What About Bob? (aka A Fire Belly Toad Love Story)

Posted on July 26, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

No one has greater love than this, that one should lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13

Love is a funny thing. It will make you take insane risks. You’ll find yourself in unbelievable circumstances. And sometimes, yes sometimes, love will cost you absolutely everything! But let me back up a little bit because every good love story needs a little background.

Sean Brings Home Pet Toad–August 2010

So, a little boy showed up at school one day with a toad in a small plastic habitat. And in “monkey see, monkey do” fashion, my son had to have one, too. And since his birthday was coming up (and since I’ve been known to slip into moments of complete mom idiocy) we decided to add to our family. After a trip into Wichita a purchase was made in a somewhat questionable pet establishment in an equally suspect part of the city. The sales fella assured us that this was an easy enough pet to care for and that our new fire belly toad would happily enjoy the little plastic habitat that we had already purchased at Toys R Us. (FYI: living creatures almost never thrive in plastic containers.)

So, Todd the Toad moved into my son’s bedroom. WAIT…I forgot to mention that fire belly toads (which are poisonous by the way…so should have looked that up before we brought it home) also need LIVE crickets every 3-4 days. Okay–if you have never seen a toad devour a cricket you might be surprised to discover that it’s pretty amazing and just as cool as some of the things you’ll see on Animal Planet, except that it’s happening right in front of YOUR face! So Todd would entertain us during feeding time, but that was about the extent of it. And since this particular toad didn’t have much of an appetite, more crickets drown than actually made it into his mouth. And this was a problem because cleaning this little plastic habitat became not only necessary, but also quite gross. To top it all off, poor Todd wasn’t thriving. He seemed miserable, sad and scared. My only thought at the time was: please, please don’t let us kill Sean’s birthday present! Something had to be done and thus another moment of mom idiocy ensued.

Google is one of my best friends. It wasn’t long before I had loads of info and armed with knowledge we headed back to a different pet store (in a better part of town) and looked for a whole new set up AND a companion toad (because two is always better than one and who doesn’t need someone to pal around with? I know, even more mom idiocy!) Almost $100 dollars later, we were set up with a new industrial terrarium and cover, a special light bulb, a new lamp, spring water, an electric thermostat and even a little greenery and log to keep our toad chums happy. The children were ecstatic and tossed names back and forth on the drive home. They settled on Bob and Todd because it sounded like good radio DJ names (???) and the dynamic toad duo settled into their new digs. We are such good parents 🙂

Bob and Trudy at home in their new habitat.

Bob and Trudy at home. Bob is bright green and on the left. Trudy is dark green and on the right.

So here’s where the actual love story begins…you thought I forgot? Within a week my son had a few questions. There’s nothing quite like the “birds and bees conversation” presenting itself when you least expect it. After a very matter-of-fact talking to…Todd was renamed Trudy and my daughter declared the two “married.” Casey began praying for baby toads while I couldn’t believe what we had gotten ourselves into. Back to Google…more research needed to be done. (I am pleased to report that we were NEVER blessed with the “pitter-patter” of tadpoles!)

Bob and Trudy were quite the pair and displayed text-book fire belly toad characteristics. Trudy was quite docile and ended up being much smaller in size than Bob. Her skin stayed dark in color and she would secrete the poisonous milky fluid that wards off predators whenever she became frightened or uneasy. Bob on the other hand ate like a champ, his skin color would fluctuate between various shades of green according to his male hormones, and he frequently “barked” through the night to communicate with his beloved Trudy. (The barking sounds like a high-pitched dog bark, but it is so faint that for weeks we thought our neighbors must have purchased a small canine.) Bob was very protective and frequently “bowed up” when we would get too close or stare a little too long at the goings on in the tank. However, Bob displayed one unusual characteristic…while Trudy would hide and bury herself in the rocks, Bob was always trying to escape. On more than one occasion we would find Bob tucked up in the top corner, trying to get out. Although the crickets did manage to escape the terrarium on a regular basis, it basically seemed impossible that Bob could ever get out. He was easily bigger than Trudy but still small for an amphibian (2-3 inches at best) and the tiny crack that separated the cover from the terrarium was just too narrow. Bob wasn’t anywhere close to strong enough to move it on his own. It just couldn’t happen, right? Yet, he continued to try. We imagined he was on a quest to take his beloved Trudy and blow this popsicle stand…aka our house.

