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.)

Just Might Be a Cool Mom

Posted on February 23, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I had this zany idea the other day…let’s make a snow day Harlem Shake video–and upload it on youtube! What? Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly the sort of thing that pops into the head of a quiet midwest Mom (sometimes I even surprise myself.) So, how does one arrive at the idea of a snow day Harlem Shake? Glad you asked. Let me walk you through it.

The whole thing started when I saw the Kansas Jayhawk basketball team’s Harlem Shake video. A die-hard Jayhawk fan, I absolutely loved it and shared it with my kids. They liked it. Liked it? That’s right, they liked it as in they watched it once and moved on. Okay. Mmmm, maybe this Harlem Shake thing isn’t exactly cool. But it sure was funny and I soon found myself cruising youtube looking for more Harlem Shake videos. Before I knew it I had watched a couple dozen videos (some good, some not so good). Eventually, I decided to turn to everybody’s favorite source for information–Wikipedia–and find out more about these videos. Turns out it’s this big web frenzy…complete with rules and criteria like masks, costumes, wielding objects and in some cases, very little clothing! The whole things lasts less than one minute and I thought to myself…it might be fun to make one. Of course, I never (ever) thought we actually would–but Mother Nature had a better plan.

Enter the big midwest snow storm! Wednesday’s light snow and modest accumulations (mixed with the weatherman’s doomsday overnight forecast) led us to cancel Wednesday night activities at church. A relaxed night of Jayhawk basketball ensued (LOL that game was anything but relaxing!) Word that school was cancelled for Thursday made room for a laid back morning and an additional 5 inches of snow created opportunities for some outdoor fun. We could have headed to the backyard to build a snowman (I like snowmen), but blame it on the Jayhawks victory, their funny Harlem Shake video and the rare occurrence of a well-rested Mom and an idea was born. I announced my plans over lunch. No one was as excited as I was.

I headed to the basement to gather some props. I explained the “rules” of the video to the kiddos and swore that it would take 5 minutes or less to create. Still, no one moved. I bribed them with the promise of hot cocoa and extra play time in the snow that afternoon. They were slow to get moving, grumbled all the way out the door, and gave me blank stares when I directed them into the yard. My son complained that the whole thing was embarrassing (and he’s an EXTROVERT) while my daughter moped and sulked in the snow. Three minutes later we were done and they were FREE! They couldn’t get to their friends fast enough and I was left feeling like the “uncool” Mom with the “uncool” idea of making a Harlem Shake video.

Fast forward to later that afternoon. The video had been edited and uploaded. I asked the kids to come see the finished product. The smile that crept across their faces was priceless. My children are hams at heart and love to see themselves on any screen. They giggled. They asked me to play it again. They laughed at themselves, laughed at each other and of course, laughed at their parents. I linked the video to my Facebook page and we laughed together throughout the day as family and friends liked and commented on our video.

We were surprised this morning to see that our video had more than 60 views on youtube…for today’s “plugged in” kids that’s a pretty big deal. Our snow day Harlem Shake video was the buzz at the only hill in town worth sledding on–which means… this little family project just might be labeled a success, that as parents we aren’t that lame and out of touch and finally, that for once (yes once), I just might be a cool Mom.

No one in this world will ever love you like your Mom. author unknown

It’s Raining Pine Needles in My Living Room

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

We should have listened to my seven-year old daughter while we were at the Christmas tree lot. She lobbied for a Frasier, but we went with the Balsam–that was our first mistake. Its intoxicating pine fresh scent had us fooled (not to mention it’s slightly cheaper price tag.) We took the Balsam and left “Stacy” (my daughter had already named the Frasier) to another couple who had been obviously eyeing it like a hawk that afternoon. About a week after we decorated the tree my son started to say, “Mom, it’s not good when you can see through your Christmas tree.” It was our second clue. When your dog shakes off pine needles like she just stepped out of a bath…that’s called strike three.

You know it’s time to get rid of the Christmas tree when the ornaments start taking themselves down!

So it’s the second week of January. It had to come down sometime. I mean, my little girl’s birthday is just a few days away and we can’t have birthday photos with a tumbleweed Christmas tree in the background. So I bit the bullet and took the tree down—but not before I could make an event out of it. Christmas Blend Starbucks coffee, peppermint candy canes, and my favorite Christmas DVDs playing…I started taking off the ornaments that hadn’t already surrendered to gravity. It was a sad day.

