Anchor Points

Well hello there little blogity blog! Long time, no write.
I could write a long laundry list of excuses & lame-o reasons why I haven't written - some legit, but most of them, well they're all excuses, so what does it matter?! If I want to be a writer then I'd better write, right?
Well I've had this post stuck in the "draft" folder for far too long. It happens when I get on this inspiration-kick, but I tell myself, "Jessika you can't publish two blog post is less than 24 hours especially when it's been a month since you last wrote anything at all!" And then I forget about the "draft" folder all together.
Whoops.
As I recall when I wrote the majority of this post (basically the title and the verses below) it was the middle of August and we (we meaning the PNB dancers) had moved on from learning our January Rep of Don Quixote to our All Contemporary Rep that we'll be premiering in March. There will be 3 ballet's on that bill: David Dawson's A Million Kisses to My Skin, Annabella Ochoa's Cylindrical Shadows, and a world premiere by Victor Quijada.
Having worked in the studio with Victor in past years, I've had the privilege to learn his very unique style of movement, which comes from his background in classical and street-dancing, even incorporating aspects of yoga, martial arts and a lot of improv. In reality when you're dancing his choreography you feel a little bit like you're either a) under water, b) in the Matrix, or c) both.
A major concept that is central to his style is that of the "anchor point." Whether it be your heel, your elbow, your palm or forehead, it's the place from which the movement not only originates and/or rotates around, but where it's anchored. So when you're teetering off balance your anchor point is what pulls you back to your center - back to balance.
August was a really challenging month for me in more than one way. I used to read articles on my Yahoo homepage about people in their mid to late twenties having what they termed as the "quarter life crisis" and I'd laugh. No scoff. No both.
Well now who's laughing?
Not me.
Not so long ago a friend of mine said he felt like a rudderless boat. I sympathized and tried to encourage him, reminding him that the Lord has great plans for his life and He'll reveal it in His perfect timing. (On a side note, why is it always so much easier to see the adventure, potential and be eagerly expectant for other people's lives, but not your own?) But it wasn't till this past August that I truly understood... So this is what it feels like to be a rudderless boat! 
I know this is all sounding really vague. It is. On purpose. Because truthfully I don't really feel like hanging all my sick nasty laundry out there for everyone to read. No one wants to read that. Not even (especially!) me.
But even a rudderless boat has an anchor. And even though I won't be in the new Quijada piece, I have anchor points.

On the first day of our season, oddly enough I had little if any rehearsal (bare with me... it was in early July!). So I spent the day in prayer and journaling to the Lord, consecrating this season to Him. And He specifically gave me these anchor points - anchor verses - that He not only knew I would need, but that He wants me cling to throughout this season. And cling I have! I hope they're an encouragement to you too. So Anchor Points: Anchor's away!

"Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him; do not fret when evil men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes." ~ Psalm 37:3-7

"... let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another- and all the more as you see the Day approaching." ~ Hebrews 10:22-25

"So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. For in just a very little while, 'He who is coming will come and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back I will not be pleased with him.' But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved." ~ Hebrews 10:35-39

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." ~ Hebrews 11:1

"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." ~ Romans 5:2b-5

"But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." ~ Romans 8:24b-25

"In the morning, O Lord you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and I wait in expectation." ~ Psalm 5:3 

Second cycle

I just need to stop apologizing and do something. And by "something" I mean write.

For a number of reasons, I decided to drop the philosophy (Critical Reasoning) course I'd registered for this summer quarter at Bellevue College. It was a hard decision... I hate the idea, even the thought of quitting. I'm not a quitter. Taking responsibility for my choices, staying the course, sticking it out - these concepts (mottos?) are deeply woven into the fiber of my being. It's called commitment - a word I fear many in my generation are unfamiliar with... And while this is just a community college course, I feel this strange sense of urgency, of intentionality... that every course I take will not only serve to fulfill my General Ed requirements, but will somehow be used in my life in the present and the future. But this is all beside the point. Not to mention a little dramatic? Um. Yes.
So what is the point, you ask? The point is, I eased my conscience by promising myself I'd use this quarter "off" to write, write, WRITE! Well so much for that... 

But I still have some time before fall quarter begins. Summer's not over yet! Shoot... here in the Northwest it feels like summer just started! 

What has started is my 8th season as a professional ballet dancer with Pacific Northwest Ballet. 

Wow. 

Has it really been that long? Am I really that old? Haha!!! I don't think that I'm that old. 

It seems like just yesterday that I received my first contract. That I was assigned shoe cubby number 27 with a little sliver plaque reading "Jessika Anspach" under it. That I claimed my locker between Lindsi Dec and Carrie Imler, which inevitably overflowed to the spaces above and across... Yes, I was kind of a mess. I still am.
And then poof! Seven years just flew by. Okay, they didn't fly by. Flying, in my mind, implies ease, or at the very least a lack of difficulty. Hmmm... But I've never "flown" before. I wonder if flying actually is difficult?
Wow. Rabbit trail. Sorry about that.
At any rate the past seven years haven't been "a piece of cake," a "walk in the park" or, my personal favorite, "easy peasy lemon squeezy." Then again I don't think anything having to do with ballet could ever be considered easy. It's like saying sandpaper's as smooth as a baby's butt, or walking on a bed of hot coals is fun.
But the struggles, the obstacles I've faced in arriving at where I am today were massive. Mountainous. Like Himalayas mountainous. Just ask our physical therapist Boyd Bender. He'd be the first to tell you that my body wasn't meant for dancing. Or ask any of my former PNBS teachers if they ever thought this dyslexic and daydreaming girl would ever have made it to the professional ranks. They'd probably laugh... I'm just remembering Abbie Siegel sweetly saying to me at barre: "No. Jessika. Left... your other left."
But the Everest of these obstacles, greater than dyslexia or any physical funkiness I have to deal with on a daily basis, was an unseen mountain buried deep within myself.
Call it Fear, Self-Loathing, or the Idol of Ballet and Self. They all apply. What it comes down to is that I put my identity, my confidence, my value and self-worth in how I looked and how I danced. Essentially I put my trust in ME, not in the Almighty and Sovereign Lord. So it's no surprise that over the past seven years these pillars built on sand have come toppling down. And pillars toppling hurts. A lot.
But praise God for His mercy, His grace and His sovereignty! He could have removed me completely from ballet - the thing I worshiped above Him - but His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. He had/has a plan for my life and ballet's a part of it, whether I want it or not (oddly enough there have been times when I haven't wanted it. At. All.) Miraculously He's kept me at PNB while building my pillars on Firm Foundation - on Him!
Through lots of prayer He's moved mountains for me. He's paved the way and has led me along His path. And after six years of struggle it felt like I'd finally exited the hard pruning season and finally began to see some buds blossoming.
As I said before last season was by far the best season I've ever had. The Lord blessed me with so many wonderful roles and opportunities to dance. I felt like I was challenged, pushed and therefore grew in a way I'd always hoped for but had yet to experience. And more than that I found my trust growing in Him, and my confidence rooted in Him. I am so humbled, so grateful and so in awe of the gifts He gives that are immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. He is so good and so faithful!

