of the teen angst from 20 years ago. Will anyone notice me? Will I be remembered? Followed by, will I be remembered well? Have I done anything of significance in the last two decades? Have I grown and changed in positive ways? Will I foul up anybody’s name? Let me sidebar here to tell you what a good, dear, sweet friend I have. She talked me down from this insane moment of fear. She reminded me how much I had looked forward to this. She convinced me that we would have a wonderful time. We talked. We prayed. We shared. We ate bread sticks and pizza. And (finally) we went. 30+ classmates and spouses took part in the reunion activities. It was fun (and funny at times) to see each other again. Who had changed and who had stayed exactly the same. The hugs abounded and the memories came alive (especially as the class yearbook was passed around!) There was much chatter about where everyone lived now and who was married and with how many kids. I loved meeting my classmates spouses and later at the picnic, seeing their kiddos. It was fun to hear the stories again and remember the good times. How much we still had in common after all these years and how life and time had changed each of us. And yet, throughout the weekend one comment came up time and time again as classmates marveled at how well we all got along NOW. Now? It never occurred to me that we didn’t get along back then. Maybe the conversations didn’t flow as easily in the old days? Maybe we held on a little too tightly to our cliques and groups? Maybe it was just harder to fit in? But, perhaps it was something else. I sort of chalked up any divisiveness and separation to adolescent self-involvement. I know this was true for myself. I don’t really remember not getting along with anyone, but I do know that I was completely absorbed with my own friends and interests. My world was small then and in order for it to make sense, I’ll admit I approached it with teenage tunnel vision. And doesn’t it make sense that in our early days we would gravitate toward those whose worlds most resembled our own? It’s not an excuse, it was just a consequence of immaturity. And I think this is why reunions have the potential to become so much more.

Today, twenty years later we probably have a lot more in common than ever before. Sure we grew up in the same town and our families’ lives were often intertwined, but that may have been the extent of it. Now we can relate to each other on so many new levels like jobs and careers, marriage and relationships, pregnancy and parenthood, divorce, illness, faith and every other degree of success and loss imaginable. We’ve matured and with that we’ve grown… allowing circles to open up and boundaries to blur. In a strange way, it might actually be possible for us to grow closer 20 years after graduation!

A four-hour car ride home makes for a great time of contemplation. I smiled to myself as various conversations replayed in my head. I thought of those who had moved on with great success knowing how hard they worked…their positive attitudes and energy making my heart soar. I prayed for those who had braved great and difficult challenges and who appeared to come out stronger for it. And somewhere on the wide open prairie, the song “Bruises” by Train came on the radio. Bruises of triumph and pain. Bruises that remind us that we’re all human, imperfect and in the same boat. Its chorus reminds us that all these things “make for better conversation, loses the vibe that separates, it’s good to let you in again, you’re not alone in how you’ve been….” It was the perfect ending to a reunion weekend, and guess what? I can’t wait to do it all over again!

Cows, Corn, Choruses and Mary

Posted on July 16, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

An amazing, creative, kind, talented, colorful, generous, godly woman (who was hands down the best grandma EVER) is no longer with us. She was a dear, sweet friend…and today my heart hurts.

I had the pleasure of meeting Mary four years ago. She had a great laugh and a wonderful southern accent, a beautiful singing voice and an infectious (sometimes ornery) smile. Mary possessed a super sharp wit and not only was she fun–she was funny, too. One of the things that immediately caught my eye was her sense of style. She had a pair of shoes in every color imaginable and for every occasion. I had never seen a grown woman wear bright sunflower yellow shoes and yet she pulled it off with ease! She had all the sensibility of a refined, southern woman with just the right amount of whimsy and fun. This was Mary.

The more I learned about her, the more I liked her. Her passion for God, her family, music and the church were contagious. I loved to hear her take on a scripture and the joy she found in discovering just the right hymn for Sunday morning. Always thoughtful in her role as worship leader, she fought hard for every verse (especially in the long hymns) and I’d never met anyone who loved Epiphany more than her (…will those three kings ever get here?) She was such a gifted musician whose leadership and presence will be dearly missed throughout the music ministries at our church. A music teacher for nearly two decades, so many have come forward with their stories about Mary both in the classroom and out. I loved to hear about her adventures (and misadventures) at school and imagine that she would have easily been a favorite teacher among her students.

