The problem with the park today

There was a problem with the park today. The weather deceived me into thinking it was a lovely day and that fall was almost here. There was a faint breeze in the air as I stepped out of my house and the humidity had run away, possibly trailing hurricane Irene up the east coast. A faint smile spilled across my face as I buckled the children into the car, thinking to myself, "I love this time of year." I was grateful for the momentary relief and even asked at the Starbucks barista if pumpkin spiced lattes were back on the menu (they come back September 6th, in case you love them as much as I do). At the park we played in the cooler air and had a great time. Sure, the play ground equipment was wet, but the sun was hidden behind the clouds and we had the facility to ourselves. This was going to be a fantastic fall morning and I was thrilled!

Then things turned for the worse as we headed for a potty break. Little did I know that Florida had a cruel trick up it's sleeve as we entered the bathroom. Upon leaving the bathroom, I noticed my old enemy had reappeared: humidity. All of the sudden my shirt that had blown gloriously in the breeze began to stick to me. Little dots of perspiration started to show themselves through the fibers of the cotton and the temperature shifted into the hellish realms that we have been use to for the past 4 months. Right at the moment, two of my theatre friends showed up and I was drenched. My mascara was running under my eyes because of the beads of sweat cascading down my brow and my 20 month old daughter chose that moment to have me hold her.

Ugh and double ugh. My son's clothes were drenched from the wet playground equipment, but not his hair began to show signs of extreme sweating. "This can't be the end of August," I thought to myself. "Isn't September tomorrow? Isn't it time to decorate for fall? Apple picking? Pumpkins." Not here, my friends. Here in sunny Florida, we still must wear our bathing suits in public if we want to say cool.

I need new head shots

I need new head shots. The last time I had them done was in 2007. After searching for the photographer who took them, the conclusion is that she has gone out of business. I found her by searching on the internet and lucked out. Honestly, since I am a photographer, I would NEVER look for a photographer that way now. We met at Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida. It is a beautiful campus and a fun place to explore together as we experimented with different backgrounds to add texture to the images. Even though she was half an hour late, it was a positive experience and I was happy with the images. They landed me several paying roles, which I was grateful for.

Here are my old head shots.

And in case you forgot what I look like now, here is a refresher shot.

My hair is a different color, it is a lot shorter and I look a LOT younger in my head shots. And let's not even talk about the weight I have put on since these photos were taken! I know, I know. You will all tell me to cut myself some slack since I did have two kids back to back. But I am still fighting the reality that I am getting older, so please let me live in my delusions for a couple more years. According to this site, I totally need to do them again. I match all of the criteria for needing new ones.

Now comes the hard decision, what type of head shots should I get and when? I know I won't get them until after my marathon is complete in January. I hope to be at my ideal weight by then, but who do I choose to be my photographer? Suggestions? I think I would like to do more moody photos as well. My head shots are very smiley, which is good because my type is the young female romantic lead. As I get older, that won't be the case and I need to get head shots that can set me up for a wider range of character possibilities.

When I do get them done, I will be doing what they recommend here, by printing them and passing them out for people to survey. I'll also post them here for you all to look at!

The roles I want to play

The time has come for some theatre talk. I have the privilege of working at a local community theatre called Theatre Winter Haven with a group of fabulous friends for the past couple of years. Only five mainstage and five readers theatres shows into my time there, and I feel like I have found a home. The professionalism is outstanding, but there is a definite sense of community that can not be manufactured. I truly enjoy my time there and have made it my theatre home during this season of my life.

I hung out with some of those theatre friends the other night for a birthday celebration and our monthly movie night. We watched "Fiddler on the Roof," an all time favorite musical film of mine and it made me think about the roles I've always wanted to play. In that movie, the middle daughter who sings the famous song "Matchmaker" song, sings a gorgeous ballad called "Far from the Home I Love". Can I just say that I have wanted to sing that song for years? Unfortunately, that role will never be mine. I have outgrown it and that is a hard reality. Some of my older theatre friends have said that can be one of the hardest realities of working in the theatre: that your dream role isn't attainable because you have outgrown it.

Instead of dwelling on the negative, I would rather share with you my other dream roles that are still attainable and some of them I have already done.

1. Maria in "Sound of Music"
          -In the spring of this year, I performed 19 sold out performances as her! What a dream come true!

2. Abigail Williams in "The Crucible"
          -The inner world of Abigail would present a fabulous challenge for any actress. I need to play this role quickly, because I am already looking pretty old to play this part.

