Jessika Christine Anspach on the couch.

Disclaimer: I apologize in advance if this post makes little sense... you'll soon understand why.

It's Friday May 6th. It's Friday... the last Friday of my three weeks off. It's Friday and what do twenty-something single people do on a Friday night? Well I think they go out... I think. 

But what am I doing? I'm laying on the couch, staring blankly at the computer whilst occasionally slipping off into Dreamland for a half-hour or two. Well that's just what happens when you have a slight fever and strep throat. On my last weekend of vacation. Great timing I know... 

I guess it's a good thing I don't like going out anyway. Even on a Friday night.

And as I lay here in a state of slight delirium I find myself stuck in my own head. Asking questions. All sorts of questions. Some silly, some serious; some with answers and some without. 

What time is it? How long did I sleep? Should I do homework? Do I want to do homework? Orange or green jello? What's for dinner? Ha! That's a question I ask every night. Rarely do I have the answer.

Who am I, where am I and how'd I get here?

Jessika Christine Anspach on the couch. 

This of course is the obvious answer. But as always I'm not asking the obvious question.

Who am I, where am I and how'd I get here?

Recently I cleared out an old storage unit and in a box found the amazing photo album/scrapbook my mom made me for my 16th birthday. After perusing photos of little Sika, I found myself searching the face my eyes met in the mirror. Where is that little girl? She must be hiding in there somewhere... 

There are those eyes... 

...and the enormous shades she liked to hide them under. 

Well some things never change...

But how'd she become me? And how'd I get here anyway? 

Life doesn't always turn out the way we picture it. Ha! Or at least it hasn't turned out the way I'd pictured it. 

Along with the photo album, I discovered other jewels in that previously hidden box of treasures: projects I did in my 8th grade and sophomore Health classes. Similar assignments asked me where I saw myself by my 10-year High School reunion. 

According to the very practical and conventional 8th grade Jessika I'd be a Seattle Pacific University grad, majoring in Interior Design and minoring in English (yes... I had already chosen my minor). I'd meet my future husband at college, get married at 25 (like my mom) and I'd have a family. I'd either be an interior designer (again like my mom) or a screenplay writer. Okay, well most of it was "very practical."

The funny thing is from this little Health class project you'd never know how hard I was working to achieve my dream. It was a very common little girl dream - to become a professional ballerina. And while I was full of desire and determination I think part of my heart put little stock in it. Someone once told me "Never get your hopes up; then you'll never be disappointed,"and by this motto I subconsciously protected my heart. And besides, dreams don't really come true... that's the stuff of Fairy Tales and Disney movies, right? 

By my sophomore year I'd allowed my dreams to seep in a little more, but I still had a back-up plan for the back-up plan if you know what I mean. These are the collages I created for the covers of this project:

On each was written: 

"By my ten-year reunion, a goal I have is to be a professional ballerina. I would love to be at Pacific Northwest Ballet or SanFrancisco Ballet, but any company would be just great! I have worked for so long to achieve this goal, but if it doesn't happen I won't be too disappointed, because it's a hard profession to achieve." 

and...

"My goal by my ten-year reunion is to be in a relationship. I don't expect to be married, although it would be nice, but a good relationship or have had a relationship is a goal of mine." 

Like I said, life doesn't always turn out the way we imagine it will. I'm 26, I live at home and I still don't even have my A.A. let alone a degree in Interior Design from SPU. Shoot! I'm not even going for Bachelors of Arts anymore... And as for the whole "relationships" thing... well I still have two years. Ha ha!
If I measured my life according to my 8th grade expectations I would have utterly failed.
"But I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." For "In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines His steps."
See I had expectations in mind, but the Lord had other ideas. He's in the business of making the impossible possible. He truly does give us the desires of our heart when we seek Him with all our heart. And He does this to bring glory to Himself, not by our might but by His!
So who am I and how'd I get here?
I'm Jessika Christine Anspach, a ballerina, daughter of the Most High God and I'm still on the couch.

"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever. Amen!" ~ Ephesians 3:20-21

Blog blah blah blah

A blog? What!? I have one of those things?
And wait... you mean I'm supposed to write entries for it? Frequently? I can't just abandon it and let it fend (okay, "write") for itself?

I think the better question is have I abandoned it?
"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"
Well if it looks like it, smells like it and taste like it, it probably is it... meaning if I even have to ask that question there's probably a problem.
And by the way I think I'm totally misusing that quote above about the trees... but a) I like trees, b) I think it makes me sounds smarter and c) if out of my disgusting negligence in the up-keep of this blog I've lost all readers I guess said quote would apply... If there aren't readers than is there anyone to witness this attempt at blog-ressusitation?

Well at any rate the near death of this blog was not due to a lack of inspiration. Believe me, I've had plenty of inspiration! So much has happened in the last 6 weeks... shoot in the last two months that I hardly know where to begin. My problem is not that there's nothing to say, rather there's too much. The Adventures of Jesus and Jessika continues... Ha ha!! But what's new? Honestly, I've come to regard the "drama" as, well, a friend (dare I say it...). Instead of cringing as I see drama approach I've learned to embrace it. I can't believe I'm saying this... But drama (I prefer to call it adventure) certainly makes life interesting. It can be a little dull when everything's just dandy.