Mary’s love for her family was at the forefront of all she did. And as far as I’m concerned, she truly earned the Best Grandma EVER award. The time, energy and love she put into Ari, Aidan and Braxton is beyond words. She absolutely adored those children with all that she had! I knew that she was instrumental in exposing them to music and theatre, but imagine my surprise to see her at a dusty ball field on a hot summer night cheering on her grandson, planted on uncomfortable bleacher seats during basketball season and sitting through never-ending student talent shows. Young at heart, she found time to nurture those kiddos in every way and we always looked forward to seeing the boys in church on Sunday mornings. She extended her “Nana qualities” to my children as well…affectionately referring to my son as a “sapsucker” and looking out for them as if they were her own. We all looked forward to hanging out at Ms. Mary’s house, Nerf gun wars, perler beads, swimming and enjoying lemonade poolside. It wasn’t long before my son claimed her as his own “Augusta grandma.” And how she loved Harris and the boys! Speaking so fondly of her wedding and sharing cute stories of her own children growing up. Always with such affection she referred to her little Harris and Robbie. It makes me smile when I think of these two grown men whose mother’s eyes lit up whenever she talked about them. So fun-loving and playful, Mary was a wonderful storyteller and had some truly wonderful life experiences…and I’m so glad she shared.

I know I’ll miss the way she could convey a message with a simple raised eyebrow or smirk. My heart hurts to think that we won’t be exchanging text messages in the school parking lot while waiting to pick up the kids. I will miss our days as teammates in the never-ending Nerf battles with the boys (for your information she was a great shot, often pegging the kids with little effort. The best part was the apron she wore during these battles. It had a large pocket that she used to load up with ammo. She looked all “granny,” but was totally “Rambo”–it was quite the sight!) I will miss watching her play the piano at church and what a natural she was as she portrayed various characters during Vacation Bible School. She was always good for the “whether” report on Wednesday nights, too. It was that time between KIDS choir and Worship on Wednesday when she would tell me “whether or not” she was leaving me with a feisty, ornery group of kids or a team of cooperative angels! I will miss her silly ringtones and how she carefully matched each tone with her loved ones (Harris’ tone was the absolute BEST.) And how I enjoyed Super Bowl parties at her home and the way she would cut up during meetings at church. That was Mary.

When I think about Mary there’s one story that always comes to mind. She often clipped out cute little anecdotes, comics and quips about church and church life. She offered these up during our weekly worship design team meetings. One of the first ones she ever shared with my husband and I was about traditional hymns versus praise songs. It had us rolling with laughter and she pulled it out on more than one occasion. It always comes to mind as we drive through rural areas because it comically compares cows and cornfields with the “thees” and “thous” of traditional hymns. Mary got quite the kick out of it! I can still hear her reading this story. The way she drawled out the words “Martha, Martha, Martha…” through laughter. While I’m sure Mary had her preferences between hymns and praise songs, she knew that honoring God wasn’t about one style over another. It wasn’t about your way or my way, it was and IS about praising God…a key part of a life well lived. This was the way she carried herself both inside and outside of the church: joyfully and purposefully, both cows and cornfields as well as “thees” and “thous.” I will always appreciate her humor and the way she balanced her faith journey with fun and joy all the while holding on to the traditions that mattered most. That was so Mary.

Like so many in our small town, my life was touched by her life. I thank her for honoring the Lord by sharing some of her life lessons with me. I love her for modeling a good, Christian woman for myself and many others. I’m blessed by her generosity and willingness to serve our church. And I’m happy to have called her a friend. The cows, corn and choruses will never be the same.

God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well. –Voltaire

Always Open

Posted on April 8, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

There’s a little piano that holds court in our living room. Nestled into a corner just to the left of the fireplace, this small upright garners quite a bit of attention. Don’t let its ordinariness fool you…this piano is a bona fide magnet! What is lacks in presence, it more than makes up for in amazement…and I see its wonder every time someone new comes into our home!

The piano arrived last summer. I was thrilled! I took lessons in elementary school and thanks to a battery-operated keyboard (that I’ve toted around for 25 years), I’ve managed to play a little ever since. I’d always wanted a piano in the house, but given our somewhat nomadic-clergy-family lifestyle, we haven’t had the luxury of having our own. So when the opportunity to have one placed in the parsonage arose, I jumped on it!

My kids were very excited. Nevermind that we only had one piece of sheet music and a hymnal to play. Nevermind that it was missing its front wheels. And nevermind that it was out of tune (I referred to its sound as slightly twangy). We had a piano! Slowly we acquired some beginner’s pianos books for the kiddos and I downloaded some of my favorite songs from the internet. We adorned the piano with a photo of the children, a lamp to help with the lighting and a few other homey touches. This piano was the perfect fit for our little family…and then IT started.