3. Maggie in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"
          -Of all the parts in Tennessee Williams repertoire, I think this one would be the most interesting for me because of the struggle she has in her marriage. That struggle is so far removed from my personal life, that it would be a great challenge to inhabit this character.

4. Antigone in "Antigone"
          -I had the privilege of playing this role in college in a black box theatre.

5. Fantine in "Les Miserables"
          -This show holds a special place, because it was the first show Craig saw, loved and said he understood why I loved theatre. And it will be the only show Craig will actually come and audition with me!

6. Aldonza in "Man of La Mancha"
          -The story of hope and perseverance inspires me in this show. The way that Don Quixote views Aldonza is such a beautiful picture of how Christ views us. The symbolism touches my heart deeply.

7. Victoria in "Victor/Victoria"
          -A goal of mine is to play every Julie Andrews part, but if I don't achieve that, I at least want to play this role of hers. (The other roles I have played of hers is Guenevere in "Camelot," pictured below, and Maria in "Sound of Music.")

8. Baker's Wife in "Into the Woods"
          -I have already played this role in college, but I am dying to do it again! It has been the only role I would be willing to repeat... so far.

9. Louise in "Gypsy"

          -The perfect opportunity to audition for this role came up, but I would be 6 months pregnant with my second at the last performance. Alas, I was not able to do it, but maybe again in the next couple of years.

  

10. Nellie Forbush in "South Pacific"

          -I was in the ensemble of this show in high school, but would love to do it again to play the lead role.

I know there are many more roles I will play in the years to come, but these are my top dream roles. I'm so glad that I have had the opportunity to play several of these roles already and to have been my all time dream role of Maria in "Sound of Music." Dreams do come true in the theatre world, but some of the dreams will have to remain what they are as the years tick by.

Running and the shoes that go with it

I am training for a marathon. Yep. You read that correctly. That is one of those things I never thought I would hear my self say or even write down as a a far off dream. Why would I not join the ranks of fabulous people who have gone before to train and run such a great distance, you ask? Because I don't like to run. Seriously. Don't like it. It isn't that I don't like exercise, because get me in a good zumba class and I will burn and sweat my 800 calories without blinking an eye. One hour of dance is a breeze for me!

It is the monotony of running that drives me a little batty. Lift your right foot, hit the ground. Lift your left foot, hit the group. Thump. Thump. Thump. Pounding the pavement. Fighting for breath through the dense humidity. Lift left. Thump. Lift right. Thump. Sweat trickles. Ankles twinge with pain. Lift and hit. Lift and hit. Shins ache. Thump. Thump. Gasp. Push further. Thump. Thump. Inhale. Then your Nike+ voice comes on over your Ipod and says, "You have completed 1/4 of a mile." Really? That is all? Left. Right. Left. Right. Thump. Thump. Gasp. Pain. And it continues for the next 6 miles.

For all you non-runners out there, doesn't that description make you want to run out and sign up for the next available marathon? I know I do! (If you don't know me, you will learn that sarcasm is a tool I use, but know that is seasoned with humor and not anger.)

The reason I am training for a marathon is for my best friend. Her name is Karen and we have been best friends since we were 14. We have gone our separate ways several times in the 14 years that we have known each other, being willing to allow the friendship to do what it may. Thankfully, it always pulls us back together. There is no one who understands me, encourages me, challenges me and makes me laugh the way Karen does. She has the ability to convince me to do things I never thought attainable. Enter: the marathon.

We have committed and paid to do the Disney marathon on January 8, 2012. She lives in Maryland, which forces us to train a part. Frown. We were both doing well, checking in on one another and making sure everything was going well. And then the shin splints happened. In high school, I was in track as a pole vaulter. During the first week of training every year, my shins would really hurt me. After a couple of weeks, I would be running less and doing more pole vaulting, allowing the shin splints to heal. Pushing myself too hard, too fast must be my motto when it comes to running, because I have developed them again. Ugh. And they started right after I was starting to enjoy the idea and challenge of running 26.2 miles. Now all that training  has come to a crawl as I bike, zumba, and walk to work on my heart endurance, building up distance, and allow my shin splints to heal before they turn into a stress fracture.

Today, my sister-in-law, Drew and brother, Ben met me at the lake for the 6 miles that faced me this morning. Ben ran ahead and Drew and I had a great time chatting and walking as fast as we could. I received lots of fantastic tips from them because the two of them work at a running store and are extremely knowledgeable about all things running.

Here are the tips:

1. Tie your shoes in a marathon knot.

2. Focus of form- hands low, fists loose, feet straight, mid-foot strike

3. Carry on a conversation while running.

4. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

5. Get the right gear.

And that is where my shoes come in. I own 3 pairs.

