When News Becomes the Tragedy

Posted on August 27, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

In a former life I worked as a TV news reporter. It was my dream job! I say that because when I was an eight year old little girl, I decided that I wanted to be a journalist. It’s a pretty big word for a second-grader, but…I liked big words! My focus was so intense that while many of my peers played “house” and Barbies, I often cajoled family and friends into playing “TV News Station” in my basement. It was my favorite game 🙂

While most kids outgrow or revamp their ideal job, mine never really wavered. One of my most treasured memories growing up was getting to visit a “real” TV news station. In the small, southwestern Kansas town where I lived we were lucky enough to have a news bureau. A small building way out in the country with a giant antenna, a few offices and an actual news studio. I got to see how the news was produced, watch the anchor/reporter get ready for live reports, check out the teleprompter and they even let me sit at the news desk. I loved every minute! Those outings only furthered my desire to make it in the news business.

My personal “prophecy” from my senior year in high school. Each student was asked to make a life prediction. Class of 1993

A self-avowed news junkie, I often surprised teachers with my knowledge of current events. Even at a young age, I gobbled up newspapers and watched the national nightly news (sidebar, Tom Brokaw was my secret crush!) Throughout high school I wrote for the newspaper and took courses in broadcasting. After graduation, declaring a major was a no-brainer. I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoyed pursuing this passion in college. The university I attended offered so many wonderful hands-on opportunities in broadcasting. I learned about both the radio and television side of the news from wonderful professors who I adore to this day. I never really considered it work, it was all just incredibly challenging, invigorating and oh so much FUN! So when I landed my first internship and later my first job in the industry, I felt like I had won the lottery. Listen up, kids…dreams do come true!

So why am I writing about this now? I left the business many years ago and I haven’t set foot in a newsroom in over a decade, but when I heard about the tragedy in Virginia yesterday it really hit me–hard…and in a way that I wasn’t expecting. While making bag lunches for my kiddos to take to school, I stood there in disbelief, my heart immediately aching for the families and friends of those involved. As more information was shared throughout the day, my disbelief continued. Look, I told you that I’m a devout news junkie (almost to a fault) and we know that for the most part the news is TRAGIC…daily and tragic. So why was I so stunned?

It wasn’t until later that evening when my daughter and I went to pick up my son from church youth group that my personal grief came into focus. She asked me, “Mom, when you worked in news was it scary? Did you ever think someone would kill you?” I told her that I loved working as a reporter, that it was exciting and rewarding. There were so many parts of the business that I truly loved…especially the people I worked with. I shared with her that while I had covered stories in some questionable and unfamiliar places that at no point was I ever fearful. No sooner had I uttered those words did I realize that this was the source of my heavy heart. Reporter Alison Parker and cameraman Adam Ward were doing their jobs that morning. A live shot for a story about tourism. Look, it doesn’t get anymore benign than that in the news industry. They were young, energetic, had their whole lives ahead of them and they never, EVER saw it coming. And while I can’t relate with most tragedies that make the news, I could relate to this one. I had been there before…making small talk before the shoot, holding a microphone, adjusting my outfit one more time before the cameraman gave his cue.

This photo has been floating around the web. To me, it’s a great representation of the atmosphere in a typical newsroom.

I don’t want to believe that this is the world we live in, but I’m not naïve. We will probably hear a lot more about this story because (in case you didn’t know) news people take care of their own. As we watch an entire industry come to grips with such a graphic example of workplace violence, we will no doubt hear new details about all of the events leading up to this tragedy. These details will be magnified, politicized, examined, and theorized… all in the next few days. An outsider might chalk this up to just another disgruntled employee seeking some sort of revenge and move on, but for those inside the news business there will be many, many questions. And likely, no good answers.

Yesterday reminded me of the many wonderful people I worked with waaaaaaay back in the day. I want you to know that I saw your posts on social media and I recall the early mornings together, leaving work in the wee hours of the night, being called in at ridiculously, horrible hours in the a.m., covering good news stories, and retelling tragedies. But what I remember most was the family like atmosphere that truly exists at news stations across the country. We spent countless weekends together, numerous holidays and essentially some pretty big and meaningful days of our lives with one another. My heart goes out to those who mourn the loss of reporter Alison Parker and cameraman Adam Ward whose lives were struck down so tragically as they only intended to report the news and not be the news on that fateful morning. If I’ve learned anything in the business, it’s that most of us started out with a pretty big dream and that those who choose this profession do so hoping to change the world (for the better.)

And I believe that good journalism, good television, can make our world a better place. Christiane Amanpour

My Purse Keeps Getting Bigger (and Not for the Right Reasons)

Posted on April 22, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

As the purse is emptied, the heart is filled. –Victor Hugo

My briefcase-sized purse…easily weighs 8-10 pounds.

Remember the good ol’ days? Footloose and fancy free? Not a care in the world? I do…and what I remember most about them was that everything that I truly NEEDED fit into the palm of my hand. Gone are the days of tucking cherry-flavored Chapstick into my pocket and heading out the door. No more securing a dollar bill to the inside of my sock…you know, just in case. Forget about making room in your shoe to save that last piece of gum for later (seriously, forget about that–it’s a bad idea.) All of these good times ended at about age 16…the year where freedom (a.k.a. driving) meant that you had to carry proof that you were indeed legal behind the wheel! Thus one enters the era of THE PURSE….

At first, having a purse made me feel all grown up. My purse contained nothing but the necessities, right? This is sorta funny because at the time I remember searching my room frantically for items to fill my purse. You know–a comb, lipstick, gum/candy/breath mints (sometimes ALL three), a pen. perfume (I know…I’m sorry,) a stylish journal (for all my important thoughts) and of course a wallet for money…plus that prized driver’s license (the reason I desperately needed a purse in the first place.) In the beginning the purse was pretty small…always messenger style so I could wear it across my body. This is important, because when you’re new to carrying around a purse you need one that you can’t lose…just saying. The purse and I became sympatico and a love/hate relationship was established.

By the time college came around I had to re-evaluate the whole purse thing. Life was changing–big time! I found that college life required a backpack and not necessarily a little messenger purse. The school that I attended was situated on top of a hill, so a lot of walking was a given. Fortunately, I found an item that I refer to as a wallet-keychain. This nifty little gadget became my best friend for four years. It tucked nicely into the backpack, held the bare essentials (license, student ID, money, and bank card) and was attached to my keys! Genius. I wished I had discovered it in high school. This would make everything better…or so I thought. But the purse would eventually have its revenge.

