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

My World According to George Strait

Posted on January 17, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I’m usually in the mood right after dinner. Something about a full belly, a mountain of dishes, left overs sealed in GladWare, and disinfecting the counter tops seems to put me in a George Strait state of mind. There’s nothing like classic George when you feel like singing at the top of your lungs while your heart breaks into a thousand pieces as you simultaneously two-step with a broom…the occasional teardrop running down your cheek. Good times 🙂

My imaginary fan meet up with George Strait. Hope Martina doesn’t mind that I inserted my face over hers in this photo!

I don’t think anyone would classify me as a country music fan…although there were a few years in the mid-nineties where I “walked the line.” Okay, I’ll confess—I had a hat at the time, but it was just for the Little Texas concert at the county fair! My get-up was technically faux cowgirl…you know, trendy “booties” instead of real ropers, but I never went as far as having a belt buckle or Wrangler jeans. I did have a few radio presets dedicated to the local country music station at age 18, but all of it faded away just as quickly as it set in. Yet somehow, I managed to fall (and stay) in love with George Strait. And back in the day, I would have donned all that western wear, moved to Texas and developed a real southern drawl just for him. I mean, if I was ever going to go for a cowboy…it would have had to have been him—because if you’re gonna love a cowboy, why not love one who can sing?

While clearing the kitchen table and belting out a little George, the thought occurred to me—almost every song reminds me of a place in time. Memories, days gone by, people who I know and have known. It appears that several of his tunes have served as the soundtrack to many different seasons in my life. Crushes, first love, long drives, adventure, good times and bad. Right or Wrong, Fool Hearted Memory, A Fire I Can’t Put Out…seem to speak to times of young love and the intense feelings that often come with those first break ups and let downs. It was like George was the only one in the world who knew exactly how I felt! Then there were catchy tunes like The Fireman that remind me of KU and driving home with my roommate Sara in her hot, little red car. You Can’t Make a Heart Love Somebody, Easy Come, Easy Go, and Write This Down mark times where I learned important lessons about moving on and trusting God’s plan in both life and relationships. Twangy feel good music like Am I Blue always make me want to dance the day away. And two of my favorites–The Chair and All My Ex’s Live in Texas remind me of my parents–especially my dad’s band and concerts in the park downtown on summer evenings.

Unlike my other music phases, my George fanaticism began at a young age. I remember hearing George in the background while I learned to sew at my Grandma’s house. His songs seemed to play non-stop the first time I visited the great state of Texas (not to mention every time that I’ve ever stepped foot there.) George rode shot-gun with my best friend, Amy and I on our great Tulia, TX adventure in college. Later, his music again played on the radio appropriately setting the stage for a trip to Nashville. And it was George who traveled with me when I moved from Kansas to California. He was my cowboy companion as I cruised the interstate…thank goodness for a cassette player with auto-reverse! I laughed out loud while listening to Ocean Front Property in Arizona…scoping the horizon for his imaginary piece of real estate as I neared Phoenix. One song after another served as the backdrop to beautiful countryside and endless highway. And it was Heartland that later satisfied my soul when I found myself homesick for family and friends back in the Midwest. Other songs like Carrying Your Love with Me and I Cross My Heart remind me of true love, family values, and faith in God.

I know I’m not the only one with memories like these. And it’s been equally as fun to introduce my children to George’s music. His CD 50 Number Ones was on our vacation playlist as we traveled through Denver, Cheyenne, Salt Lake City, Lake Tahoe and finally into the San Francisco Bay area a few summers ago. They claim not to like him…but one glance in the rear view mirror and it’s hard not to notice them singing along. Just tonight my son belted out three songs in a row as he wandered into the kitchen asking aloud, “How do I know every single word?” My daughter rolls her eyes when I bust out a little George in the car on the way home from basketball games. Yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if someday George Strait makes his way onto their playlists. I imagine them sheepishly trying explain to their friends that these songs remind them of their mom and childhood! Better yet, I’d love to hear their take on the little ditty I call my “ultimate George Strait life song”—Ace in the Hole. They frequently give me the oddest looks when I tell them that there’s a life lesson in that song that will serve them well…if they just pay attention. Sure, Mom…sure.