And so I've begun Season 8. I'm now entering into what my dad terms as the "second cycle." The 2nd seven year stretch. I still have shoe cubby 27. I still dance at PNB. My left leg is still 1/4" longer than my right, and I still struggle with knowing my left from my "other left." But I have a new locker, and it's a new year. I am a new creation. I cannot go back to who I was before.

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" Isaiah 45:18-19

 It is going to be a good year. It is not going to look like last year, and so far it couldn't be more different. And it's hard. Hard to expect without expectations. Hard to not dwell on the past, even when the past was glittering and bright. But I can remember His faithfulness. I can remember the miracles and the work of His awesome hands. And I can have faith. I have hope.

Praise Him!
He is doing a new thing!

Beautiful Ballerinas

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that..."

Ha! I'm wondering how many of you can actually finish this quote... I'm wondering how many of you even know what novel this is from. (Calling all Austen-addicts...)

And while I'm sure I could have a relatively intelligent (animated? amusing?) discussion/blog post on whether or not "a man in possession of a good fortune must really be in want of a wife," that's not the truth I'm referring to here... Move over Jane Austen. Hello Walt Disney! 

It's a small world after all...

This story began one fateful day in November. The exact day I don't remember. And, well, I don't believe in Fate so I guess "fateful" is the wrong word too, but you all get the picture. Maybe "Providential" would be more appropriate. 

At any rate, I was in the back of Studio C watching a run-through of Snow (from PNB's Nutcracker) and behold! In front of me was this beautiful blonde-haired, bright-eyed professional division student who absolutely blew me away with her saut de chat. But it wasn't just that. I don't know... there was just something about her (of course this something would become more than obvious later...) So, using her pointe shoes as an in/excuse, I sort of forced her "under my wing." She graciously complied... 

And her name is Carlie Mills... a.k.a. Briar Rose (because she literally looks like that Sleeping Beauty Disney Princess). 

Fast forward to April, 2011. One day while walking around backstage during a rehearsal for A Midsummer Night's Dream this little Miss Briar Rose came up to me. And with those big ol' Bambi eyes  timidly tapped me on the shoulder and nervously blurted out, "Hey! Jessika! Sooooo... I have a question for you. Umm.... I was wondering if you could help me out with something."
Half-laughing to myself because she seemed almost skittish in approaching me (I don't think I'm that intimidating), I gave her my warmest smile and, trying to put her at ease, said "Absolutely. What's up?"
Fully expecting her to ask me some question about, well, I don't know... how to deal with ingrown toenails or corns, which false eyelashes I use (105 and 111's if you're wondering...), or maybe a question about the choreography, I was totally blown away by what followed.
You see Carlie and I have something else in common (other than both loving ballet and having a flair for the dramatic - you should have seen this girl as Shoe Lady #3 in Cinderella!). We both love Jesus. That's the something I mentioned earlier... the same something, the same Light, which I hope shines from me too!
And this love, this Light shone even more brightly through Carlie when she shared with me a story from the pulpit that had inspired her. The previous Sunday the pastor at her church had spoke of a little girl he'd met in eastern Washington.
Her name is Ella Mae. She's a vibrant, energetic 6-year-old little girl who loves Jesus and ballet too. Ella Mae has big beautiful eyes, the sweetest smile and Spina Bifida... a condition that among other serious medical complications has her in a little walker as she's paralyzed from the waist down. But that doesn't stop Ella Mae! She wants to be a ballerina just like Carlie and me- be it by God's gracious, omnipotent and healing hand or when she's finally at Home with Jesus in Heaven. In a conversation to her little brother Levi (overheard by her Dad) she said,

“Levi, do you know what will make heaven so wonderful?” “What?” he said. “Heaven will be wonderful because there won’t be any walkers, braces, wheelchairs, or Spina Bifida, which means I’ll finally get to run and play with you like I’ve always wanted to do,” —said in her excited voice, as only she can— “and I’ll be able to dance for Jesus too. He’ll love it. He’s amazing you know, and he really likes ballerinas. I can’t dance now because my legs don’t work, but he’ll fix them in heaven, and then I’m gonna dance my heart out. He can’t wait to see me dance.”

 "So I was wondering if you'd be able to help me get Ella Mae tickets to the ballet and maybe a backstage tour?" said Carlie after relating to me this story.
Forget "if." "When"?!!!! 
This was the only question on my mind... Tonight? Tomorrow? Shoot... "Today" wouldn't be soon enough. But the Lord knew...

June. June 11th at 1:15pm to be exact. This was the day I met Ella Mae. Clad in a beautiful pink tutu complete with magenta ballet flats and a glittering tiara too, she arrived in the strong arms of her escort... her very tall and very proud papa, followed by her mama & little brother. And I, dressed in my mismatched ugly orange peasant costume, took them backstage where Carlie met up with us so that Ella Mae could not only meet ballerinas but get the chance to dance on stage too. And boy does this girl have some flair!! She showed me her moves, striking her sweet little poses...  And right before Carlie took them to find their seats for the show, I gave her a couple gifts - a pair of my pointe shoes and a Giselle poster signed by most of the company.
But these gifts were so minimal compared with the gifts I received through this experience.
What a gift it was to not only meet Ella Mae and her amazing family, but to share her story with all the other dancers in the company. Testimonies are powerful - lives lived for Christ - and hers is one that I know the Lord is using in an incredible way to draw people to Himself, even ballerinas. Because as Ella Mae's said, "He really likes ballerinas." And I can't agree more!

But also, what a blessing little Miss Carlie Mills has been to me. She's shown me that a deep love for Jesus and His Kingdom isn't something to just think, talk or blog about... it does! It's active. It doesn't just contemplate conviction, but it takes the tangible steps to serve others.
And what a gift it's been to serve the Body... the bigger Body. Because even though Carlie and I don't attend the same church, we are both a part of the Body of Christ. We both love Jesus and His Kingdom. And in the end that's what it's about. Loving the Lord with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and loving your neighbor as yourself... building up the Body of Christ and furthering His Kingdom.

It's a small world. Had it not been for Carlie I would never have met Ella Mae. But I have been blessed beyond measure by these two beautiful ballerinas. And I thank the Lord for making the world small and bringing them into my life.

There's so much more to this story... I feel like I've only touched the tip of the iceberg with this post. I'd encourage you to listen, watch, or read the sermon that inspired this whole experience along with this follow-up blog post to the sermon written by Ella Mae's dad. And you can follow Ella Mae and her family's adventures here.

But I'll end this long blog post with some photos so you can see and hear that God is good! Enjoy!

"Ella at the ballet"

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PS... Corey Everett Smiley deserves a HUGE shout out... You are the best. Thank you for also being an integral part in orchestrating this Divine appointment!

