I am a SPORTS fan.

I am a sports fan. I'm not the crazy, insane, rowdy fan you often see with face and body painted. I'm also not just a casual fan of one or two specific teams.  I am a SPORTS fan. I'll watch any sport. Yes I have my favorites, soccer and baseball are at the top and I follow my teams as closely as my life allows without it becoming an obsession.  I'm the fan that knows the backstory of a team or athlete. I may not have stats memorized, but I know who's had a good year and who hasn't. While I've watched almost every sport out there, I'm still not sure why poker gets air time on ESPN....

My love of sports is something that was passed down to me from my dad. The story is that as a baby, my mom would be out of hands and patience after dealing with three kids and she would plop me down in my dad's lap and say "it's your turn." I would then be perfectly content sitting in the brown leather recliner with my dad as he yelled at the tv. He taught me to love the game, not just a team. However, we do have "our" teams. At some point when I was growing up, my mom and sister banned my dad and I from watching sports together in the same room. We would both get so involved in the game and would be yelling at the TV together. Apparently we got a little loud. So now we watch the same game just in different rooms. This hasn't stopped our yelling and, if anything, it has made it worse. Now we not only yell at the tv, but we yell at each other down the hallway. Not too long ago I stayed several days at a friend's house during a heavy snow storm. My sister later relayed to me that my dad was watching the Razorback basketball game and would yell down the hallway as if I were there. She said at one point he came down the hall and started talking to her about the game like he does with me and although she gave it her best effort, it wasn't the same and she could tell he missed me being there. Sports are the base of my relationship with my dad. While my brother, sister and I were all athletes growing up, the two of them aren't huge sports fans. They'll get into a game every now and then, but for the most part they could care less.  My brother and sister also tend to have a bit of a volatile relationship with our dad. Sometimes I wonder if that would be different if they were sports fans. Afterall, sport is what brings the world together.

Perhaps my favorite time of year isn't a "time of year" at all. The Olympic Games only occur every two years, alternating between the Summer and Winter Olympiads.  Every two years I spend approximately 12 days in tears. You see, I'm not just a sports fan, I love everything that goes into sports. The unmeasurable elements that drive athletes to push themselves a little bit farther than the day before. Those stories of the underdog overcoming obstacles and rising to the top of his or her field, the kid that gets up for practice every morning because his disabled brother can't, and the stories of redemption when an athlete misses their "best" opportunity due to illness, injury, or a bad day are all the things that find their way into my heart and bring tears to my eyes.

 I remember watching a movie with my mom and sister about a group of teenagers whose bus gets caught in a flood on their way home from church camp. In this movie, which was based on a true story, several of the teenagers died in the flood. At the end of the movie both my mom and sister were in tears. I was barely affected at all and my sister claimed I must have a "heart of stone." To this day stories like that rarely affect me, but I cry everytime I watch Miracle, Glory Road, Gracie, We Are Marshall, and several other sports movies. I even cry reading feature stories on ESPN.com that usually turn into their Outside the Lines segments. There's just something about sports that touches the very core of me. 

Over the next two weeks, my television will be tuned into NBC a majority of the time. I've already watched men's and women's moguls, cross country alpine skiing, speed skating long and short track, pairs figure skating, men's singles luge, and women's hockey. Add to that the Opening Ceremony and it's pretty much been all olympics all the time here at my house. I once asked my mom if she knew when she married my dad that she would become a weekend widow due to sports. She said she knew my dad would spend much of his weekends watching one sporting event after another, but she never thought she'd lose a daughter to the same affliction.

While I haven't yet met the man God has intended for me to marry, I hope and pray that he is able to understand what happens to me when the Cubs game is on tv during the summer and on Saturdays during college football season, and during these two weeks every two years when the world comes together to compete in the Olympic Games. Hopefully he'll understand that I am a sports fan.

Have fun at The Party Steph. I'll see you later.

I write tonight with a heavy heart that is both sad with grief and full of joy at the same time. My dear friend, Stephanie, lost her fight with cancer this evening. She was a great soul who filled the room with life. My sadness stems from the knowledge she is no longer here with us and for the heartache her husband, siblings, and parents must be feeling. The Bible tels me that Joy comes in the morning. This, I celebrate. Stephanie is chillin' with the Savior, the One who has Victory over death. I love my Heavenly Father so much more tonight knowing He has finally brought healing to Steph's body.

I will remember our days at UofA together. Bible study and Thursday night dinners in the union. I will remember her running barefoot through the snow while on a mission trip to Detroit. I will remember how beautiful she was on her wedding day. I will remember her generosity and her humor. I will remember her friendship forever.

Have fun at The Party Steph. I'll see you later.

I Can't Stand It!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I Can't Stand It! Stop listening to people and start listening to God. He'll tell you who's true and who's false. Be slow to speak and quick to listen especially if you've been doing most of the talking.

