Why I May Occasionally Burst into Song . . .

I just watched the Oprah episode about The Sound of Music, and I cried like a small child.  I cried because Julie Andrews is one of the classiest women I've ever seen.  I cried because she can no longer sing any more due to a botched surgery.  I cried because the grandchildren of the real von Trapps sang Edelweiss.  I cried because there's something magical about a group of people singing, dancing, and bringing joy to the world for 45 years.


I am an avid lover of musical theatre (and yes, I like the snobby spelling of "theatre" instead of "theater." Judge me.  I dare you. :) ).  If you've known me for longer than 5 minutes, you have probably figured this out.  I cry at every single production of a live musical that I've ever been to, whether it's a children's show, comedy or tragedy, whether I've seen it 16 times or one.  I find it to be such a powerful form of art that is indescribable in how it can connect with people.

I've been involved with theatre for about 17 years now--over 3/4 of my life.  It was clear that God really got me involved with theatre because it wasn't in my plan for me at all.  I've always been one with a plan, even at a young age.  I had my heart set on becoming a gymnast, and I knew just how to make this happen.  

By the time I reached kindergarten, I had been taking gymnastics for 3 or 4 years.  My coaches wanted me to move up to the next level, but that meant practice four times a week for one hour or two times a week for 2 hours.  I couldn't handle that--it simply made me too tired.  I remember Mom suggesting, "Hey, you like doing plays and stuff.  Why don't you try doing that Christian Youth Theatre that Leah does?"  (Leah still is a family friend and is also an amazing photographer. Check out her work here: Soul Fusion Photography ).  I started my first grade year with Spiritual Twist Productions/Christian Youth Theatre--check them out here: STP/CYT.  

Look how cute I was that first year:

I'm the little one in green sitting on the floor.  You know, the one whose bangs start at the crown of her head. And who looks like she's 7 going on 35.  Oh my.  Bless my heart.

Sorry, back to the point.  

CYT became majorly important in my life.  It was essentially my second home all throughout my growing-up years.  While other kids have their sports teams, I was developing my theatre family.  We practiced, performed, prayed, sang, danced, ate, laughed, and cried together.  I spent hours upon hours with these folks, especially during the final two "crunch weeks" before shows opened.  God brought so many amazing people into my life through CYT.  I have been mentored by the director, as well as made friends with some amazing people.  One of my favorite people in the whole world, Abbe and I met when we were 5 and 6 in CYT and have remained close ever since.  We share everything--including a brain--and it's so great to know that she'll always be there for me.  God provided an amazing group of friends who have truly shaped the person that I am today.  

I love the theatre, but I love CYT the best because it is theatre that does what I believe all the arts are intended to do--honor God, the ultimate Creator and Artist.  I am currently blessed to also work with Charlotte Christian Theatre Company, a group begun by a former CYT family who have relocated to the Charlotte area.  It is such a privilege to get to know these kids and work with them.  I hope that their friendships will grow, develop, and edify them just as my CYTers did for me.

I think the arts are a powerful medium, and I love them for that.  I am so blessed to be allowed to do what I love, but for a purpose that is so much bigger than a round of applause or the acclaim of man.  

Galatians 1:10 says, "For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ."  

My performances, my work as an assistant director, and my work with students are only done out of a desire to please an Audience of One. 

So, if you see me burst into the song, remember that I've got greasepaint in my veins and take it all in stride.  :)

Whiter than Snow

I seriously love musicals.  Later this week, I'll tell you more about how this all came to be--how a once slightly shy girl became a teenager who sang solos and danced and how that teenager grew into an assistant director who makes a complete fool out of herself on a regular basis.  But for now you'll have to trust me when I say this:

I. LOVE. MUSICALS.

Now that we've got that settled, I believe we can move on. :)

One of my favorite movies of all time is White Christmas.  It's good to watch all year through, but it's especially magical to watch it at Christmas time.  

There's something just so wondrous about the combination of Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Vera-Ellen and Rosemary Clooney singing, dancing, and wishing for snow that can't help but make me excited.  Seriously, it's a glorious movie--check it out.

This year for the first time EVER, the weathermen predicted snow on Christmas.  A White Christmas.  My White Christmas.  I waited all day long for the snow to begin.  

Pacing back and forth between the recliner and the window.  Compulsively checking weather.com to see if any precipitation had arrived yet.  Talking back to the weathermen on the news who were reporting snow in our local area.  Looking out the window like a 5 year old.  And all day long, I saw nothing.

At 11:00pm, my patience was wearing thin.  I wanted my white Christmas--I had my heart set on it.  Just as my mom was getting ready to go to bed, she checked out the window for one final peep.  She looked at me and said, "It's started."  Please realize that by this point, that was about the 5th time someone has told me it was snowing.  I was jaded, folks.  Jaded.  I said, "You better not be kidding me because that is absolutely not funny."  "I'm not," she replied.  "Come see."

I peeked out the window and sure enough--snow!  Coming down on Christmas.  MY white Christmas.  Just like at the end of White Christmas, the snow came when there was almost no time left.  I tried to capture the few flakes that were falling on camera:

  

Okay, so it doesn't look like snow, but it was there.  Promise.

The next morning I woke up to a phone call from work saying we were closed due to weather.  I then peeked outside to see TONS of snow.  Mom sent me on a trek to take some pictures outside while everything was pristine.  Here are a few--

This would be my view as I was walking down my driveway.

Beautiful, picturesque.

"On the street where I liiiiiiiive."  Didn't I warn you that I loved musicals?

Yes, I did stick a ruler in the snow to see how much we got! :)  

Welcome to my backyard, otherwise known as a winter wonderland.

