Writer's Block

Writer's block, by definition, is "a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work." (Wikipedia)

I think I have it. It's been over six months since I've written a blog. Correction: it's been over six months since I've completed and posted a blog. It's not for lack of ideas, because I've started quite a few. 45, to be exact. I've started 45 blogs but have not gotten them past the draft stage. Some are simply a title, an attempt to capture a profound idea that floated through my mind on a Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday evening. Others are words, paragraphs, sentence fragments that begin to delve into that profound idea but fail to offer any brilliant discoveries, conclusive evidence, or clever witticisms that would deem the blog worthy publication. This leaves me with jokes without punchlines and stories without endings. Not much for entertainment.

My inability to produce leads to frustration, which leads to apathy, which circles back around to more frustration. It's a vicious cycle, really. The desire is there, but the creativity, dedication, and follow through aren't, at least at the moment. Perhaps I'm uninspired, or even more credibly, perhaps I've been afraid to write, afraid to be vulnerable, to open up my thoughts again, to offer an opinion, to believe that I have something worth sharing. It's a challenge to regain confidence after losing it, but it's a process worth pursuing. So for all (read 13) of my dedicated followers, I'm going to attempt writing again. Soon. You'll have to let me know how it goes.

Do You Trust Me?

Do you trust me?

Of course I trust you. How can you ask me that? I trust you. I know that you’re going to work this out for me. But can I just ask you something? How? And when?

Do you trust me?

Yes, I told you I trust you. But how are you going to do it? When is it going to happen? Will it be soon? I’m not seeing any light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m reaching the end of my rope. Can you hurry?

Do you trust me?

Most of the time. I’m doing my best to remember your promises. You’ve been faithful in the past, so why would the present or the future be any different? But why? Why am I going through this? Am I supposed to be learning a profound life lesson? When will I be done learning?

Do you trust me?

I think so. But sometimes I can’t see you in any of it. And it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. What’s the point of all of this anyway? You promise to work all things out for my good, but I can’t seem to find the good in what’s happening. Am I missing something here?

I am Yahweh, the first and the last. I created the universe. I tell the waves where to stop and the sun when to rise. I water the earth with rains in the spring. I clothe the lilies of the valley with splendor and feed the birds of the air. I intricately formed you when you were in your mother’s womb and know every detail about you. Those freckles on your nose that you don’t like very much: I made those. Those tears you cried late at night: I caught those in my hands. Those times you felt like you couldn’t take another step: I carried you. Those prayers you prayed that didn’t seem to be answered: I heard every single one of them. And those times you felt as though you would never make it out of your situation: I blew your mind with what I can handle.

And so I ask you… Do you trust me?

And Then There Was One

I'm not one for writing bunny obituaries, but I feel as though I need to pay some kind of tribute to Walter. It still seems unreal, and yet when I walk to their cage to feed them every morning and to let them out every evening when I get home from work, I now only find Jack, huddled in the corner looking just as sad and confused as I am.

I came home from work on Wednesday of last week and found Walter lying in the cage. He was dead. It was totally unexpected, and it broke my heart. I know he was just a rabbit, but if you know me, you know that I love my bunnies like children, so it was really painful to say goodbye. Thankfully, I have some amazing friends who came over to help me bury him. We reminisced about our memories of him for a while and then took him out back, dug a hole by the tomato plants, and placed him in it. I covered his body with dirt and cried. You know you have great friends when they cry with you. You also know you have great friends when they bring over beer for the occasion. We ended the evening with a few drinks, some laughter, and a few more tears. 

I got the pair (names after Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau) back in October and have thoroughly enjoyed  their company. Here are a few picture highlights of my time with Walter.

This was taken the first night I got them. They were both pretty timid, although Walter's always been the braver of the pair. They were brothers, and they loved hanging out together.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Walter. What a handsome young man!

One of my favorite memories about Walter is that he loved to jump on top of his cage. Sometimes when I would leave the top of their cage open, he would jump out and run around. Jack could never do it, because he was always smaller.

Walter would generally jump on top of the cage while I was cleaning it out. I guess that was his contribution. 

Jack and Walter had a play day in the leaves. They loved it!

So cute.

Look at those ears!

Around Christmas time, I bought miniature apples for decoration. Walter decided they'd be better as food than ornaments.

In his short life, Walter got to experience a number of road trips. I took the bunnies home to Michigan for Thanksgiving last year.

The last road trip was for Easter. Jack and Walter were great companions.

I let them run around the yard. They loved it.

I love this pose.