These antics played out day after day, month after month, and eventually year after year. We became regulars at the pet store (our frequent cricket purchases earning us occasional freebies) and we became experts at fire-belly toad behavior and habitat maintenance. These tiny toads became members of the family. They were my son’s roommates. We learned to recognize their barks and moods. We had to arrange care for them whenever we traveled. Not to mention, our dog was extremely jealous of his pet brother and sister. Like any family member, they were thought of and cared for on a daily basis. So imagine our surprise when sweet, little Trudy started slowing down. She would bury herself in the rocks for days now or hide in the log. While she was never the most active toad, her lethargy became worrisome. When she stopped eating, we feared the worse. We were about to lose a member of our little family.

We had lost ants (and countless other bugs) and a Beta fish named Swimmy, but on some level we all knew this would be different. We had cared (and dare I say loved) the toads for quite some time. They really were a part of our every day. I wondered how the kids would take it. Would they cry? What kind of questions would they have about death? And heaven? And ultimately, our Great Creator? I’ve read countless articles about the important lessons we learn through our pets and that death is a part of the life cycle that we shouldn’t be afraid to talk about. And while all of this was milling about in my mind another thought occurred to me, what about Bob?

I wish I could say that we had plenty of time to delve into the subject of death and loss, but we didn’t. Trudy’s time had come. And afterward, Bob barked and barked and he continued to try to escape. And it wasn’t but a blink after Trudy passed away that her companion, her partner, her protector, her “husband” (my daughter pronounced them married, remember) went missing. MISSING! A poisonous toad was lost somewhere in our house. Good gravy.

Of course, the kids were distraught. Bob just had to be found. How could he have possibly escaped? They couldn’t lose BOTH of them. It was too much. We searched the tank…uncovering rocks and logs and faux plant life. Nothing. We searched the bedroom. Under things, behind things, and around things. Nothing. We systematically began searching the next closest bedroom, closet and hallway. Finally, the thought occurred to us. If Bob did manage to escape, would our dog have eaten him? I know it’s gross, but we were in sleuth mode and had to check off all the boxes. My husband made a quick call to the vet and we waited, but Maddie (the dog) was as healthy as ever. And no Bob.

After a week all hope was lost. We gave up. We wondered if some how he managed to make it out of the house. And the question became, if he did–how long could he survive? We cleaned out the tank. Repurposed the table it sat upon and eventually moved on with life.

Every once in a while the toad topic would come up. Everyone had a theory. 1) Bob just couldn’t live without Trudy. 2) He escaped in a desperate effort to find her. 3) He met his doom in the belly of our dog. 4) Or….he some how managed to make it outside..found freedom and made a new life for himself. 5) Perhaps, he was eaten by the crickets (I know this one sounds extremely far-fetched, but research shows that the crickets can and will turn on a predator and in large numbers crickets can actually take a small toad down.) We just didn’t know, until…well, until we DID know.

About half a year later, I discovered Bob (or what was left of Bob) shriveled and flattened…hidden under a pair of old baseball cleats in the far corner of my son’s closet. Now, before you think I’m a bad housekeeper I must say that YES…we had searched that closet dozens of times, YES…Sean regularly gets in and out of his closet, and NO we are not like many on the popular Hoarders TV show who neglect their surroundings to the point that critters frequently die and go unnoticed for months at a time. I don’t know how Bob made it across the room. I don’t know how long he survived in that closest (he would have needed a food source, water and tropical temperatures.) What I do know is that he was found, the mystery was solved and my heart was heavy. The love story was over.

RIP: Bob the Toad

Those itty-bitty toads taught me many things. First of all, I never thought I could love such exotic, and let’s be honest–ugly, creatures. I didn’t think that something so small and needy would ever survive in our care! I couldn’t imagine what a time commitment they would be or how much fun it would be watching them grow, play and change. These tiny creatures were awesome in so many ways. It is just another example of a truly amazing Creator! How could I have known that these toads (like children) thrive in routine and schedules, they’re very social and live in a communal setting in nature, they pair up and protect one another, and at the same time they are remarkably equipped to protect themselves from predators of every kind? They were such a wonderful example of a committed love relationship. And in many ways they came into our lives at just the right time…their parting prepared us for difficult moments to come. It still blows my mind.

