It's All In My Head... Well, Kind Of...

*I started writing this a long time ago, I just got around to finishing it and posting it...*

Thursday night (September 26th) we had a softball game against Auburn at home. Top of the 4th inning. We were winning 11-0. There were two outs, and I was playing center field. Our time expired at the end of the 3rd inning; we all heard the timer go off. Morgan pitched a strike, it was a high strike so when the girl swung, so hit the bottom part of the ball with the top part of the bat. This caused the ball to go VERY high in the air with a dreadful spin. I started hustling into the in-field... That stupid ball was going to land right behind second base and short-stop. It technically should have been the left-fielder's ball, but she wasn't paying attention. I ran so that I was within the usual 45 degree angle that you are supposed to take when you catch a fly ball. I was "Camped under it" (a softball term for "standing and waiting for it to fall into your glove") for about 4 or 5 seconds. I lost it in the sun for a little while, but then I found it again. I was sure that the stupid ball was going into my glove. I don't exactly remember how it happened, but somehow it missed my glove and hit me right above the bridge of my nose in between my eyebrows. A sharp pain went through my entire body. I instantly felt like I was going to throw up and fall over; I could barely stand. I closed my eyes and saw spots for a while, but I could still hear people yelling, running, and collectively saying "oh". I opened my eyes to see Sierra, a girl in Rudy's class who is our short-stop, saying, "How many fingers, babe? How many fingers do you see?" The base umpire was doing the same thing. I couldn't even think, so I shut my eyes again until I heard Coach Bob. He was asking me all kinds of questions, but he wasn't making any sense. I tried answering, but apparently I wasn't making any sense either. He asked me if I could walk, I told him that I hadn't tried yet. He wrapped his arm around me and practically carried me off of the field. He set me down on the bench, and then a flood of people swarmed me. Everyone was asking me all kinds of questions that I just couldn't give answers to. Coach Isaacs was there, as well as Mr. Wentz (a family friend and the middle school principal), Sam Parde's dad who is an EMT, Coach Bob, my sister Elle, and my Mom. They put ice on my forehead, and then I heard Coach Isaacs tell Mom, "If this was my daughter, I would get her out of here right now and get her to the Emergency Room." Within a few seconds I could hear Mom on the phone, "Hello, it's Shanna, I am on my way to your ER with my 16 year old. Possible concussion. Nauseous. Difficulty breathing. Conscious. Have a room ready for her." Two men carried me to the golf cart that they use to take elderly people up and down the long walk-way to get into the field. Mom kept asking me where my keys were and where all of my stuff was. I answered the best that I could, but I'm not exactly sure what I said. Mom loaded me into her car with the help of a few other people. She put my softball sweat towel over my head and then told me to hold the ice pack. That was the most terrible car ride I have ever experienced. I get car-sick VERY easily, and it didn't help that Mom was in a hurry, I was already nauseous, and that I couldn't see. I almost threw up. I was shuffled into a wheelchair, and as we entered the Emergency Room I heard a lot of familiar voices. There was Donna, a family friend of ours who is a nurse at the hospital. Doug, a nurse that Mom worked with when was the Director of Pharmacy at that hospital. Carla, the PA at the hospital. All of the emergency rooms were full, so they put me in a regular room. They ran all kinds of tests and asked me all kinds of questions. After a long string of questions Carla left the room and then came back a few minutes later. She told me that I had a concussion. She also said that I would not be able to play softball, dance on dance team, or march in marching band. I was crushed. I started crying. After they finished my paperwork, mom and I left the hospital and went home. I fell asleep and didn't wake up for a long time.

Mom decided to keep me home from school on Friday, which was completely understandable... my ability to focus resembled some orange/green substance that you might find squashed in a trash can somewhere in the mid.... SQUIRREL.... yup, that is exactly what my ability to focus was like. That morning I slept in really late, and then, while enjoying the peace and quiet, finished all of my English 3 homework, scanned it on to my laptop, and emailed it to my teacher. That afternoon, wearing my SHS dance team uniform with pride, I went to Savannah's house to get ready for the football game. (She is a senior on Dance Team.) The entire team was happy to see me and they all kept staring at my forehead. There was a little bruise but not one that was extremely noticeable. After that we all went to the football game together. I was really hoping that word hadn't spread about my concussion because it was a rather embarrassing experience. But much to my displeasure, word had definitely spread. All of the teachers knew as well as all coaches and administrative personnel. It's amazing how fast something can spread through a small school. John came up to me and hugged me right away. "Holy crap, I heard about your head? Are you okay? Please tell me you can march. We can't afford another whole in our drill, especially with Columbus next week." John is the perfect best friend. His warm embrace and charmingly egotistic personality just lifted my rather depressed attitude. A few minutes later Matt and Kade came running at me. They were searching through the air shouting "I got it! I got it!". Then Matt made a "clunk" noise and then fell over. They were making fun of me. "Hey, Stazia, you know that brown thing in your hand when you play softball, yeah, that's your glove... USE IT!", Matt said through a fit of laughter. After glaring at him for a solid 10 seconds, he finally apologized and hugged me. At the start of the football game, all of the dance team members went to warm up and stretch, I stayed to watch the game with my friends. I was kind of glad that the junior high band was doing pep band that night, I don't think I could have handled all of the noise. During halftime when my team took the field to dance, I stood down in front on the track. I watched intently and cried a little bit. I had finally passed my test out for that dance, and I had worked so hard to learn it, and I didn't even get to perform. I left soon after half time, and I went home and went straight to bed.

The next week was torture. Not only could I not play softball, but I couldn't dance a Dance Team practice, and I couldn't march in band. It was so hard to focus, especially during College Algebra and Chemistry. My teachers were very gracious and often let me wait to take tests/quizzes and a few of them even let me take a nap during class if my head hurt. That Tuesday, during 8th period, I was in Poe's office, and I fell asleep listening to All State music, I slept for almost an hour before Matt came into Poe's office after school and thought I was dead. Ms. Poe just said, "No, her brain is broken, so she is letting it rest." I had to leave a few minutes later for our softball game in JCC that I didn't even get to play in. That morning at early band, someone made a comment like "You should be able to march with a concussion. Why are you just standing there?" Unfortunately, I let my emotions get the best of me and I flipped out. "You have no idea how much it is killing me to just stand there while you guys are marching. Don't you think that if I could be out there, I would? I would give anything to march, to dance, or to play softball, but I can't. So back off." At the end of this rant, I was in tears and Mr. Parde came over and yelled at the person that made the rude comment. The whole band was silent. After rehearsal, a lot of people came up to me and congratulated me for putting that rude person in his place. I just felt terrible.

Wednesday (the 2nd of October) I went in for my check up with the doctor. He made me retake my concussion test on the computer, and then he did a series of physical tests. I PASSED! In fact, one of the areas on my test improved, which was a little odd. I was able to play in my last softball game of the season on that Monday, although coach was worried about me so he didn't put me in much.

Since then, I have days when my head will hurt REALLY bad, and there are days when I am just completely out of it. I didn't think that the side affects would stick around this long, but they did. Moral of this story, use your glove, not your head.

Test Outs

This morning we had dance team practice at 6:30, and I was really excited for it. It was test out day! Test out means that you perform the dance that will be performed at the next sport event with only two other girls in front of the coaches. The coaches give you scores out of 12, you have to get at least a 6 to pass. If you don't pass you can retest as many times as it takes to be performance ready.

On Friday we will be performing our "Team Dance". This is the dance that my entire team learned at the camp that I could not go to. I had one of the girls teach me the dance, but I found out on Saturday that she had taught almost the entire dance to me incorrectly. I had to relearn almost the entire dance on Sunday night before our marching exhibition. I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on it, so I was confident going into test outs. After practice the coaches handed us our score sheets and my heart sank as I looked at it. I needed a 6 to pass, and I received a 5 and 1/2. I was so upset. Tears were already swelling.