This picture perfectly captures our relationship. I love that Walter is sticking his tongue out. He made a habit of being defiant.

Just as all good things must come to an end, so my time with Walter is done. Looks like it's just Jack and me now. I suspect that we'll make a grand pair!

God is Bigger than the Bullshit Part 2

Have you ever had one of those days where most things in life seemed to be falling apart? I've been having one of those months. Yesterday, I wrote about the fact that despite all of the crap that we experience, God is in control and will bring us through it. I'm feeling less sure of that today. Every time I feel like my heart is healing or I'm trusting a little bit more, I get shoved to the ground again. It's seriously getting ridiculous. I know that God promises not to give us more than we can handle, but I feel like I can't handle it anymore. It's not as if the things that are happening to me aren't normal, but it's the way they're happening and the timing that are pushing me to my limit. Am I being punished for something? Is God testing my faith? Or are these all just random coincidences that happen to shake me to my core? I don't know, but I'm getting tired of it.

The book of Job seems to be the story of my life these days (or at least today). "If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas- no wonder my words have been impetuous (hence the 'bullshit'). The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God's terrors are marshaled against me... What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient? Do I have the strength of stone (thanks to boot camp, I'm getting close)? Is my flesh bronze (perhaps after a few more hours in the sun)? Do I have the power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me (I've got no strength left)?"

And yet: "He wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal." When does that happen? Can we get that healing process going soon?

God is Bigger than the Bullshit

Some days, that's about as profound as my theology goes. Today is one of those days. I feel as though I'm being sucker punched from every direction. It hurts. I'm bruised and broken and am having a hard time catching my breath. I'm trying to make sense of it all, and yet sense is nowhere to be found. So I find myself clinging to faith.

Even when things appear to be falling apart before my eyes-when life seems to throw curve ball after curve ball-I have to remember this truth. God is bigger than all of it. He's bigger than my job. He's bigger than relationships. He's bigger than location. He's bigger than fears, uncertainties, and confusion. And He's bigger than pain. As long as I can maintain that perspective and remember God's place in the hierarchy of my life, I think I'll be ok.

A friend recently sent me these words of encouragement: "He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together." Even the bullshit. He's got that under control too. 

A Constant in the Change

It's been a while since I've written, and I've had a lot to write about, but I've needed some time to process and reflect. This is my attempt at getting back into it again.

Little did I know when I wrote my last blog just how relevant it would be. Shortly after my 25th birthday, things in my life changed significantly. I wasn't looking for the change, and I didn't want the change, but it happened nonetheless. And it shook my up, as change often does. It caused me to experience what I would call an identity crisis. Having a significant part of my life taken away forced me to analyze my situation and to re-think through some of the bigger questions that I suspect many of us are still working through:

Who am I?
Where do I belong?
From whom or what do I derive my worth?
Am I content with where I am in life?
How can I find fulfillment?
How does my faith impact the way I choose to live my life?

These are just a few of the biggies that I've been thinking through lately. Perhaps I should have them answered by now, but we all grow and develop and learn in different ways and at different paces. This is where I am right now. It's a painful process, this journey of self-discovery. But it's a critical one.

Do I have these questions answered yet? No. At least not entirely. I'm more sure of some things and less sure of others, but there is one thing that has been made abundantly clear in this process: God is with me every step of the way. How do I know? Because I've seen it. And I've felt it. And it's awesome. During the time of my deepest pain and confusion, God spoke these words to me in a very cool way (ask for details if you'd like to hear the story), "Ever present, I am never absent, I am always with you." The way this message was delivered to me blew my mind. And God's been doing that lately. He's been blowing my mind.

In my last blog post, I quoted Socrates: "The only real wisdom is knowing you know nothing." What I wrote next was a perfect introduction to this next chapter of my life: "That's about where I am these days. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life, I don't know where I'm going to do it, and I don't know who I'm going to do it with... Actually, that's not true. I'll be doing it with God beside me every step of the way. He has yet to leave my side, and since He's the one who knows everything, I'd say he's a pretty good companion to have."

Truth. I've been experiencing an unexpected and overwhelming sense of peace in all of this change and ambiguity, which is a good place to be. So as I wait for my next move, I'm resting in the knowledge and faith that God will be taking that step with me.

You may be wondering why I choose to be so vulnerable on my blog, and frankly, I often wonder that myself. Being vulnerable is dangerous, but it's also brave and honest and real. And that's what I am. I'm honest and real. Brave is debatable. :)

So Long, Early Twenties. 'Twas Nice Knowing You.