Whenever someone would step into our living room they would comment, “When did you get a piano?” Invariably it would start a conversation about music and for those who play (or played) an instrument it would lead to a moment of reminiscing. Those who stayed longer than a few minutes would eventually make their way over to the piano. It’s funny to me how much restraint adults have…they noticed it, talked about it, moved toward it, but never touched it. But when children visit the house (as they’re apt to do thanks to the social nature of my kids), they can’t help but play it. And who wouldn’t? I mean, I purposefully leave the keylid open. Always.

At first my little girl would try to keep the keylid closed when the piano wasn’t in use. She reasoned that it was something like keeping the refrigerator door closed. I love that girl! I guess she wanted to keep the keys “fresh.” I tried to explain to her that a piano should be inviting. My personal philosophy is that once the piano keys are out of sight the whole piano becomes an unused piece of furniture. As I type this I know it sounds a little strange, but it’s exactly how I feel. A piano is meant to be played! In my head a closed keyboard means “don’t touch, stay back.” Thus, our piano is always open.

Recently we’ve had some kiddos over who didn’t just touch the piano, but actually sat down at the bench and stayed awhile. Sure, they hardly knew what they’re doing, but they played nonetheless. I love to see their little fingers jump around and how they proudly believe that tapping out a morse code style version of Mary Had a Little Lamb somehow makes them the next Mozart. A few of the boys have ventured to play two keys at the same time! Others run their hands across the whole length of the keyboard and some sit and test their fingering skills as they cup their hands and play one note at a time. It may not sound like much (and sometimes it doesn’t sound like that much) and yet it still seems beautiful.

For myself personally, time spent at the piano is both refreshing and energizing. I love testing my own abilities and playing music that demonstrates the God-given gifts and talents of a songwriter. I lose myself in the melodies and tune everything else out. Musicians and non-musicians alike know that music can be transformative. I give my heart and my soul over to the sound…and there’s nothing quite like it. The piano is both powerful and soft…conveying hundreds of emotions with a voice all its own. For those who play, you know how easy it is to lose track of time. And it never fails, every time I play I discover something new. I look forward to experiencing that joyful feeling again and again.

In some ways that little piano reminds me of our relationship with God. Yes, I said it. God is like an open piano. Patiently and lovingly waiting for us to discover Him. Always welcoming, our great and wonderful God calls us to come over. He doesn’t demand our attention, and yet we can’t help but notice His greatness. He doesn’t mind when we ask questions. He doesn’t mind when we approach hesitantly. He doesn’t mind if we don’t have it all figured out and need to sheepishly peck at the keys to find our way in this world. He uniquely meets our needs and knows our inner thoughts note for note. It seems the more time we spend developing a relationship with our Creator, the more enriched and blessed our lives become. As with a song, time spent with God can be transformative. Our Lord offers us something new every time we enter His presence. Like an open piano, we– as His creation–are naturally drawn to Him.

Maybe I’m giving our little piano too much credit. Maybe. But I know this, we can’t give God enough credit.

I hope that anyone who visits my home knows that they are welcome to succumb to the great magnet that is our little piano. I pray that anyone who hasn’t discovered God’s never-ending love and goodness moves closer toward a relationship with our Maker. As far as I’m concerned, both opportunities are always open.

Prayer is when you talk to God. Meditation is when you’re listening. Playing the piano allows you to do both at the same time. –Kelsey Grammer

WINK ;) baby names

Posted on February 27, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

😉 What I Now Know about baby names

As a Sunday school teacher I often find that I learn as much (and often times even more) than the young people in my class. This week was a perfect example of that as we took out our “God goggles” and looked at “naming” and more specifically the difference between good and bad naming. Who knew that so much could be wrapped up in a name? And as I studied the lesson a couple of things stood out to me. First of all, the idea that naming is Biblical. It was the first job that God gave to man. You might recall the story in Genesis where Adam was called to name all of the creatures. The second thing that kept coming up was just how powerful a name can be…which led me to this post.

When my husband and I found out that we were expecting we tossed around several name ideas. It was fun, light-hearted and a learning experience as we discovered that we had very different ideas about what makes up a good name. Soon after finding out that we would be having a boy, we began to narrow our focus. I wanted Matthew or Thomas…family names. Steve wanted to name our son Jacob or Calvin. Family members and friends weighed in with their ideas. Before long we had a long list of possibilities–none of which we were really crazy about or could agree on. Then someone threw out the idea that we should have a backup name for a little girl…just in case the doctors were wrong. Yikes! Like a lot of couples, we finally got serious and bought a baby name book–and the real trouble began!