I quickly changed in the locker room and then hustled down to the band room. I put my stuff down, and then walked directly into the Vocal Music Room. By then I was sobbing, and Mrs. Rodgers (she will always and forever be Ms. Poe to me...) stood up instantly, held her arms out to hug me, and said, "Oh sweety, what's wrong?". I sobbed for a while in her embrace before answering. I told her the entire story. She told me that I reminded her of herself. We both take everything we do rather seriously and we give it our all. With this, comes dramatic failures. I do not take well to failure. (Unless it is in sports, then I am totally used to it.) I take pride in everything I do, and I do it to the best of my ability, so failing this test out was not easy for me. I cried for a little while longer before the bell rang and we had to go our separate ways. I had to go to band and she had to go teach a little kid music class.

Ms. Poe understands me very well. She is so good at reading my emotions, even if I'm not displaying them. I swear that woman can read my mind. Her and I have always been close, but I think these past couple of months have made us even closer. She expected more out of me as I moved up the leadership ladder, and I rose to the expectation. I always have at least one teacher (usually female) that I trust completely and that I could tell anything to. In Ogallala it was Mrs. Helzer and in Syracuse it is Ms. Poe (or Mrs. Rodgers or whatever you want to call her...). I don't know what I would do with out these two amazing women. Their influence on me is more than they will ever know.

We're Moving

We're moving to Kearney during Christmas Break. Again with the 18 months in one place thing. This is starting to get exhausting.

You Weren't There

You promised you would be there. We must have talked at least 5 times about it in the past week. I have worked so hard for this, and this was my first night to perform, and you weren't there. As we walked onto the field something didn't feel right. They announced all of the dancers, and when my name came up I did my peppy wave and looked into the stands, but you weren't there. Neither of you were. I have been working my butt off since March to get to this point, and tonight was my first performance, and you weren't there. The dance? Well, it went fantastic, thanks for asking. You would have been blown out of the water. I can't really describe what I was feeling out there. I felt like I was dancing on clouds, when in reality I was dancing on a lumpy football field with no shoes on. I rolled my ankle coming down from my spread eagle jump half way through the song, but you wouldn't know that because you weren't there. I guess I don't understand why you would show up to watch him play football and leave before you could watch me dance. Whatever. What's done is done. Thanks for the support. Not.

Welcome to High School Fall Softball

Thursday was our first game of the season! It was a JV double header, but since our team is slightly smaller than last year, the coaches decided to let everyone but the seniors come. We had 17 girls and we split into two teams, one for each game. Our opponent was Platteview High School, and this is the first year that they have had a High School Fall Softball team. They didn't want to bite off more than they could chew, so they only wanted to play our JV team. They made a big deal about this game. They had a pep band which never happens at a softball game, the mayor of Springfield gave a speech, the school board president gave a speech, they had an announcer announce all of our names (they actually pronounced my name right!), and they had two people throw the honorary first pitches on the new field. Those poor people had no idea what was in store for them.

The first game went on forever. I did not start the first game, I was assigned to the second game. During the second inning alone, we scored about 15 points, which is A LOT for an inning. In the third inning, my coach was coaching third base (the opposite side of the field from our dug out), and he yelled across the field, "OG! Go get warmed up!" I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my glove and visor. My coach likes to creates nicknames, and mine is OG. This started this summer during conditioning. I turned most of my Ogallala t-shirts into cut offs, and I wore them this summer at conditioning, so he started calling me Ogallala. After a few days he decided that Ogallala was too long, so he started calling me OG. He put me in left field, and it was a three-up three-down inning, and the game was over. We won 19-3.

I started the next game in center field. We I was up to bat, I hit a ball in the gap between second base and center field. They tired to throw me out at one, but it was an over throw, so as I rounded first, coach was yelling, "OG! JimmyJohn! JimmyJohn! Get down on three!" This was not the call I was expecting. JimmyJohn means running first to third with out stopping at all or looking at the ball. We usually use this play with our super fast runners who can slide well, not throwers who just plop on the base without sliding properly. But I did it anyway, and surprisingly, I beat the throw to third, so technically, I hit a triple. The next girl up hit a single, and I was able to score. The next time I was up, I was walked to first, and then stole my way around to third. The next girl up was a freshman, and she had a beautiful hit down the third base line, the only problem was, it drilled me in the ankle. I instantly brought my knee up to my chest and clutched my leg. Through tears I looked down and saw that I was in fair territory. Crap. I was called out, and the freshman was given first base. I was scared to let my foot touch the ground; I seriously was about to hop back to the dug out. I slowly dropped my leg and let it touch the ground. The second that I put weight on it, I fell. The first thing that popped into my head after I fell was "Crap, I'm not going to be able to perform at Fall Kickoff with the Dance Team". I got up, and gimped back to the dug out, and after walking on it for the rest of the inning, I was able to go back into the game. I was so angry at myself because the coaches have told us so many times that when we are on third, we need to do our lead off in foul territory. I did, but I wasn't watching the ball when I started running, I just listened for the CRACK sound of contact, so when I started running towards home, I drifted into fair territory, and then when I realized that it was coming straight for me, I tried to jump, but it was too late. Had I been in foul territory, I would not have been called out, and I would have scored. When I got back to the dug out, my coach said, "Stofer, I have a new nickname for you, OG just isn't working for me." I laughed, "Alright was bizarre name could you possibly have come up with this time?" I was a little surprised at his answer, "Big O!" So now, when ever I do something well, he yells, "Atta Girl, Big O! Big O!" (He holds on to the "Ohhhhh" forever. It is annoying.)

We ended up winning that game 16-3. I feel bad for Platteview, they had no idea what was coming. Fall softball so different than Spring ball and traveling teams, and that is what those girls were used to. Welcome to High School Fall Softball, Platteview High School. Enjoy the ride!

P.S. I will be able to perform at Fall Kick-Off, and I have a an awesome bruise! All of us girls on the softball team compare our bruises, and currently mine is the best! :)

'Tis the Season!

Fall softball season started on Monday, and I am very excited! The first day of practice was kind of difficult, but it always is. It's weird how much you fall out of routine if you haven't done something in awhile. The last time I had played softball before Monday was the week before All State Camp. It was strange. Routine push-threw ground balls were catching me off balance and ill prepared. I forgot all of the little things such as don't turn and burn with your glove in the air, don't say "no cut" if you don't need a cut, 30 means 30... RED LIGHT. These small things that I have been yelled at for biffing up numerous times completely slipped my mind the first day. Thankfully, I was not the only one who let all of these minor yet important details slip my mind. The second practice was definitely better. The general team attitude was a lot lighter, and the coaches didn't have to yell as much. Although, my coaches yell A LOT... and cuss, they like to do that too. Anyway, we were doing an outfield fly ball drill, and I was running after a ball that was soaring high above left field. I didn't think I was going to be able to catch it in the air to get the out, but I kept running anyway. I looked up and noticed that it was starting to drop at a weird angle, so I jumped up in the air to get. I successfully caught it, and in the process fell to the ground. As I stood up the whole team was laughing at me. I asked, "What's so funny?" with a confused expression. As I returned to the line, my friend Shae finally stopped laughing and told me what happened, "It was just so funny because we can totally tell that you are on dance team because you did a perfect leap when you caught the ball. Your back leg was so straight and stiff, and your jump was graceful." This made me start laughing because just last week in Dance Team Practice we took 45 minutes of our time just working on leap technique. I could do a leap in my sleep. (Ha! That rhymes!) Today at practice, I got a home run off of a bunt, which should never EVER happen. (For those of you who don't know, a bunt is when you hit the ball straight to the ground in front of you. A bunt doesn't go more than a few feet in front of home plate.) Anyway, the coaches were pissed. "You just let Annastazia Stofer score a home run off of a bunt! Annastazia Stofer! No offense Annastazia... But seriously girls! She isn't fast at all and you let her score a home run off of a (bleep) bunt!" That ended poorly for the girls that were playing defense, but all the girls on offense were laughing.

Today I marched in the Otoe County Fair Parade. Holy crap. People need to learn how to march, count, and when to chair step. It was terrible. I feel really sorry for Mr. Parde, he is trying so hard, and people aren't working hard in return. That's all I'm going to say about that. After we were done marching, I had to run back to the start of the parade to get in the back of the "Dance Team Truck" and throw candy at small children. It was so much fun, and it is so cool to see how much the little girls look up to us. There was this adorable little girl with poms-poms who came up and hugged my leg! She was adorable, and she had cute curly, bleach blonde hair!