Sad because not only was I taking down all the festive Christmas decorations, but sad because this meant another year had slipped through our fingers. Sad because the kids’ break from school had run its course. Sad because all the holiday cheer has been replaced with dieting resolutions and “organize your life in 2013” mumbo jumbo. And a whole lotta sad because I had a Christmas tree mess unlike any other!

You always have battle scars when you opt for a real Christmas tree. Little scratches and scrapes during decorating…and don’t forget the sap, uugggh! Plus, the occasional water spill and of course–pine needles. However, this year’s Christmas tree outdid itself in the pine needle department. They started falling off about a week in. Then we noticed small piles of needles starting to form on the tree skirt. Soon after–when the living room was quiet–you could hear the pine needles fall through the tree. It quickly escalated to sagging garland, the strand of lights slowly inching toward the floor, and the occasional ornament falling in the night. Before long we began to worry whenever someone opened the front door and a breeze swept in. I yelled at the kids about running past the tree too fast and setting off a needle avalanche. We tried to keep up with the needles through the aid of our Dyson vacuum cleaner, but after a while I started to worry that we were actually damaging the Dyson. And forget about it when the UPS guy came the door–I promise that tree almost came tumbling down when the dog raced to the window to let out her warning barks. On Christmas morning there wasn’t an ounce of snow outside, but there was a nice prickly layer of pine needles dusting every gift. And then we left town.

When we returned we couldn’t turn the lights on the tree anymore…fire hazard. My niece caught wind of it on New Year’s Eve via a Skype video call. She wondered what HAPPENED to our tree! Her comment spoke volumes. We all knew it needed to come down. I actually sort of wanted it to come down (and I NEVER want to put the tree away…I secretly want it to be Christmas all year!) Still, it was painful to look at and I would have probably paid someone to take it down for me at that point if I thought we had any takers.

One week later we were all sort of used to the newly dubbed “tumbleweed tree.” Its falling pine needles had become just a regular household sound like the squeak in the kitchen floor. Whenever I walked into the living room I would just waltz over to the tree, inspect underneath, gather the fallen ornaments, dust off the pine needles and put them on the table. A small pile of ornaments had started to emerge when I decided that I was all out of excuses. There were other things that needed to get done, but the tree won out today. It’s ugly, shabby appearance had already forced me to tell the children that their friends couldn’t come over and play until I had taken it down (and I said that four days ago.)

It took hours and I’m still not technically done putting all the Christmas decorations away, but removing the tree was a big start. Of course, a zillion needles fell out in the process, it took a broom, a dust pan and about 30 minutes with the Dyson to get things looking good (although I still wouldn’t recommend walking where the tree used to be in your bare feet!)

I know we’ll do it all again next year and the year after that…although I’ve been eyeing artificial trees in the clearance section at Wal-Mart (wink, wink). But for now the living room has resumed its regular homey look, the children can have their friends over again, and the branch that used to be our tree has a nice new home up against the fence in our backyard. And who knows how long it will stay there….

The perfect Christmas tree? All Christmas trees are perfect! ~Charles N. Barnard

“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

Fried Chicken Evangelism…or Happy Birthday, Steve!

Posted on September 4, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I think I’ve met my match where birthday blogs are concerned. I’ve been wanting to write this one for days, but I’ve had two things stacked against me. First, trying to write this blog and keep it a secret from my husband (BTW, it’s HIS birthday) and the difficult task of condensing a relationship that means so much and expands a great deal of time into just a few paragraphs. It’s a story whose chapters continue to be written quicker than I can type. Yikes!

I could start with when we met. Now that was funny. I was interviewing for a reporter job in Jonesboro, Arkansas. As I was meeting various staff members, off in the distance I could hear this loud, booming voice. Upon turning the corner in the newsroom, I could see that the source of this voice was “holding court” in the center of the room. I clearly remember that he was in the middle of telling a story, when he stopped and said, “You’re from Kansas?” If memory serves me right, I think the look he gave me spoke volumes. I’ll sum it up by saying that I’m certain he was searching my smile for a shock of wheat and wondering if I wore socks with my shoes, maybe even if I wore shoes at all. You see, HE was from California…which explains his loud, all-about-me nature…which I would later learn he referred to as the “wonderfulness of Steve.” This brief encounter concluded with various Kansas jokes…I’ll spare you the details but they had to do with telephone poles and cow patties. Somehow this was the beginning of our love story.