If you’re ever looking for a good chuckle, look up your name in a baby book. Better yet, look up the names of family and friends. Very entertaining. The baby book we chose (from Motherhood Maternity) was particularly golden as it had a subsection under every name that detailed celebrities who share the same name as well as a sentence or two that describes how the general population feels about the name. Priceless. For example, my name–Anna–means graceful, however, the general perception of the name Anna brings about images of a hardy, pioneer woman. Let me just say that I am anything but a hardy, pioneer woman. I would have DIED on the prairie! If I couldn’t pick up my food at a grocery store or through a drive-thru window, I wouldn’t eat. Nevermind the fact that I can’t stand to be cold (or hot). I need climate control, too!

This newfound information made choosing a name even harder. Through laughter we eliminated many names and with awareness added many more. Finally, we found a name for our son where we least expected it. In a conversation between my husband and I (about an old Air Force buddy of his) we settled on the name Sean. Our son would be named for a friend. The baby book confirmed our choice as Sean means “God is gracious.” It was perfect. Still I couldn’t help but look at the two little sentences at the end of the entry…Sean is typically a well-liked man who is debonair and sophisticated like Sean Connery’s James Bond character or he is an intense, moody (yet talented) character like Sean Penn. Chuckle, chuckle. (If you know my Sean, you know exactly which description he favors.)

My daughter’s name came about a little differently. Armed with knowledge (veteran parents now) we set out to choose a name for our little girl. Many of the girl names we liked just three years before didn’t makes sense for this new bundle of joy. I started at the beginning of the baby name book and went about choosing a name methodically. This became a bedtime ritual for me. When Steve would finally settle in for the night I would toss out a few names. He was great at pointing out potential problems with little girl names, things that I had never thought about. The list of acceptable names was short. I found myself drawn to one name in particular and offered it up for opinions. Bad move. Let me say that again…baaaaad mooooove! Turns out people have very strong opinions about little girls’ names. Our mothers were not impressed with this name option. Oh, they were polite about it…but “umms” and “wells” can surprisingly speak volumes. I was at a loss until I started the name game fresh again…back to the beginning of the book. I came upon the name Casey. It was a sweet Irish name that meant “brave.” I liked it and before I knew it, I LOVED it. This was the baby’s name. This time when we announced our name choice there really was nothing anyone could have said that would have changed our minds. I think that’s how you know when you’ve come across the right name. You just have that gut feeling and won’t be swayed any other way (which is good, because this one wasn’t an immediately accepted name choice either.) I especially loved the short little sentence at the end of this entry. Casey is an outgoing, friendly brunette. You just can’t go wrong with an endorsement like that!

So, both children ended up with wonderful, well thought out Irish names (did I mention I’m nothing close to Irish?) And here’s What I Now Know about baby names:

1. Naming requires time and consideration. Many times we overlook the significance of a name and forget to weigh our decisions. A cute name today can easily become outdated. An old-fashioned name may require a lot of explaining for years to come. An unusual spelling is unique, but can be problematic down the road.

2. Family names can be tricky. I have mixed feelings about family names. I don’t mind the idea of Junior, the Third, the Fourth, etc., but when you have a family name chances are someone is going to nickname your child. Don’t consider it rude, it’s just that differentiating one person from another is often a necessity for a family. Be prepared to offer your own nickname. It can save you a lot of trouble.

3. Step into the role of a class clown or bully. This tip probably seems odd, but it has a serious place on the list. For example, I really like the name Ashley. But it was quickly pointed out to me that this name is gold as far as teasing is concerned. Also, if you child has trouble pronouncing the name Ashley, there’s another opportunity for poking fun. Kids have enough going on these days…don’t add to it by giving them a name that someone else can easily exploit.

4. Tread lightly where initials are concerned. I used to think initials were cute and don’t get me wrong, they work for some people. But overall, I wonder whether using initials is a disservice to the child. Look at it this way…when you go by your initials it’s somewhat of a shock to people when you use your real name. And you’re going to have to use your real name at some point. I remember someone who went by his initials. Honestly, it was years before I knew what his name actually was.

5. Keep the name to yourself…at least for a while. Let it grow on you. Walk it around a little bit. Consider it from all angles. How does it sound for someone at age 5, 10, 15, 50? Does it still sound good to you? When you finally decide to share your baby name–be prepared. You will get feedback! It’s not like you have to defend your baby name, but if you’re dead set on it you should be ready to back up your name choice. Ultimately the decision is yours, but I remember in the name announcing process not really being prepared for some of the comments I received.

6. Think of your child. It’s their name, not yours. Sure you like it, but think about pronouncing it, spelling it, hearing it chanted at a football game, read aloud at an awards assembly, with the words Mister or Madam President in front of it. Look at the name’s meaning and significance. You shouldn’t base your name on some celebrity, but it doesn’t hurt to be knowledgable about whether or not the name will bring to mind a famous person. And lastly, pray that you will give your child a good name…and when you do, use their name well. How quickly a name can go from good to bad based on tone and inflection. Build your child up by using their name with love and never in a negative way. Have you ever seen a child cringe when their name is called out? Make it a practice to use their name with respect, after all you’re naming a child of God.