While my radio presets today run the gamut from News Talk and Christian contemporary to Pop and Top 40, modern technology makes it easy enough to find George when and wherever the mood strikes. I don’t have any crazy aspirations of ever meeting George Strait. In fact, it’s probably better this way. I’ve been lucky enough to see him in concert twice and I’m good with that. As for me, our occasional kitchen-after-dinner meet-ups will continue to suffice, especially since they’ve been going on for years. Besides…who would two-step with the broom if George and I didn’t have these now and again country rendezvous?

Music gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. —Plato

Blog-aversary :)

Posted on December 31, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Dear Readers,

Today is a special day for me and I would like to say thank you to those who have been following my blog, hymningandhaing.com. As I enter my third year of blog writing, I have managed to write 30 posts, continue to work on two more and currently have at least half a dozen other blog ideas swirling around in my brain. The positive remarks and feedback that I have received during the last few years have only fueled my desire to write more! Many thanks for the fun comments, insights and encouraging words that you have offered throughout my blogging endeavor. I’m looking forward to 2014 and the writing opportunities it will bring!

Happy blog-aversary, hymningandhaing.com

10 Things You Don’t Know About Me (A Response to the Facebook Numbers Post)

Posted on November 14, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

~~Every once in a while~~ Often, I wish that Facebook had a dislike button. I would use it. I honestly consider myself to be a nice person, but when those little posts roll around asking you to “like if…” I just want to ~~throw something at the computer~~ cringe . I believe this sort of thing to be some form of Facebook spam. So whenever I see posts asking me to make comments starting with a certain letter of the alphabet or tell a story about the day we met, or for heaven’s sake that “giraffe” thing, etc…I start looking for my imaginary dislike button. I think on some level I don’t care for these posts because I am private person and something of a control freak, and I don’t want anyone telling me how, what or why I should play along. But, wouldn’t you just know it, it wasn’t long before I found myself enjoying these messages like everyone else. Laughing at the quips left behind, chuckling at what a friend or family member said, the inside jokes and (I know) hold your horses…it actually became somewhat fun! Okay, so it’s a thirty-something sort of fun, but if you’re a part of that club you know we’ll take just about any kind of fun that rolls our way 🙂

The only thing was… I wanted more. Naturally curious, I wanted explanations to the comments I didn’t understand. I wanted to be in the know. And again, I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to do (as in assign me a number)….and so, drum roll please: I decided to disclose 10 Things You Don’t Know About Me, on my own terms and with explanations. Here it goes….

1. As an adolescent, I had a huge crush on Tom Brokaw.

Okay, so he’s not everyone’s teenage dream, but he was mine. So smart, knowledgable and trustworthy. With a sweet midwestern charm and perfect hair. He could pull off a taupe suit like no other man I know. Sure, I was obsessed with Joey McIntyre of the New Kids on the Block and Mark Paul Gosselaar (Zack Morris) from Save by the Bell, but so were all my friends. I thought, however, I just might have a chance with Tom. I later found out he was married to a former beauty queen! #hopesdashed

2. I’m a picky eater, but if my Mom is making Mexican food…I will eat right up to that point just before vomiting.

Who doesn’t think their Mom is the best cook EVER?! My Mom is a boss in the kitchen and makes the tastiest Mexican food in the world. As a kid, I would protest and boycott all kinds of food. I practically lived on grilled cheese (and not the good kind–I had to make mine in the toaster!) But when Mom made Mexican food I could actually keep up with my brothers in the packing it in department. Now that I live away from home, I have to make the most of my visits which means eating tostadas (my ABSOLUTE favorite) to the point of nauseousness.

3. I HAVE to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom. ALWAYS, no exceptions.

Without going into a lot of explanation, I have a sadder bladder. It’s not a fun thing and stress makes it worse. So whether home or away, near the bathroom I must stay 🙂

4. I am obsessive about cutting up the plastic ring things that hold together soda, sports drinks, etc.

I went on this crazy save the Earth kind of thing when I was in junior high. I was pretty fanatical about chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs), saving the environment, ozone and climate everything. In some ways, I was actually before my time. I’m not sure what started this zaniness, but it might have something to do with Earth Day being so near my birthday. So here’s where those little plastic ring things come in…I remember seeing a video where the human race was polluting the environment so badly, that tiny, sweet little ducks and birds were getting their heads caught in those rings and dying. (Think of that one penguin in Happy Feet!) Absolute sadness. Always cut the plastic ring things into microscopic pieces. Have to.