With the start of softball season also comes the start of school. Tomorrow is the first day, and I am actually excited to back into a normal routine. As for homework and studying... not so much.

Be Thou My Vision

I've probably mentioned this before, but Be Thou My Vision is by far my favorite hymn. (The old version, not the up beat new version with the different melody...). We sang it today in church, and it was wonderful because the orchestra is back from their "summer break". It was also amazing because Mr. Boehr was leading worship, and not the new young guy. Mr. Boehr is so awesome, he is so smart and he is so dedicated to the Lord. I noticed something about the orchestra today that I don't think I have noticed before. If you have ever watched someone play violin, you will notice that they usually lean or rock back and forth a lot. Well today during the big crescendo came during Be Thou My Vision, the entire violin section leaned at the same time, some of them were practically falling out of their chairs. I don't know why I found this so funny, I mean, I'm sure it happens with other orchestras. I want to join orchestra so bad, but I really don't think that I am good enough. All of the instruments either have microphones attached to them, or attached to their stands. That means no wrong notes, that also means that if I randomly stop playing they are going to turn my mic up which means my playing will be exposed even more. One of the oboe players broke her wrist or arm or finger or some sort of arm part last year, which opened up a spot, but I was too scared to try to take her place. This morning we also sang What a Savior by Laura Story. My friend Kaylee was standing next to me, she poked me and said, "It's your solo!". During the chorus Kaylee  and Lauren sang their respective Soprano 2 part, and I sang the Alto part. It wasn't the same as singing it in Girls Choir, but it was still good.

This evening I went to Nicole's wedding. Nicole is Kara's older sister, and she is my adopted older sister. She has been my role model since Kara and I became friends in like first grade. She is beautiful on the inside and out, and she loves the Lord. Nicole used to be our Nanny, so after spending entire summers with her, we became very close. (She could tell you numerous horror stories about babysitting us; we were very naughty children. One time we locked her out of the house for about half an hour. Let's just say I had trouble sitting down for a couple of days after the spanking we got from Dad that night. Ouch. It hurts just thinking about it.) It was weird to see her standing up there with her new husband. To me, she always be teenager-Nicole, not newly married Nicole. She was a major factor in my choice to become a Nurse. She will graduate from Creighton University School of Nursing this year. It's just strange to think that just a few years ago she was driving us to the pool, making us lunch, making sure we didn't kill each other, making sure we got our chores done, cleaning up our scrapes, cuts, and other "owies", and now she has to babysit her husband. Time has flown by. Nicole will always be like my older sister, and I can't wait to witness her pursue her walk by faith with her new husband.

Official... I guess?

This week I have been helping out with Jr. High Band Camp, and upon my arrival at home after band camp on Monday, my Momma had some pretty exciting news. The sale of our house has been finalized, the closing day is September 12th! We set the closing day for the house in Unadilla for September 12th as well. Mom also said that on September 12th we will leave for school from our house here, but when we go home we will go home to the house in Unadilla. I am excited, but I am worried about moving during the school year. The first time I moved, I had two weeks to get my room organized before school, the second time I had an entire summer, and now I will only have a few hours when I get home (after school and softball practice). I have not actually seen the inside of this house, so I am a little curious as to what it is like. Momma told me that my room is the smallest because they had to give Rudy the biggest room because he is going to have to get a super long bed because he is going to be so flipping tall. Today when we were shopping Mom and I were talking about my room colors and decorations and such. I'm not a fan of a lot of decorative items, I think they just make rooms look cluttered. I am a big fan of simplicity. Momma and I decided that my colors are going to be yellow and grey. Ideas were flowing through both of our heads about verses that can be put on the walls and a hamper to match my blanket and an antique desk that we are going to paint and use and such. But then I pointed out that I would be moving out in two years anyway, so why put so much effort in to it. This created a dreary awkward silence, but then Momma said that it would be worth it even for the short amount of time.

I am very excited for our new house, except for one thing... it is in town. We are NOT town people. We yell, we fight, we walk around in minimal clothing, we are obnoxious, we are messy, we are Stofers! It will be interesting to see how this all works out. I can guarantee that the cops will be called at some point. Our neighbors are going to hate us. There is a reason that we live at least a mile from all possible neighbors and surround our house with a tree line. Also, the house only has a two car garage... that won't work with our 5 and 1/2 vehicles. (Rudy's pick-up currently is not able to be driven yet, so I only count that as half of a vehicle. It's so funny to watch him try to work on that thing. Last week he was out there almost the entire day just cleaning up rat poop and removing some gas tanky thingy. That thing seems to complicated to actually fix.) It's not going to be an easy adjustment, but I am excited that I will only have to drive 5 miles to school! That cuts off at least 30 minutes of driving time per day. It will be wonderful, and maybe then my parents will stop nagging me about my gas bill. Some kids fear the day when their phone bill comes in the mail... I, on the other hand, fear the day when my gas bill comes in the mail. It usually ends in catastrophe, and by catastrophe, I mean a lot of chores. On the bright side, school starts this week! Only two more years!

Defying Social Standards

I have been thinking a lot about stereotypes, defying social standards, and social status lately. If you haven't noticed, I am not a stereotypical teenage girl. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I do not tan into a perfect golden brown color in the summer. I enjoy going to church to learn more about my Lord and Savoir. I have straight A's, and it will stay that way all through High School and College. I desire to serve people, which is why I want to become a Nurse. I am not stick thin, nor will I ever be. I don't go to wild parties, in fact the parties I do go to can't even be called parties, they are "Nerd Gatherings". My hair will never be perfectly straight; I will always wake up in the morning with an Afro. I despise school dances, yet force myself to go to them anyway. I am respectful to my peers, teachers, and other such elders. I do not date, and I am not on a man hunt. I would rather write in my journal or read a sappy romance novel then talk on the phone or waste time on the computer. I do not strive for popularity, first of all it is stupid to set your mind to something like that, second of all I am pretty sure popularity is unreachable for me. I say stupid things, and my mouth usually speaks before my brain can process whether I should say it or not. I am in LOVE with Math and English. I flea from any potential drama. I love singing and dancing, but when those two actions are combined, it usually ends in some sort of catastrophe. I love to use large words, and it makes me even more happy when I have to explain what said words mean to other people. Country music puts me to sleep every night, and every night before I go to bed, I sing my All-State scales and arpeggios. I guess what I am trying to say is... I'm not a normal high school aged girl, and I feel like there is always a lot of peer pressure to conform to social standards, but I don't want to. I don't want to become a typical, robotic, snotty, drama-infested girl. I have watched far too many girls fall into the social standards, it really makes me sad.

I guess the main reason I have been thinking a lot about this stuff is because this year I am defying social standards in many ways. This year I am going to be on Dance Team, usually only popular people are on Dance Team. I am not in any way, shape, or form popular, and I don't want to be. I also made Student Council, which is a total popularity contest. I am just a little nervous about this year. Everyone always says that Junior year is the hardest. I believe it. This year my math class, College Algebra, counts as college credit. If I screw that up, I am already hindering my chances of being successful in college. I also opted to take the hardest science class available for Juniors... Chemistry. I am not very good at anything science related except for human anatomy type stuff. In fact, I died a little inside when I found out that I will have to take Chemistry in college to become a nurse. It's not going to be easy. I am also worried  about my ACT. My parents have made it very clear that they have no intention of paying my way through college, so I need to have a good ACT score as well as my 4.0 GPA. I told myself that I was going to take it blindly the first time and not study at all, but I have changed my mind. I have been taking practice tests and studying like crazy. I have been praying a lot about all of this, but especially upholding my testimony through all of this. This year will definitely be a test of faith. I really need to stop worrying. The Lord's will will be done. I just need to pursue my walk by faith.

Unsightly Photos... Level: Stofer

So my mother was going through some rather recent photos, and she pointed out all of the ones that I look yucky or stupid in... there were a lot of them. Normal people would be embarrassed, but I'm not normal and neither is my family.