Drowning

Hello?
Is anyone there?
Am I there? all there?
Ha! Well I think so... I think I made it through this past month in one piece.
Let me tell you... it's been a month.
Can someone explain to me why, if I have less "going on" in my life than I've had in the past couple years, do I feel more overwhelmed than ever before? I mean when I think about all that I used to do... Volunteering in the High School Ministry at my church, leading a discipleship group, being a part of the college ministry leadership team, attending Bible Study Fellowship, taking a college class online, working full-time and somehow managing to have a social life... how in the WORLD did I do it all?!!!
I mean I've winnowed that list down to about half the activities/responsibilities and yet I feel like I'm drowning. I'm stuck playing this game: trying to pick up the pieces of my life that keep falling off the truck in front of me, but when I chuck them back into the truck they just roll right out again... Sometimes I have to run back to grab the few bits I missed- e-mails, phone calls, this blog. Shoot... I haven't even set up the voicemail on my "new" phone. I say "new" because I've had it for like two months. Then again I've never been good about checking my voicemail anyway...
Aren't you supposed to get better at accomplishing more the older you get? I mean at the very least what happened to the time-management skills I somehow, somewhere seemed to have acquired? They must have fallen off the truck first and rolled into a ditch. Haha...

So where do I even start?
Maybe where I left off... yeah. That's probably a good idea.

Well let me begin by saying that I didn't have strep throat. Once again I had some crazy-weird mystery illness. Arrggh. Can you feel my frustration? But nothing in my life is ever "normal" or predictable so I guess I shouldn't expect my biology to be any different.
Needless to say my first week back to work after having to take 3 weeks off was rough. Quite rough. And yes, I had to take the 3 weeks off. Completely off.
What you all didn't know is that in the middle of Midsummer I had to get an MRI done of my left foot. The diagnosis: a stress reaction. Okay so I guess sometimes I do (miraculously) get a definite answer.
But what's a stress reaction? Basically it's a pre-stress fracture... the bone's about to break. But because a break (vacation) was nearing on the horizon I was able to finish A Midsummer Night's Dream with the understanding that I'd rest my foot for the entire 3 weeks, allowing it to heal.

"Okay. No sweat. It's only 3 weeks. My body needs the rest and the Lord's gonna take care of me. I just need to trust Him... Trust that it's been Him who's taken me this far and He'll get me back here again."


I just kept saying this over and over again to myself, hoping that the more I said it the more I'd believe it. And I did believe it. At first. But Worry has a curious way of wriggling himself into my heart.
You see this year has been hands down my best season thus far at PNB. The Lord has opened doors. He's opened eyes. He's given me opportunities, and has helped me improve so much, not only in my technique, but in my confidence and trust too. It's been Him. All Him. I show up. I do what He asks me to, and I work hard at it. But that's so minor compared to the work of His Mighty Hands.
And yet, what do I do? I start worrying that all this hard work that I've done to get here ("filthy rags" as Isaiah terms it) will all be for naught. And yes, if I had done all this- if my worth and identity were founded on this hard work- then there would be cause to worry, and it would all be for naught. But praise the Lord He's Sovereign and Almighty! Praise Him that He's holding me. Praise Him that in all things He works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. And praise Him that He sees and knows my heart. He sees that seed of pride creeping in. He sees me slowly separating myself from Him, trying to do things on my own.  And He knows how to best draw me close to Him.

"I am with you, watching over you constantly. I am Emmanuel (God with you); My Presence enfolds you in radiant Love. Nothing, including the brightest blessings and the darkest trials, can separate you from Me. Some of My children find Me more readily during dark times, when difficulties force them to depend on Me. Others feel closer to Me when their lives are filled with good things. They respond with thanksgiving and praise, thus opening wide the door to My Presence.

I know precisely what you need to draw nearer to Me. Go through each day looking for what I have prepared for you. Accept every event as My hand-tailored provision for your needs. When you view your life this way, the most reasonable response is to be thankful. Do not reject any of My gifts; find Me in every situation." ~ from May 29th in "Jesus Calling"

 I wish I could say I were the latter child mentioned in the quote above, but alas I am not. I am the one who finds Him in times of trial. And what a trial that first week back to work was!
Not only was I sick, but because I took those 3 weeks completely off - no running, no jumping... nothing to keep the muscles in my left ankle strong and sensitive to impact-type motion - my left ankle was dangerously weak and jamming up to the point where I could hardly walk on it.
Frustration soon followed. And then it gave way to despair. But it was the humbling I needed to return to the Lord: to submit to Him, cleave to Him and cry out "I need You! I can't do this by myself. I'm drowning. Save me Lord!"
And He is faithful. He rescues us. He rescued me.
It's been a humbling month. It's been a challenging month... and this is only one part of it. I've longed for the summer sunshine (weather-wise and life-wise), but all I've had is grey clouds and raindrops... And yet sometimes God's "blessings come through raindrops." The darkness and the sunshine... they're both gifts from our Father. So I thank Him for the grey clouds, the raindrops and for nearly drowning. I cling to and claim the promises of His Word... that the good work He's begun in me, HE will bring to completion. And I keep my eyes open for all those rays of sunshine He brings me each day- both big and small.

Rewind. Review. Redeem.

Goodness gracious me! Is March really almost over? Where'd the time go?What a crazy past couple weeks, months... Ha! For that matter, what a crazy year it's been!
It's hard to believe I've been writing this blog for over a year now. Wow... and to think how absolutely opposed I was to starting it in the first place...
As many of you know, I'm an avid and somewhat prolific journaler (and if you didn't know, well, now you do!).
I have a whole drawer full of notebooks - hundreds of pages that are covered in my cursive scribble. But my journals aren't really a "Dear diary" sort of thing - rather the "Dear Heavenly Father," kind. But I don't know if I'd specifically label them "prayer" journals... They are prayers. And yet they're more than prayers... These journals are full of letters to my Papa God (a.k.a. Abba Father).
But how many of you have gone back and re-read e-mails (since no one handwrites letters anymore) you've sent? I'm guessing not many. Well the same is true of me and my letters to my Father.
I probably should. I'm sure it would be beneficial. No. More than beneficial... I'd get to see written testimony of prayers answered and character refined. But that's the kicker. In order to have character refined, you have to go from something bad to something better.
Now don't get me wrong... this isn't a Sika Pity-Party. But I'm just stating the fact that re-reading my journal is, in a word, painful. Maybe painfully embarrassing would be a better description. Reading all the silliness - the trivial and frivolous cares, desires and internal dialogue that took place in my heart and mind - and seeing that so many times Jesus was talking to me when He asked the disciples, "Where is your faith?", well it makes me blush just thinking about it.
And yet, those things weren't "trivial" or "frivolous" when I wrote them.
Instead of being ashamed of where I've been I should rejoice in where I am, rejoicing in the transformation that's come from the Spirit and being refined in the furnace of these "trivial" and "frivolous" afflictions.
So praise Jesus for this blog! Ha ha... I can't believe I'm praising Jesus for a blog! And yet that's exactly what's happening. Why? Because it's basically an easy access journal. A lot like my letters to Papa God, this blog contains many of the struggles I've faced, the lessons I've learned and the victories I've experienced, but written much more thoughtfully (and legibly). And besides, it's a lot less embarrassing to re-read. I can just go to the side bar and click on the same month last year and see where I was at - what I was going through, what the Lord was teaching me etc. And I have to say it's encouraging...
An example: Last February we were performing The Sleeping Beauty... this February it was Cinderella. Both are story ballets. In both ballets I got to dance a solo. Then I struggled with fear, insecurity, and wrestled with the fact that I only got one show of the Fairy of Wit. This year I confidently asked to learn the Season Autumn, and trusted the Lord would provide, and boy did He ever! One show? Try two! Similar situations and yet the manner in which they were handled couldn't have been more different.
Rewind, review and redeem... that's what it feels like. I re-read my blog posts and see the character refined. I see prayers answered. I see myself being transformed. And I humbly rejoice.