All in all, I’m happy with our baby name choices. It’s been fun to share with the kids the stories about how we chose their names and what their names mean. I love to hear how others have arrived at their child’s name choice as well. There’s only been one hiccup to Sean and Casey’s names…over the phone (especially) people often as me, “Are your children boys or girls or one of each?” Yes… I thought that I had considered every aspect of their names. Apparently, I had overlooked gender neutral naming. LOL 😉

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. Proverbs 22:1

😉 What I Now Know (W.I.N.K.) is a recurring entry on this blog. The idea of WINK as an acronym popped into my head the other day while I was doing laundry. You see, aside from being a slave to housework I actually have quite a bit of knowledge filed away in my overworked brain. While I don’t claim to be an expert on anything, I know something about a few subjects that just might be worth sharing. And just like that this new blog idea was born–WINK (What I Now Know). I hope to share a little bit of what I’ve learned as a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother and all-around regular, ordinary girl. Look for ongoing posts, but What I Now Know (as a busy wife and mother) is not to promise weekly entries because life happens– and it usually happens when I want to blog! (Here’s where if I could wink at you, I WOULD.)

WINK ;) concussions

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

😉 What I Now Know (W.I.N.K.) about concussions.

Until about a year ago, I never really worried about my kids getting injured in sports. Both my children have played ball since the could walk–soccer, flag football, basketball and baseball. There were plenty of bruises and scrapes, but for the most part nothing serious. I know that injuries are part of the deal (that’s why I made my son play flag football and not tackle.) If injuries weren’t reality then we wouldn’t have to sign a zillion papers promising not to sue the YMCA or rec league. That being said, I still naively thought that broken arms and sprained ankles happened to other people’s kids…and there I go, clicking my heels.

Today, I’m a little neurotic when it comes to sports injuries. My hypersensitivity comes from my own son’s concussion last January. My ten-year old went up to intercept a long pass at midcourt, lost his footing and landed on the back of his head. (He would want me to mention that he DID catch the basketball!) I will never forget how the whole gym went silent as a group of coaches and my husband ran onto the court. My son managed to walk off on his own and sat dazed and confused on the bench as a family friend and teacher went to get ice. At the time none of us could have imagined the scary door this injury would open up for him and our family.

He had a headache and he was grumpy (who wouldn’t be? It was Saturday night and he had plans to go to a hockey game with a friend.) What we didn’t realize was that this headache would last four months. We didn’t go to the emergency room…a rookie mistake. We did however consult a friend (a paramedic ) who recommended that we see our family doctor first thing on Monday. The doctor’s examination was thorough and included a trip to the local hospital for x-rays, etc. It’s amazing the things you learn about your own kids in a doctor’s office setting, you know–things they tell the doctor and not their parents. Like the fact that when he first hit the floor everything went black for a second. And that he couldn’t hear out of one ear for most of the weekend. And finally that his jaw hurt on one side when he chewed (turns out he was chewing on the other side so we wouldn’t know.) The doctor filled us in on all the results and told us that the scans had all come back clear. We were relieved. Now we just had to limit our son’s screen time (TV and computer), make sure he got plenty of rest, and WAIT. Oh yeah, he couldn’t play any sports until he was headache free for 5 days straight.

I wish I could say that healing was as easy as following the doctor’s instructions. About three days later we felt comfortable sending him back to school. In hindsight, that was another rookie mistake. It’s very hard to limit screen time (and READING) when you’re not present, even if all the teachers understand the situation. I think that’s where the lesson of this particular injury really comes full circle. Most of us (myself included) have no idea how serious a concussion is. We see and hear about athletes all the time who take hard hits and end up back on the field or the court the next week. What we don’t realize is that a concussion is a brain injury and we only have one brain. And brains take time to heal! Especially children’s brains. Allowing your child to return to regular activities too soon can lead to a secondary injury. These can be very serious and cause permanent damage to the brain and even death. You can check out Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s video for more details about concussions in children. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnIRso_04Ks&feature=player_detailpage

It took four solid months for the headaches to go away. My son couldn’t participate in gym, recess or any other physical activity. This is especially deflating to a competitive ten-year old boy who eats, drinks and breathes sports. About three months in, our doctor recommended we scale back all stimuli and pull him out of school at lunch time. This is where we really started to see improvement. Less means more when it comes to healing a concussion! The Monday after Easter, almost four months to the day of his injury, my son was released for regular activity. It’s a day I will never forget.