 

This is probably my favorite. Ahh Christmas card pictures... You see, we never actually send out Christmas Cards. Mom always forgets, and by the time she remembers it is too late. One of these years we will actually get them sent, hopefully before I graduate. Anyway, we go through the same routine every freaking time we take a sibling picture. No one can hold still. Someone is always blinking. The cat/dog/rabbit intrudes. (You can't see him, but our little rabbit Haas was hopping around on the floor in front of us. He was wearing his pink harness, and we felt that he was important enough to be in our sibling picture.) Mom has the camera messed up. Mom can't get the right angle. We are laughing at someone's bodily function whether it be a fart, burp, sneeze, or any combination of the three. And in this case especially, we make funny faces at Mom to piss her off because we are tired of sitting there. There is a quite hilarious story behind the conversation that went on right before this picture was taken, but all four of us have sworn to secrecy. Just know that it is quite embarrassing.

This is the "Like Father Like Daughter" picture. You see I am always VERY tired on Sunday afternoons. It just seems like a perfect nap time. On this particular Sunday afternoon, I was supposed to be folding clothes, and Dad was supposed to be working on his little fire report thingy, but as you can see, neither of those things are getting done. Why? Because we Stofers can fall asleep any time in any place. Some people think it's weird, but I think it's a gift. (Except for when you fall asleep some place silly like on a cement pad in front of a barn or on the deck because in those instances, you get really bad sunburns... Yes, I know this from experience.) Notice that we were both too lazy to even change out of our church clothes. 

This one was taken a few weeks after Dad moved back to our Eastern Nebraska house to work on the Omaha Fire Department again. Mom and the four of us were still living in Ogallala to finish up the school year. We went out to eat, and Mom said "Kids, scrunch together so I can take a nice picture and send it to your father." Yup, this our idea of a nice picture. It's too bad that the camera cut off Rudy's face in this picture. That was quite the sight. Notice my Grandpa in the background trying to grab his stuff and get out of there before people thought that he was related to us. Not really, but that's what I would do.

"Annastazia and Rudy! Look over here so I can take your picture!" "No, Mom, you have taken enough pictures." 3 minutes later... "Mom you have taken at least 20 pictures can we be done yet?" "Alright now you've done it. You've pissed me off. I'm deleting all of them, and after that I'm only going to take one picture, so you had better make it good." This is what we chose to look like in said final picture. I was laughing so hard that I was almost crying. In our defense, we had just gotten done with 20 minutes worth of family Easter photos, and that was a long and irritating experience for all of us, including those of us who did not get breakfast and were eagerly awaiting Easter Lunch. For some reason my family is incapable of taking decent pictures. Now I realized that the majority of this problem could be fixed by the four of us being more patient and understanding, but Mom is such a difficult person to deal with when she is behind a camera. It's a very good thing that she is a pharmacist and not a photographer. Holy cow. That would be bad. I could go on and on with unsightly Stofer pictures, but I will save you the anguish.

Band Camp Day 1: Danielle!

I could not sleep last night, I had far too many things on my mind. Things that shouldn't keep me awake at night, things that are completely out of my control. So it was no surprise that I slept through all 10 of my alarms. (They start at 5:30 and go off every five minutes until the time that I need to get up, which is 6:15.) My Momma came in my room right before she left for work and kindly said, "It's 6:30! Get your lazy butt out of bed or you are going to be late for softball!" I was so tired. Thankfully I didn't have to do much to get ready, and I was out of the house by 6:41. (Not a record, but pretty close.) For softball conditioning we did all kinds of sprints and agility exercises in the gym because it was raining outside. (I voted for running in the rain, but some girls where complaining about how they might mess up their hair or smear their make-up. Puh-lease. It is conditioning, not a flipping fashion show.) After conditioning, we went into the weight room, and us band people did a shortened workout so that we could get out of there in time for band camp at 9.

As I walked into the band room, I was quite disappointed. It already smelled like BO. Yuck. We started with sectionals. Sectionals really make me mad. Flutes go with the clarinets, but the clarinet section leaders just mess around the entire time. They won't even count off or clap off, which irritates me to no end. There are only two flutes this year, and my flute-mate was at a volleyball camp. So just like all of our July rehearsals, I took over the little sectional shin-dig. I was in the middle of a 12 count count-off when the door opened and Danielle came in! Danielle graduated this year, and she is amazing! Everyone always says that I am the blonde version of her. Anyway, we are great friends, and I was so happy to see her. I kept counting off as she walked by, and she petted the top of my head and said, "That's my girl!". She was definitely the senior that I looked up to the most last year. We spent sooo many hours together practicing choir music and preparing for All State. We even had an "Alto 2 females who are trying out for All-State" cookie stash in the desk in Poe's old office. Ms. Poe would let us go in there during class and practice All-State stuff because she knew that we knew our regular choir music well enough. She was our choir president this year, so she gave a speech at the end of the year music banquet. The way she gave her speech was pretty neat. The basic idea of it was to show how much we procrastinate, but it also recapped the entire year. I enjoyed it. Anyway, after the speech she came up to me and hugged me and said, "I wanted so much to include in my speech that the only reason the four of us made All-State was because of you, but I figured that would look kind of bad because you didn't make it." I laughed and then we were both sobbing. We both cried a lot throughout the year.

After sectionals we had lunch and then did circuits. I love doing circuits! It's so much fun to teach all of the little freshman all of the commands and calls and fundamentals and such. After that we ventured out into the rain to do more fundamental stuff. I had a pretty decent conversation with John about recent problems and such on the way down to the field. After field fundamentals we ventured into parade marching. We were practicing our ending chair step on the cement, which was quite difficult because the road was covered in water. After that we marched back to the field to do our drill down. I was doing quite well until Mr. Parde threw in the delayed "hut" after "Right Flank". It get's me every time. I didn't leave school until around 3:15, and frankly, I was ready to get out of there.

After supper, I discovered something not so good. I have Pink Eye. Yucky. It is a very uncomfortable feeling, it's disgusting. I hope the eye drops make it better soon. Looks like I will be wearing my "bug eye" glasses for a while. Wonderful.

Moving On, Not Letting Go

My grandparents took their house off of the market, they were not pleased with their real estate agent, and were getting frustrated. But last week they got a call from the real estate agent that they had fired. He said that he had a couple that was  really interested in their house and wanted to know if he could show it. They said yes, and after two showings, this couple made an offer on the house, and on Friday my grandparents and this couple came to an agreement. So that's it. The house is sold. The closing date is sometime in mid-October. We were on our way to the bridal shower of a girl who used to be our nanny when Momma told me this. At first I was VERY excited. I miss Grandma and Grandpa sooo much. It was so awesome to live so close to them, and I want them to be close to us again. Moving away from them was VERY difficult. Then Momma said something that really upset me. She said, "And now that they'll be out of Ogallala we can finally bring that chapter of our lives to a close. We really don't have any good reason to go back there as often as we do now." I was so upset, and then I said something very stupid and rude, I even tried to convince myself not to say it. So as tears and sobs were emitting, I practically yelled, "That's easy for you to say, you didn't have to leave the most amazing friends you have ever had behind." I regretted saying that the instant it came out of my mouth. I felt terrible. Those words tasted like vinegar as they came out of my mouth. I vented to her for the next half hour about how I feel like I am loosing my best friends. I only get to see them once every couple of months or so. Out of sight out of mind. It happens. This isn't the first time I've moved away from friends. Although, this is the first time that I have maintained contact and closeness with a group of friends post-moving. Last week I was able to spend a few days with some of them at All State Choir Camp at UNK. At the first meal I turned to Syd and said, "I've forgotten what it's like to be with all of you guys for more than a couple of hours at a time." It's true. I always feel a little out of the loop, a little like an outsider. And maybe it's because I am an outsider. I don't know. My family is ready to move on and forget that our little Ogallala Adventure even happened. I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Yes, it ended badly, yes it put us in a lot of struggles, yes it was a definite test of faith, but God had us move out there for a reason. I truly believe it. I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know when I will see my friends again. Mom says we will be making a lot of trips on the weekends out to help Grandma and Grandpa pack and to get the tractor and to clean out our last storage unit, but starting labor day weekend I have either a softball tournament or a marching competition on every weekend until State Marching Competition (which is October 26th), so I don't even know if I will get to go along. I knew this transition would happen eventually, but I didn't think it would happen so soon. It's amazing to me how I can plan things out in my head as to the way I want them to go, but God comes along and does His will. That's my pray and plea, that His will will be done through this entire situation, that I would have faith and turn my worries over to Him. As for right now, I will pursue my walk by faith.