Thank You Papa God for Your Spirit. Thank You Papa God for this blog.

Waiting Room Toys...

Searching the giant pockets of my toggle coat, miraculously, and I mean miraculously, I found seven dollars. I never carry cash, and if I do it's like a ten or a twenty. But I didn't have time to recognize let alone thank the Lord for this mini miracle. Nope. I was late...

Running down Madison in my Hunters, frustrated at the two street parking meters that wouldn't read my debit card, my eyes anxiously glanced upward. 

I was running late; who knows how late my dermatologist was running... But thankfully someone, or something else was running late too... the snow. The last I'd heard, forecasters predicted "white death"'s (thanks Mike Harvey) e.t.a. would be at 2pm. It was now 2:31 with not a flake to be found. 

Walking down the hallway I entered the office, checked in at the front desk and surprise, surprise, the receptionist asked me to take a seat... it appeared they were at least one patient behind schedule. 

And right next to my chair sat this... Maybe you've seen it before - I believe they're quite popular with preschools and pediatric offices the world (or at least the U.S.) over.

According to a toddler toy website, 

"The Original Anatex wooden Rollercoaster bead maze was introduced in homes, doctor's offices, classrooms and daycare centers in 1982. Anatex bead mazes promote the development of fundamentals like hand eye coordination, color and shape recognition, sorting and counting."

Ha! Well I can't vouch for the "hand eye coordination" (at least on my part), but "1982" explains why this wooden wire rollercoaster's synonymous with my childhood doctor visits. 

According to my Momma I wasn't a sickly kid, but with my little brother being a) a boy and b) Mr. Accident Prone (seriously I think he's broken every finger at least once), he was in the doctor's office more often than my mom would like. And when Barret went so Jessika followed (and vise versa). 

I remember the giant fish tank that was in the middle of the room, and the mini fort-like jungle gym? I'm not even sure it was large enough to be called a "jungle gym," but I lack the vocabulary, and quite frankly the motivation to find a better word, so... I'm sure you know what I mean. But the not-a-jungle-gym isn't what this post is about... it's about the Anatex wooden Rollercoaster bead maze. 

Well I'd finished reading the testimonial posters on the wall, circa 1987, on hair loss repair and the pitfalls of suntanning (didn't know hair loss fell under the dermatology umbrella), and my attention turned back to the mess of wires on the floor that seemed so utterly out of place in a dermatologist office.

Looking down I remembered. And then I thought. 

I remembered playing with the beads on their perspective tracks. Most of the kids liked the orange or green track... you know the ones that swirled up high and dipped down low - generally the qualities that make any rollercoaster a good rollercoaster. And then I laughed to myself, because in typical Jessika fashion, even as a little girl I went against the grain. I defied the conventional orange-green favorites and opted for the milder red wire track. It wasn't the "lamest" by any means (that award goes to blue), but it was pretty even-keeled. Rising to a medium height it seemed to cruise between the different tracks, swerving to the right or the left but always on its same plane. I guess it kind of reminded me of the Monorail, riding smoothly and calmly through the city. Not a lot of highs, and not a lot of lows. 

And then I got to thinking... 

Life. There's a green track and an orange track. One minute you're riding high, looping and swirling above the rest only to slide down that wire all the way to the bottom. I think we've all been there. No explanation needed. 

But the thing I realized is that life isn't just a green track or an orange track. It's a green, and an orange, and a red track... shoot even that lame blue track's there. They're all those different components that make up our life: relationships, jobs, family and friends, health, faith. They're all different colored wires on the wooden frame that's you, that's me. 

Well my life, much like the weather we've been having has been quite unpredictable. One minute it's sunny blue skies and the next snow's about to wreak havoc on the icy roads. Okay that's a bit dramatic, but it's definitely been a rollercoaster. Particularly my "work" track. I can't decide if it's orange or green. 

But you know what? Praise the Lord I have a red track in my life. And what might that red track be? Well it's my faith track - my relationship my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And that wire isn't flimsy aluminum, but reinforced steel! It won't break. Sure it wavers to the left and right from time to time, but it's constant. It's steady. And when one track (or all tracks) are down low my faith, that's anchored in something stronger than myself, is there. Jesus is there. And life is good - come sunshine or snow. 

Life is great. 

And I am thankful. 

So what's you're red track? Is it strong enough to handle the ups and downs of all the others? You can trust Jesus, the Rock. He is steady and forever faithful. I hope you'll make Him you're red track too. 

Flowers and Valentines Day

10, 11, 12, 13...

So what comes after 13? Well any kindergartner would tell you "14, stupid!" And so it is...

February 14th. Monday. First day of the week. First day of my week long break. I woke up, and other than the fact that I slept in a little, it seemed pretty ordinary. Nothing special, right?

Wrong.

I just needed to pick up some protein bars. That was it. But walking into Whole Foods I unknowingly entered an abyss of pink and red. Buckets and buckets of roses surrounded me. Boxes of chocolates, candies, plushy, heart-shaped everything abounded. Fortunately enough my gag-reflex was suppressed by, of all things, laughter. And why you ask? Because alongside this sea of roses was a sea of men. 

I'd recalled what Michael, my favorite Metropolitan Market barista, had said the day before regarding this day of days: 

"It makes women crazy, and the poor guys come in bewildered and just plop down their cash." 

And that's what I saw... men lined up to have their roses arranged, wearing an expression of part daze, part duty, and part delight. 

If you can't tell I'm really not a fan of Valentine's Day. 

I hate pink, I don't like hearts and if I'm going to be brutally honest P.D.A. makes me a little uncomfortable. It's really quite odd though because I'm pretty sure there's a hopeless romantic in there somewhere. If you could only see my DVD collection... But there've been times when I've seriously wondered if my heart were made of warm flesh or icy stone. And yet I know it must be, it is the former.

See my story is much like my little friend Much-Afraid, from Hinds Feet on High Places. Remember her? It's been a while... We're on this journey to the High Places - the Kingdom of Love where the Great Shepherd and his Father reign. However, in order to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Love the flower of Love must have blossomed in our heart. And it has to be the real deal! No carnation, no rose... but true Love. And yet imposter's abound. 