Fastforwarding, I’ll share another one of my favorite Steve stories: Our honeymoon. Let’s just say we took a wrong turn back to the hotel following a Hawaiian midnight Christmas Eve mass (we sure know how to have fun don’t we?) Down this dark, semi-spooky street we happened to walk past a woman. Being the naive Kansas girl that I am, I just assumed she was waiting for her ride. Turns out she was waiting alright…but her attire didn’t suggest she was on her way home from church. As we moved past her and down to the street corner, Steve suddenly decides that he has to speak to her. Maybe it was because she was all alone on a dark street, maybe it was because it was Christmas Eve and maybe it was because we had just come from church…regardless, Steve just had to go over there and talk to her–leaving me alone, standing on a dark (somewhat seedy) street corner! I wasn’t privy to the conversation with this “lady of the night,” but anyone watching would have thought this scene was hilarious. A man leaves his bride of less than a week, on a street corner, in a strange town, in the middle of the night, to minister to a prostitute. As if this scene wasn’t hilarious enough, you should have seen the send-off she gave him…let’s just say she told him where to go and how to get there!

I should mention that my husband is now a pastor. It’s his calling that has taken us from Arkansas, to California, and miraculously back to my home state of Kansas. Before you think a pastor’s family life must be boring…let me tell you we’ve had some great adventures and God has blessed us with some incredible opportunities. At the same time, Steve’s calling tests my skeptical nature on a regular basis. Nevertheless, he continues to serve others in a variety of settings and throughout all hours of the day. One of the things that I’ve really had to get used to are the constant phone calls. Did you know that someone is always in need? I had no idea. But when your name is printed in the phone book and/or is associated with a church, many times you are the first person that people call. Steve has given money, boxes of crackers, high-priced danishes (inside joke,) and arranged transportation and motel rooms for those who have come across hard times. I’ll never forget the time he told me he was leaving the house to take fried chicken to a guy holed up in a motel room who didn’t have any money for food. Don’t ask, it’s a really long story.

I’ve often thought of writing a book about Steve and his faith walk…gushing about how wonderful I think he is and how much I love and respect his story. He’s a big part of bringing me to this point in my life…not just physically to this place, but mentally and especially spiritually. I fell in love with Steve because he makes me laugh. I continue to be amazed by the depth of his heart and how much he genuinely loves and cares about people. I admire his strong faith and the inspirational way that he seeks to share God with me, our family, our church, our community and just about anyone he meets. If you know Steve, you know I could go on and on. When I do write that book, I already have the title picked out…Fried Chicken Evangelism. Happy birthday, Steve. YOU ARE LOVED.

A bowl of vegetables with someone you love is better than steak with someone you hate. Proverbs 15:17 NLT

You’ve Heard of Christmas in July, Right?

Posted on July 20, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

“You’re cheating!” my husband said as he turned the corner. “So, what,” I half-heartedly mumbled as I brushed past him in the hallway. The window on my computer screen was open and there it was…all exposed for the world to see (and hear.) I WAS BUSTED.

There was no denying it and if you know me, I wouldn’t bother with trying to make excuses. It felt good, so I threw commonsense out the window and continued to listen to Christmas music a mere two days after the Fourth of July.

It was not my intention to get into a full Christmas groove. In fact, I was listening to Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” for the 80th time with my seven-year old daughter when I caught a glimpse of Michael Buble’s Christmas CD icon out of the corner of my eye. The snowy scene, the gift-bearing crooner, the joyful feeling that conjures up the holidays. So before Bieber could promise his girlfriend more fondue I double clicked and the familiar melody began…it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…. I had only intended to hear the first song, a Christmas-junkie’s first mistake.

I truly love Christmas. And I’m going to say it (though many of you will not believe me) I truly love Christmas and it has NOTHING to do with the presents. Trying to pinpoint what I love most about the Christmas holiday is difficult. I love the cooler weather (correction, “colder” temps…I live in the Midwest), the decorations, the busyness (although I regularly complain about that part), the shopping, the planning, the cookie baking and especially the music. It’s the music that really sets the tone, puts that special something in the atmosphere and makes many of the awful parts of the holiday season (and we know there are some truly awful parts) much more festive! Of course, these are just the secular part of the holiday…when I start thinking about the birth of our Savior, well it just makes the season so much more meaningful and special…but that’s another blog.