"Therefore Comma"

When I was going into sixth grade, our school bought a new type of reading curriculum. Each of us had to go through a series of tests to see where we would be placed. They had three different levels for each grade, and some of the levels overlapped with grades above us and below us. My sixth grade class was split into three different reading groups. My tests went very well... except for one... Reading Out-loud. My score was terrible on this. For some reason, when I would read out-loud, I would mess up so many words. I would glance ahead to see what happens next, and then I would loose my place and get frustrated, this frustration would cause me to switch words around, drop them out, or add completely new words. As my frustration increased, it became more and more difficult for me to read. It was very embarrassing. I would always get called on to read because I was a "nerdy smart person", and I would always be so embarrassed that I couldn't read eloquently like the rest of the nerds. My teachers could never understand it. I was proficient in all other places except for this. If I was reading in my head, I could read books that were two or three years above my "level" and my scores on those tests were nearly perfect. But because of my inability to read out-loud fluently, I was put in the lowest level in my grade. In fact, when I was in sixth grade and Rudy was in fourth grade, we were taking the same reading class. He was ahead, and I was behind. It really frustrated me because if you were in the lowest level reading class, you had to stay in that level for Language Arts and Spelling as well. I hated sitting through those classes. It is so frustrating when you know the answer by heart and someone else doesn't get it at all so the teacher has to keep revisiting the subject. (If you have been around me enough, you know that I cannot say the words "therefore or however" without saying the word "comma" after it. This is because in my language class people would forget to write the comma, so when we were speaking out-loud my teacher would make us say the word "comma". Unfortunately, that stuck with me, and I can't seem to break that habit. It's not necessarily a bad habit, it is just annoying to other people.) I was so frustrated. The summer between sixth and seventh grade, I decided that I was not going to be in that lower level class, so I worked really hard on reading out-loud. I read everything out-loud: signs, books, magazines, the TV, anything and everything. (This is also another habit that I formed.) I had a lot of down time that summer after my four wheeler wreck that ended in a broken arm, so I would go to the library every other day to get new books. When we went to take the tests the first week of school my seventh grade year, I passed out of the lowest level! I was so happy. I still to this day, cringe a little when I am asked to read out-loud, I still don't feel as if I can read eloquently, but it is WAY better than it was when I was in elementary school. It's amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.

House/Job Relocation Update

About a month ago while I was at High School Camp in Missouri, my Momma got a call from a new hospital in Kearney. They had somehow heard about how she had set up the entire pharmacy under a director position for the Syracuse Hospital, and they wanted her to do the same for their new hospital. So that Thursday Momma called me and the first thing out of her mouth was, "What do you think about moving to Kearney?" I started crying. I didn't want to move again. That would have been my 3rd high school, and my 4th new school. She went to the interview the week after, and they offered her the job and more than what my parents make combined for a salary. So they started looking into options. If we were going to move to Kearney, Dad would have to stay with the Omaha Fire Department for five more years until he can retire. (Technically he "retired" from the department when we moved to Ogallala, but that is a long and confusing story.) So if we were to move to Kearney, Dad would have to get an apartment in Omaha, and stay in Omaha for one week and then in Kearney for another week. This really upset me. I hate when Dad's not around, we don't function properly without the entire family. I didn't want to go to a huge Kearney school, so Mom and I started looking into Private Schools in the area. Kearney Catholic was the only one we could find. We didn't even talk to Dad about that one... the answer would have been something like "Over my dead body." So Kearney Public it was... I looked into it, they don't even have a softball team! I was angry. I would have had to quit Dance Team and Student Council here in Syracuse, and I would have to leave my wonderful church. I really struggled with having faith during this whole situation. There were so many nights of crying myself to sleep. I didn't read my bible at all during that whole week. Finally one night I broke down completely I was so ashamed that I wasn't having faith and that I wasn't in the Word. I prayed and read like crazy the next two weeks. After Mom and Dad got back from Minnesota (they went to go pick up our new camper), they called a family meeting. (I was scared. The last time we had a family meeting was the night that the City Council decided to "eliminate the fire chief position". It was the night that Dad told us that there was a very slim chance that we would stay in Ogallala.) Anyway... Dad announced that they had decided that we were not going to move to Kearney. He said that it would put Mom in too much of a "family leader role", and that he didn't want to put any of us into a situation where our family wasn't being held together in a biblical way. They also announced that we received an offer on our house. However, the sale was contingent on the buyers selling their house. So we are waiting for that to happen! We have finally found a house that would work for our family. The main problem with this house is that it is in town. We are NOT town people. We are loud and obnoxious. There is a reason that we live way out in the country with our acreage surrounded by a thick tree line. This house is in the town of Unadilla, which is just five miles west of Syracuse. It is closer to church, closer to school, and closer to Omaha for Dad. So we are just waiting on the sale of our buyer's house.Through this whole thing I have learned that I need to make sure that I am turning all of my worries over to the Lord, and putting my complete faith in Him. I also need to make sure that I stay in the Word when things like this come up. Thankfully, I have wonderful people in my life who encourage me to do these things on a daily basis. I am very thankful for those amazing people.

Time Really Does Fly

Sometimes I sit and think about how simple things used to be. No major responsibilities, no major chores, no major decisions to make. It seems like these past years have flown by. It seems like just a couple days ago I was walking into Daycare at BryanLGH, or walking into kindergarten at Sterling, or fourth grade at Syracuse, or eight grade at Ogallala, or even tenth grade at Syracuse. If you think about it, our lives are filled with many "firsts" that are most of the time repeated. Maybe it's the repetition that makes these special days fly by. I'm going to a junior next year. A junior! I thought I would never make it to high school, and now I am going to be an upperclasswoman. I drive by myself. I'm getting ready to take my ACT. I am going to get a job soon. It seems like I am too young to be doing all of this stuff, when in reality, the time is at hand. I can remember my 13th birthday. I was expecting a drastic change. I was going from a child to a teenager, yet I never felt that instant change. Sometimes I feel like I should still be hiding under the teacher's desk in kindergarten class. College is only two years away. That is insane. I was really excited when I got my first letter from a college this winter, but they just kept coming and coming, and it started to upset me. There are so many decisions and choices to make. I don't feel like I am old enough to be looking into colleges and their different Nursing and Music programs. The more I look into what is to come and reflect on what has already happened, I just feel old. Rudy will be driving and in High School, and Izzy is going into Junior High. It's insane! I swear just yesterday Izzy rode her bike into an open tailgate (that's how we found out that she needed glasses...), and just yesterday Rudy was outside riding his little pedal tractor butt naked after escaping from Mom after bath time. Where has the time gone?

There is also another side to this. Our time here on this earth is very VERY short. Soon we will spend eternity with our awesome God. One thing that really gets on my nerves is when people ask "How's life?". I know it's a kind gesture and such, but it really annoys me. My usual response is, "Compared to an eternity in heaven with our Lord??? Short and dull." I usually get some strange looks from people, but hey, it's the truth. It's also a great way to introduce the gospel. Anyway, moral of this story: Life is short, use every possible second to share the gospel and bring praise and glory to our God.

Team Illg!

If you would have gone to the Triathlon in Ogallala yesterday, you would have seen this crazy team of family members walking around. This is starting to become a bit of a yearly family get together. It started with just Mom and Robin, now it has grown a little and is expected to grow more. Breaking down the teams a little more... 64: I ran, and Momma swam and biked. (She was going to do the whole thing, but her doctor said that her hip was too messed up to run. However, swimming and biking is actually good for her hip. She is expecting a hip replacement soon.) 58: My Momma's cousin Robin did the entire Triathlon! She did amazing. I call her Aunt Robin even though she technically isn't my aunt. 122- Darwyn biked. (He is Robin's Dad.) Jim swam. (He is my Mom's uncle.) Jackie ran. (She is married to Darwyn.)