5. I walk out of movies.

Most people figure they pay good money to see a movie and even if it’s bad, they’re going to plant themselves on that seat clear through the end. Not me. If it’s trash–I’m out. If it’s violent–see you later. If children are being hurt–goodbye. This doesn’t just apply to movies in the theatre, I’ll walk out on a DVD any day of the week. I once walked out of a Christian movie–and I’m a Christian. I can be perfectly happy in a movie theatre lobby.

6. I can’t stand the song She Drives Me Crazy by the Fine Young Cannibals.

This wretched song came out in the late 80s and was completely overplayed. I CANNOT stand it. I hate the video even more. I’m not sure exactly what has caused such a vile reaction to this particular piece of music, but like it I won’t. The only thing I like about this song is that when it comes on Pandora or my iTunes radio station, I can actually click thumbs down or (my favorite) select the NEVER PLAY THIS AGAIN option.

7. I learned how to do the “Twist” from Chubby Checker himself!

As a reporter, I had the opportunity to have many wonderful adventures–and meet some pretty cool people. The one person I’ll never forget is Chubby Checker. I’m a huge fan of oldies music and I just adore the “Twist.” Chubby was performing at a venue in southeast Missouri and agreed to be interviewed to promote his concert. He personally taught me how to do the “Twist.” The trick, he said, is to pretend like your stomping out a cigarette with your foot and drying off your rear end while holding a towel. That, my friends, is the “Twist!”

8. I have never ridden on a motorcycle.

Many moons ago there was a young man who I as smitten with who rode a motorcycle. I sooooo wanted to ride on the back! I thought it would be just about the coolest thing in the world. In reality, I had just watched the movie Grease 2 way too many times and wanted a “cool rider” of my own. However, when I had the chance–when the motorcycle and the guy were right there in front of me (offering me a ride no less) I couldn’t do it. I actually said, “My Mom said I can’t ride on a motorcycle.” Lost many cool points that day, but (as my Mom would put it) I am still alive and with all my own skin on. Today, as a mother, I would actually pull my kid off a motorcycle if I had to. #uncoolmomsrule

9. I once yelled at a guy for trying to offer me drugs.

While at a college party (in a town that was not Lawrence, mind you) a young man sauntered up to me reeking of marijuana and sporting some extremely over-sized clothing. He started making small talk with my friend and I and in less the two minutes decided we were worthy of retreating with him into a dark alley in order to share a joint. Maybe it was the fact that I won a SADD contest as a kid, I’m not sure, but something kicked into hyperdrive with his offer. I am against substance abuse of any kind and this gent had completely offended my honor. I said (at the top of my lungs), “Do I LOOK like I do drugs to you?” and proceeded to yell at him. It was one of those screaming rants similar to that of Ralphie on the movie A Christmas Story…I got started and I just couldn’t stop. Poor kid just slithered away. Maybe that was an over-the-top reaction, but I take this say no to drugs thing pretty seriously.

10. I want to be a writer, as in real book author, when I grow up.

When I was a kid I used to tell stories to my brothers and sister at bedtime. I could tell stories that would go late into the night. We would laugh and laugh with plot changes and strange twists. The crazier the story, the better. I also wanted to be a teacher when I was very young (decided kids are too much work), and then wanted to be a lawyer for about a week (couldn’t stand the thought of defending someone who I knew was guilty.) Next, I wanted to be an author. The dream seemed too big…so I set my sights on becoming a journalist instead! I have yet to write a book, but the urge is still there. And maybe, just maybe when I grow up–I’ll do something about it!

It’s funny (figuratively and literally) what we find out about each other when we simply “play” the game. Thank you Facebook friends for sharing and for indulging me in “my version” of the game as well.

The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don’t know anything about. Wayne Dyer

What I Learned Today: iPhone Photography is Tricky

Posted on October 26, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

“A good snapshot keeps a moment from running away.” Eudora Welty

I’m not sure if I’m just late to the party or if I’m one of the last of a dying breed to finally succumb to the “dark side” that is the smart phone. Maybe–it’s both. Either way, after years of bashing the thing…I am now the proud owner of an iPhone and I feel like Steve Jobs (who I am not a fan of) is all out belly laughing at me big time!