"I think what is growing there is a great longing to experience the joy of natural, human love and to learn to love supremely one person who will love me in return. But perhaps that desire, as natural as it seems, is not the Love of which you are speaking?" She paused and then added honestly and tremblingly, "I see the longing to be loved and admired growing in my heart, Shepherd, but I don't think I see the Love you are talking about, at least, nothing like the love which I see in you."

 True Love is not the kind you see in chick flicks, fairy tales or even (dare I say it) Valentines Day greeting cards. It requires risk - real risk where you're very vulnerable- vulnerable to hurt, heartache and pain. And pain is not so pleasant.

"But it is so happy to love," said the Shepherd quietly. "It is happy to love even if you are not loved in return. There is pain too, certainly, but Love does not think that very significant."

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friends." We have a Good Shepherd, and He has laid His life down for the sheep. His was the ultimate pain.
So did Much-Afraid and I risk the pain and heartache to have the seed of Love planted so the flower might blossom in our hearts? Well I'll share with you a little secret: He's promised to love me in return, with an everlasting love. And you know, "he who promised is faithful..."
So risk it we did! He has planted the seed of Love, true Love for Him, in my heart and it's scary and sometimes it hurts, but really "it is so happy to love."
And like the buckets of flowers that the sea of men were buying at Whole Foods today, the flower of Love is blossoming and blooming in my heart - even on Valentines Day.

But one question (of more importance than all else written above) remains: Is true Love planted in your heart? Are you blooming? Just ask the Good Shepherd. He'll plant it there.

A dream is a wish your heart makes...

Do you know this tune?

A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep
In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling thru
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true

Although this wasn't my favorite song in this animated classic, it was and is and will always be my favorite Disney movie. Any guesses? Maybe this will spark your memory:



Surprise, surprise! Cinderella of course! If only I were that chipper in the morning. Maybe if I lived in a sweet tower and had birds and mice attending me... Then again, the thought of real birds flying around in my room gives me a mini panic attack. Seriously.

But is a dream a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep? I don't know about you but I hardly ever remember my dreams. And yet I'm probably one of the biggest daydreamers I know - I mean I didn't get the nickname "Spacey" as a kid 'cause I wanted to be an astronaut... Nope. I dreamed that I'd be a ballerina. But in pursuing this dream, I didn't "lose [my] heartache," as the song says...
Year after year I'd audition for Nutcracker, and year after year I'd scan down the casting list, no "Anspach" to be found. But hope is strong in little hearts and dreams, persevering.
I was 9 and the year was 1994. My mom and I went to see my friends (and classmates) Kira Elste, Katie Lindstrom and Justine Sheedy perform in a ballet that once again I desperately wished I was a part of. Kira and Katie were Memory Children (Kira got to swing on a swing onstage - how cool is that?!!!) and Justine was a pumpkin. The ballet: Kent Stowell's Cinderella.
And as excited as I was to see my friends dance onstage, I was utterly mesmerized as the curtain rose to reveal the exquisite ballroom scene of the 2nd Act - the women dressed in these exquisite red tulle creations dancing with their handsome partners.
Just hours before I'd wanted to be a pumpkin, or even swing on a swing, but in that moment I dreamed of the day when I'd get to wear that red waltz dress and tiara and dance to that magical music.

Busted, bad-quality bathroom shot.
But at least you get the idea...

Well, today was the day. The dream that I wished did come true. It's been 17 years in the making but patience is a virtue, right? Well at the very least it's fruit the Lord's been cultivating in me.

So what happens when the dream comes true? Well you get a new one! And oh I have so many...
But this Cinderella ballet of "dreams-come-true"... well, it kind of inspires/perpetuates this habit of mine - dreaming that is.
So what's the wish my heart's making right now? It's a big wish. It's a big hope - almost as big as becoming a ballerina. But dare I speak it? Is Cinderella right? If I tell you will it not come true? Maybe if my faith is based on my dream and not on the One who gives it to me in the first place.

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still and wait patiently for him;" ~ Psalm 37:4-7.

So I delight myself in the Lord. My hope and trust are found in Him alone, and I have faith in the Author of my dreams. Cause after all, "nothing is impossible with God."
And lastly, (often the hardest part of all) I ask... I ask Him someday that I might get to trade in my red tutu for a white one, my plain pink pointe shoes for beautiful bedazzled ones and that His righteousness in me would shine like the dawn. But in the meantime, while I wait patiently for Him, I praise and thank Him for the dreams that have come true. And I waltz in red.

If you haven't bought your tickets yet for Cinderella do it now! They're going fast and the clock's already rung once... 9 more shows before the magic and the beauty vanish (but hopefully not forever!). To buy them click here.
And if you have a dream - you keep on dreaming, and don't be afraid to ask. Trust the Lord! He'll work it out for your good and His glory!

I need new feet...

Raise your hand if after reading the title of this post you're:
a) agreeing with me,
b) laughing, or
c) all of the above.

Ballerinas are known for having beautiful legs, but our feet, well, they generally leave something to be desired...
Unsightly? Deformed? Disfigured? Yes, yes and yes!
Well if you put all your body weight on your toes what do you think's gonna happen?
We shop the aisles of the drugstore that generally are only frequented by the geriatric. I just spent $40.00 at Wallgreens buying corn-pads, bandaids, Vaseline, Second Skin (this gel-like stuff that's used for skin burns) and masking tape - all items necessary to get me through the first weekend of the All Tharp Rep we're finishing up this coming weekend.
I'm a "waterbaby" in Twyla Tharp's Waterbaby Bagatelles, and the combination of boureéing my toes into oblivion during the finale and wearing the flesh-dyed pointe shoes (who's boxes are coincidentally hardened by the dye) created the perfect atmosphere for disaster: the box of my pointe shoe literally sliced the big 'ol callous I'd built up on my pinky toe leaving a thick flap of flesh and an enormous gaping wound.
I didn't just have a blister on my pinky toe... my pinky toe was a giant blister. If only I had a picture... it would be a nice post-halloween scare for you all.
It's therefore not a surprise that I, Jessika Anspach, am notorious at PNB for having the ugliest feet in the company (and for wearing my pointe shoes the longest, but that's for another post). Now that's saying a lot!
So are all my shoes closed-toed? Ha! I'm sure there are people who wish they were... Nope. I unabashedly wear my flip-flops or gladiator sandals in summer. I mean hopefully people are looking at my face and not my feet. And for the most I try not to care what other people think. For the most part...

But there are some days when I wish I had some new feet. And there are some days when I know I need new feet... but not in the way you're thinking. You see there's someone else who's a lot like me:

"In the first place she was a cripple with feet so crooked that they often caused her to limp and stumble as she went about her work.  She had also the very unsightly blemish of a crooked mouth which greatly disfigured both expression and speech and was sadly conscious that these ugly blemishes must be a cause of astonishment and offense to many who knew she was in the service of the great Shepherd." 