Love truly is a funny thing. It will make you take insane risks. You’ll find yourself in unbelievable circumstances. And sometimes, yes sometimes, love will cost you absolutely everything! What a wonderful lesson for our whole family. In the past few years we have experienced loss (unfortunately, on more than one occasion) and as we grieved it occurs to me that while acknowledging the death we have also celebrated the LOVE. The love of family and dear friends. Of course it hasn’t been easy (it never is,) but I think we honor those who have gone on when we remember them well. We still talk about the toads. In fact, as I was writing this, I wondered did I ever take photos of them? Will there be images to keep their tiny spirits and their special story alive? And to my delight, I found many pictures and thus, many happy memories.

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. –Helen Keller

May Daze? (5 Suggestions for Summertime Sanity)

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

A lot of parents pack up their troubles and send them off to summer camp. —Raymond Duncan

In case you were wondering, I just might have an inside track on why this Mother’s Day thing lands in May. This made-up homage to matriarchs across the country is every Mom’s safety net for surviving this crazy month! End of school activities, assignments and field trips, music programs, award ceremonies, graduations, and even sport practices and games…managing each of these calendar fillers is no small task. And, sorry fellas, many times this falls on a Mother’s to do list. So it makes sense that Moms everywhere get this ONE day…filled with cards and sentiment, meals prepared in our honor, flowers and gifts. We are conveniently recognized and fussed over just before the ax drops–that’s right…I’m talking about SUMMER break!

Back in the EASY days of summer. May 2009

Back in the EASY days of summer…when a “doggie” sprinkler could make them happy. (May 2009)

Don’t get me wrong…school’s out! Thank goodness. I mean, I know the kids are happy…and I’m pretty excited, too. No longer will I be a slave to the alarm clock. I’m done packing lunches for the time being (the occasional picnic aside.) I don’t have to arrange appointments, pick-ups, drop-offs, meetings, haircuts, etc… according to the school calendar. We can linger over lunch and enjoy late dinners. Yes, it’s summer and that’s a good thing…at least it is on most days. Because in reality, summer is a lot of work . Hear me out…I love the idea of having the kids home with me. It’s our chance to hang out together, talk and reconnect, try new things and visit favorite places. But we’re less than a week in and I’m already starting to notice a few things:

First, I might be in control of this ship but my crew has pretty loud opinions about where I’m leading.

Second, we don’t necessary have the same idea of fun anymore. It wasn’t long ago when the local library provided a lot of our summer entertainment. I have one child (who shall remain nameless) who is balking at the notion that reading is fun. It goes something like this, “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH READING I HAVE TO DO AT SCHOOL?” Followed by a look of exasperation and disbelief 😦

Third, hanging out in the backyard with bubbles and sidewalk chalk doesn’t cut it. Since when? I’m an adult and I STILL love bubbles and sidewalk chalk! But no, apparently this isn’t cool anymore. I’m learning that the only permissible backyard fun includes water balloons and half the neighborhood.

Fourth, boys and girls. I’m still trying to figure this one out. Sometimes it’s acceptable for boys and girls to hang out together. Other times suggesting such an idea will garner a look that turns you into stone. If somebody has the lowdown on this one…please let me know!

Fifth, here’s a newsflash…. Gone are the days when my children choose each other as their best playmate. Instead, every activity must involve FRIENDS! I know my kids are getting older (middle school and upper elementary,) but can’t they at least fake getting along with each other? And how about throwing this into the mix: My brother advised me just a few weeks ago that having people over at your own house is the BEST way to keep tabs on your kids and their friends. This win-win scenario (???) means that we get to be the “fun” house and maintain some kind of control over our kiddos and their activities. I’ll have to get back to you on that one….

In an attempt to make peace in our house, I’ve established a few Summer Rules. Gentle reminders that (honestly) are always in place, but managed to make their way onto the kitchen whiteboard for emphasis. Look, I have good kids…but let’s face it, we’re all works in progress. I heard a radio program the other day that suggested that parents should focus more on raising GOOD PEOPLE rather than SUCCESSFUL BRATS. Sign me up! I bought the t-shirt on the proud parent thing…wore it a few times and put it in a drawer. It’s not that I don’t think my kids are the greatest (I do), but these days I’m opting for a more realistic approach to my “momness.” More like a, “Yep, those are my kiddos–good and bad.” Indeed, we are in this for the long haul.