Sean with a note from the doctor clearing him for all activities following a concussion. It was a long four months.

So, here’s what I now know about concussions:

1. Concussions are emergencies. Have someone look at the injury right away.

2. Reduce all stimuli for the first week, no exceptions. This means…no TV, cell phones, computers or electronic devices of any kind. No reading or school. No physical activity. I truly believe that if we had cut out all stimuli during the first week of his injury he would have recovered much faster. Children will kick and scream, but we must be the parents in this situation.

3. Remind your children that they must be honest in medical situations and tell you every symptom they’re experiencing. If I had known that my son blacked out (even momentarily) or that he couldn’t hear out of one ear, we would have certainly responded more urgently and taken him to an ER right away.

4. Don’t be afraid to make the tough decisions and stand firm. My son wanted to play basketball again. We allowed him to go to the games and support his team, but he was DONE for the season. I will tell you honestly that there was a lot of talk among friends, family and schoolmates about how we were being overprotective parents, questions of my son’s “toughness,” and many who second-guessed the seriousness of concussions in kids.

5. Find a doctor who understands concussions in children. We were fortunate. I cannot tell you how much we value our kid’s doctor!

6. Pray and ask for prayers. As a family of faith, we believe that a mighty God was with our son and our family during this time. The power of prayer cannot be underestimated. The strength and support offered by our church family was vital. I could go on and on….

Today, my son is playing basketball again. Don’t get me wrong–we all held our breath during that first basketball game back and especially during the game that took place in the same gym where he landed on his head. I am a more fretful mom today and I make no apologies for it. I cringe and pay extra special attention when I hear about similar injuries. And I make it a point to tell other parents and family members What I Now Know about concussions.

Men ought to know that from the brain, and from the brain only, arise our pleasures, joy, laughter and jests, as well as our sorrows, pains, griefs, and tears. Hippocrates (about 400 B.C.)

What I Now Know (W.I.N.K.) is a recurring entry on this blog. The idea of WINK as an acronym popped into my head the other day while I was doing laundry. You see, aside from being a slave to housework I actually have quite a bit of knowledge filed away in my overworked brain. While I don’t claim to be an expert on anything, I know something about a few subjects that just might be worth sharing. And just like that this new blog idea was born–WINK (What I Now Know). I hope to share a little bit of what I’ve learned as a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother and all-around regular, ordinary girl. Look for ongoing posts, but What I Now Know (as a busy wife and mother) is not to promise weekly entries because life happens– and it usually happens when I want to blog! (Here’s where if I could wink at you, I WOULD.)

“B” Christmas…or My Very Own Charlie Brown Christmas Special (starring ME!)

Posted on December 27, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Bells will be ringing—the glad, glad news…oh what a Christmas to have the blues….

Something has been askew this Christmas. I was sort of afraid to admit it until now since I proclaim this to be my favorite time of year. It’s not that I’m without a loved one, it’s not that I have an insurmountable list of problems, worries or fears. I’ve been trying to tell myself that it’s just the weather, but it sort of snowed the other day and that didn’t squelch the icky feeling.

I think if I’m really honest, I’ve missed Christmas–not in the “longing for” sense of the word, but more the “missed out” connotation of the word. It’s a horrible feeling since Christmas is still two days away. The dreadful feeling gave itself a name today–“B” Christmas, as in plan B. (Remember that feeling in high school when you felt compelled to choose a B school, just in case you didn’t get into your college of choice or the time when you had to settle for your second favorite prom dress because your “friend” already snagged the one you were eyeballing!) You know it’s not a bad thing…but it doesn’t feel all that great either.

I’ve been trying to hash out what went wrong…you know, analyze the variables and figure out what was different this year than in Christmas’ past. Nerdy, but that’s how I work. So, here’s what I’ve come up with: the season actually began too early with Christmas cookies in October, followed by an unusually busy baking season, Halloween (the unofficial start to Christmas) came and went too quickly (and I didn’t take the kids trick-or-treating nor did we visit any pumpkin patches), outside commitments were plentiful, time-consuming and pressing (basketball practices, extra long soccer season, music concerts and church obligations), Thanksgiving was very structured and passed in a blink (I was super intentional this year about being grateful and in the moment…maybe too focused?), I planned too many homemade/handmade gift projects and of course, the mother of all sins…I stayed up way too late trying to make it all PERFECT! I am guilty of trying to cram 48 hours into 24 hour days…but who isn’t?