I don't know if anyone even reads this blog, but I'm just so sick of some of the things that have been going on lately.  A large number of vulnerable hearts have fallen victim to this tragedy that has been built by gossip, anger, lies, and confusion. My fear is that so many of them allowed their feelings to control their reaction. You can't allow your feelings to dictate your decisions, because feelings can be easily steered in the wrong direction.

My problem is not with what has happened. I have tried to move on. However, it is difficult to move on from this because others refuse to. They keep talking about it and they're talking about it in a manner that clearly states which side of the line they want to be standing on. Yet some of them, just can't bring themselves to commit to their side. They keep stradling the fence. I don't care which side you've chosen, but stay or go. If you stay, be supportive of those on that side of the line. If you go, be supportive of the ones that are standing with you. Most importantly, STOP TRASHING THE OTHER SIDE!

This whole mess is creating undue stress in my life. Stress is one thing I have to limit or else my physical health will be affected. So if you can't be supportive, then just keep your mouth shut. The Bible tells us to be slow to speak and quick to listen. If we would all practice that instruction more often, we probably wouldn't even be in this mess.

What am I doing? Or, should I be doing this?

What am I doing? Or Should I be doing this?

Writing. It's not necessarily my greatest talent, but then again maybe it is and I'm just not aware of it yet.
The past few days I've felt the need to put some thoughts down on paper (or screen as the case may be). The last time I felt like this I was a freshman in college and the Twin Towers had just crumbled to the ground like a house of cards. My point is that I don't often get the urge to write which makes me believe I'm not a writer. Then a few recent conversations filter through my brain and I start to wonder. Do I really have nothing to say or am I keeping a wealth of knowledge and wisdom the Lord has bestowed upon me to myself? If the answer is the latter of the two, then why?
People often comment about how quiet I am or that I don't say much. Some people are extremely irritated by this personality trait of mine. They just can't stand that I'm not speaking my mind. I have to wonder what is in my head that makes my opinions and thoughts so important to them. Most of the time, I don't say anything because I truly have nothing to add to the conversation. Other times, I don’t say what I’m thinking because it will most likely come across as hurtful or mean. I don’t intend to be hurtful or mean, but I hate apologizing because of my opinion. If you ask me what I think and I answer, I don’t believe you are allowed to be hurt or offended by what I say. Yet too many times I’ve given my opinion and somebody ends up hurt by my words. This makes me hold them even closer to my heart. I don’t want to hurt someone. Not because I’m a people pleaser, which I am, but because it is not my goal or job to tear someone down or step on their dreams. It is not my job to judge others. The Lord Himself will tell us if we’ve made him proud or if we should have done it differently. In my world, His opinion is the only one that I should be truly concerned with and that is why I don’t understand why people are so curious to know what I think.
Allow me for a moment to contradict that last statement, because I should be concerned about what others think of me. What if I’m the only picture of Jesus that they get to see or hear? How do I want my Savior, my King to be portrayed? So, yes, I should care about what others think of me. I want and need Him to be my reflection to the world, otherwise those words I tuck under my tongue come out and people do get hurt. That’s not my job here.
Okay, back to writing, thinking, and speaking. I don’t write much, I don’t speak much, and now that I think about it, I don’t think much either. I try not to contemplate on life and the world too much because it just invites stress and worry about things I cannot change. So most of the time when I don’t speak, it’s because what ever the topic of choice is, I don’t really think about it much and thus truly have nothing to say about it. I try to live my life a moment at a time, each second as it comes to me. This is probably a great contributor to the reason that at two months shy of 27, I still don’t feel like a grown-up.
When I am asked a question and have time to think and choose my words carefully, I do try to give my best answer. Often times these responses are greeted with something like “wow, she doesn’t speak very often, but when she does it’s so wise” or something similar. People seem amazed that this quiet person sitting on the end of the couch who hardly ever speaks can dole out such wisdom. Especially when that quiet person at the end of the couch isn’t married, has never even been in a serious relationship, doesn’t have children, and still lives at home with mom and dad. That’s okay though. I probably wouldn’t think they knew much about photography if they’ve never picked up more than a point and shoot camera. So, I guess it balances out. Neither they nor I are right though. I do know a bit about human nature and the dynamic of relationships, and just because someone has never picked up a camera doesn’t mean they don’t know what would make a good photograph.
I’m sorry if I’ve rambled a little bit. I don’t know why I ramble, it’s not me. I think it comes from people trying to force me to talk more. I’m just not much of a talker. I never have been. Holding a conversation with people, even with my best friend, is awkward for me. There, I said it. I am socially awkward. I always have been. While I am a relatively intelligent person and once upon a time I was a pretty fantastic athlete (if I do say so myself), I seem to have made my way in life on the wings of a friendly smile. For some reason, as a child I did not talk unless I was spoken to first. This is not something my parents taught me, so I don’t know where I picked it up from. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve heard those same comments about being quiet; and I guess it has just stuck with me over the years.
Back to what this is all about. I try to contemplate life, I really do. Honestly though, when I do start to contemplate life my mind almost always goes blank. I think this is a gift from God. Really I do. The biggest issues and concerns in my life are typically related to my health, an area of my life I’ve given over to God. I think He doesn’t allow these things to enter my mind when I start to contemplate life because He knows it will only cause me stress and worry.
The things that do come to my mind are about what’s missing. This might get a little confusing so hold on. Nothing is missing from my life because I have all I need in Jesus, but there are things I’m missing. They are things He wants for me. I’m either not listening hard enough or I’m not recognizing something that is blocking me from Him. So, I wonder, am I a writer? As I write this I keep asking myself what am I doing? Or, should I be doing this? I’m still not convinced I’m a writer. These bothersome thoughts that provoke inches of words to appear on my screen come few and far between. Who would even take this journey through my mind? What is it that I’m supposed to be doing?