Jackie and I get a long quite well. She is a lot like my Grandma. Saturday morning, we were looking at old pictures of my Grandma from when she was a teenager. They held them up to me and had me smile, meanwhile, every jaw in the room dropped. "Holy cow! She is a blonde version of Brenda! (Insert Illg laugh here.)" Ahh the Illg laugh... Friday night before Syd came over, all of us were sitting in the living room talking before we had to make supper. This happens every time all of us Illg women get together. People start yelling at each other across the room, making everyone else talk (and laugh) louder, and then we some how all end up doing the Illg laugh at the end. And then the entire process starts over again. It's just the way my family is. Another thing that always goes down when the Illgs get together is a big drinking fest. My Aunt Jackie walked in the house with a fairly large box full of alcoholic beverages. This annoys me to no end. After supper, we were sitting in the family room talking about plotting Grandma and Grandpa's 50th Anniversary next year. Sassy Uncle Jim practically yelled, "What about booze? Annastazia can provide that!" I rolled my eyes at the half drunk man, "That is illegal Uncle Jim, and you don't need anymore." As Jim, Judy, Jackie, and Darwyn left Grandma's house on Friday night to go to their hotel, I yelled at Uncle Jim, "Hey! No more alcohol for you tonight, Mister! You need to be able to swim in a straight line tomorrow morning." He thought this was funny and continued to stumble out the door.

The Triathlon was a lot of fun! I was able to talk to a lot of people that I had not seen in a long time, as well as joke around with my family about how bad we were all going to do. I waited until Mom was about half way through her bike ride to start getting ready to run, but I got distracted by talking to someone. I just happened to look over awhile later and see Mom coming around the corner, ready to enter the exchange zone. I ran over to the area and helped her rack her bike. She pinned the number on my shirt while I strapped on the ankle timer, and then I took off. I was feeling good for the first couple of blocks. It was quite enjoyable. I was trying to count the blocks to see how far I had gone, but I forgot how many city blocks made up a mile. It's easy to tell how far I have gone when I am running at home because each section is a mile, but city blocks have to be all complicated. I started getting a strange pain in my ankle. I couldn't figure out what it was, and then it popped into my head. A couple months ago, I was talking to Evan's Mom and she said that she did most of her half marathon training on gravel, and when she got to the actual race, her joints killed from running on the cement. I thought she was crazy. If anything, gravel would be more rough to run on. I was wrong. I finally made it to the turn around spot, but as I was looping around the street, I rolled my stupid ankle. I. Am. So. Clumsy. The run back was way worse. I only had to walk for one block, so I was happy about that. The last three blocks were the worst, but thankfully I finished.

In Sunday School today my friend Carlie looked at my arm and asked, "What happened???" I looked at my arm, "Oh, my number didn't quite wash off from the triathlon yesterday." She giggled, "I thought it was a bruise!"..... I rolled my eyes, "Yes, Carlie, because most bruises are in the shape of the number 64." And she calls me the dumb one...

By the way, I successfully made it through the entire weekend with out any of my friends hearing my Illg laugh. Mine isn't as bad as Jackie's or Mom's, but holy cow, it is annoying. Syd was so mad that she didn't get to hear it, I was relieved.

Car Problems... Yuck.

I swear all things that have to do with vehicles hate me and are out to get me and make me look stupid. This morning I got in my little jackwagon car around 6:30 to go to softball conditioning/weights/batting practice/band/dance team practice. I pushed in the clutch and put it into gear, but as I pulled forward, I heard and awkward scratchy/screech noise. At first I thought that I had run over the gutter pipe thing, but as I got out to see what it was, I was a little shocked. It was the dog's water bowl. It is a big metal one  about the size of my tire, and it was wedged up in there. It took me forever to get that thing out. I had to claw off tons and tons of clumps of mud and dirt to loosen it. This made me late, so I didn't get a full warm up in before I had to go run deathly relays for softball conditioning. After weights, I got in my car and drove to the other side of the school for band rehearsal. After rehearsal, I went to take my flute, piccolo, and "Flutist Friend" (or as Syd and I used to call it "Flutist Enemy") out to my car before Dance Team Rehearsal. My friend John was parked in front of me, so we were walking together. I asked him to hold all of my stuff while I got my keys out of my Roo. He said something snotty like, "As long as I don't have to hold your stupid fanny pack thing." Some people just don't understand the "Roo" trend. They are glorified fanny packs, but they are very practical. I love mine, and I use it all of the time. Anyway, so I couldn't find my keys in my Roo, then I look in my window. My keys were sitting right in front of the shifter where I had left them. I started freaking out. My mother had the other set of keys, and she was an hour away in Beatrice working at the hospital there. AAA wasn't an option because my parents haven't added me to the plan thingy yet. Thankfully my wonderful Grandmother was on her way into Syracuse to pick up Izzy from weights. Bless her heart, she drove all the way to Cortland (15 minutes north of Beatrice) to meet my mother to get my keys from her and then drove all the way back to Syracuse to give them to me before Dance Team Practice was over. I was so embarrassed.

Fireflies

Thursday was almost a perfect night. It wasn't too hot, but it was warm enough. It wasn't humid, but it wasn't bone dry. We anxiously awaited the sunset so that we could light off fireworks. Gregory had a nice bonfire ablaze, and we all had sticky marshmallow fingers and faces. I looked over towards our front yard and saw a bunch of fireflies flying around. It had been at least a year since I had gotten a jar out and chased after those awesome little creatures. I had a sudden urge to act like a complete child and run around trapping innocent bugs in a jar, so I did. I only managed to catch two before Daddy lit off the first firecracker. I asked Momma what I should name them. I was thinking about two deeply profound names, such as Frank and Bob. (That was sarcasm, by the way...), but she had something better in mind. "How about Hypoxia and Malnutrition? Because that is what they are going to die of quite soon if you don't get them out of that jar." I instantly fell in love with those names, and then proceeded to the house to stab the lid with a knife to help cure the hypoxia situation. To help fix the malnutrition problem, I put a couple blades of grass, some popcorn, and a marshmallow in the jar. About 5 minutes later, an ingenious thought popped into my head. (Also sarcasm...) I thought that Hypoxia and Malnutrition might get thirsty, so I dumped some of my lemonade into the bottom of the jar. Bad. Idea. I drowned Hypoxia and Malnutrition! They were dead! My Grandmother was laughing at me and my extreme disappointment. I eventually laughed along with her after I dumped out my jar of lemonade, marshmallow, grass, popcorn, and two dead fireflies. This is why I do not take care of any of our pets. End of story.

The 4th of July

It's a bit of a strange holiday. Most people don't see it as a "Religious Holiday" ( for lack of a better word, relationship trumps religion, I know... I know...), but it is in every way. On the 4th of July we celebrate our freedom from Great Britain, but who made that happen? We celebrate all of the freedoms and natural rights that we are given, but who allowed those to happen? We celebrate all of our country's leaders, but who gave those people their power? Certainly no human could do this, it was our wonderful God. We are blessed beyond measure to be able to freely worship and serve our God with out severe persecution. In some countries if you are caught praising God or carrying a bible, you could be thrown in prison, beaten, or even killed. It is always encouraging and a little convicting to think about this. Would I be brave enough to carry a bible and share the gospel in a country like this? I'd like to think the answer is yes, but I have never been in a situation like that. It would definitely be the ultimate test of faith. So, today as you grill out with your families, or go camping, or set off fireworks, or light huge bonfires with like six hay bails and two containers of gasoline (...Gregory...), keep in mind who provided you with this wonderful country, our abundant freedoms, and our leaders.

Psalm 149:1

This is late as well... I'm seeing a bit of a pattern here...

On July 20-23, I had the wonderful opportunity to minister to the cities of Kansas City and St. Louis with my Girls Choir. It was the first "Girls Choir St. Louis Tour", and I have to say that our prayers were answered and we were blessed beyond measure with the ability to minister.