Her name is Much-Afraid. She is me. I am her. Her story is told in Hinds Feet on High Places, a story that I'll be working my way through this year as we both (Much-Afraid and I) make our journey toward the High Places, having our crooked mouths corrected and our crippled unsightly feet transformed to hinds feet.
You'll be hearing much more about Much-Afraid and me. And you'll be reading many more snippets of this book. Why? Because, well, it pierces my heart... it cuts right through the thick of it. It says what I cannot. And hopefully it speaks to you too.
And so the journey begins...

"The Lord God is my strength and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me walk upon mine high places." Habakkuk 3:19

Futile Devices

It's been a long long time...

Funny. This is not only true of this blog, but also the opening line of the opening song in Sufjan Stevens' newest album, The Age of Adz (pronounced "odds").

There's so much to say, and on so many different topics - this album, this concert (I was blessed to see Sufjan at the Paramount Oct. 30th), this job; dreams that have awoken, lessons that are being learnt... There's so much to say. So much so that it almost overwhelms me. I told my mentor the other day that I felt like I was in the eye of a tornado with life swirling chaotically around me (also a somewhat ironic analogy since I just finished studying cyclonic storms in my Weather, Climate, Geography & Soils class... but I digress). It feels like so many things are up in the air, and I'm waiting to see where everything lands before I can move forward.
And yet I have peace.
For those of you who know me you understand what a miracle - how "of the Lord" this is. Shoot, if you're a Type A, natural born planner, a.k.a. control freak, you understand what a miracle this is.
Generally speaking, even the mere mention of chaos, lack of direction or movement makes my chest tighten and soul cringe as anxiety washes over me. This is my natural "old-self" reaction. But "the old has gone, the new has come"! Praise the Lord He is making me new.
I am new.
I am in the eye of the storm where all is calm amidst the dark whirling storm. I am full of peace. But I am tired. See, it does take energy to stand firm, to stay in the eye, to not get sucked into the cyclone. And that's okay - okay to be tired ("Old-self" would have been shaking her finger at me for not being superwoman). Because I have the Everlasting Arms to rest in... just like the little boy I saw at church today who was sleeping in his dad's arms during the service.

So I curl up in my Abba Father's arms and I rest. And I feel safe. Nothing else matters. This first song on Sufjan's album inspires these feelings in me - it's an invitation to rest, to trust, to peace.
It's been a long long time, and there is so much to say. There's a lot of storm to describe. But I've come to realize that at times, when it comes to describing my swirling life, "words are futile devices."

Enjoy "Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens via youtube. And buy his newest album here. Just do it.

I'm Sorry

Really? Can it be? Has it almost been a month since I wrote a post?
Yes Jessika. Yes it has.
This is an epic failure on my part (okay maybe epic is a tad bit dramatic). Life has been crazy but when is it ever not crazy? And therefore all I can say is I'm sorry. But I feel like I'm constantly apologizing - to you (what must now be the non-existent readers of this almost non-existent blog), to my family and friends, and above all to the Lord.


I know I've probably said this before, but I feel like ever since January 1st, 2010, the car that is my life unbeknownst to me shifted up a gear and I've been running along side it trying to jump back in the driver's seat. Why am I not in my car? Don't ask me these things... it's a mental picture I'm painting. Run with me on this one... Yes, pun slightly intended.
I feel like any time off I have is devoted to the game of catch-up. And I hate that game almost as much as I hate that salty, tomatoey stuff that comes in the glass bottle. I wish I could somehow manage to maintain relationships - you know, keeping in touch with people on a regular basis. But much like Vitamin D, I seem to be deficient in this skill as well.
This past week I was on "vacation" and I found the ticker tape of my inner dialogue reading something like: "Okay... who haven't I talked to/seen in the past 3 months? Who do I need to have a) lunch b) coffee c) dinner with?" Needless to say the list filled up quite quickly. And while I fully admit I am a planner, this catch-up game gives me anxiety akin to the sensation you feel when you can't catch your breath. Stressed? Just a bit.
In moments of weariness, generally at the end of the day when I feel frayed around the edges, Stressika (my alter-ego) rears her hideous face, and flares of ill temper burn anyone within a 5ft radius - usually my dear sweet parents. I find that as Paul so aptly puts it:

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do... For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do-this I keep on doing." Romans 7:15, 18-19.

Post Sika-flare (much like the Solar kind), I stand back in shock, disbelief and disgust at my behavior. "WHO was that?! Gross!!! That wasn't me... or at least the me I want to be." Again I find myself humbled, asking for forgiveness, apologizing once more. I'm sorry.
Can you relate? I don't think I'm alone in this. Relationships are hard. Life is hard. Life can be stressful. Disagreements, arguments and full scale fights are unfortunately all too common - a byproduct of stress and sin, and the cause of much heartache, strife and pain. And yet I was incredibly surprised to find that at my favorite drugstore when I was looking for a card to express my remorse to my parents there were only three "I'm sorry" greeting cards. Three. I counted. And one of them basically said something to the effect of "We both said things we regretted." We both? How would you know the other person regretted what they said? Seems not only a bit presumptuous, but also appears to be justifying the "regrettable words," lessening one's own responsibility. Some apology.
And why, out of the hundreds of greeting cards- some for birthdays, some for sympathy, some "just for fun"- could I only find 3 cards that were in the service of mending and restoring relationships? Maybe it's just me, but I think that's a pretty important task. Difficult to do, but vital to life. And definitely worthy of a card.

I love to give and to receive handwritten letters. I guess it's the old-fashioned romantic in me. But it's my inner artist and crafter that thrives on creating my own, most of which are either of the "thank you," "blank" or "personal stationary" nature. Maybe in this new line of stitched greeting cards - that I may or may not sell on Etsy (a.k.a. the inspiration) - I'll include "I'm sorry" cards too.
Here are some samples for you to view (and a little rhyming too... he he!)

So would you buy these? Yea or nay?

No Words...

So literally I have no words.

Speaking is kind of challenging right now because my throat is totally swollen - I'm having a hard time just swallowing my own spit. Oh and did I mention I'm speaking at the Body's Women's Ministry Leadership Dessert tomorrow night. It's like our big fall kick-off where our Senior Pastor commissions us for leadership this coming year.

And I may have Strep Throat.

Obviously the Enemy doesn't want me talking.

The "talk" is titled (only on the Word doc I wrote on my laptop) Feeding, Fasting and Fall. I'll definitely tell you more about it later, but right now I should probably try and get some sleep... I've been laying in bed the entire day eating Sugar-Free Lime jello, soup and drinking lots of Vitamin ZERO. Hopefully my excellent doctor can shed some light on this issue in the morn, but for now more sleep.

And yet as I write this I must confess that part of my "fasting" in this talk is mainly related to fasting from my computer... I know. This will be hard. This will be bad for my blog. But this is actually really good - for me and prioritizing my quite time and relationship with the Lord. So unfortunately you all have to suffer the consequences of my inability to keep the Lord in His rightful place - on the Throne of my life.

So for now that's all. Sorry to be so vague and brief, but it's time for bed. Just felt I should let you know that I'm still alive, albeit a bit sick, and will be back to give you more juicy bits of my life and the Lord's lessons once this fasting's over.