After graduation I ventured into a career path that required some “primping” to say the least (I am only slightly embarrassed to say that I wanted to be the next Connie Chung 🙂 ) Carrying a make-up bag, a brush and comb, etc. was just the norm for this girl with big dreams. Add onto that the things I needed for work: a pen (a back up pen,) a notebook, tapes (and back up tapes,) and HAIRSPRAY! Then there were the snacks (you wondered when I would get to this point?) You see, when your lunch hour varies (or doesn’t necessarily exist) you need more than gum to sustain yourself. Small packages of crackers, cookies and even instant coffee started entering the picture and filling my (now bigger) purse. My shoulder aches just thinking about those days.

I wish I could say that changing career paths meant less stuff and a smaller purse. It didn’t…and mostly because I moved to California. You’re probably wondering why that matters, but it does matter and maybe not for the reasons you might think. It wasn’t that I needed a big purse so that I could keep up with the Kardashians, but rather I needed a purse filled with survival supplies. While California is amazingly beautiful, it’s also a jungle! And jungle life meant that you had to be ready for your 11 mile commute to take as long as two hours. If you had to cross a bridge, someone else’s fender bender might have you looking at a 3 hour delay. Traffic is ridiculous there and so you had to pack ridiculous things in your purse. Water was just as big a deal then as it is now. Carrying around water bottles was not only in vogue, but it could save your life on a warm, Cali day if the traffic was particularly uncooperative (especially when you AC goes out!) Food in your purse was a must, but because this was the Golden State you felt obligated to have “healthy” food. Fruit, nuts, cheese and crackers were the standards–and “fresh” food meant carrying a cold-pak, too. I pity the person who got busted stuffing their face with Cheetos on the California freeway! (Really, you should know better!)

But never was the purse’s revenge as terrible as the day I become a mother. It’s like I could hear the purse saying, “You will never, EVER go back!” I tried making my purse into a diaper bag and when that didn’t work I asked the diaper bag to do double duty as a baby-things-carry-all and a purse. Either way you look at it, I was carrying around a bunch of nonsense. Okay, you’re thinking…”Well, your kids weren’t toddlers forever, right? Eventually you went back to carrying around a plain old purse.” Well, yes AND no. Now that I was a mom I discovered this unwritten rule where you are forced to carry things for your kiddos. This form of servanthood is sneaky, even to the most savvy mother. So many times I have told my children that if they brought it, they had to carry it…only to find my purse a little heavier and their book, toy, or gadget safety tucked inside while my child proceeded to run and do hand stands all over the place with their newfound freedom.

My migration to the extra-large purse didn’t end with just the kids’ stuff. My purse also doubles as a medicine cabinet. Bandages, Neosporin, allergy medicine, etc. all make their home here as well. I am the keeper of Kleenex, keys and bubble gum (of various flavors nonetheless.) My purse houses accessories for cleaning glasses, and extra contact lenses as well as a portable hair salon equipped with fashionable hair-ties for my daughter. Need to write something down? I have pencils, pens and SHARPIES (assorted colors) in my bag! Not to mention lotion, hand sanitizer, post-its and a small magnifying glass (BTW I’m aging and my eyes were the first things to go.) I have ear buds, sunglasses and occasionally pizza crumbs (don’t ask.) These are just the staples, I could go on (and on….)

So why am I telling you all this? Because I want it to stop. REALLY. I am over the purse thing. I want to be the kind of person who just goes with the flow (sans the “luggage.”) The kind of person who doesn’t need a million accessories just to go to the grocery store or to watch my kiddos play ball. I want to go back to the days when everything I NEEDED fit into the palm of my hand. I am craving simplicity and I think the reason all of this has to come to a head is because physically AND spiritually the purse is weighing me down. Stop. I know that’s a pretty big leap, but hear me out. I finally understand the reason I carry around the equivalent of a briefcase everywhere I go, 365 days a year. It’s because of fear and control. Every time a situation has come up in the last 20+ years and I DIDN’T have the tools I needed to handle it, another “something” was added to the purse. This is a pretty big revelation for me. While feigning having it all together, what was really going on was a lack of trust. I didn’t trust myself, I didn’t trust life and in someway I was also saying that I didn’t trust God (at least not completely.)

My new wristlet…smaller than a paperback book!

After so many years, it’s going to be hard to change this pattern…to fight the urge to cover all the bases, at all times–EVERY time. The desire to be superwoman, superwife, supermom, etc. is so very strong. Listen, I know this isn’t the biggest problem on the planet, but I feel convicted to make a change. I want to trust more…to put myself out there. In some suburban-housewife-kind-of-way…this is my next faith test. So here’s where I am–I purchased a wristlet (which just may be the grown-up version of the wallet-keychain that I loved so much in college.) Full disclosure–right now the wristlet resides in my purse (along side a million other items,) but I am making a plan to downsize to this little dandy. Just the NECESSITIES! Those of you who know me, know that this is a tall order! I think I’m up to the challenge. Don’t worry, I’m not going cold turkey…I will still have a large bag (NOT a purse) for sporting events, kid-related activities and church projects. So what if I don’t have a bandage for every boo-boo or a just the right flavor of gum for my kiddos? I have a funny feeling (and a whole lot of FAITH) that we will survive…and it just might save my shoulders, too!

Then Jesus asked them, “When I sent you without purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?” “Nothing,” they answered. Luke 22:35

Losing Our Easter Booth (and Our “P.I.G.” Status)

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

When you leave a beautiful place, you carry it with you wherever you go. –Alexandra Stoddard

Never, EVER, did I think I would be writing about a midwest BBQ chain and Easter Sunday. Yet, here I am. This goes to show two things…first, that the cliché holds true (again): Never say never. And second. that convenient, tasty, family style BBQ is perfectly acceptable as a go-to meal for ANY holiday or celebration (and in our family’s case, especially religious ones!)