Thursday the 20th: Momma, Izzy, Elle, and I all had to be to church around 6:30. Momma went as a sponsor, and because she usually drives our beast, she was nominated to drive one of the vans. Due to a problem with one of the batteries, we got a late start. We stopped at a park to eat lunch and to change into our not-so attractive blue Girls Choir t-shirts. Then we went to Legends mall and did a little shopping. My friend Lauren and I were in Forever 21, and we stumbled upon the bikini section. I laughed and said, "Yea, though I walk through the section of the yucky bikinis, I will fear no evil, for I know that I am not supposed to expose my body in such ways." She thought that was funny. (Bible humor... anyway.) Our whole choir gathered around the fountain in the middle of the mall, and I started a Girls Choir Flash mob. It was quite entertaining. We sang one of our African American Gospel type songs. After that we loaded the vans and headed to St. Louis. After driving through a mass of all traffic craziness, we found our hotel. Everyone was cranky and honestly needed to go straight to bed. When we got into the hotel, we found out that we had 8 rooms reserved, and that they were spread out all over the building, which annoyed my director. Originally there was supposed to be one adult sponsor, and about 5 girls in each room, but my room got messed up. Somehow we got two smaller rooms instead of one big room, so they split us up. Jayne (our pianist... the adult) was in a room with Lauren and Cassie, and Kara, LeeAnn, and I got a room all to ourselves. That night, all three of us went to go work out, it was amazing! The thing I love about working out is that it sucks while you are doing it, but after it's over, you feel amazing. We didn't get to bed until at least 1:00 in the morning.

Friday the 21st: Purple "Girls Choir Tour" T-Shirt day! It was also Victoria's Birthday. We sang to her after breakfast and devotions. It was sketch at best. Our director gave us a strange starting pitch, so half of the choir started on the note that she gave us, and the other half sang it with the usual starting pitch. We were only half way through the first line when our director yelled, "Girls! Don't ever sing Happy Birthday in a parallel fifth again! Bach just rolled over in his grave!" And with that we left to go sing at a nursing home. After that, we went to the City Museum. That place is creepy. It's like a childish playground for adults. It is so strange. Don't get me wrong, it was quite amazing, but it was so cluttered and crazy. Just as we were about to leave, Teresa (our director) told us to line up in our performance rows, and we sang about half of our entire concert in the lobby. There were so many people asking about us and asking who we represent. There were so many people in that lobby who heard the gospel in that short amount of time. It was amazing. After that we went to sing at another nursing home. Our poor pianist, Jayne, had to use a squatty 4 octave piano. It was funny to watch her because she kept tapping her foot and searching for the pedal, but there wasn't one, and she kept reaching for the lower octaves, but they weren't there either. After we were done singing, we went around and greeted the residents. They were all very kind and talkative. I shook one lady's hand and introduced myself. She smiled and kindly replied, "I am deaf, but I can read your lips." I asked her all kinds of questions, and I found out that she was born deaf, and her parents sent her to a school for deaf children. She learned how to talk and read lips here. She doesn't use sign language very often. She continued to tell me that her husband lost his hearing at the tender age of six, and that they were married for over 60 years when he died. She wears his ashes around her neck in a gold heart necklace. As she was telling her story, I felt tears swelling, but the last statement was what made my tears burst, "Keep making beautiful music to the Lord. He is being praised through the talent that he gave each one of you." I thanked her and told her goodbye. As I was walking out of the nursing home, Jeff (Lauren's Dad) put his arm around me and he was crying. He said, "Annastazia, your solo was beautiful. It made me cry, and not many things make me cry." This of course made me cry harder. When we got back to the hotel, we had a grill-out type supper, and then we went swimming. It is a Girls Choir tradition to play a fierce game of "Chicken" while in the pool. I paired up with Kara's little sister, Jessie. She got up on my shoulders, and we were the champions! We knocked everyone down! This picture was taken at the perfect moment. This is right after we had won, and Jessie's face is absolutely hilarious. Later that night, we watched movies, and then went to bed.

Saturday the 22nd: We were allowed to sleep in for a little while, and then after breakfast and devotions, we went to sing at another nursing home. Although, it didn't look like a nursing home... it looked like a rich people resort. It was amazing. The inside was just wonderfully decorated. (We later found out that residents had to pay about $225 per day to stay there.) After we were done singing, we had lunch and then headed to the arch. It took us a while to get there because of traffic and my mother's inability to read directions. Soon after we arrived at the arch and parked the vans, it started raining. Which scared the little girls who were already afraid of going up in the arch. We congregated in the lobby and formed groups of five: one adult, two high school girls, and two younger girls per group. LeeAnn and I were in a group with a sixth grader and a fifth grader. The sixth grader was full of energy; I swear that girl was bouncing off of the walls. The fifth grader was extremely sassy, not rude sassy, just sarcastic. She was so adorable. As we were standing in line with our little number things, I suggested that we start a flash mob. It seemed like the perfect time because a lot of people were getting irritated with waiting. So I started the song like I did the other times, and a few girl had just started to join in when a sophomore bratty girl says, "Are you kidding me? No! We are not five." This really upset me. The only purpose of all of our flash mobs was to bring glory to God, and this girl thought that she was too cool to sing with us. Of course, all of the girls stopped singing after she said this. I continued, hoping that they would join back in, but they didn't. Soon after, they called this girl's group to go down the steps, so I started singing again and this time everyone joined in. It was wonderful. There were a ton of people who walked up to our sponsors and asked about us, which gave the sponsors a chance to share the gospel. Soon after we finished singing, they called our number to go down to the little egg looking elevators that took us too the top. It was creepy. I hated how the little egg looking thing tilted back and forth. It scared me. The two little girls were freaking out. I thought I was going to throw up. I was very relieved when we got to the top. It was cool to look out the windows during the storm because the lightning was just beautiful. The ride back down the elevator was much more pleasant than the ride up. Back at the hotel, we had supper, and then retreated to our rooms after a quite vicious game of spoons. Lauren, Cassie, and LeeAnn pulled a prank on Kara and I by messing up our stuff and steeling our pillows and such. So we took Lauren and LeeAnn's phones hostage, and put Frito's in LeeAnn's bed. We also did something quite unmentionable with LeeAnn's toothbrush holder.

Sunday the 23rd: We had to be out of our rooms with everything pack and breakfast eaten by 7:30. It was insane. We loaded the trailer and vans, but as we were about to leave, our director was frantically running around to the vans saying that she had lost her music. She asked if any of us had ours. I was the only one out of the entire choir who had my music with me. I had brought my All-State music to look at along the way, and I keep all of my choir music in one big folder (I really need to clean it out. I still have last years All-State music and scales in there...). I finally found all of our songs, and then Jim yelled from his car, "I found it!". I sighed deeply. All that work of sorting through the mass of all music folders for nothing. After our little crisis was averted, we headed out for Hope Bible Church. Upon arrival we lined up in our rows and got ready for sound/microphone checks. Soon it was time for my solo mic check. I walked out of the choir loft down to where I was supposed to stand. I grabbed the mic. Besides the choir, there were only about 20 people in the room. The first line of my solo went great, but then I completely blanked and forgot the second line. I was ready to come back in for the third line, but Gail and my mother where laughing so hard that I messed up again, and it was a complete loss. I got yelled at hard core. Teresa was ticked. I got the "You are a leader in this choir. The least I ask of you is that you remember the words to the solo you have been practicing and performing all year long." speech. After mic checks we had twenty minutes to go to the bathroom (and recite solo words) before church started. Our performance was great! I remembered all of the words! The sermon was amazing. It was about the purpose of music in worship. I have heard everything he said before, but the way he delivered it was excellent. After the sermon we had lunch at the church, and then made a surprise stop at Starbucks! As we were ordering, and elderly lady asked about us, and when she was informed that we were a girls choir, she wanted us to sing, so we sang for her. Then she asked if we would all sing as we were walking out the door, so we sang the chorus of Make My Life a Song, which is kind of our "theme song" this year. We reloaded the vans, and then headed home. I didn't get home until well after ten. I was so happy to be home.

"Sing to the Lord a new song!" Psalm 149:1

IHCC High School Camp 2013

This is extremely late...

I have spent this whole week (a couple of weeks ago actually) at a camp outside of Shell Knob, Missouri off of Table Rock Lake. It was so beautiful down there. I would wake up every morning to look at the sunrise and the first thing that would pop into my head was Psalm 46:10, "Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Although as I was growing up in Awana, I always learned it as, "Be still and know that I am God....".