But my inspiration doesn't just come from the drama (adventure) of my life. I do have other sources... Books, songs, new artists, new websites... my curious observations/running commentary on the many narratives in A Midsummer Night's Dream (the ballet we just finished performing). Of course there's always the endless lessons the Lord's been teaching me. And within each of these branches exist a dozen different rabbit trails I could go down.

So which trail am I going to blaze through tonight? Well the trail blazing is gonna have to wait till tomorrow... it's late (well early) and I have a wedding to watch.
Me thinks the post-mortem post (or post-resurrection?) will have something to do with white gowns and all-things wedding.
Aw... but I can't leave you with nothing (not that all this is nothing!). Here's a song by an artist I just discovered that I'm totally obsessed with. Here name is JJ Heller - her voice is heavenly and her songs are divine! In particular, the lyrics in this song "Small" say so much of what the Lord's been teaching me this year... To not keep Him in a box, but to truly live Luke 1:37:

"For nothing is impossible with God."

Enjoy!

An Internal Struggle

Dear Body,

Would you please stop screaming at me? There's absolutely no need to shout... I can hear you just fine.
And to be quite frank I'd appreciate it if you'd stop. This incessant whining isn't getting either of us anywhere. I mean we're both mature... I know, I know... you hate it when I call you "mature." Well I didn't say "old" did I? Though sometimes you look a bit decrepit and can act like a cantankerous old crow... Did I say that? Whoops... I meant to keep that one to myself. Guess it just slipped out. Sorry.
But my point is fighting in this childish manner isn't going to get us anywhere, and your constant nagging and complaining only exacerbates things. In other words: you're not helping.
Body, we need to work together. We're a team. Remember?! It's you and me.
I know I've been hard on you lately, with all the demands I've loaded on your plate... You were such a trooper, rising to the challenge of learning and performing Marco Goecke's Place a Chill with so little actual rehearsal time in the last Rep. And then to flip a switch like you have, transitioning from contemporary ballet to classical overnight, and putting together A Midsummer Night's Dream in 4 days?! I couldn't ask for more!
I mean who could blame you for looking a little tired and weather-beaten? And I'm not saying you look bad... but, well, you need some rest. Shoot! We both could use some rest.
So for both our sakes, could you give it a rest and let me go to sleep right now? Pretty please? I'll love you forever if you'll just grant me this one request. I promise I won't neglect you tomorrow. We'll spend some quality time together... just the two of us. How does that sound? Good?
Good.
Well goodnight Body. We'll talk tomorrow. Thanks for hanging in there and calming down a little. You're doing a great job. It's okay... everyone has a freak-out every once in a while. Don't worry about it. Now you rest up, 'cause you deserve it!

Sincerely,

Your Better Half (a.k.a. the rest of Jessika)

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. 

Etspiration!

Well I think the title says it all, that is if you can decipher my made-up word.
I don't know if any of you have ever checked out the links on my sidebar titled "Friends and Favorites" (if you haven't you should). Well let's say, hypothetically, you went over and clicked on The inspiration (of course don't do this till after you've read the whole post)... You'd be instantly transported to a magical site- one where handmade and vintage goodness abound.

Basically an indie ebay, Etsy is a host site for individual "boutiques" if you will - people's personal stores that feature either handmade, homemade or vintage goods. And good they are!

You could spend hours (and by you I mean I) browsing "suggested shops" in search for the perfect cardigan, painting, headband... well, you name it. Etsy's sure to have it! And everything (for the most part) is quite reasonably priced. So in the click of a mouse you could have an outfit that might easily be mistaken for one that came from The addiction, but that cost considerably less coin.

And since recently I've been stuck at home, due in part to snow and injury (not my injury but my sweet Momma who broke her foot), without homework to do I've found myself browsing quite a bit. Here are the things I'm salivating over...

Sigh.

Well, a girl can dream right?

Thank you Etsy and all the amazing virtual "shop keepers" that find and create all these beautiful works of art... Okay the Pelican t-shirt is hardly a work of art, but the Tranquility Band... now that's true craftsmanship! To find these items and much much more click on the links below. And I hope Etsy inspires you too!

From top to bottom, left to right: Anais School Girl Dress, 1960's Indigo Tweed Oversized Chain Handle Bag, Calliope Lace Earrings, 1950's Vintage Primitive Wool Cardigan, Vintage Ruff Hewn Chambray Cotton Puff Skirt, 1970's Pelican Shirt, Lollobrigita Vintage Sunglasses Smoke Grey and Petal Pink, Vintage 80's Cognac Brown Woven Leather Loafers, Vintage Crochet Lace Top, Vintage Navy Blue Jumper, Army Green with Cream Leather Bow Dress, Carved Ivory Peace Sign Necklace, Cushion/Oval Shape Rose Cut Diamond Ring, Vintage 60's Dress Silk Lace Sheer Floral Ivory, Vintage Star Shine Evening Bag, Vintage 80's Bandolino Victorian Ankle Lace up Boots, Tranquility Band.

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.