Easter Lunch 2013

For the past six years we have “dined” at Famous Dave’s on Easter Sunday. Okay, I know it’s not fine dining. Yes, I am aware that they are a paper napkin establishment (gasp!) And I understand that French fries are not typical Easter dinner fare. (Glad we got all that out of the way 🙂 ) Still, I think Famous Dave’s is just as good a place as any to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. It’s a Spencer family tradition that’s often met with puzzling looks, stammering comments and even a little pity. But that’s okay. We like Famous Dave’s and we especially like the reason we ended up there in the first place (insert sappy background music here….)

In 2009, my husband was called to lead what I will politely label a “broken” church. You see the pastor had decided to leave our denomination and he additionally took the congregation with him. For whatever reasons, all that was left were about a dozen people, loads of tech equipment and a lot of questions. This clearly would not be easy. And, did I mention this was Steve’s first senior pastor appointment? Despite the best efforts of many, the prayers of many more and the sheer broken-heartedness of the situation, a decision was made to close down the church. All of this took place in a matter of weeks. It was one of the saddest things I have ever witnessed. So here’s the worst part…the last worship celebration for this now defunct church would be on Easter Sunday. (I can hardly type these words!) CLOSING A CHURCH ON EASTER. (There really should be a law against such a thing!) I could barely stomach the idea. I thought of the church members who stayed behind. Those who wanted to restructure and carry on. And all those who put their heart and soul into trying to make this church a healthy, functioning place of worship. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Much work went into that final worship celebration. First, there was the cleaning. Since worship would be held in the church’s youth building, couches had to be moved, chairs brought in and EVERYTHING had to be wiped down. The sound system was reconfigured, light bulbs were replaced and a small room was readied to serve as a nursery. A sweet woman who had hoped for a different outcome for her church set aside her sorrow and assembled Easter baskets for any children who would arrive on Sunday morning. With just a few musicians, songs were selected to praise a newly risen King. My husband crafted a sermon of hope and promise…in the midst of all of the responsibilities of closing a church. It was a sad and rainy morning. I felt like God was weeping right along with us.

But if you know how the Easter story ends…then you know that there are no limits to what our Great Creator can do! As worship came to a close, the sun and the SON broke through! The rain moved out and although we closed the doors on that final worship celebration, what we didn’t know was that God was already opening another. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon when we left the church parking lot that day. Our children, ages 7 and 4 at the time, were tired and hungry. In the midst of all that was going on we neglected to make lunch plans…and that’s how we ended up at Famous Dave’s.

The restaurant was practically empty. The lunch crowd was gone, the wait staff looked spent and here walks in this family of four…dressed in now wrinkled Easter wear, tired and clearly saddened. We crawled into what would be called our Easter booth…to be honest, while we always sat in a booth on these occasions it wasn’t the same booth every time–and that was okay. Steve ordered ribs, I ordered the baked potato with chili and the kiddos put in their request for chicken strips and fries. Then we waited. Not just for food, but for everything. We honestly didn’t know where we would land…although we knew it would be another church, most likely in another town. And yet somehow, in that little booth our spirits lifted. The children made us laugh and we counted our blessings. We were together and life was in fact GOOD! There was safety and warmth in those comfy, red seats. The little kids’ menus reminded us that at Famous Dave’s we’re all P.I.G.s…Pretty Important Guests! I liked the thought of that and when the meal arrived, we prayed. The food tasted extra delicious that day, too–satisfying in a way that I cannot explain. An afternoon at Famous Dave’s was just what we needed.

Obviously, we kept going back. Steve was appointed to a new church in a nearby suburb and our Easter lunch plans practically wrote themselves. After a busy Holy Week and all its activities, we found a sanctuary at the east side’s Famous Dave’s restaurant. The pig-themed decorations, the fishing signs and decals, and those red colored booths–we loved it all! I have several photos of our kids in their cute, little Easter outfits posing with their Daddy for our annual Easter pic. Good times. Blessed times. Necessary times…but as you can guess, “the times they are a-changing” (thanks, Bob Dylan.) Famous Dave’s closed this past fall…and the Spencer family DID NOT find out about it until January 😦

Holy Week has arrived again and the question on everyone’s mind is “where are we going to eat Easter lunch?” I don’t have any answers. I have tried to coordinate just how long it will take us to drive to the nearest Famous Dave’s (too long unfortunately.) I’ve looked into dining at other BBQ establishments. I’ve tried to sell myself on the idea of having Mexican food on Easter (it’s not working.) I’ve even thought about preparing and cooking a meal myself (and if you know me, then you know this is a desperate thought!) The reality is we’ve lost our Easter booth, but we certainly haven’t lost Easter and all its promises. So tonight as I type this, I still have no clue what we will be doing for lunch. Somehow, though, I’ve gone past worry and fret to a place of “wait and see.” Not a flippant, inactive state, but rather an active, hopeful resolve. My husband and kids are not with me in this place. They want answers and our P.I.G. status back! But please, don’t feel bad for us…because I so clearly remember a gray, downcast day not so long ago when the sun and the SON came out. It’s Easter, everyone, and we KNOW how the story ends. I’m not sure if the booths will be red, but I know that wherever we end up we’ll be fed (in more ways than one)…and it WILL certainly be good!

Praying that the Holy Spirit moves you to worship this Easter Sunday and that you experience the hope and renewal that Christ Jesus offers to us each and every day. Amen.

Beyond Grateful (A Slice of Ministry Life)

Posted on March 23, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God. Acts 20:24

“Just because you go to seminary doesn’t mean you have to be a pastor.” I’m sure those words have been uttered by other seminarians (?) but the first time I heard these words they were coming out of the mouth of my husband. Although I knew he would become a Pastor, he wasn’t absolutely convinced at the time. Silly guy. Called is CALLED…am I right? Needless to say, all these many years later, we are a clergy family–growing spiritually and serving in ministry–and I am beyond grateful for this call upon ALL of our lives! It wasn’t something that I expected or even considered a possibility. In fact, you just might file this experience right up there with “things that make you go hmmmm….”

As a pastor’s wife I’ve seen a lot of stuff. Interesting stuff. Far too much to include here, but one of the things that always stops me dead in my tracks is the way people respond to this vocation. People (churchgoing and non-churchgoing) seem to have a preconceived notion about our life and us. My all-time favorite reaction to this calling occurred at a local restaurant a few years back on our anniversary. While waiting for a table we struck up a conversation (or should I say, Steve struck up a conversation…he’s the talker) with another couple. We were making small talk when the exchange drifted from “what brings you out tonight?” to “California wineries.” (Steve is from the San Francisco Bay Area and we lived there for a few years together early in our marriage.) This was a favorite vacation spot for our new friends and we compared notes about some of our best-loved places in the region. All was right in the world when suddenly the man asked my husband what he did for a living. (Insert screech sound effect here.) Let’s just say in a record amount of time we had gone from potential “besties” to complete zeroes. The guy actually turned away from us. I, of course, can’t help but chuckle when I recall the experience (yes, I have a strange sense of humor!)