The trees were amazing when you glanced up into them.

Snow is lovely.  It's pure, it's fresh, it's delightful.  It blankets the world and makes it seem new.  Rob Bell, when discussing the relationship between experiences in the physical world and the spiritual life, says in one of his books, "This is always about that."  That seems like a ridiculous statement upon first glance.  But Bell's point is that everything we see here in the physical world isn't really about this.  It points to something much larger--a spiritual truth.  As I wandered through the snow this morning, I thought of this song:

"Whiter than snow.

Whiter than snow.

Jesus will wash you whiter than snow.

Though your sins be as scarlet,

Your wrongs He'll make right

When He washes you snow white"

~ "Whiter than Snow"

The anticipation of snow, the cleanness, the joyous feeling when you see it.  This is really about that--the feeling of redemption and newness through Christ.  As you're seeing inches and inches of this laying about, remember that.  Take note of that feeling of freshness and purity.  Be reminded that's what Christ provided for each of us--the ability to become whiter than snow.

Welcome to Our World

"Welcome to Our World" by Chris Rice

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home

Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world

Fragile fingers sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy

Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world


Every time I hear this song I get a little choked up.  I think it says so much about Christmas.  


At Christmas, I think about how people just didn't get it when Jesus came to earth.  The Savior of the world was expected to be a mighty king--someone strong who would overthrow the Romans and establish a new rule.  Everything was in turmoil, and the Jewish people had been waiting for years.  There had been years and years of silence--no revelation from God.  A period of anticipation.  It made sense to expect a King--someone who could turn the tide for an oppressed and hurting people.  People were hungry for that Savior.  There was a longing in their souls for more.  They thought they knew what He would look like and what He would do.


But the "Word now breaking heaven's silence" was a baby.  A tiny baby who didn't even have a home, but had to be laid in a manger, a feeding trough for dirty animals.  He was visited by shepherds--the lowest of the low--and a few years later by Magi from the East.  Even the heavens couldn't help but cry out his birth with a magnificent star that led the Magi to Him.  


But He didn't come the way he was expected to at all.  He came as a tiny baby with "fragile fingers sent to heal us."  The fullness of God wrapped in "our injured flesh." Those itty bitty hands that Mary kissed countless times would grow to become a carpenter's hands.  And that carpenter would then touch lepers and cleanse them.  He would place his hands on the dead and raise them to life.  And He would stretch out those hands and allow them to be nailed to a cross.   


I think the line that probably most gets me is "Tiny heart whose blood will save us."  I'm sure that Jesus got bumps and bruises growing up.  I know the body produces different red and white blood cells over the course of a lifetime.  But that tiny heart that was born pumping the blood of a Savior.  And that blood would atone for sins once for all.  That blood that would mean His death would provide our relationship with Him.  Because that baby would grow up to be a man.  And that man would give His life in a sacrificial death to save us from our sin and bring us to God. 

And that, Charlie Brown, is what Christmas is all about.  :)

Hello Blogosphere!

And so begins my foray into the world of blogging.  I've been an avid reader of blogs like those of my friends Nikki, Keith, and Caitlin for a long time.  But I've never actually thought I would have anything that anyone would want to read.  Maybe I don't.  Maybe this will be my place where I make some sense of all the crazy thoughts that swirl around my head on a daily basis.  


I always say that weird stuff happens to me--and it's definitely true.  Anything from passing out after cortizone shots to me mistakenly thinking a bunch of falling pans was an intruder in my kitchen.  Maybe those aren't the weirdest things you've heard of, but I tend to think that my daily life is amusing and I hope you will too.  


As to the title of this blog "The Orange Spice," it came partly from a conversation I had with my dear friend Sarah R.  Sarah and I went to college together and discovered that we were "twins" our freshman year of college.  Having remained close ever since, we decided to take up blogging together.  Anyways, anyone who knows me for more than 5 minutes will probably discover that I love the color orange.  I think it goes back to middle school, when every other girl I knew was completely into pink.  Pink had been my favorite color and I was angry people were intruding on my "favorite color" turf.  So, I picked the least loved color I could think of--orange.  The color of prison jumpsuits, traffic cones, and well. . . um, oranges.  When debating blog titles, Sarah said, "You really need something to do with orange."  I joked that my subtitle could be "A frazzled orange among the polished apples of life."  We both loved it, and somehow it stuck.  


I always feel as though I'm running in a thousand different directions while everyone else looks so put together.  I am a recovering perfectionist who can't say no (no reference to the Oklahoma song, just for the record).  A self-admitted oddity, I do feel like an orange in the middle of a bunch of apples.  Both fruits, but that's where the similarities stop.  I'm sure plenty of other people feel this way as well.  Hopefully this blog will be a peek into a crazy grad student's thoughts as she goes about her days.     


Having a hearty love for the domestic, this might also be a place where I share recipes and daily household things that happen.  I've been known to burn a dish or two.  Also, living on a grad student budget tends to make me be . . . well, let's say creative in my cooking endeavors. :)  I'm always in the mood for new recipes and suggestions, so feel free to contribute.  


Most of all, I hope this blog points people to the One Who it's really all about--no matter where they might be in their spiritual journey.  I am so blessed to be loved by the God of the universe and so grateful for Who He is and all He has done for me.  I am so thankful that He has given His Son, Jesus, for me.  At this time of year, it makes me especially glad, remembering the reason Jesus came just for us.  Look for a post on that soon.  :)


Well, I've rambled enough.  Time to go eat some oatmeal cookies and watch Pushing Daisies (my current favorite show).  Or maybe read a book--for fun!