It's not like I'm expecting to feel any different. After all, this birthday will be just like the rest. I'll wake up in the morning and think to myself, "Anna, you are now one year older. Better start investing in anti-wrinkle cream." (Ha!). Nothing will have changed from today, when I am twenty-four, except that I'll be twenty-five, a quarter of a century old, and my car insurance rates will drop because I will officially be beyond the "wreck-less" years.

I realize that twenty-five is the new eighteen -or so I've been told- but for some reason, twenty-five seems different that the first five years of my twenties. It seems so much older. After all, my age can now be rounded to thirty, which is a terrifying thought (apologies to anyone reading this who is older than I am and is currently rolling their eyes at the thought of twenty-five being old- I'll be in your shoes one day soon). Everyone I talk to keeps telling me that twenty-five is young and that I still have my whole life ahead of me to figure things out. It's funny, though. Seems like the older I get, the less I have figured out. Or maybe that's the point.

Socrates once said, "The only real wisdom is knowing you know nothing." That's about where I am these days. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life, I don't know where I'm going to do it, and I don't know who I'm going to do it with. Actually, that's not true. I'll be doing it with God beside me every step of the way. He has yet to leave my side, and since He's the one that knows everything, I'd say he's a pretty good companion to have.

As I kiss twenty-four goodbye, I'd like to reflect on twenty-four things that I'm thankful for:

1. A God who loves me unconditionally, died and was resurrected to save me, and continues to pursue a relationship with me
2. The greatest parents in the world, who would do anything for me
3. Three amazing siblings who are such a joy and are growing up to be such wonderful individuals
4. The best girlfriends in the world, who often know me better than I know myself, and who, despite the distances, remain a constant source of support in my life
5. Grandparents who have been praying for me every day since I was born
6. A close-knit extended family who all love and support each other
7. The man who loves me
8. Jack and Walter
9. My church community
10. My job
11. Having a college degree
12. My international travel experiences
13. My Canon 20D
14. Good health
15. A car that works
16. My giant bedroom with a non-leaking roof over my head
17. My singing voice
18. The gift of creativity and art
19. Colleagues who care about me
20. The lovely weather we've been having this spring
21. Four weeks vacation every year
22. Living in a country where I can openly profess my faith
23. Having clean water to drink
24. Laughter

Boot Camp Is Really Kicking My...

Butt. It's fitness boot camp, and it sucks. It all started when one of my co-workers emailed a couple of us girls at work to see if we'd be interested in signing up for a month of boot camp. There was a groupon special, and she had already decided that she was going to do it. She was just looking for some friends to join her. I immediately decided against the idea. It's hard enough getting myself to the gym. Boot camp just sounded terrifying. Well, my other co-worker decided she was going to do it too, so of course I felt obligated. Leave it to peer pressure to make a girl agree to something she has absolutely no interest in doing. So I bought the groupon.

We waited until we got back from Christmas to start our month of classes. After all, we knew we'd be needing some exercise after our holiday feasting. And so it began. We started our first class with a 5 minute warm-up, during which I questioned whether or not I would make it to the end of class. I made it, but barely. I went to class three times during the first week (my friends went 4 times), after which I had to take a 4-day break to recover. My body was in so much pain that it hurt to breathe. Walking up or down stairs was torture, getting up after sitting down was nearly impossible, and hugging was too painful to bare. During my 4-day recovery, I was having visions of my muscles being torn. Not only was I in pain physically, but I was also suffering mental pain. Yes, that was my life for the first week or so.  I desperately wanted to throw in the towel and walk away, but my friends seemed so excited about boot camp that I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I kept at it.

I did a lot of painful grunting and complaining to anyone who would listen during the first couple of weeks. After all, shouldn't people feel sorry for me? I'd been suffering through this horrible ordeal 4 times a week. SOMEONE FEEL SORRY FOR ME, for crying out loud. Everyone kept telling me that it would get easier, but I had my doubts. Well, I was proven wrong. Although the intensity of workouts remained the same, my muscles had an easier time recovering. In fact, I actually started looking forward to classes.  The endorphins I experience afterward are almost as good as chocolate (but not quite).

Well, I've just finished my month of boot camp and am so glad to be done. The end.

Just kidding. There's more. At the end of the month, I was offered a promotional rate of $60/month if I signed up for 2 more months. I first reacted to this offer the same way I reacted to my girlfriend's offer to buy the groupon. No thanks. But then there was the peer pressure of knowing that the other girls were doing it. And it is a great offer (normally $140/month). Plus, I feel good about what I'm doing. I'm making healthy choices. AND, I get to be coached by a giant black man who motivates us by blaring obscene rap music. It doesn't get much better than that. So I wrote the check. I figured if I've already put in a month, I might as well do a couple more and really see some results.