Blessings!

Signs

Wow. I know this may seem like a contradiction in itself, but I really have no words to describe the show that just happened tonight. Honestly, I think I just need to let it sink in a little. Don't worry you'll probably hear about it tomorrow. It was all good. It was great. But I'm just tired. No. Exhausted.

So what's this post about anyhow? 

Well it's about eagles. 

Seriously? Eagles? 

Well actually yes. But let me do a little explaining... 

No. This is not the band I'm referring to (although they are pretty awesome), but the bird. You see eagles have been randomly popping up in my life these days. In fact, before I left for Vail I saw an eagle almost every day, be it on the long pier at my cabin, sitting on that ugly sculpture that resides next to the 520 bridge, or perched atop a tree outside the Roanoke Inn on Mercer Island. They're everywhere. It's like my eyes have the eagle-dar embedded in them. If there's an eagle in the vicinity I spot it. 

So is this a sign? 

Typically I don't believe in "signs," but a while ago I kept seeing Mini Coopers on the road. One day I counted 14 on my daily commute. 14!!!!! I thought to myself, maybe this means I'm supposed to buy a Mini. Ha! If only. This wasn't a sign - I saw the Minis because I wanted to see them. I was just being silly, and foolishly looking for an excuse to indulge in an impractical purchase.

But there's something different with the eagles... 

Well as you know I've recently been feeling pretty awful. Having anemia and my dancing schedule has been stressful, to say the least. There have been days when I've wondered how I was going to do it. If I could stand up in the shower without falling over that was a pretty good start. I've been tired. I've been exhausted. Frankly, sometimes I just want to throw in the towel. I despair. 

But time after time the Lord's brought me back to this chapter in Isaiah - Chapter 40. 

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young me stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40: 28-31

I read these verses and I wonder where my hope's been. M.I.A. - that's where it's been. At this moment I am weak. I am not strong. But if my hope is in the Lord, then He will renew my strength. I will soar on wings like eagles. I will be like my eagle friends I keep seeing. He's reminding me of this. Reminding me to put my hope in Him. And if that weren't enough on a really rough day when I was questioning whether I was actually going to be able to climb this mountain of Vail and dance He said this to me in my devotional. (Yes I realize I quote this devotional all the time so forgive me if this sounds preachy or redundant. I hope instead it blesses you.)

"HOPE is a golden cord connecting you to heaven. This cord helps you hold your head up high, even when multiple trials are buffeting you. I never leave your side, and I never let go of your hand. But without the cord of hope, your head may slump and your feet may shuffle as you journey uphill with Me. Hope lifts your perspective from your weary feet to the glorious view you can see from the high road. You are reminded that the road we're traveling together is ultimately a highway to heaven. When you consider this radiant destination, the roughness or smoothness of the road ahead becomes much less significant. I am training you to hold in your heart a dual focus: My continual Presence and the hope of heaven."

So... I'm holding on to hope. I'm keeping my focus on the One who can and will renew my strength. And I'm claiming this promise. I will dance and not grow weary. I will soar on wings like my eagle friends. 

A sign? You decide.

Anemia among other things

Well it's not official yet, but it looks like I have Anemia.
So what does this mean, you might ask, other than bruising like a peach?

Well... it explains why I've been experiencing extreme fatigue (I've overslept my alarm everyday this week), nausea, dizziness, at times racing heart, and felt feverish and overheated. It's either that or I'm pregnant...
Bahahahahaha!!!!! Immaculate conception? I think not. Jesus is coming again but not that way, and definitely not through me... I'm no one's Mary. I wish I were, but, nope... not there yet.

At any rate, we've been rehearsing like crazy the past 3 weeks, learning 3 new ballets (Concerto DSCH, Six Dances, and Glass Pieces), remembering 3 old ones (Serenade, "Cool" from West Side Story Suite, and 3 Movements) and generally dancing full days. Being anemic doesn't make this process easy. In fact it makes it quite challenging, to put it mildly. Needless to say I get home after sweating out all the liquid in my body and collapse on my bed. Forget dinner, I just want to sleep. But no... I have to write papers. Papers on things I like to write about, but papers nonetheless. And with little energy, at times this task seems insurmountable.

"But when I am weak, then I am strong." 

But by the grace of God it somehow is accomplished. So here is a sampling of my writing (complete with photos) on something I dearly love... Enjoy!

At the home where I was raised there live two beautiful Katsura trees. I don’t think they’ve always been as tall and stately as they are today, but like two sisters standing side-by-side, utterly inseparable, they have grown and matured over the years. In truth they are the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever beheld. Their slender bows and branches remind me of statuesquely toned arms – neither bulky nor brittle – outstretching in all directions. Dressed in a graceful green leaf sequined gown that flutters and shimmers with the passing breeze, these sisters ever so faintly exude a perfume of burnt sugar that entrances and allures.

These ladies, these trees, have taught me so much about beauty- true beauty.  You see theirs is a beauty that’s 100% natural. They don’t starve themselves to maintain a waif-like silhouette. They don’t kill themselves with hours of exhausting exercise all in the pursuit of the perfect “bikini body.”  They don’t paint their faces with pounds of make-up to hide unsightly blemishes, and they don’t dress themselves in the trendiest garb in order to fit in. No. These exquisite ladies are true to themselves – true to who God created them to be. Comfortable in their own bark they exude peace; they radiate joy. Can you imagine if instead of wanting to be their gorgeous selves, these Katsura trees tried to be a towering Redwood or a billowy Willow? It sounds absurd doesn’t it?

And yet how many times do I wish I were somebody other than myself? How often do I strive with all my might to be beautiful, as if it were some elusive thing I had to wrestle, beat into submission and then squeeze myself into? Unfortunately, this is how I see beauty. But the sister trees live beauty very differently. They are beautiful. Even in the winter, stripped of their green sequined gown, I have never seen anything more breathtaking than their bare snow laden branches. Beauty just is. No striving necessary. It doesn’t come from a number on a scale or from the clothes we wear, but rather it’s knit into the very fiber of our being, at the heart of every created soul.

I am beautiful. Period. The Katsura sisters taught me this.

These are the sequins I was talking about... 

 Bare branched and beautiful!

Their snow-laden bows remind me of ladies wearing elegant elbow-length white gloves. I wonder what black-tie party they're going to?

... all dressed in white....

Here comes the Bride... All dressed in white... doo dah de dah, do do dah, de de dah....
Does anyone actually know how that song ends - like the lyrics? I remember singing it as a little girl when my friends and I played dress up.

You know... One of us would be draped in a white sheet with a smelly dandelion bouquet and the other would either be the pastor, the bridesmaid, or if we couldn't wrangle my little brother into being the groom... Yeah. I think you get the picture. I feel like I rarely was wearing the sheet... But I still don't know the end of that stupid tune.