So here’s my plan for Summertime Sanity. It’s not rocket science and we all probably know these things, but sometimes putting them out there helps the cause. So here goes:

1. Pray, not just often, but more like ALL the time. I’m not really all that concerned with being the perfect parent, but I do want to honor God in my role as a mother. I believe He has blessed me with two precious children and I want to do all that I can to show them God’s love and grace through Jesus’ example.

2. Remember that it’s okay to say NO! Sometimes it seems easier to give in…especially after a long (long) day. It’s at this point that I try to remind myself that I ultimately know what’s best for them. For the most part, they know that asking repeatedly will not change my mind. When they were very young I would tell them that begging was absolutely unacceptable and it would equate to not only NO right now, but NO in the future as well.

3. Less is more. We don’t have to fill up every single second of summer with activities. Many parenting experts have warned us about the hazards of over-scheduling. I know for myself that it’s in these unscripted moments where I find my kids singing silly songs, making up games and otherwise just getting along (even if it’s only for five minutes.)

4. Look for the lessons. The more time you spend with your kids, the more opportunities you have to be the teacher. Some of my favorite moments with my kids have occurred in front of the TV, at the movies, or while listening to the radio. I like to ask them what they think the show/song is trying to say, what they know about the actor/artist, and I encourage them to put on their “God goggles” and find a spiritual message in whatever we’re watching/listening to. Sure, they sometimes cry “buzz kill,” but other times it sparks some pretty interesting conversation.

5. Love on them. Extra time together means extra hugs and kisses. Extra moments to sit next to or across from each other. Extra hair ruffling (for my son) and extra hand-holding (for my daughter.) Time is precious…do not let these moments pass you by.

I fully anticipate an eventful summer…one with both ups and downs. There will be ballgames, swim lessons, Vacation Bible School, youth group events, and small getaways. We’ll get along, not get along, all out fight and occasionally enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes I’ll say no, other times yes and we’ll all move on. I’m not interested in being a BFF, but instead I’m focusing on being M-O-M…plain and simple. I will anticipate the best and get over everything else. I can’t promise complete flexibility, but I will try hard not to be a total control freak. And when fall rolls around I fully believe that we will be able to point to shared highlights and lots of good memories.

Here’s to the best summer yet!!!

Gonna Make My Black Thumb Green (aka A Lesson in Faith Planting)

Posted on April 5, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them. Liberty Hyde Bailey

I didn’t just believe that I had a black thumb, I had confirmed it…time and TIME again. You probably think that I’m exaggerating, but it’s a well documented fact. Have you ever had someone take a plant AWAY from you? Yes, that has happened to me (and not just once.) I was a cold-blooded plant killer and I’m not proud of it. I wanted to be able to grow things, I really did. I potted, watered, and adjusted for sunlight and shade. I wasn’t above asking for help, checking out library books and looking up tips on the internet. It just wasn’t my knack and, honestly…hey, I was cool with that. But for some unknown reason, people kept giving me plants (I think that happens when you move as often as we have…let’s face it, a plant is a pretty safe “welcoming” gift.) In defense of these plant-bearing gift givers, I realize that you all had no idea what these little green treasures were in store for once they were under my care 🙂

Fast forward several years and while I’m certainly no green thumb, I’m not quite the plant killing queen that I used to be. So, I still can’t grow ANYTHING from a seed, but I have managed to keep three plants alive (and mostly thriving.) One plant has actually been around for nearly five years and I’m proud to report that it has somehow managed to survive three repotting stints as well. (Yes, it’s the little things.) In fact, I actually purchased a plant (my first time) just last month and so far…well, so good. I think my mother-in-law would be so surprised and my mom, well I’m sure she can just hardly believe it’s true! (The black thumb thing runs in the family.)

Thinking about this shift in my gardening abilities reminds me of another change in my life. This one pertaining to my faith in God. While I’ve been a believer just about as long as I can remember, I was never really comfortable sharing that faith. To be honest, I didn’t know how. As a kid I can remember occasionally going to church, however, I really didn’t have any formal faith upbringing. Despite all this, I considered myself a hard-core, pint-size prayer warrior (and I’m not even sure that was a term at the time.) I prayed about anything and everything. My overactive imagination, news junkie status (even as a kid) and an overwhelming realization that we lived in a broken and scary world would occupy my thoughts from the time my head hit the pillow until dawn. So often I found peace and comfort in prayer and somehow knew that there was a great, big God out there who loved and cared about me.