Something inside

Something strange happened to me this weekend. It was just after 1:00 am Sunday morning when my brother called to tell us not to go anywhere because of a large structural fire downtown. He's a firefighter, so he knows these things. As soon as I heard the words as my sister was relaying the message, I could feel my eyes light up. I put my shoes on, threw on a jacket, grabbed my keys and camera and stopped. Even though I am 26 years old, I still felt the need to ask my mom if I could go to the scene and take some pictures. Her only words to me were "don't get arrested," so I was out the door.

I drove downtown and got as close as I could without getting in the way. I stood across the street and started clicking away. Suddenly I felt something inside of me that hasn't been there in several years. I essentially gave up photojournalism when I graduated high school. I took a few classes in college and even had a photo land on the front page of the UofA student paper. However, it just wasn't the same feeling I had while capturing all those moments of life around Charles Page High. It seems the thing within me that drives my love of photography had been hibernating for the last eight years or so. While photographing the fire last night that part of me came alive again. I had no idea how much I missed that feeling.

I don't know what all this means, because I don't think working for a publication is in my future. Maybe it is and I'm not getting the message. Anyway, here are some shots from the fire.

Iron Will

I thoroughly enjoy the little company named netflix. You can rent all kinds of movies from new releases to old black and whites. The best part is they come straight to your mailbox.

Our most recent flick to arrive at the door is Iron Will. I love this movie. It's about a teenage boy who sets out to win a dog-sled race so he can use the prize-money to save his family's farm and pay for college after the death of his father leaves his family financially strained.


During the film Will is given two pieces of advice: 1. run more, sleep less. and 2. When you come to face the thing you fear, trust the Creator.

As children of God we are blessed in the fact that we have nothing to fear. The problem is that so many of us struggle with fear every day. We are afraid of being alone, afraid of death, afraid of losing financial stability, afraid of not being accepted. Fear is a major player in our lives. As much as our hearts know we have nothing to fear, somehow the signal gets lost between our heart and our brain.

Another movie quote says that "courage is not the absence of fear, but rather, the knowledge that something else is more important than the fear."

Courage and Trust: the two go hand in hand. It takes courage to trust someone or something. Inevitably though, what we put our trust in will let us down. That is unless we follow the advice given in Iron Will--Trust the Creator. He may tell us no or make us wait on His timing every now and then, and He tells us that life as a member of His family will come with hard times and trials; however, He will be right there with us through it all. He will hold our hand to guide us and if need be He will pick us up and carry us through the flames. God will always be there. He won't let us down. So when you come face to face with the thing you fear most, Trust the Creator and he will light your path.

Wrigley's dog house

It's been a week and a half since I brought home an adorable little ball of fur. Okay, okay, it's more than a ball. She's a little black and white puppy! She's a chow-red shepherd mix and is quickly becoming part of the family. She's almost seven weeks old and is growing quickly.

I had a hard time finding a name for her though. Her face looks like a bear cub, so the obvious choice would be to name her Bear. Problem...our family dog we had when I was little was named Bear. So back to square one. I thought about naming her after some kind of camera equipment, but nothing seemed right. I knew I didn't want to give her a typical human name, so I started searching the web. When I came across the name Wrigley it was like a lightbulb came on. It was the perfect name. First, it's not a name you here too often (much like mine) and second, I am a huge Chicago Cubs fan and the home of the Cubs is Wrigley Field.

One of the things that I love most about her is that she loves to sleep near me. She has her carrier and a pet bed that she knows are hers and occasionally she'll go sleep in one of them on her own. However, she usually sleeps between or next to my feet. If I have the foot rest up on the recliner she will crawl under it like it's her own personal dog house. And if I'm not home she will still curl up next to the chair I usually sit in. She knows my scent and it comforts her. Which makes me happy.