Drinking water

I've recently discovered how difficult it is to drink a full 72 ounces of water each day. I've started doing a semi-detox and the 2 parts hydrogen and 1 part oxygen are obviously essential. It's not that I get tired of the lack of flavor or the simple molecular structure, but in the 5-7 minute increments between bathroom breaks, I ask myself, "Self, is this really worth it?"

Water to me is motion and purity. Within the last couple months, my family purchased a BRITA water filter. It supposedly removes all impurites from tap water by using a carbon filtering system. As a result, we're drinking water in its closest-to-pure form. Other than the famous "gotta go" Detrol slogan, water is associated with motion in that, in its purest form, it helps move unwanted waste and harmful chemicals out of our systems. If the water itself is not first purified and moved, it causes sickness and disease.

Drinking water (and a lot of it) stirs in me a desire to fill my life with the purest form of any consumption, whether literal or otherwise. I think about the 51st psalm:

Psalm 51:10-12

10 Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
11 Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

I've got skeletons in my closet...

...ok not really, but there were other surprises. A couple days ago my mom wanted Bonnie, Aaron and me to do something productive since we were home for a snow day. We decided to organize the basement closet, which was choc-full of childhood memories. It was a blast sorting through old board games, books and toys. Bonnie and I even gave Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaur a whirl. It was so amazing how much we have held onto: Books about a bear named Button, identical naked baby dolls named "Liv" and "Liv New and Improved" (one had curlier hair), tattered barbies, a Babysitters' Club board game, Dear Chelsea (a book written with letters from young girls to the then daughter-of-the-chief Chelsea Clinton), old school notebooks and scrapbook pages, poems and anti-drug declarations we wrote in fifth grade, my dad's sequined wrestling one-piece from 1973. While these things have little worth to us now, there were also treasures of eternal value in our small closet. As Bonnie and I watched Hairspray and swooned over Zac(k) Efron, I came across a note that my mom wrote to her precious middle child (ha) in 1995. To her almost 6-year-old daughter, she wrote: Annie you are my beautiful, determined young girl. Someday you will be a great leader. Your mind and sensitive heart are touched by God. You make me laugh-I wish I had your sense of humor. You are "something special". My mom went on to say how much she loved me and that I was her gift from God. I am so thankful that my mom and dad took time to encourage me and my siblings even as young children. Even if we don't remember them or have let them collect dust beneath beanbag chairs and legos, words are undeniably powerful.

-Thanks Mom for seeing in me what I don't usually see in myself. Thank you for sacrificing a lot of yourself to spend time with your children. I love you!

Take a little off the left

There is a first for everything, and today I had a first. Other than an occasional snip of my sisters' bangs or the decapitation of my barbies' locks, today was the first time I cut someone's hair. We've started self-portraits in my art class. During our critique yesterday, Mr. Grandi, after looking at Sean's project, mentioned that his shoulder-length hair, rather than his actual appearance, was becoming his physical identity. Today I challenged Sean in a similar way. I proded him, all in a friendly nature of course, about being emotionally attached to his hair and the danger of being in that state of mind. To prove me wrong, Sean had me and another classmate cut his hair. Kevin got most of the length off and I went in for the layers and texturing so that he wouldn't look like a little girl. This was all done with a pair of kindergartener-suitable scissors. I have to say it was invigorating. Sean loved it and now I know what kind of business I'll be going into. pshaw.

Well done.

When we talk about someone's arrival to Heaven, those words are mentioned a lot. Today was Jean Page's funeral. I didn't know her very well, but I knew that she was a prayer warrior for those around her. Hearing stories from her family and from Pastor Paul and Pastor Ron made me want to live a life so worthy of the words "well done". One specific part of the service spoke to me so heavily. Her sister spoke about Jean so beautifully and concluded by asking who would replace Jean as a prayer warrior for the people who surround us. The power of one faithful woman's prayers was astronomical. Allow God to challenge you in prayer to change lives and further His kingdom.

Taking Notes

The first day of February has come and all too soon I have realized how quickly the first month of 2008 came and went. I have to admit: I'm incredibly nervous about the months and years ahead and how quickly they will come and go, but I know that God is faithful. I was recently accepted to Messiah College and I plan to attend as an International Business major in the fall. This season of my life is stretching to say the least; I'm finally transitioning out of the security of my home and the comfort of what I know and who I know. The scarcity of money is becoming a reality. Time is precious, but I often fail to treat it as such. It can't be over-said that I want to live my life to the fullest. With God's help, I will make the most of opportunities as I watch and learn from others, from my successes and my failures, all the while taking notes.