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. :)

A Christmas Reminder

It's Christmas Eve, and from anyone's perspective, it's been a successful one. The whole family is together to celebrate, there is a rather large pile of presents under our tree, my mom prepared a Christmas ham for lunch, and we all sat by a cozy fire and ate pumpkin pie and homemade fudge while opening presents  (one of our family traditions is for each person to open one present on Christmas Eve, but to save the rest for Christmas day).

To end our evening, we went to a Christmas Eve service. Not only is this another family tradition, but it's also an obligation, at least for my dad. He's the pastor of a small church in Dearborn, Michigan (think ghetto Detroit). It takes about an hour to drive from our cookie cutter home in the suburbs to the church, which is in the middle of a hurting community in which about one out of every three buildings is borded up, there are liquor stores on every corner, and I would actually encourage Albert to bring his gun along (if you know me, you know this rarely happens).

So we went to church, enjoyed a Christmas skit by the children, sang a number of Christmas hymns, and lit candles to commemorate the night when Jesus came into the world. It was nice, but I would hardly say that I was moved. In fact, I was really just looking forward to starting the hour-long drive back to our cozy house to partake in more Christmas festivities. After a few minutes of post-service mingling, we piled back into our 2002 Toyota minivan and took off for home.

The only good thing about driving through the hood is that gas is cheap, and my dad made sure to bring cash. There's a particular gas station where he always stops. We pulled up, and he got out of the car to pump gas. Since he was paying with cash, he had to go inside to give money to the teller. So he walked toward the station and as he did so, I noticed a man who was loitering outside the store approach him. I reacted the way I typically do when I see people like that.

"He's just going to ask for money," I thought to myself. "They all ask for money, and they all use it for the same thing." A neon lotto sign flashed in the background as my dad came out of the store. When he did, the man approached him, and I could see that he was saying something. He followed my dad to the car, and my dad handed him a couple of bucks. When I saw the man's face, he became real to me. He was no longer just a bum on the corner begging for change. He became a person. A person with needs and wants and hopes and dreams, just like me. And he is spending Christmas Eve in the freezing cold at a gas station.

I asked my mom if we had any food in the car, and it just so happened that we had some apple sauce. So my mom got out of the car to talk to him as my dad continued pumping gas. She asked if he wanted some apple sauce, and he said "Yes, that would be great." As they exchanged words and my mom handed him the apple sauce, he gave her a hug. Tears started flowing down my face, as the reality of what so many people are facing this time of year really hit home. Here I was wearing a flashy new watch and anticipating all the other presents I would be opening tomorrow, while this man-and so many others like him-are just looking forward to their next meal.

Wow. This really put things in perspective for me. With all the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparation-shopping for presents and planning nice meals, trimming the tree and decking the halls-I failed to prepare for the most important part of Christmas: Christ. Preparing for Christ means getting our hearts ready to not only receive him, but also to share him. It's about remembering who he is and why he came. He came to serve the least of these. Christmas presents are nice, but they have no intrinsic value. And when I'm surrounded by hurting people, presents really aren't even that exciting to receive. I failed, once again, to focus on the true meaning of Christmas. Shame on me for being so selfish that during this Christmas season, I haven't looked beyond my own wants to find a way to bless those around me.

I still love all the sentimental things that surround Christmas, and I'm sure I always will. But I need to add another tradition-sharing the love of Christ with those in my community who are less fortunate that I am. It's a simple gesture that can mean a lot, both for those I reach out to and for me. As we drove away from the gas station, I prayed for that man and his family. Only God knows what his needs are, and only God can bring healing in his life. But I am so thankful that God put him in my path to remind me about what's really important.

I hope that as you celebrate Christmas, you, like I was tonight, are reminded of the true meaning of Christmas. Celebrate the birth of Jesus, God's Son, who came not to give shiny presents, but to bring hope to the hopeless and new life to those who are lost.

Merry Christmas.

Making a Fall Wreath

If you haven't yet, read my last blog about Getting into Fall. It will set the mood for this fun activity. As I thought about decorating for fall, I realized that I didn't have a fall wreath, and everyone needs a fall wreath! So I googled it to see if I could find any cool ideas to copy. I found one! It's from a blog called Crafting Mom (I know, I know. Totally nerdy. But I loved it!). Her idea was to make roses with felt and hot glue them onto a wreath. Perfect. So I picked up some felt in a few fall colors and got to work. 

A couple of years ago, I found a 10' strand of branches at a garage sale. I figured I would find a use for it one day. And I did!

 Here are the colors that I used for the wreath: burgundy, brown, tan and gold.

I cut a piece of the branches that was the size I was looking for. I think my wreath is about a foot to a foot and a half in diameter.

Then I had to find a way to bind the branches together. I figured a rubber band would probably be the best choice, and it ended up being pretty easy to do. It would obviously be much easier to start with a pre-made wooden wreath, so I recommend doing that.

To disguise the rubber band, I found a golden yellow ribbon that added a really nice touch to the wreath.

 Now to make the roses. I cut the felt into circles (anywhere between 4" and 8" in diameter). It helps to have special fabric cutting scissors, but as long as your scissors are sharp, you should be fine.

Then I cut the circles into fairly wide swirls. Starting from the center and working my way outside, I begin to wrap the felt swirls into the shape of roses. I used my hot glue gun occasionally to glue the roses together.

 It ended up being easier than I thought it would.

 Baby roses!

I arranged the roses the way I wanted them and hot glued them onto the wreath. My only regret is that I didn't buy use any gold/orange felt roses. I might add some next year, but for now, here's my wreath!