In the end I paid for all of it. I was tired, irritable, a time tyrant. I spent all my waking hours in the kitchen and/or at the computer. I planned each day out for maximum productivity and left out any creative and spontaneous time for fun. Look, I’m not completely crazy…I had moments of being an on-the-ball mother, wife, church volunteer, and baker. There were occasional moments to pause, but not enough moments to reflect or savor. There were too many times I thought I wouldn’t get it all done, panic-stricken times when I was certain it wouldn’t come together, and way too many instances where I wondered why I had taken on so much followed by numerous vows to NEVER do any of this again! I hate that the most. The cold, hard fact is that I created this problem for myself. If I had the Christmas blues I was the one standing there with sapphire color paint under my nails, smeared across my cheek and splotched all over my clothes.

In this “smurf-like” state I didn’t have many options–so I did what people with the blues generally do, I cried. And wouldn’t you know it, I finally felt better. It reminded me so much of the Charlie Brown Christmas special. It’s filled with good intentions, projects and purpose. Linus even recites scripture to remind us of the true meaning of Christmas. Charlie Brown wants to be the director, the leader that the Peanuts gang is looking for. He wants to be the guy who’s going to make this Christmas special. He doesn’t just take on this project for the benefit of those in the Christmas program, he takes it on to better himself…because he believes this venture will raise his Christmas spirit. Yet, despite his best efforts we all remember the part where Charlie Brown walks out–dejected, sad, depressed and dispirited after he is ridiculed for choosing a tiny, sad excuse for a tree.

But here’s the best part: It seems like out of nowhere everyone seems to get it. The Peanuts gang suddenly see the tree in a new light! They find that part of themselves that connects with the heart of Christmas. It happens in a blink and without reason and in that cheesy-manner that only comes from 1960’s Christmas specials, but it happens. I don’t know if the show’s creators would ever say it, but I think that’s the moment when God stepped in. And in my very own Charlie Brown Christmas special (starring ME!) after those sad, blues-filled tears fell, God stepped in for me as well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a 1960’s Christmas special by any stretch of the imagination. It didn’t happen in an instant, but it did happen. Slowly the heart of Christmas filled my spirit and the holy day that I love so much, the season I call my favorite…started to come back to me.

As I finish up this blog it’s now the day after Christmas. My eyes tear up at the thought of this joyous Christmas 2012 that I almost missed out on. I thank God for the opportunity to worship and celebrate His Son’s birth on Christmas Eve with an unburdened heart. I rejoice in spending Christmas day with my husband and children and without any agenda…in fact, we all stayed in our pajamas ALL DAY. I am overjoyed to say that I consider this Christmas a blessing. And while my house is a disaster, the pine needles are piling up under the tree like sand, and I’m staring down at least several days worth of Christmas decor to put away, I finally feel content. I’m still listening to Christmas music. My husband asked me how long I planned to keep playing it and I didn’t have an answer–I still have a lot of Christmas to make up for.

Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.” ― Peg Bracken

The Other Birthday Brother

Posted on September 18, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

It’s my other brother’s birthday and I’m all smiles. I asked my sister to find some photos of our brother for his birthday blog and this one stole my heart. Look at that toothless grin, HUGE ball cap (did you borrow that from Dad?) accompanied by a tiny body, lefty baseball stance, and sporting a look of sheer determination! And you were way ahead of your time with that stylish flat bill…LOL! Under that hat I imagine that you’re sporting the same haircut you run around with today and that’s one of the things I love about you…you always know what works for you! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I wish I could remember you when you were little, but I was little too and so we’ll have to go with what I’ve been told…brace yourself. According to unnamed sources (our Mom), I loved to give you a bottle. Somewhere I must have learned that happy babies are well-fed babies and so you were constantly having milk shoved in your direction. As the story goes, it didn’t really matter if you needed or wanted your bottle, whether you were crying or not, I seemed to know what was best for you and as your older sister I decided that was milk. So, I was a dairy pusher in your early days but don’t worry, you had your revenge later in life when you decided to dump a bowl of melted ice cream on my head immediately after my bath. Yuck, and it was chocolate almond.

I remember when your tiny hand was all burned from hot coffee and the photo that exists somewhere of you on a picnic table sporting a sweater and a diaper with your paw all bandaged up. You were small and cute and yes, other fun photos of you exist with your red-tinged hair! Most of my childhood memories involve you and our youngest brother together. You were each other’s best friend and worst enemy. When you added in the neighborhood crew…well, the adventures never stopped. There were many years of toy trucks, baseball, football, BMX bikes, basketball, track, lawn mowing, weightlifting, and even one season of soccer. There were so many good times and it seems like only yesterday when we would all stay up late, watching Nick at Nite and playing monopoly for hours in the basement of our parent’s house.