Let me start by saying, I certainly don’t NEED this phone. I mean, who really does? (Let’s compare convenience with necessity here people.) But after being lost numerous times while trying to find various tournament venues for my son’s teams (Wichita, Kansas City and even little ol’ Newton) I decided enough is enough–I MUST HAVE one of those fancy phones with a map! The when, how, where and why of my phone purchase would take too long to detail and I’m fairly certain that I don’t care enough to rehash the whole thing. What I do know is that last week I managed to get me, my daughter and my folks to an out-of-town wedding without any hiccups and ON TIME. So for that very reason alone, I can’t complain about this overall quality of the purchase.

Photos taken with the camera+ app. While I’m not sure I’m a “selfie” kind of girl, I highly recommend this app.

Here, however, is where things get interesting. iPhones have cameras. You already know that, and so do I…but did you know that they’re not that good? Honestly, how can we go around capturing moments and memories (that are supposed to last a lifetime) with this megapixel inferior, soft focus, low light challenged camera??? As a mother of two of the most (reluctantly) photographed kids on the planet, having a better than decent camera is really important to me. (Here we go again comparing convenience with necessity.) However, the practical side of me argued that carrying my Canon around 24/7 was just unrealistic, remembering to charge it (at home) before taking it out on the road is low on my priority list, and finally I thought to myself–everyone in the world manages to make their iPhone cameras do the job…surely I can make this work. Right?

Operating the iPhone camera was much more difficult than I thought. I’ve been told many times that the iPhone skillfully combines intuitive and ergonomic features that can easily be navigated with one hand. Okay. That’s a lot easier said than done when it comes to taking photos. First of all, you must be super still to avoid that fuzzy, blurry look with this camera. While I consider myself to be a steady shot, my iPhone has another opinion. I’ve tried holding my breath and snapping the photo, but that didn’t work out much better. The soft, focus thing is really an issue for me. And forget about the zoom. No good. And EVERYTHING had these horrible shadows! Look…I know you’re rolling your eyes with all my complaining, but I do know a thing or two about taking pictures. At last, (after sorting through several BAD photos) I had to surrender and decided that maybe I needed some help with this photo thing. Afterall, instagram is a huge success and it’s not like there are thousands of Ansel Adams or Annie Liebovitz types running around with camera phones in this world!

Research. Yes, research. I started with the apple FAQs and worked my way from there combing through reviews and tips. Next, I focused on new media photography articles (there are many) and moved on to blogs about capturing the perfect picture. It wasn’t long before I discovered that I have a lot to learn. In the process, I’ve been asking around…finding out what friends do to capture their perfect moments. I’ve received a lot of great advice and after about a month of iPhone camera ownership, I have managed to snag a few photos that I like. And while I am far, far from being a professional photographer, this is what I’ve learned today: iPhone photography is tricky…but there is help!

1. Take lots of photos and use the auto focus feature (First, you have to find it.) New technology means that we can take a zillion photos and delete all but the perfect one.

2. Lighting is key. I could go on and on about some of the technical aspects of this point, but here’s the easy version. Bright light is not your friend (neither is low light). Say it with me…NATURAL LIGHT! Try to take photos outside (or near a window) during the golden hours (about one hour after sunrise, and one hour before sunset.)

3. Get close and personal. The zoom is a joke on the iPhone camera. If you want close-ups, then get close up.

4. Explore apps. The iPhone is all about apps and so is the camera. There are tons out there. Do your research. Currently, I’m using camera+ and the more I learn about it, the more I like it. Plus, it’s inexpensive…so you really have nothing to lose.

5. Filters are your friends. A friend (and a fellow mother) shared with me how filters have salvaged her photos. Fuzzy or blurry…use a filter. Too dark or too bright…use a filter. Want to set a mood…use a filter. You get the point.