In time, those little prayers eventually turned into a desire to read the Bible…which gets easier once you learn how to read and possess a vocabulary. By the time I was in high school I was working on reading the Bible all the way through. I would read one chapter a night before bed–and I don’t think anyone ever knew. I really didn’t talk about it. I just did it. Looking back, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t understand much of what I read. I just felt called to do it. And when I finished, I started over. Look, I’m no theological scholar and I certainly didn’t consider myself holier than my teenage counterparts. All I know is that the more I learned about God, the more my love for Him continued to grow.

I wish I could say that my Bible reading led me into church as a young adult. It didn’t. Of course, I did do a lot of praying in college…it WAS college after all!!! I had tests to pray for, temptations to avoid, friends who needed help, and then of course there was safety and an entire crazy world out there to worry about. I think in some ways my desire to get into journalism was a love for writing tied into an off shoot of a faith that I was trying to figure out. My end goal in my pursuit to become a reporter was always to make the world a better place. I wholeheartedly believe that knowledge is power. I thought if we could just gain an awareness for the people in our neighborhoods, community and world that we would all have our hearts transformed–we could BE BETTER and DO BETTER. Little did I know that this warm stirring that I so desperately wanted to impart on the hearts of others was in line with a desire to share with the planet the God that I was coming to know.

My faith journey goes on from there, but those early years–the faith planting years–came to mind today as I watered and tended to my plants. Now, I look forward to attending church every Sunday (actually I’m something of a church nerd as I love visiting new churches whenever I can.) I also love being a ministry volunteer and a pastor’s wife. I continue to read and pray and discover more ways to draw closer to God. I often thank God for putting people in my life to inspire and encourage me to pursue this faith. What I once kept guarded and close to my heart, I now openly talk about. I’m not afraid to share what I know about God. In fact, I feel called to talk about Him often…especially with young people. I remind them (and myself) that it takes time to develop and foster any kind of worthwhile relationship. The same is true with faith. The world won’t know about our awesome Creator, if someone (you? me?) doesn’t share it with them. I still wholeheartedly believe knowledge is power. And if faith and following Jesus is the most powerful choice we can make in our lifetime, I want every person to have that option.

I can’t tell you what a blessing it is to have my children grow up in the church. Faith planted…I see their early development (and that of their peers) tended to by good men and women whose lives serve as living testimonies to faith in a mighty God and who desire nothing more than the same for my kiddos and others. In this season of my life, this is where I focus my attention. What a blessing it is to witness a child’s heart discovering God for the first time. Connecting with a young person and letting them know that there is a Creator who loves them. Sharing scripture and Bible lessons with new believers and fostering the kind of environment that says there is so much more out there for each of us. Seeing Christ’s love influence the thoughts and actions in so many young ones…well, it takes my breath away.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have an opportunity or even the ability to share and witness faith like this. I didn’t think I was capable or qualified. I didn’t think I could GROW into that person. God had a better idea and I really can’t wait to see what blooms as a result.

This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more than extravagant with you. He gives you something you can then give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God.

2 Corinthians 9:10-11 The Message

February…How Do I LOVE Thee? (Song 11 in the Countdown)

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Love Songs to Melt Your Heart and Move Your Soul: Song 11

Love is….knowing that I’m with you every step of the way (whether you like it or not.) –me

Love, laughter and loyalty. No, I’m not trying to impress you with some fancy alliteration; I’m simply listing the makings of a solid relationship. If we’re honest, we all know that love really isn’t enough. Sure, they say love can move mountains, it knows no boundaries, and it can conquer all, but there are too many instances out there where love alone is nothing more than a starting place.

Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me” addresses a cornerstone of any long lasting relationship—loyalty. Most of us can recall a time when someone’s unfaithfulness has brought us to our knees. Only time can heal those type of wounds. And in order for a relationship to truly have a solid foundation it has to be built on a mutual trust. Music historians say that King’s song was inspired by an old spiritual as well as the words of Psalm 46:2-3. This scripture expresses God’s willingness and His commitment to stand by His people through all things—both the highs and the lows. Loyalty and fidelity…having a confidence in the one who promises to love you everyday and in every way. This is the best kind of love.