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time we’ve seen this reaction. And, I’m okay with that. I only tell this story because time and time again I hear people comment that it must be “hard” to be a clergy family. They feel bad for our children because they wear the “PK” label. The general impression is that we operate outside of “ordinary” life. For some the word “clergy” is quickly linked with judgemental, hypocritical, strict and even boring. Hey, we’re all entitled to our own opinions! But for me, it’s just another addendum to that file I mentioned earlier–you know the one titled “things that make you go hmmmm….” So, I would like to state for the record that we’re just about as ordinary as people get. You don’t have to feel bad for us or think that we live this horrible, sheltered, recluse life. We actually laugh (a lot,) disagree occasionally, hang out at places outside of the church, and sometimes we even have interesting things to say (and it’s not always about church!) Being a clergy family really isn’t all that awful…in fact, it might actually be AWESOME. And that’s really what I wanted to share with you today.

So while every vocation comes with its own share of good and bad…ministry comes with an amazingly huge amount of AWESOME! Not just the parking-angels-smiled-on-me-today or I-found-an-extra-$20-in-my-pocket kind of awesome, but the kind of AWESOME that only God can provide. Working in a church and being a part of a community of believers comes with a lot of God-moments. These are the kind of things regularly lifted up as part of Sunday morning worship, in prayer chains and sprinkled in conversations all over the church. These are the incidents where the impossible becomes possible. The times where generosity and grace exude from every direction and you just know you’re in the midst of something amazing and special. And the greatest part is that these AWESOME moments are not confined to the walls of the church building. This is the part of our life that I wish I could just wrap up and share with everyone…because it’s not exclusive to clergy families. It is ready and available to everyone. God’s desire for creation is that we live with our eyes and hearts open to the AWESOME moments. Saying YES to Jesus is saying YES to life. Taking nothing for granted, grateful for the good things and seeking out the unexpected. This is what God can do!

Throughout Steve’s ministry we have been blessed time and time again. Please do not receive this sentence as boastful. I type it in the most humble manner possible. As a kid I remember feeling God’s presence and the comfort and security only He can offer. Today, as I’ve grown in my own faith, I feel God’s presence not only with the promise of comfort and security, but alongside the assurance of joy and hope! Our life isn’t easy. No life is easy. We all struggle, we all worry, we all fall short, but I am so glad that I never go through anything, good or bad, alone. NEVER. Outside of a loving relationship with our Creator and Savior, I think fellowship among believers is one of God’s greatest gifts to us. Have you seen the good that a church body can do? I can tell you that this kind of support and encouragement cannot be matched. When people say “church family” the key word is family! I cannot imagine life without these treasured friends and we’ve been privileged to be a part of many church families that remain near and dear to our hearts despite the miles.

So, what spurred this post? (Yes, I actually had a point when I started writing today!) Our family has recently been the recipient of something so kind and generous I cannot even begin to tell you how astonished we felt in receiving this gift. It came out of the blue and when we least expected it. It was an answer to a prayer that we might not have even fully realized yet. I would gladly share the details, but we received this gift anonymously and I believe in honoring the giver’s intention. However, I will tell you that this is the sort of thing that qualifies as amazingly AWESOME. We are a witness to God’s love through the hands of his followers. This is the “blessed to be a blessing,” that Steve talks about all the time. This sort of generosity is the kind of thing we practice and diligently try to teach our kids (they’re still learning, by the way.) And I am beyond grateful. Not just for this timely gift, but also for so many other things that God has placed in our lives. To Him belongs the glory. We do not understand, we cannot explain, we do not deserve God’s marvelous love and grace..and yet it’s my favorite thing to file under “things that make you go hmmmm….”

God is good all the time. And all the time…God is good.

He’s Not YOU and She’s Not ME (Oh, the Perils of Parenting!)

Posted on March 15, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Don’t try to make children grow up to be like you, or they may do it. –Russell Baker

The idea of being in charge of small people always seemed overwhelming to me. Babies need constant care, toddlers keep you running, then come the tantrums…and all this during a child’s cutest phase! And please, don’t be fooled by the false hope of the elementary school years…while the child is certainly capable of handling many tasks independently, elementary school is definitely a whirlwind all its own. If questions and comments your child picked up from preschool friends had you blushing…just wait! With a better vocabulary and dedicated lunch/recess time to “share,” your child is sure to come home with a couple of doozies! I am just now treading into the tween and teen years of parenthood and I’m anticipating even more hurdles and embarrassing conversations. I mean, these are the years they actually WARN us about 😦

In reality parenthood is everything they said it would be…good, bad, frustrating and rewarding. We love our kiddos and I’m pretty sure the cycle of life isn’t going anywhere! However, it’s come to my attention lately that dealing with my kids is getting a lot more complicated. When they were little they exemplified typical “little” people behavior. The moments of defiance and cuteness along with the awe of learning new things were just part of a normal day. And newsflash–probably none of our children were truly exceptional at this point. In fact, I’ve read several studies that suggest that most of our children all level out in kindergarten. That means despite being the product of a stay-at-home mom, single-parent household, working parents, or daycare (home or otherwise,) all of our kiddos have reached the same milestones at this particular crossroad in life. The differences become evident after our children enter school and not necessarily because of school itself. It appears that a child’s personality begins to develop and solidify all within the first few years of elementary school (barring any huge life events, of course.) I am not a psychologist, but I think the stats hold up. An even-tempered child at age 6 likely maintains that even temper. A selfish child at age 7 probably has selfish tendencies throughout life. A sensitive demeanor at age 8 means the child has a good chance of maintaining that sensitivity well into adulthood.