One is for pronation.

One is for speed.

And one is a basic shoe.

I still haven't decided which shoe I like the best, but I think the blue and green pair are the cutest! For now I will continue to train and hope healing comes to my shins so the running can commence. Left. Right. Hit. Hit. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Honesty from a mom

I have a hard time with being a mom… sometimes. I know, I know. It is my “calling.” My identity is supposed to be wrapped up in the little onesies and board books and toy dinosaurs.  But it isn’t.  Don’t misunderstand me! I love my children and I love being a mother, but sometimes my perspective gets skewed by the daily grind of folding clothes and washing dishes. I take my eyes off of the eternal perspective for one minute and I am blinded by the minuscule stuff that I am wading knee deep through.

My heart longs to visit other lands with my camera in hand and capture exotic places. My arms desire to hold little sick babies abandoned at the hospital and know that I am helping. I ache for the adventure of visiting a never before reached tribe on a remote island and trying to assist the translators in understanding the complexities of this foreign language. Instead, I am stuck in a house in suburbia telling my 2 year old for the up-teenth time today that it is not wise to hurl his remote control car off the coffee table at his 18 month old sister. How is that a calling? Does anyone else see it, because these sinful eyes are blinded by the mundane?

I might be alone in this struggle, but I have a feeling there are others of you out there. Oh, how I hope there are more of you out there like me: sinful and in need of God’s grace! It feels wrong to say these things out loud. In a culture that doesn’t value children and values stay-at-home mothers less, it is easy to buy into the notion that my life is meaningless without another job, another calling, another thing that takes center stage. Whenever I read biographies about famous missionaries, I think, “What kind of impact am I having on the world around me when I can’t even make it to the grocery store without a meltdown?”

I guess I should back up a little bit to give this some background, hmm?

My whole life I wanted to be these 3 things (in no particular order): a missionary, a photographer and an actress. I have successfully accomplished the last two, but I can’t figure out how the first dream can be accomplished with a 2 and 1 year old in tow.  In college, my major was in missions, with hopes of fulfilling my first dream. That is what I studied to be, a full time missionary. Four years of preparing to impact the world through face-to-face interactions with those who didn’t have the privilege of purchasing a Bible at their local bookstore like I do. After college, I pursued acting professionally and had a couple of paid acting jobs, fulfilling that dream. Then my husband and I applied to be house parents for missionary children in Cameroon, Africa with Wycliffe Bible Translators. Then we got pregnant with our first and decided to stay in the states to have our first child. And you guessed it; we got pregnant again and have never left, but I did become a professional photographer, making that dream come true. I am happy with my life, but this little gnawing discontentment creeps up at times: the discontentment to see tangible ministry happening before my eyes.

Now you are caught up on my life, somewhat, so let’s continue on (can you tell I’m not a writer?)!

It all hit me tonight. I was listening to a Francis Chan sermon about rethinking what we call “radical.” A lot of things touched my heart as I listened, but what struck me the most was Francis’ strong desire to reach the poor. It reminded me of a desire I use to have before the monotony of changing 18 dirty diapers a day and picking up countless toys off the living room floor wore away my passion. I started to feel confused and disgruntled, almost as if my children were a nascence in comparison to helping the poor (I know that isn’t a rational thought, but our air conditioning has been out for 2 days, so I need a little grace!).

The Lord is so good, because the next article I read said this:

“Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God values, and that you refuse to value what the world values. You stand with the defenseless and in front of the needy. You represent everything that our culture hates, because you represent laying down your life for another—and laying down your life for another represents the gospel.”


Did that just say I am living out the gospel by being a mom? That my children are my calling? My eyes filled with tears as I read those words. Wiping snot off my 18 month old's face can be a ministry, be it small. It blesses the heart of God to see me teach my children godly principles through living them daily. My mission field, for now, is on the floor in my living room day in and day out. It is my job to defend my innocent children in a corrupt world. I am called to cloth and feed the needy, and they can be found right in my dining room! This doesn’t excuse me from doing my part to be outward focused and help in the world around me, but all of this thinking helped me to gain some perspective about my discontentment.

There might never be a novel written about my missionary journeys into hostile lands, but for now, my work for the Lord is being the best mom I can be, with what I have, by His grace. I won’t be successful all the time, but I am going to plug at it one moment at a time until the Lord sees that I can handle something else. From this perspective of the frazzled mom, I hope they Lord knows I have my plate full! Hehehe!

“Lord, may your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  Amen.