Coming Up: Love Songs to Melt Your Heart and Move Your Soul: Song 12

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

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

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

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

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

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

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

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

“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

Just Say NO! (And Why Yes Can Leave You Feeling Blessed)

Posted on February 5, 2012 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

The key to keeping your balance is knowing when you’ve lost it. Anonymous

Balance. Very few have it, everyone wants it, and there are a zillion resources out there for how YOU can achieve it. If only it were that easy. For me the idea of a balanced life is like trying to catch the wind with a butterfly net. I keep telling myself that things will all fall into place when I learn to balance my life more effectively. Like millions of others, I just don’t have the time to make a plan, read all the books or the money to acquire a life coach. Sometimes I feel like I’m swimming in a sea of obligations and commitments and not only do I not have a life jacket, I don’t even know how to swim!

For weeks now I’ve been whining (what me whine? I know you can hardly believe it.) and complaining about being too busy. I have a list a mile long of things that I “need” to do in addition to the things that I “have” to do. I am weighed down with housework, parenting, grocery shopping, cooking, organizing, etc…. I am buried beneath books that I promised myself I would read. I am surrounded by commitments I had made to my kids’ school and our church. I felt pressure to eat right and get back on track with an exercise routine. The days were getting longer and nights were getting shorter and I found myself moving further and further away from any trace of balance in my life. I had so many good intentions, but I was losing the battle. In sharing these thoughts with family and friends it seems this lack of balance had become some kind of common malady for the masses. The real kicker was that I felt like I had created all of this imbalance on my own. I felt like it was all my fault because I hadn’t mastered the art of saying “no.”

“Just say NO when the requests come. You can do it,” I kept trying to tell myself. You don’t have to make cookies for every school event. Every birthday party doesn’t have to be a big blow out. You don’t have to get it all done in one day. No one said you had to be perfect. I began to think that the key to finding balance was to guard my yeses and carefully weigh my noes. Simple right? I was certain that I had stumbled across the answer of a lifetime. The ultimate trick to achieving balance. In my mind’s eye I could picture the scale coming into perfect balance. I was a genius.

My genius was short-lived. It wasn’t long before I was back in the pit. I hadn’t guarded my yeses enough and I weighed only one “no” and that “no” was rebuffed. I hadn’t thought about that. I naively thought that if you told someone “no” that they would politely back off. Note to self–that’s not always the case.

I was feeling pretty low and right on cue, the guilt crept in (and sometimes that’s the worst part.) The guilt that reminds you that you have everything that you need and so much more. The guilt that says stop bellyaching and look around…you have a home, food, money in the bank, good health, a wonderful husband and family, and great friends. The guilt that prompts you to realize that your life is better than so many others and that you have NOTHING to complain about. The guilt that says maybe they asked because you can…. Uggg! Now I was completely out of balance and racked with guilt.

I was starting to feel nauseous. I can’t win here. Life started piling up. Can you plan the class party? Can you bake cupcakes? Can you organize this? Can you volunteer for that? Would you mind doing (fill in the blank)? It was getting to the point where I wanted to stop answering the phone and venture out of the house only in disguise. My life scale wasn’t just unbalanced, it was on the verge of collapsing. And that’s when it happened. Right on time and in His time, the weight began to lift. I saw the whole situation with fresh eyes.

I had burdened myself with countless projects and obligations and I asked God to help me honor my commitments. I asked him to forgive me of the pride that fooled me into thinking I could take on so much. The Holy Spirit put into my heart a reminder that I “can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I clearly need His help and I needed to ask for it. I prayed for discernment and that God would help me weigh my yeses and noes. What I received was something that I didn’t expect. In every project that I had dreaded or wished that I had said “no” to, I found God’s love. In my commitment to teach, I found willing and joyful students. In my commitment to lead, I found dedicated and giving volunteers. In my obligation to help a friend, I found time to talk and share life stories. In mundane office work, I found community. In tedious organizing, I found a renewed sense of purpose. In class, I was reminded that God calls us to serve. As it turns out, I was blessed when I said “yes.”

My house is still a disaster. The laundry pile grows in the dark. I dread making dinner every night. I’m still not sure that I want to answer the phone. Obviously, as I write this my life scale remains lopsided (I am human after all.) But I’m beginning to wonder if the idea of balance is a box we chain ourselves to or an imaginary oasis we’re not meant to find. In the meantime, I have resolved to keep one eye on the scale, the other eye fixed on God, and my hands ready to serve…when asked.

hymningandhaing

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

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