So back to my kitchen and Christmas music in July…. Somewhere in the middle of song two (Santa Claus is Coming to Town) I started daydreaming about putting up the Santa collection and wondering if I should continue to make it the focal point of the living room. Then, early into song three (Jingle Bells) I began thinking about my son’s winter coat and how he’s growing like a weed and whether or not we need to plan to buy him a new one. Next, White Christmas turned my thoughts to looking at the calendar and finding out what day of the week Christmas was on this year. By the time I hit the chorus of All I Want for Christmas is You I started thinking that I should start my shopping early this year, like maybe in August or September…no wait, we have school shopping to do… my thoughts started racing. Several songs later I ended up at Blue Christmas and began to realize that I wasn’t really enjoying the music any more, instead I had actually started a mental list of all the things that I had to get done before Christmas. My mind was a blur of plans and preparations…a “to do” list was starting to form. I was already wondering how we were going to balance church programs and school holiday events… and basketball practice? YIKES! Believe it or not, but Christmas panic was actually attacking me in JULY. Breathe, breathe, breathe….

Michael Buble’s personal Christmas greeting belted out from the computer speakers. My Christmas daze was over. Although I played the whole CD, I’m fairly certain that I only heard half the songs. And it dawned on me…there is a defined Christmas season and there’s no way it can begin as early as July! I don’t think I could handle it if it did. Suddenly, the warm July temps seemed a lot more appropriate, a schedule jam-packed with little league baseball sounded just right, and a couple more months of wearing flip-flops and sandals seemed to fit me to a tee. No sense in rushing a good thing. Christmas could wait.

I shut down the computer for the evening with only the faintest brainworm of I’ll Be Home for Christmas running through my head. I still have to get through all the summer birthdays, the first day of school, Labor Day, and finally Halloween…the official start of the holiday season, right?

I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree

Hey Jude is Still the Best Way to Close Down a Bar

Posted on July 8, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I won’t claim to be a big time Beatles fan. Don’t get me wrong. They’re GREAT! I love a lot of their songs and if I was around during their heyday, I would probably be among the throngs of screaming girls hanging on their every word, buying posters and otherwise going ga-ga for them. So, obviously, I think a lot of the Beatles. Still, I don’t own any of their albums or CDs and I don’t know all the lyrics to any one of their songs. But, there is one ditty that I just adore–Hey Jude!

I probably first heard the song as a kid in passing. I imagine that I came across it in somebody’s parent’s album stash. Still, not much of a blip on my music radar. My next encounter with the Beatles was fleeting. I’m sure I saw someone on campus wearing a t-shirt and thought to myself, “Oh, yeah. I like the Beatles…cool.” I’d hum a few songs here and there. And at one point I thought about buying one of their CD’s at the local music store, but the new SneakerPimps release won out…a consequence of being a broke college kid and having to make tough financial choices. So the Beatles went by the wayside and I moved on with my life, but this was college and some things never die.

The Beatles resurfaced again a little later when I became acquainted with college radio. You know how it goes, one DJ likes 80s Punk, someone else likes Big Band, there’s always a girl whose show revolves around man-hating, angsty girl bands (one of my faves), and the list goes on and on. Basically, anyone can get a show. Thus one mild-manner fellow played the Beatles and I loved it. For the most part it had loads of elements to it—fun and poppy early stuff, catchy numbers that quickly become brainworms, ridiculous karaoke-type songs (Yellow Submarine anyone?), and later more thoughtful ballads. Who couldn’t find something to love in such a varied set!

All of this brings me to Hey Jude.

Senior year in college. Just when you’ve gotten used to the college lifestyle (and all the perks that come with it), you suddenly realize that all good things come to an end. As the cliché goes, “there’s a reason and season for everything under the sun.” It was inevitable. And while most of my crew would extend their college plan an extra semester or go on to work on a master’s degree, I was on course to graduate in the spring. It was all part of my super strict, no room for errors, by the book, four-year college plan. Sure, many tried to get me to stay in our little bubble…”Go an extra semester, minor in Spanish, go to grad school,” they all said. But as much as I loved them and loved that life, I knew my time was done. So in January while celebrating a birthday at our favorite hangout, Louise’s Bar Downtown, I strolled over to the jukebox to pick out the last song of the night. I had stood at this jukebox before. I knew the song choices and for nearly two years I had always picked the same song, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” by Neil Sedaka…well worth the quarters I sunk into the machine. (SIDEBAR: I really do like that song. It reminds me of peanut butter milk shakes, holding hands, and simpler times. However, amongst a college crowd, it always garnered groans and head turns…which made the song extra fun for me!) But this song was going to be THE last song of the night. It had to be special. We were here to celebrate a dear friend’s birthday, the start of my last semester in college and CLOSE DOWN THE BAR. Obviously, the pressure was on! So I dropped two quarters and selected Hey Jude and never looked back.