Today, I tell my kids stories about you and our other siblings, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever shared two of my all-time favorite stories about you and I. Interestingly, they both involve a ghetto blaster (now if that doesn’t send you way back…I don’t know what will!) First, I remember the time when we tried to convince our little brother that he snored when he slept. So, after he drifted off to sleep we tried to record him snoring. But he slept silently, peacefully, and soundly. No snoring…and I’m not sure if he really ever snored at all. But we had a mission and the mission was to prove that he snored. In my bedroom we secretly created a recorded a tape of our little brother sleeping–a FAKE obviously. It started with a few grunts, groans, some snoring sounds then morphed into a symphony of noises that could only come from a barnyard. Bogus as it was, we seemed satisfied and waited until morning to play the tape and reveal that yes, indeed our little brother was a big time snorer (not!) I’ll never forget how much we laughed and how hard our little brother cried. He told Mom, we were busted, forced to admit that we made it all up, and probably punished (but I tend to block those memories out!) Ahh…good times.

My other fave story also involves the same ghetto blaster (remember how Dad carved our names into it?) We were huge fans of the Karate Kid (I and II) and watched those movies over and over. We were also two broke little kids who didn’t have money to purchase the movie soundtrack…yet we LOVED the Peter Cetera song The Glory of Love. Nevermind that we were too young to understand the song, that part was irrelevant. So determined we were to get a our own copy of this beloved piece of music, we decided to request it on the radio. So, phonebook in hand my brother called the radio station and made the request. As soon as he hung up, I called the radio station to make the same request. This pattern repeated for at least an hour as we sat with our hot little hands on the record button waiting…and waiting….and waiting. I’m sure the DJ was at his breaking point when the song FINALLY played. It’s amazing what determination, concentration, hard work, dedication, and the sheer act of annoying the heck out of some poor guy who works at the radio station can do for two pesky kids on a Friday night! Just like the Karate Kid…we were victorious!

Today is my brother’s birthday and I’m proud of the man he has become. The qualities that I liked about him as a kid are the same qualities that I love about him today. He is fun, hardworking, dependable, strong, reliable, honest and incredibly loyal. He is the one who will listen, come up with a plan, and help you out of whatever kind of nonsense you’ve managed to get yourself into. He’s a wonderful son, brother, father, uncle, son-in-law, brother-in-law, cousin and FRIEND. Wishing you the happiest birthday ever. YOU ARE LOVED! BTW, I requested this song for you….

A true friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need. Proverbs 17:17 NIV

Our Sunday Best

Posted on September 17, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them. Matthew 18:20

I can remember going to church as a kid and counting tiles on the ceiling. We didn’t go to church very often and I couldn’t tell you why those tiles appealed to me so much. Nevertheless, it was a perfect ruse for not paying attention. It makes me giggle a little because I probably looked quite angelic staring off into space like that. I imagine that my head was tilted just so that any onlooker might think that I was lost in prayer or in some kind of deep conversation with God. In reality it was simply–one, two, three, and did I count that one already?

Today I can tell you that I truly look forward to Sundays and attending church. I rush around trying to get myself ready, tame my son’s bed head, and fight with my little girl about clothing options (and she’s just in grade school!) Every clock in the house flashes a different time (maddening really) and I rally the troops with coffee and breakfast in hand…then it’s out the door we go. It’s comical because I go to church for a lot of reasons, but at that particular moment every Sunday morning all I can think about is that when I get to church I can finally REST!

So, this morning I was sitting in my usual pew feeling quite good. I had just received communion, the organ played in the background and I was at REST. Then, all of a sudden, the REST was over and I found myself counting! No, I wasn’t staring at the ceiling or counting tiles, instead I was counting blessings. I was watching as each member of the congregation came forward for communion. My counting began with a memory of the first time I met this person, the kindness of that person, the loss that this other person had recently experienced. My heart counted children whom I’ve come to know and love in our church, their parents who have become my friends, and a woman who will soon have a baby. I counted the people who have joined the church in the almost three years we have served here. I counted people who have been at this church for years and years and who will continue to worship here long after we’re called to serve elsewhere. My counting included those who faithfully serve the church each Sunday…ushers, communion stewards, and musicians. I counted staff and their families who attend worship each week. And when the moment passed, I felt more than REST…I felt true peace. The funny thing was at the end of all my counting I didn’t have a number. I couldn’t tell you how many people received communion that morning (and of course, that number was completely irrelevant.) I was left only with that warm feeling that fills my spirit every Sunday…and I will happily count on that!

Faithful attendance at Church meetings brings blessings you can receive in no other way. –Ezra Taft Benson

hymningandhaing

balancing faith, family & a few dozen other things on the yellow brick road

Category Archives: Faith