So here’s where I stand with my now “complicated” kiddos. As a 10 and 13-year-old, their personalities are well-developed and those same personalities are not afraid to go head to head with mine! This is a good AND a bad thing. As nature would have it, my kids and I have some similar personality traits. For example, my son and I are suckers for comedies and enjoy wasting hours watching funny movies. We laugh at the same dumb things and for the most part “speak the same language.” My daughter and I both love organization, we approach problems very analytically, and LOVE to read and learn new things! All three of us are artistic. On the other hand, my kids are extremely social while I am an introvert. Their constant need to be with friends and have friends over just blows me away! They both enjoy sports while I threw out my hip playing kickball in my grandma’s front yard (no athletic ability here.) They both love video games and I consider video games to be the ultimate waste of time. None of this is a deal breaker, but we do spar over homework, practice time, and responsibility. I wonder about their commitment level, attention to detail and their desire to work hard. I have a tough time hearing them complain about problems that they can fix themselves, whine about situations that get a little difficult and sulk when things don’t go their way. It’s in these things that I have to stop and remind myself, “He’s not you, and she’s not me.”

It’s not an easy thing to maneuver. When I got into this parenting gig I never once contemplated the idea that these little beings could give me any problems or try my nerves. In a naïve way, I imagined they would be some kind of “mini-me” and thus, they would be perfectly reasonable at all times (feel free to laugh out loud here!) All any of us really have to go on when we enter parenthood are our own childhood experiences, the experiences of those closest to us, and maybe a couple of baby books. So basically, we might as well go into this blind…because this is what I remember from my early days:

I’m pretty sure I was not your typical child. In a lot of ways I was probably always a little bit of a grown up…or perhaps an old soul. I was thoughtful in ways that most kids never think of…weighing the pros and cons of many decisions that others wouldn’t even consider. I was very self-concerned and stubborn. I worked hard. By the time I was 8 I knew I wanted to go to college and I was driven to get there. I was shy and serious. I was afraid of failure. I WAS BY NO MEANS PERFECT. I put a lot of pressure on myself. I hated making mistakes and vowed to learn from them. I felt very safe and secure with my family. I was creative. I didn’t really care what other people thought of me. I believed in a God who loved me and would never abandon me.

This is how I “remember” my childhood, but this alone doesn’t garner enough information on how to raise a child…especially a child that in all likelihood would be very different from myself. Oh, how I wish I had realized all this earlier!

Possessing an awareness that there are and will be differences is key to navigating my parenting responsibilities now and into the future. This newfound credo of “he’s not you, and she’s not me,” might be the saving grace that I need to get over this parenting hump. Stepping back and realizing that we are all separate individuals and that our differences are okay (heck, we might even learn something from one another) could make these next years a growing experience for us all. I know that the head to head battles will exist (there’s no way I’m going to let them grow up without a sense of accountability and purpose,) but hopefully the battles will also include some level of understanding. I truly love these kiddos and I want to love them into being the people God called them to be…not a “mini-me” clone and certainly not the “ideal” person that lives in my imagination. Most of us hope to raise children to be more than ourselves…we seek to give them not only the things that we had growing up but so much more. We want them to have the benefit of all those who have come before them…us included. The long-held belief that each generation should be better than the one before drives us in so many ways, but it’s also a belief that can cause us to “run-over” our own children. A lack of understanding can stop them in their tracks before they’ve even had a chance to start…and we’ve all seen it happen far too many times.

My kids will not have a childhood experience that mirrors mine. Their friendships and relationships will look different from the ones I knew 30+ years ago. They will stumble and fall. They will let me down and they will find a strength that I never knew they could possess. These same kiddos will test the waters and sometimes they will get hurt. They will succeed in areas where I’ve failed and they will thrive in places I would have been too afraid to venture into. And really, the last thing the world needs is a “mini-me,” (because I am certainly not all that easy to deal with!) In the end, when they finally reach adulthood, I pray that I would have loved them through all of it. I know it will not be easy because I have high hopes and expectations (I’m still a mom after all!) But these years–the tweens and teens, the “home-stretch” if you will, are far too valuable to just endure. These are critical times. Love your daughter. Love your son. And remember, “he’s not you and she’s not me…” it just might make all the difference.

Childhood is a short season. –Helen Hayes

Small Town Night Owl

Posted on February 8, 2015 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

I stay up late every night and realize it’s a bad idea every morning. —unknown

As I near 40, I’m almost ashamed to admit it. Almost. But here’s my confession: When it comes to sleep I am my own worst enemy. I think I might have jinxed myself as a kid when I muttered that both food and sleep were overrated. While I still hold these tenets to be true, I have come to discover that sleep is pretty vital (I’m sure food is, too…I just don’t want to admit it or PREPARE it.)

It’s not that I don’t need sleep. Trust me, I NEED it! It’s just that my clock is “off.” I could try blaming age, but my real trouble with sleep began way before that. It seems that at bedtime…I’m just not tired. As a child I remember sharing a room with my little sister and after lights out, we would simply stay up and talk…or sing. (We had these singing contests where we tried to win the other person over to our song. Popular catchy songs work well, but if I remember right, annoying brain worm songs like “Mary Had a Little Lamb” worked much better!) I also loved to tell stories and like an old woman I could spin a yarn that would go on for days. My poor sister! On more than one occasion I’d tell a story that would go on so long that she would fall asleep before it ended 🙂 It was slightly embarrassing…. Only slightly.

In junior high and especially high school, I continued my night owl ways. It wasn’t that I wasn’t tired. I really, really was! But afterschool activities, a social life and school work kept me up ’til the wee hours of the morning. (Before you jump to any conclusions let it be known that I stayed up way later for school work than for anything else! I know–I’m a NERD 🙂 ) For some reason, I always felt like I had more energy at night. 11pm seems to be peak time for me. To be fair, I have to admit that I am not a morning person. Not at all. Maybe that’s part of why I’m a night owl.

During my college years, being a night owl just went with the territory. We were all night owls…burning the candle at both ends. It wasn’t that big of a deal–nothing ever is at that age. Wake up early, stay up late…some nights sleep was more of a good idea than a reality. I can remember going to a Poe concert the night before a final, closing down the club, going out to breakfast, drinking my weight in coffee, studying for an hour and arriving on campus just in time to take a 7am final–and acing it. (Good genetics, I can thank my Mom for my test taking abilities!) This was the way life rolled and I loved it! Yes, sleep was overrated indeed. We are so invincible in our 20s….