You may be wondering if I've had any results so far. Well, yes, I have. My ring fits a bit looser on my left pointer finger. And I have a 12-pack. Of water. (You're crazy if you thought for a second that I have ripped abs after 4 weeks. I'm thinking it will take at least 6.

If you're interested in checking out a class, it's called No Excuses Athletics. The classes are led by a husband and wife team- James and Joyce Moore- who are both awesome. Click here to visit their website. Who knows, maybe I'll get an even better deal next month if they see they're getting free publicity for the millions of people who read my blog!

My Little Gentlemen

I'm embarrassed about how late this is, but here's their official introduction. Meet Jack and Walter. They're named after the famous Odd Couple duo- Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau. I got them back in October, and they've been such a wonderful addition to my life! They're brothers, they're about 9 months old, and they are full grown. At first look, they're identical, but the more you get to know them, the easier it is to tell them apart. Jack is significantly smaller than Walter and has smaller features. His ears are shorter and his face is more smooshed (is that a word?). Walter has longer ears and a pointier nose. He's a bit more adventurous than Jack, but he is also friendlier. Jack is still really timid, but he's opening up.

Here are some pictures Jack:

And here are some of Walter:

 

 

They make an adorable pair:

 

We've really been bonding as of late, since they're getting a lot more comfortable with me petting and holding them. My favorite moment with them so far happened last Saturday night. I was hanging out with them (I usually sit or lay on the floor so that we're at the same level), and they came over and started licking my forehead. That was the first time they ever licked me, and it was glorious. I'm holding out for more licking sessions in the future.

Wednesday Makeovers

Little did I know when I woke up yesterday morning that I would be the victim of a Mary Kay makeover and consultation session. Had I known this, I would have stayed in bed.

It was a normal day. I cringed when my alarm clock went off and waited my turn to jump in the shower. I got to work and shuffled papers around to pretend I was busy. Ok, that part is a lie. I was actually busy, but not too busy to grab lunch with one of my lovely lady friends. I always look forward to our lunches together. This lunch was particularly special, because she told me about a "free makeover session" that she had been invited to by another friend. She asked if I wanted to join, and since I didn't have any plans for the evening, I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

We weren't really sure what to expect, since we didn't have any details. I was hoping for a haircut and some major skin rejuvenation. But when we pulled up to the place and saw that the car in front of us had a Mary Kay sticker on it, we knew we were doomed. This is exactly what we were dreading. No haircut for me. So we plastered smiles onto our faces and walked into the party, leaving our wallets in the car lest we be guilted (or tempted) into buying anything. The table was set up with 5 mirrors and little makeup kits, ready to be used.

We all sat down at the table, ready to get this over with (I mean, for the fun to begin). The Mary Kay consultant started explaining what each squirt of liquid on our makeup pallets was for, and then demonstrated how we were to cleanse, exfoliate, moisturize, and apply makeup to our faces. There were about 12 steps in total, a bit above average for my daily makeup routine. During her demonstration, she proceeded to explain how necessary it is that we all start using these age-defying products now, because it's much easier to prevent our faces from aging than to repair them once we look like grandmothers. I was enlightened on the fact that once I turned 18, my skin started to age, and that by the time I'm in my 50s, all the color will be gone from my lips and cheeks, and I'll essentially be gray, which will, of course, require that I use even more Mary Kay products. How convenient for Mary Kay.

Some of the products that we sampled.

After we gave ourselves the makeovers (definitely not as fun as having someone else give you one), we each had to meet with the consultant to discuss any questions we had or to order any products we were interested in. I passed on both accounts. Sorry, but my Dave Ramsey budget (I'll have to write a blog on that experience) just won't allow for the purchase of any more makeup this month.

On our way back from the makeover party, my girlfriend and I could not stop laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing was. The makeup she had given me to use was the wrong shade, so my face looked at least 4.3 times darker than the rest of my body. Not my best look. Thankfully, I was going home to bed and did not need to show my face to anyone but the bunnies. They seemed to take it ok.

I survived my first (and last) Mary Kay makeup consultancy, leaving with the same amount of money in my wallet as I came with. Not too shabby, but certainly not how I would spend a typical Wednesday evening.

*To all you Mary Kay lovers out there: I'm not trying to hate on you. I wear makeup just like anyone else. The difference is that I don't throw parties to celebrate it. :)