That semester whenever we all got together, it had to be Louise’s, we had to CLOSE DOWN THE BAR, and we had to listen to Hey Jude. It became for us the exclamation point at the end the evening. It had to be the song we sang or hummed walking out the door. It had to carry us home. And it always did.

On graduation night we ended up at Louise’s–where else, right? My dear friend (and roommate) had a roll of quarters and waltzed me over to the jukebox. She said that tonight we were CLOSING DOWN THE BAR with $10 worth of Hey Jude. I couldn’t think of a better parting gift. We made the selections and walked away. About an hour into the repetitive Hey Jude track, the bartender kicked us out. Apparently, the crowd was a little upset at what they considered our buzz kill music. We were escorted out that night (the first and last time that has ever happened to me), but we had the biggest grins on our faces.

My son as John Lennon (2012)

I left town two days later to a new job, a new town and a new state. There I found new friends, my future husband, and a reawakening to faith. Hey Jude and I would occasionally cross paths during the years and my mind would wander back to those days. But recently my ten-year old son came home from school with a project that brought the Beatles back into focus. Together we researched the band, their history, their ride to fame, and their music. Hey Jude walked back into my life. After a particularly long day, with the kids finally in bed and a disastrous kitchen mess waiting for me, I searched YouTube for Hey Jude. I played it over and over! In the quiet of that night, as I was getting ready to CLOSE DOWN my kitchen, I played it just one more time–for me. It is the perfect way to cap off an evening and I finally know why…Hey Jude is soothing enough to change the course of a night, thoughtful enough to make you appreciate everything going on around you, profound enough to wake you up to life’s blessings, and long enough (7 minutes) that when it’s finally done, you’re really ready to say goodnight.

Take a sad song and make it better. –Hey Jude by the Beatles

The Birthday Sister

Posted on February 12, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

My Mom used to dress my sister and I up in the same outfits. This looks cute on twins, but when you’re four years apart one of you is bound to look WRONG! Case in point, a twelve-year-old in footie-pajamas and an infant wearing a belt. Okay, it wasn’t quite that ridiculous, but it was pretty close.

Today is my little sister’s birthday. Whenever I think about her a few things (other than our wacky forced wardrobes) come to mind. First, I think about how blessed we are that we did not grow up fighting. I’m sure that we had our squabbles and a few tiffs come to mind, but nothing major. The lack of fighting left room for laughter and lots of good times. I remember sharing a bedroom and staying up talking and telling stories. One Christmas season we decided to change our pre-bedtime ritual into a singing contest. We would each pick a favorite Christmas song and start singing it at the same time. Whoever could get the other sister to start singing their song first was the winner. It was a lot of fun and I have to admit that as the older sister I had the advantage. You see, at the time my little sister only knew two songs all the way through–Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. She always sang one and if I sang the other and sang loud enough she would always end up joining in. Before you start thinking I’m the bad guy, I must confess that it took me several nights of singing “complicated” songs like the Twelve Days of Christmas before I finally realized I could save myself a lot of breath and time by simply singing one of her faves.

We did all the fun things sisters do, like playing dolls, playing house, playing Barbies (which is like dolls, but different), playing store, playing school and even playing adoption agency! I know what you’re thinking, “WHO plays adoption agency?” But you should keep in mind that it was at the height of the Cabbage Patch Kid rage thus adoption agency makes perfect sense. Speaking of Cabbage Patch Kids…boy did we LOVE those dolls! I remember when we got them for Christmas. My Mom could only snag boy Cabbage Patch Dolls (the height of the rage remember) so my sister ended up with Ramsey and I had Peyton. Hers came in a cute little non-gender outfit with short curly hair and, after attaching a hairbow, she immediately reassigned Ramsey’s gender and he became a she. I on the other hand, felt obligated to keep Peyton a boy–after all he came in a sporty little blue and white sweatpant suit and was bald. Nonetheless, we loved those dolls and took them everywhere. In the winter we bundled them up in blankets and carried them around like real babies, in warmer weather they could be found tagging along to Grandma’s, the grocery store, etc… like real babies.