One might think that motherhood would change everything. No. Now I had an excuse to be awake at all hours of the night. Pregnancy, middle of the night feedings, a colicky baby, illness of one kind or another, bad dreams, etc. All this and so much more just pushed my night owl tendencies to the next level because a sleeping child meant that I could have a moment to do what I wanted to do. You know, like watch a sitcom from beginning to end (forget movies…that’s asking for too much time,) have a snack and not have to share, catch up on correspondence, READ, and have a continuous thought (crazy, right?) Let me be clear, my late night tendencies have never had anything to do with insomnia (which sounds horrible!) It really is LIGHTS OUT once my head hits the pillow. It’s just that I can find a million and one things to do before going to sleep. Did I mention that I drink ALOT of coffee?

I’ve given my night owl tendencies a lot of thought lately. For the past few weeks I’ve noticed several news articles and studies that cite the need for better sleep habits…specifically MORE sleep and an earlier bedtime. At first I sort of brushed it off, but I’m starting to think that maybe I should take these things more seriously. These same studies say that a lack of sleep leads to poor memory, an inability to focus, impaired immunity, sluggish metabolism and WRINKLES. (Look, I claim not to be vain, but I don’t know a woman on the planet who’s “okay” with wrinkles!) So, what’s a girl to do? Change seems practically impossible. And let me just state for the record, this wouldn’t even be an issue if I could find a school district where classes didn’t start until 10am (that’s what I call a reasonable morning hour.)

My best friend recently told me that she has successfully made “the transition,” moving from night owl (she was my social counterpart in my early years) to morning person. I know–it just doesn’t seem possible! No longer does she fritter away the late night hours or need to set several alarm clocks to wake up in the morning. Instead she’s up with the sun and happy about it. So what’s her secret? She tells me that through prayer and discipline she has made a change for the better. Wouldn’t you just know it? Jesus is the answer (again!) I have to tell you that I’m not optimistic. It’s not that I don’t have faith…it’s more that I don’t know if I’m ready. Because you see EVERY part of me LIKES staying up late. It’s my chance to breathe, to sit without interruption, to find peace, READ and have a continuous thought all my own! (Notice a theme here?) I like being the only person awake in the quiet of our little home. Maybe it’s an introvert thing, but nighttime is MY TIME!

Okay, so someday (soon) I plan to grow up and get serious about sleep and taking care of myself. And when I do, I know (without a doubt) that Jesus will see me through. That and the threat of WRINKLES….

Night, night.

WINK ;) Parents are Perpetual LOSERS (Looking for the Win Column)

Posted on September 6, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

“The first 40 years of parenthood are always the hardest” – Unknown

I guess it’s fair to say that we’ve hit the “rocky stage.” It’s the craggy valley where your kids try your patience, serve up dozens of complaints, defy you at every turn, accuse you of the most outlandish things (like purposefully ruining their lives!) and all before Cheerios. I believe the marketing industry categorizes this phase of adolescence as “tween,” but that sounds a little too benign for this particular stage of development. And while I’m not sure how we got here, (as far as I can tell) there are no posted signs for the nearest exit. The most baffling part (at least for me) is that just when I think things can’t get any crazier and I start wondering who these children REALLY belong to, I find myself the recipient of a hug and a warm smile.

So what’s up? It’s the same old story. Only it seems all the more confusing since I’m the Mom actually living through it. I feel like the victim of some kind of psychological warfare, thus making it hard to balance what I know is age appropriate behavior with these outrageous episodes. I know enough to realize that I wasn’t the perfect child. Yet, I still seem to think that on so many levels I had to be a little easier than my two kiddos. “Can I have this? Can you get me that? If I do this, then will you…” (fill in the blank with some outlandish request), followed by, “Do I have to?” and “You CAN’T make me!” It’s like we stepped back in time and I’m the mother of toddlers again. Suddenly, the automatic kid response to everything is “No” accompanied with eye rolling (that’s new) and foot stomping. I shudder to think of what might happen if the two actually got along long enough to conspire against my husband and I. My sweet, darling daughter often takes her cues from her older brother which only seems to compound the problem. And whoever said that boys were easier than girls doesn’t know squat about my household. So what’s a Mom to do?

Basically, I pray a lot. I try to understand where they’re coming from and channel my own tween years. I take a deep breath and sometimes I actually have to ESCAPE to my happy place. I remind myself that parenting is not easy. In fact, it’s pretty much a thankless job. And I think that’s the part that bothers me the most. That’s the part that hurts so much. The lack of gratitude. These children have EVERYTHING. I’m not just talking about material things, these children absolutely have the whole, wide world laid out before them! My brain knows that their lack of gratitude isn’t something I should take personally, but still my heartstrings can’t help but feel heavy and pulled and sometimes even FRAYED at the end of the day. It’s tiresome, worrying and basically not much fun.

On bad days…well, it’s bad. Good days (as in 24 continuous hours of bliss) are hard to come by. That’s why I’m trying to hang on (and find hope in) the little things. I’ve secretly started calling these rare occurrences “Mom-tastic Moments.” They’re the small victories that I tuck into my heart and hold on to for dear life. They stack up like this….

Like with anything, the good times are unpredictable and unscheduled. The outrageous moments seem to happen at the most inconvenient times. And since this parenting thing doesn’t come naturally to me, I have to call upon my own life experiences to get by…and sometimes that makes for a parent-child disconnect. For example, I remember how much my husband laughed when he overheard me telling our newborn, “If this breastfeeding thing is going to work out, you’re going to have to learn to FOCUS.” Needless to say, my baby didn’t choose to listen to me (even at two days old) and we had to move on to bottle feeding. Short-term loss, long-term gain (the kid had to eat right?) And many years later, my rational approach to life still gets trumped by these two irrational beings. I’ve read all the books, researched and googled every problem, and (in desperation) I’ve even tried to reason with them! Most of which has gotten me nowhere. So while I’m still neck deep in this motherhood thing, here’s What I Now Know (WINK) about parenting:

THERE’S POWER IN NUMBERS. Don’t go at this parenting thing alone. I know the two parent household isn’t the norm for everyone, and that’s okay. As much as you can, involve the other parent, both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles and even trusted friends. Role models do not have to be blood related. Many times things that I have harped on my kids about become an “aha” experience when the same advice comes out of the mouth of an adult other than myself. I’m way over feeding any sort of parenting ego…if there’s someone else who can aid my efforts and serve as a voice of reason, then by all means 🙂
MAKE YOUR EXPECTATIONS KNOWN. Not all things go as planned, but I’m slowly finding that if I speak up about what I expect from my kiddos then at least we’re all on the same page (if only for a brief second.) No–this doesn’t mean everything will go perfectly, but it’s better than having that horrible conversation after everything has gone wrong only to hear your child say to you, “Well, why didn’t you tell me that’s what you wanted in the beginning” or “I didn’t know that’s how it was supposed to go down.” Although they sometimes act like three-year olds, I find that things go a lot smoother when I approach them with clear “big kid” expectations.
DON’T TAKE EVERYTHING PERSONALLY. This is probably the hardest one. I really try to live by the golden rule. I’m not sure this is a priority for my kids…and I have to remind myself to cut them some slack. Science reminds us of all the growth and development that takes place in a child’s mind. Researchers have proven that a “mature,” functioning brain (complete with a rationale for risk taking) doesn’t exist until one’s early 20s. Obviously, they’re not going to be perfect. I often remind myself (and them) that we all have feelings, words and actions both speak volumes, and that we’re a family that LOVES each other. Some days are better than others.
IT’S OKAY TO BE A LOSER. This one is going to need some clarification. Remember how I mentioned short-term loss, long-term gain? That’s parenting in a nut shell. We lose a lot in this exchange: sleep, control, time, energy, money, arguments…and the list could go on and on. The gains don’t typically take place in the parenting trenches. Often times they come much (much) later. It’s a miracle to me that any of us signed up to do this! But then I think about the gains: smiles, hugs, love, and eventually…appreciation, respect, and wisdom 🙂 This is big picture stuff, and the big stuff never is (and maybe shouldn’t be) easy.
CALL YOUR MOM (a lot.) She has a way of putting things into focus. My mom reminds me that I’m not the first mother to go through this and that it’s all NORMAL. I need to hear it and you probably do, too! Mothers who have graduated into “grandmotherhood” have an insight and a perspective that just cannot be matched. Besides, acknowledging your mother’s hard-earned wisdom is a heartwarming way of showing your mother how much you love and appreciate her…even if it took you decades to get there! No one person has had more influence on my life than my mom…and she deserves to know that!

I am far from the perfect parent. There are still days when I’m as far away from the win column as any one person can get. I lose my cool more often that I like. But, like most of us, I’m in it for the long haul–these kids have my whole heart 🙂 For some crazy reason, (as irrational as it sounds) I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And when my children are 40…well, maybe (just maybe) I’ll get that win column tally mark I’ve been waiting for…. Hope you get yours, too!

😉 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.)

Back to School Essentials (7 Must Haves You Won’t Find on Any School Supply List)

Posted on August 15, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Casey First Day of School 2009

It’s that time of year! And the back to school vibe is so pervasive you can practically smell it…(and it ain’t rosy!) Alarm clocks set, buses running, backpacks on and lunches packed, this is show time! So whether you’re Best Dressed or Total Mess, Ready Freddie or Nervous Nelly, the school bell’s ringing and there’s no stopping it. Like most dutiful moms, I’ve done the shopping and the supply gathering, made sure the kiddos have been the recipients of stylish haircuts and good shoes, and we’ve definitely run the gauntlet when it comes to Back to School Night. Still, there’s a few things that I wish I could bundle up and tuck into the backpacks of my children (and every child for that matter.) You won’t find them on the shelf at any discount store, but they might just make all the difference. So load up on these seven BIG back to school necessities….

1. To Thine Own Self Be True. Let’s motivate our children to walk into the classroom with a sense of self. Remind your children WHO they are and WHAT they stand for. Let’s be authentic and real with one another, forget the game playing. The mean girls garbage, the bullying and the backbiting. A good majority of us are capable (even at a young age) of understanding what is acceptable and what isn’t. Parents be an example.

2. Be Kind, Rewind. Remember this saying from the days of video rentals and VCR’s? Might I suggest that we urge our children to adopt this little mantra as a way of extending grace to one another and ourselves? One of my favorite exercises in kindness invites us to think BEFORE we speak. We can effectively offer kindness by pausing to check ourselves, especially when dealing with a difficult person. PAUSE…and ask, “How does this sound out loud? Am I treating others the way I want to be treated?” I often remind my kiddos to be kind to themselves, too. Sometimes we’re our own worst critic. Kindness is a wonderful gift.

Sean First Day of School 2005

3. Mind Your Zzzz’s and Eat Your Peas. Do your children a favor and help them develop healthy eating and sleeping habits. Numerous studies show that students learn better and have a more positive school experience when they get enough sleep and eat regular, nutritious meals. I’m just as guilty as the next Mom. McDonald’s is soooo easy and convenient and one more episode of their favorite show won’t hurt…or will it? Remember, grown-ups, we ARE in charge!

4. Game Plan. Having a strategy for homework, school projects and extra-curricular activities is vital to maintaining a sane household. We’ve all had that child come home and have a breakdown because they’ve procrastinated on a project, didn’t pay attention to a lesson in class, or flat out fell behind. Let’s encourage our children to be proactive, make a schedule and take pride in all that they do.

5. Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously. This applies to kiddos AND parents. There’s nothing like laughter to diffuse a tense situation. Finding the joy and the fun in life is critical to a person’s overall well-being. Make time to laugh, giggle and create good times (and good memories) with one another. Remember, it’s not all rocket science.

6. Your Loved Ones Have Your Back. There’s nothing quite so overwhelming and utterly terrifying as feeling alone and like no one understands. Create an atmosphere in your home and in your relationships where each person knows their value and worth. Most parents (guardians and caregivers) would go to any length to protect the children they love. I want my children to succeed and you want your children to succeed, too. Fostering a safe and loving environment can be the catalyst that moves a child in a positive direction.

7. You Gotta Have Faith. We’ve all heard the term separation of church and state, as well as the countless other arguments about keeping religion out of school. Fine, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave your personal faith in the school parking lot. Let’s remind our kids that God is present and active in our daily lives, not just at home or at church, but all the time. It’s okay to carry your Christian values into the school building. Christ’s example of grace, mercy and love will be a welcome addition to any education environment. Looking out for one’s neighbor, a spirit of forgiveness, and a desire to treat each other justly and with respect will make any school year one to remember. I tell my children it’s perfectly acceptable to say a silent prayer before a tough test, for a classmate going through a trying time and especially for our teachers and administrators. In our home, we pray for our schools, our classmates and teachers before bed each night…why would we stop between the hours of 8am and 3pm during the week? I want my kiddos to know that there is a 24/7 God who knows each of us, loves us dearly and has a wonderful plan and purpose for our lives.