I’m excited about what I’ve learned and I hope to learn more (especially where the flash and white balance are concerned.) I still plan to use my Canon for photos that I want to hang up on the wall, but I’m coming around to this iPhone camera thing. Like I said before, I’m not a professional…so these are not hard and fast rules…merely suggestions. And speaking of suggestions…if you have camera phone wisdom you’d like to share with me–bring it on! I have two (reluctant) kiddos whose lives I need to capture…and I need all the help I can get! They just keep moving…or is it running?

My Own Field of Dreams (and Memories)

Posted on August 19, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

“Baseball…is a place where memory gathers.” — Donald Hall

Another baseball summer has come to an end. And so goes that magical time of year where we schlep our kiddos to and from practice, block out our evenings and weekends for games, purchase sunflower seeds and Gatorade in bulk, spend all of our money at the sporting good stores and plant ourselves for hours on end upon narrow (and often uncomfortable) bleacher seats. Oh, how I LOVED it! There’s just something special about being at the ballpark. And this summer, America’s favorite pastime took on new significance for me as a typical ballgame outing transcended time and space (cue Twilight Zone music here….)

One of the consequences of living hours away from family is that the chorus of cheers and encouragement for your kid come from yourself and the parents of your kid’s friends. I had become accustomed to hearing these familiar voices during my son’s baseball games, but on this particular weekend when my son stepped up to bat I could hear my Mom say, ‘Here you go, Sean,” followed by my Dad, “Pick a good one.” And just like that, I was transported back in time, to ball fields in my home town. Their voices and their presence that afternoon sent me right back to my childhood. You see, I was a “baseball sister,” nestled in the stands…sucking on sunflower seeds, drinking soda and watching my little brothers at bat. My Dad was on the field as coach and we all waited with bated breath for every pitch. In a flashback moment I could see their uniforms and determined looks. I recalled hot and dry, western Kansas evenings and the sports complex where they played little league. I took a deep breath and present day reality set back in.

All afternoon my head (and my heart) bounced between the baseball game at hand and games past. My mind’s eye could clearly see thrilling victories and agonizing defeats–my brothers’ sweaty faces and red, dirt stained white pants. I remembered Dairy Queen celebrations and post game lamentations at the kitchen table. Then I would see my son, in all his determination strike out a monster of a batter (keep in mind this is little league, but this batter was as tall as the umpire!) In the stands, my folks and I reminisced about Gatorade gum (does that still exist?), pre-game rituals and the power of green m&ms. Every caught ball, grounder and close call produced cheers and jeers intermixed with stories from my own childhood…Do you remember when kids wore stirrups as part of their uniforms, when entire teams ran to the parking lot for coolers loaded with soda and snacks, when games were scheduled as late at 9:30pm, and when wearing rally caps was a concept that NEVER had to be explained? Remember when…?

Between games, my Dad and husband talked about strategy, the ins and outs of coaching your own kid and various pitching techniques before heading back to the diamonds. We reminisced about how much baseball caps have changed (do you recall the mesh back, plastic snap variety?) and laughed about the NO SWIMMING ON GAME DAY rule, which still holds true for the new generation of ball players, at least in my family. We compared games of yesterday with my husband’s baseball experience on the West Coast. Before long we found ourselves in line at the concession stand again…purchasing more sunflower seeds, of course. And my niece helped to carefully pick out green m&ms (we might as well test out the “home run” theory) and discreetly handed them off to my son in the dugout (see candy commercial below for explanation), and finally we settled in for another inning of play. New game, but such familiar territory. I was living my own “Field of Dreams.” Like the well-known baseball flick, I was experiencing a mixture of baseball past and present, family togetherness and a desire to hold on to this special summertime moment.

Three games later we were sun-worn and windblown, but smiling. Sean pitched his very best game of the summer. We cheered as he and his teammates celebrated in the dugout. I took in the moment as the most important men in my life collectively grinned from ear to ear and looked so proud! Okay, it’s just baseball and little league baseball at that, but these are the occasions that become some of our best memories. As in life, another baseball game, another victory, another afternoon together is never promised. For now summer baseball will continue to weave itself in and out of my son’s childhood. We have camps to look forward to, the excitement of new teams and teammates, and the joy of taking in the occassional MLB game whenever we can. There’s nothing like building family memories around the ball diamond and dreaming major league dreams all while celebrating little victories at the local Dairy Queen.

“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”— Rogers Hornsby

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.)

hymningandhaing

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

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