If you asked my Mom to share some of her favorite memories, I wonder if she would remember the time we were playing “K-Mart.” Yes, we weren’t just playing store on that particular afternoon, we were playing “K-Mart.” And when you play K-mart you must have layaway and of course, blue light specials. We arranged the living room, and calculator in hand, we took turns being the shopper and the cashier. We tape recorded the specials (trying to make our voices sound like the coolio K-Mart managers) and played them back all afternoon. Oh, those were the days. Purses full of fake money and the ability to “purchase” things we already owned. We sure knew how to have fun!

In many ways my sister and I are very different. She has loads of dark, curly hair and I have loads of lighter, straight-ish hair (that’s code for boring and constantly permed!) For a little sister she ended up taller than me (a family curse where the eldest daughter ends up the smallest in the bunch.) She has always had perfect teeth and long, slender fingers which I always envied. She’ll pay money to see a scary movie and I have to turn the channel when a horror pic trailer makes its way onto a TV screen. She truly LOVES children whereas I would say that I like most kids. She is the favorite aunt, hip to all the new fashion trends, music and kid-slang and I’m the aunt who you’re not sure if you want to show up at your graduation (can you say group t-shirts and caricature signs!)

We’re also similar in my ways. We both love comedies, Mexican food, the Donna Reed Show and to shop. It’s funny how we’ll like the same scent of perfume without consulting one another. We both try to “lay low” at family events to avoid getting picked on by our brothers. We also know exactly when to roll our eyes and shoot a “here we go again” glance at larger, extended family functions. And we both love to laugh. As little kids we would get the giggles and hardly be able to contain ourselves (even on the rare occasions when we were in church.) As teens we laughed through the dishes and the Uno games that determined who was going to have to sweep or wash! We laughed when our Mom called us Frick and Frack (I’m Frick), Ding and Dong (I’m Ding) or Mutt and Jeff (I’m Jeff.) We could hardly contain ourselves the one afternoon when we decided to cover every photo in the house with post-it notes (adorned with a smiley face), all the while waiting to see how long it would take our Mom to notice when she got home from work! (Ha ha, Mom, it took you a while….)

So many good times. I love my sister for all of these fun memories and so much more, but recently I’ve come to love her in a new way. In the last few years I have seen a strength in my sister that makes my heart burst. While she has always been a key figure in the lives our nieces and nephew, I saw her finally put herself first and fight through a difficult personal situation…and come out the winner. I know that she still has her good and bad days, and most people wouldn’t believe all that she’s had to deal with and the challenges that she’s been through. Still, I’ve seen her take steps to become more independent, I’ve seen her change her course, I’ve seen her make realizations and discoveries that have deeply impacted her life. I’ve seen her come from a place of brokenness and rise up to a place of responsibility and change for the better. I’m so proud of her and all that she has accomplished so far. I pray for her daily and I know that God has a wonderful future for her, one with promise and hope. She is special and this birthday marks a tremendous turning point for her.

So my darling, sister, here’s to a year unlike any other. One with less worries and stress. One with more happiness and success. And one with courage and loads of side-splitting laughter and joy! Happy birthday, sis…may God bless you today and everyday. YOU ARE LOVED!

A sister is a forever friend. Author Unknown

The Birthday Brother

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I smile because you’re my brother. I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it. –Author Unknown

Little brothers are g-g-g-great! If you can swing it, I highly recommend having one…and I can say that now because I don’t live with mine and haven’t for years. And I am especially reminded of how great it is to have a brother because today is my littlest bro’s birthday. (Insert birthday horns here!)

I dont’ remember the day my youngest brother came on the scene. I think I might have been three or four and those kinds of things don’t really register when you’re little. What I can honestly attest to is that I can’t remember a day in my childhood when he wasn’t around. His cute little, round-cheeked, skinny self running around the house…usually right behind my other brother. To this day I still refer to them as “the boys” (notice the plural) because they were always together! And together they managed to get into all kinds of adventures. But this blog is an ode to the birthday brother so I’ll try to stay on task.