So as we snap and post those first day of school photos, let’s be intentional about making this THE school year where we put first things first and load up on all the essentials for our best school experience yet (kiddos and parents alike!) 🙂

Intelligence plus character…that is the goal of true education. –Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

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

Don’t Know About You, But I’m Feeling 22

Posted on April 19, 2014 by Anna Ortiz Spencer

Everyone is the age of their heart. ~Guatemalan Proverb

I didn’t do anything as gaudy as send myself a birthday bouquet but I am about to break a few social mores. That’s right, I’m saying it, “Happy birthday, to ME!” and I’m going to post photos of ME, and I’m writing a blog about ME 🙂 But I hope you’ll give me a pass…mostly because I AM the birthday girl.

Okay, to be clear, I’m not trying to solicit birthday wishes and/or gifts…but I just had to share a few thoughts about turning “the year before THE year.” What???? Doesn’t make any sense? Well, check this out: Most of us know that turning 40 it’s a pretty big deal…as in it’s a pivotal moment (and not necessarily in a good way.) And while I won’t be 40 until next year (2015), I did have a friend tell me that (NEWSFLASH) turning “the year before THE year” is actually a pretty big deal, too! I had no clue. 39 is a BIG thing…really? Since when? I guess…since now.

39 has been called the “creepy-creeper” birthday. This connotation suggests that 39 is both undesirable and sneaky? Maybe even a little scary? Sort of like you’re walking along…minding your own business…when this dreadful number jumps out from behind the bushes and boldly states, “Warning. You’re about to cross over into old age!” Or something like that. Supposedly, at 39 this is the last year that I can be considered somewhat “young.” I’ve been told that I’ve now entered the final months where it’s even somewhat socially acceptable to wear my hair long, paint my fingernails any color other than matronly mauve, or wear jet black mascara (among a great big list of other taboo items.) If there is a distinction in adulthood, apparently 40 is the line for women and so I’m left with this one little year in which to kick up my heels and behave accordingly. 365 measly days left to be young! I can hardly believe it…it all went so fast! Actually, I find all this to be pretty funny. Funny for two reasons: 1) because I think when I was in my 20s that I actually believed these rules and 2) especially funny because in my heart of hearts the first number that pops into my mind whenever someone asks me how old I am has ALWAYS been 22!

Birthday gathering with friends 🙂

Yes, I know. It’s been a long, LONG time since I was 22, but you have to hear me out about this. So when you’re a kid, you can’t wait to be in double digits. 10 is a BIG deal. The next milestone age is 13, right? Because now you’re a teenager. Followed by 16…the year you can get your driver’s license. The next biggie is 18…no curfew, you can vote, live on your own, etc. And finally 21. The BIG ONE. That’s right…all the sudden you’re able to do all the things you’ve been told REAL grown-ups do. (?) I know, we all know…most of them are very OVERRATED. So when 22 rolls around you figure, okay…that’s it. Nothing to see here people and I guess I just stopped counting after that. Ridiculous, right? I know…but that’s the house that I’ve been living in. Sure it’s a crazy house, but it’s still MY house.

At this point, I’m sure you’re laughing at me and I’m actually laughing at myself, too. It’s been ages since I’ve been carded, had a night life, or gone on any adventures that don’t involve having my two kids in tow. I’m not up on the newest trends, nor do I drive a hot car, or keep up with the latest movies or music. I don’t really do any of the things that would lump myself in a category with anyone who is actually 22, yet that’s still the number that sticks in my head. I always imagined that someday I’d graduate to a new birthday number, but it just never happened. So now that I’m turning “the year before THE year,” I thought I’d better do a little research and see what the hubbub surrounding the number 40 is really all about…I mean, since I don’t want to be caught off guard (again) and I’m headed in that direction anyway.

It appears that there really are a lot of resources out there concerning the Big 4-0. Countless books, websites, blogs and articles about embracing the “new and improved” you. As I enter “the year before THE year,” it might behoove me to start reading up on some of these expectations and societal norms. Here’s what I’ve gathered from the headlines so far: 40 is magical. 40 has attitude…it’s called “fortytude.” There’s also a rumor that 40 can be fabulous (but I caution you, there are a lot of caveats to this one.) 40 is the first year a woman can qualify as a “cougar.” 40 is something that needs to be figured out and faced…it also makes you fierce and a force to be reckoned with (don’t you love all the alliteration that comes with 40!) You can also be fit and forty at the same time (who knew?) For those who truly believe in stressing themselves out about the number 40, there are a few websites that offer up 40 things you should accomplish by the time you reach 40. And, by the way… in case you haven’t heard, forty is the new “F” word.

That’s a lot for one girl to take in.

All of this aside, here’s where I’m at. It’s MY birthday and all I really want to do is thank God for another day, another year, and another reason to celebrate life (while eating Dairy Queen cake, of course.) I don’t really get wrapped up in all this aging stuff. I’m sure the day will come when the wrinkles and the gray hairs will win out, when my body doesn’t cooperate like it used to, when people stop asking me just how old I really am (and just start assuming I’m OLD!) Until then, I’m just going to keep chugging along…making up nonsensical songs with my daughter, teasing my son by repeating hip phrases that sound anything but hip when I say them, wearing my hair as long as I want to, and sporting nice, bright nail polish as the mood strikes. I’m not going to worry about figuring out or facing 40 or even reading up on the 40 things to do before you reach this supposed milestone. While society might find my lack of alarm annoying or unheard of, I think the psychological term is called “self differentiated.” That’s right…who says you can’t teach an “old dog” new words. And by the way, I’m going to stick with the age 22 for the time being (especially since Taylor Swift makes it sound so fun!) Sure I’m a long way from it (and you really couldn’t pay me to go back,) but mostly just because it’s a nice number and like I said before… I still have a house there. (Sure it’s a crazy house, but it’s MY house.)

Here’s to 365 days of “the year before THE year!”

I’m not 40, I’m eighteen with 22 years experience. Author unknown

hymningandhaing

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

Tag Archives: Life