Anyway, last week it was my dear friend Corene DenHerder's turn to wear the sheet - the real sheet. And she looked so beautiful!
In general, as a single person, weddings can either be depressing or inspiring. This wedding was definitely the latter. Miraculously it was an absolutely gorgeous day - there wasn't a cloud in that endless blue sky; a miracle considering that this is the Northwest, and also that just 2 days before it was one of the coldest 4th of July's I can recollect. And apart from the DJ forgetting the best man's name right before the toasts, he actually played some killer songs! I was dancing even before the dancing began.

But what really set this wedding apart for me was the story of the bride and groom - how they met, how they dated and how they love each other. Having been in a Discipleship group with Corene for years, I have known how patiently and persistently she's been praying for her husband - but not from a heart of desperation, but full of peace and assurance that He had someone out there for her that He was preparing. And man did He do a great job! Their relationship is an example to me of not only answered prayers, but of the Lord's perfect provision and perfect timing.

So cheers to you Mr. & Mrs. Repnik aka Dave and Corene!!!! May the Lord bless you abundantly in this new adventure He's has you both on side-by-side, hand-in-hand. I love you guys and thanks for an incredible party!

PS - Here's a couple photos of the happy couple and this amazing day taken by the amazing Rachel Harris.

Struggles the Cat.

Today's been a hard day. I'm struggling. During Coppélia at the end of last season we had quite of few days where there were struggles. One sweet little face at work once told me that she and another co-worker of ours thought that Struggles would be a good name for a cat... Struggles the Cat. So now whenever I'm having a day like today, a day where my heart aches from the weight of discouragement and I start wondering if it's all really worth it, I name it "Struggles the Cat."
I know... it doesn't really make sense, but then again, neither do I. So there.

We started working yesterday on a new Jiri Kylian piece that I'm excited to be learning, but, well, lets just say things haven't turned out the way I expected them to... (Maybe I should go back and re-read my post on Expectations)
I find myself discouraged. I find myself frustrated. I find myself asking the Lord, "Why? Why does it always have to be this hard? I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired working my butt off and for what? When's it going to be my turn?"
I find myself wanting to go out into the hallways of PNB, and grab those little bunheads that are here for the PNBS summer course and say to them, "Run! Run far away from this! Stop while you still can - before you get sucked in to a life and a love that will only hurt and disappoint you. Save yourself!"

And then I find myself amazed at the thoughts my mind's creating. What am I thinking? What am I asking? I already know the answers to these questions...

"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33

For me, as a disciple of Christ, it's never going to be easy. I know this. Jesus flat out tells me so. Guaranteed there's gonna be trouble; there's gonna be opposition. It's not wrong to desire ease, but I have to realize that this is Heaven calling me home, and I'm not there just yet. There's still work to be done. I still need to be refined. And the best way to refine something is through fire - through times of trial that break us so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body - to show that our strength and perseverance comes not from within our own storehouses but from the joy of the Lord. 


And as for those little girls sitting in the hallway looking in the studio dreaming of the day they'll be the one looking out, well who I am to discourage them from following the path that the Lord has chosen for them? Yes, it's hard. Yes, there will be times of heartache, heartbreak and discouragement. But that's just life. So often I want to save myself from this pain of rejection. I mean who wouldn't?! And the most obvious course of action is to just run away; to say enough is enough and I've had enough - I'm DONE! But then I think of Jesus and how much pain He must have suffered, how much rejection He experienced. And did He give up? Nope.
You see running away from pain and rejection is just stupid because no matter where you run you're gonna run in to it eventually. It's inevitable. So what am I supposed to do then?
Turn my eyes upon Jesus! Look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace. He has told me these things - that in this world I will face persecution, rejection and pain - so that in Him I might have peace. For He is victorious! He has overcome the world! Praise Him!

"Therefore we do not lose hear. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I hope this is an encouragement to those of you out there who are having a Struggles the Cat day. May you be renewed by the hope of glory that is in our Lord Jesus Christ!

Oh and here's a short youTube video of the piece we're working on... It's pretty funny so enjoy!

Adventures in D.C. Part I

Breath in. Pause. Deep, slow, exhale.
In other words, a sigh of relief.
Yes. The 12 days of Insanity are now over, and to be honest I'm sitting here, utterly dumbfounded at what transpired over the past two weeks. Did they really happen? How? They must have... But as I try and process through these recent events I, well, I can't really explain...
Have you ever driven to say your home or to work - a trip that is almost too familiar and routine - but upon arriving at your destination you can't really remember how you got there. I mean you got there, and you drove your car, but you don't really remember anything of the actual trip... like did you run a red light? Probably not... but you can't actually remember.
This is what the past 12 days felt like. They happened. That I'm certain of. But how? That I'm not entirely sure of...

Coppélia and The Season Encore performance went off without a hitch.
The end of the year company party was emotional as was to be expected - good-byes always are.
My Interpersonal Communications course was (not surprisingly) a struggle up until the very end, but Praise the Lord He gave me the strength and perseverance to push all the way to the finish line, and to finish victoriously.
And my performances of Benjamin Millipied's 3 Movements in The Kennedy Center's Ballet Across America II were, well, fine.

As a recovering perfectionist, it's hard for me to not ruminate on all minor mistakes and flubs I made, most of which the audience probably didn't notice - at least I hope they didn't notice. But these faux pas' seem to drown out all of the wonderful things that happened.
However, what I've come to learn is that life, this life as a ballerina is too short for these minor issues to steal the joy, and the sense of pride and victory of this great accomplishment.
Of course I want to do well. I want to dance my part perfectly, with poise, grace and presence. But I can't expect perfection - no one can. I can, on the other hand, be satisfied, knowing that I did give it my all; I gave it my best. And more than that, I had fun! I trusted in my Lord, and I danced for Him, thanking Him for this amazing privilege, honor and opportunity it was to dance in the Opera House of the Kennedy Center.

Saturday was the last day of our shows. I was putting quite a bit of pressure on myself to "do well" a.k.a. "do perfectly." But what my devotional said to me that day made me approach the day differently, bringing tears of joy to my eyes. Here's what it said:

"I AM THE FIRM FOUNDATION on which you can dance and sing and celebrate My Presence. This is My high and holy calling for you; receive it as a precious gift. Glorifying and enjoying Me is a higher priority than maintaining a tidy, structured life. Give up your striving to keep everything under control- an impossible task and a waste of precious energy.

My guidance for each of My children is unique. That's why listening to Me is so vital for your well-being. Let me prepare you for the day that awaits you and point you in the right direction. I am with you continually, so don't be intimidated by fear. Though it stalks you, it cannot harm you, as long as you cling to My hand. Keep your eyes on Me, enjoying Peace in My Presence."

Only the Lord could know how appropriate those words would be for me that day.
This wasn't my first time dancing at the Kennedy Center (although it was the first time dancing in the K.C. Opera House), and hopefully it won't be my last.

Well there's definitely more to say about this trip... I realize this is kind of a vague overview - enough to satisfy my dad's curiosity, but my mom would definitely be prodding for more details. So I promise at least one more installment complete with photos. But for now that's all... Time to enjoy the Seattle sunshine!