My memories include all the regular little brother stuff like how he would play with toy trucks, get dirty, play sports, get dirty, bother me, and get dirty (of course it didn’t help that our backyard at the time was nothing but dirt.) But he did other things, too, and some of them still put a grin on my face to this very day! I remember the summer he wouldn’t wear shorts. I’m not sure of the real reason behind this abnormality, although I have my theories, but he just flat out refused to wear shorts one summer. Instead he opted for jeans! Jeans in the hot, dry western Kansas heat. I can remember it was a family effort to try to convince him to wear shorts. It was a battle we lost. I can still picture him on the sidewalk in front of the house with a pair of black jeans on…and his little shirt was tucked in! But those jeans were the least of his worries. During one of the summers when he did wear shorts that boy had more mosquito bites than the whole population of GC! He had welts the size of ping pong balls and they always got infected. He practically bankrolled the Campho-Phenique corporation that summer! The mosquitoes sure must have thought that kid was sweet (I’ll throw him a bone, after all it is his birthday!) Other summer memories include his obsession, or was it superstition, with Gatorade gum and sunflower seeds. (Upon a recent trip home a story was relayed to me that he is still crazy about sunflower seeds. A little bird told me that he uses his prechool-aged son as a pack mule for carrying around three different flavors of sunflower seeds at a time. If you’re ever in need, check his boy’s backpack for sustenance!)

My littlest brother was also a bit of a clown and could be counted on for a laugh or a quick remark at anytime. This orneriness landed him in trouble once or twice (ha ha) and he was lucky that he was such a cute little boy– it was his saving grace! As a consequence of his cuteness, little girls were always buzzing around, going to his ball games and calling our house. Not sure if he’ll admit it, but I think he secretly liked all the attention. Things got weird in high school when girls my age were asking who’s “that guy” and it turns out they were pointing to my kid brother! It got even weirder when a friend of mine called and I started chatting with her when she interrupted me to say that she was actually calling to talk to him. Awkward. But as fate would have it, he is now the father of two beautiful girls and a darling little boy and I can’t wait to see how he handles the consequences of their “cuteness.” I can already hear him saying, “Well things were different when I was your age….”

I could go on and on about my littlest brother, but I will stop short and relay my two favorite stories. The first takes place in Allen Fieldhouse during a Jayhawk game. I remember him sulking because he had to accompany my folks on a weekend visit to see me in Lawrence. Poor guy! He happened to be in trouble (again?) and my parents were afraid a typical grounding would be ineffective if they were out-of-town. I’m sure the house party invites were already out by the time my folks told him he had to go with them on their road trip. He was not very happy. So while thousands of Jayhawk fans were screaming at the sight of the Jayhawks and Jacque Vaughn running through the tunnel, my brother sat sulkily in his chair sucking on a soda. Nevermind the awesomeness of seeing the Jayhawks play at home. Nevermind being on the hallowed grounds of basketball history. Nevermind that it’s next to impossible to get tickets to a Jayhawk game. As the saying goes, “Beware the Phog,” but that afternoon it was more like the Phog should beware him. Hell has no fury like a boy who lost his house party!

And my all time favorite story takes place back in high school. He was a freshman (I was a senior) and he was having a hard time relating to his math teacher (and that’s putting it nicely.) As I bounded around the corner in JDA, I almost fell over myself at the sight of my brother sitting in the hallway. This floored me for two reasons: 1) I didn’t know teachers put high school kids in the hallway and 2) I wouldn’t have imagined that if a teacher did put him in the hallway that he would have actually STAYED! Okay, you’re thinking what is so exceptional about this story? Well here it is. I used to tell my friends that my brother was destined for great things, if only he would put all his energy into good instead of evil. It’s a little dramatic, but I think it was right on. As a kid, my brother was a good-hearted, funny, spirited, adventurous people magnet…what he didn’t realize was that he was also thoughtful, kind, intelligent and a born leader! Today, my dearest little brother is a TEACHER and works at our old middle school where he also coaches football and freshman baseball. In a twisty sort of tale that is all his own, he found his way out of that high school hallway and made his own round-the-way path to success!

He’s no longer the round-cheeked, skinny fella tagging along after my brother. He’s much more than that. He’s a terrific son, brother, friend, cousin, husband, father, uncle, son-in-law, brother-in-law, child of God and TEACHER who puts his energy into good and making a positive difference in the lives of others. He’s the teacher with a story that even the orneriest child can relate to. But let’s not kid ourselves here, it is a little funny to know that as a 30-something year old man you can still find him hanging around in the hallways at school!

On your birthday, may you find joy, blessings and lots of laughter, little brother. Enjoy your day. YOU ARE LOVED.

A brother is a better defense than a strong city. Proverbs 18:19

hymningandhaing

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

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