Monday the 10th: I was supposed to leave my house at 4:30 in the morning so that I could be to church at 5:15 to load music equipment into the music trailer, but that didn't happen. I woke up at 4:20, and I still had some packing to do. I ended up leaving around 4:50, but I got to our corner and realized that the beast needed fuel, so I had to go 4 miles out of my way to go fill it up. As I was filling up, I realized that I had forgotten my orthopedic shoe inserts sitting on top of the washing machine, so I hurried home grabbed them, and then headed for Lincoln. I arrived around 5:45 to find the music trailer already packed, and the van hooked up to said trailer already full of students. So, I decided to ride with Nick Cole. He is an amazingly godly man, and his granddaughter was in my cabin and Girls of Grace Camp. It took four 15-passenger vans to get us all there. The vans were stereotyped like this: Nick C's Van: all girls; Ryan's Van: all guys (and Kara); Duane's Van: the rich and popular kids; Nick M's Van: most of the band. It's funny because the vans are almost always set up like this. Every trip. We left around 6:30, and then we stopped some where in Missouri for breakfast three hours later. A few hours later we stopped for lunch in Lemar, and then our last stop was about an hour and a half from the camp. The last leg of the trip is the worst. It is hilly and bumpy and curvy. The vans have to constantly speed up and slow down. It did not help my car sickness at all. I thought I was going to blow chunks all over my lap. It was bad. When we got to camp, we had 30 minutes to unpack, and then we had to go do a swim test. After that we had supper, and then a short sermon.

Tuesday the 11th: In the morning I had special music practice. That was a disaster... Okay... Flashback. The week before camp, Megan asked 4 of us junior girls to do a special music song with her. So we set up a practice the day before we left for camp. Before the practice we decided that Kara, Megan, and I would sing harmony and Taysha and Lauren would sing melody. The harmony was too loud, so we moved Megan to melody. The harmony was still too loud, so we moved Kara to melody as well. The harmony was still too loud, so they were constantly telling me to shut up. End flashback. Anyway, at camp two other girls asked to join, but we could only let one join because there were only six microphones. As we were practicing, my friend Nathan was back controlling the sound table. For some reason they gave me the lead mic. As we started the first verse I noticed that I was too loud even though I was holding the mic at least 2 feet from my face. So I cupped my had around the top to magnify my sound and firmly stated, "Nathan! Turn! Me! Down!". He hates when I do that because it scares him, but I think it's funny. Needless to say, he got the message. As we were singing, I noticed that one of the girls was extremely off pitch, so I went back to the sound table and listened to her in the ear thingys. It was terrible, and I felt really bad for her. So I grimaced at Nathan and he read my mind and turned her mic all the way down. I winked at him and then went back on stage. It sounded wonderful. I just started getting a little upset because some of the girls were having bad attitudes. So I had a little talk with all of them about how we need to make sure that our focus was on the Lord and not on ourselves. They completely ignored me and gossiped about me the moment I walked away. It made me really upset. We should be glorifying the Lord with everything we do and say. Then I realized that by getting upset, I was not reflecting well on the Lord either. It was a long day. That night we had a pool party. I really need to stay away from diving boards. Enough said about that.

Wednesday the 12th: I got up at 6 in the morning to go wake boarding! It was so much fun, and it was WAY easier than water skiing. Surprisingly enough, despite my many wipe outs, I only lost my swim suit bottoms once. Thankfully they didn't sink too far, and I was able to retrieve them before the boat came back to get me. After breakfast and devotions, my friend Cassie and I were signed up to do the ropes course. The ropes course is VERY challenging. It took us about two hours to complete the entire course last year, and this year we did it in about 45 minutes, and I only fell off of the wire once this year! Which is really good compared to last year! The best part of the entire thing is when you get to the end. They harness you to these straps and then push you off of the end of the platform, and you swing all the way to the ground. The bad thing about that was that Cassie and I both have very long legs, and our legs kept going too far and hitting the tree.

After that we had lunch, and then I had special music practice again. After my little speech, everything started working out more smoothly. Upon completion of a successful practice, all of us girls went swimming until we had to be at the team challenge course. I was on the yellow team this year along with all of the lovely ladies in my cabin. The only problem was that there were only 4 of us that could actually be considered "athletic, strong, agile, etc." so we pulled almost all of the weight for our team, literally. I was always the base lifter person, and the last one to maneuver each obstacle because I was the tallest. I was stepped on, tugged on, stretched, and pushed. The whole idea of this challenge course was to get the team to work together as a team with out getting mad or upset with each other. I think that was the most "challenging" part of it. Sure it was physically strenuous, but it was even harder to treat your teammates with the kindness and respect that they deserve even when they are not helping out or are hindering our efforts. That night during worship, we performed our special music song. It went wonderful, but for some reason I was really nervous. My hands were shaking like crazy. And adrenaline also caused my natural vibrato to act supper funny, so some of the harmonies were a little shady, but oh well.

Thursday the 13th: This was our trip day. We loaded up in the vans and left for a river in Arkansas. It was about 2 hours away from the camp. I assumed my position in the middle front seat, but I still got car sick. At the first stop, Nick looked back at me and made a teasing comment, and I didn't respond. He looked over at the "co-pilot" Allison, and she quickly shoved a ginger snap in my mouth and hurried into the gas station to get some ginger ale. They didn't have any, so she had to get 7Up. I hate drinking fizzy liquids when I am sick, but I knew that it was supposed to help. It took about twenty minutes to get all of the vans gassed up and ready to go. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Nick looked back at me and said, "You must be feeling better." I said, "Actually yes, I am." He smiled and said, "I can tell. You got your spark back." Nick knows me so well, it is quite strange actually. He can practically read my mind. When we arrived at the river, we ate lunch, and then hiked a little over two miles until we arrived at the most beautiful part of the river. It was definitely one of those "Be still and know that I am God..." moments. After a couple of hours of catching crawdads and throwing bugs on city-slicker girls, we headed back to camp. The ride back was definitely worse than the ride there. I had to have Nick stop twice because I thought I was going to blow chunks. That night before bed time, a bunch of us girls had a big water fight. It was so much fun. We used our water bottles to throw water and ice on people. I was wearing a cut off, and three different girls dumped ice in my sports bra. No bueno. It was quite painful! In case you are wondering, yes, I am doing the potty dance in this picture. I really had to go, and the water wasn't helping my cause!

Friday the 14th: The last full day of camp! After breakfast, we had devotions, and Laura had asked me to share my testimony. Naturally, I cried. It was just so important to me that every single person in my small group had heard the gospel clearly enough to understand.  After devotions, I went wake boarding again, and I was able to stay up for more than 30 seconds! I felt so accomplished! Soon after I pulled my feet out of the board, another girl jumped in to go next. I was about halfway on the boat when I realized that I really had to pee. So I jumped back in and started swimming away. Anna shouted, "Annastazia, what are you doing?" I stopped where I was, "I have to pee." "Please tell me you aren't going to pee in the lake." "Would you rather me pee on the boat? Didn't think so. Now let me pee in peace." I got so many glares when I got on that boat. This is what I get for signing up to go on a boat with a bunch of city girls who are scared of ruining their hair in the lake. We arrived just in time for lunch, and then after lunch Laura (one of my leaders) and I went kayaking/canoeing. She had never done it before, so I had to teach her how. We were having a lovely talk, and then one of the senior guys started swimming up to the kayak. Laura freaked out and rolled off of the side because she thought he was going to tip the kayak. Well, after she was in the water, I tried to redistribute the weight, but it was a lost cause. I fell in as well, and our kayak was upside down. We swam to shore in shame. After that I showered really fast and then went to go run and jump off of a platform that was 35 feet in the air. It was so much fun! Although for some reason when I jumped, I plugged my nose. I have no idea why I did that... I wasn't jumping in water or anything. People are still making fun of me for that. That night we had a big camp fire. One of the senior guys shared his testimony, and we sang many beautifully meaningful songs. Old school hymns. It was wonderful. After the campfire, we went star tripping. I love star tripping; it is so hilarious how everyone reacts differently to it. My reaction is usually deer in the headlights look, followed by a possessed sounding laugh, followed by falling uncontrollably to the ground, followed by failed attempts to get up, and followed by failed attempts to walk in a straight line.

Saturday the 15th: We got up early and had breakfast, and then quickly packed the vans and trailers. The first hour and a half of the trip was the worst, which made me sick the entire ride home. Ginger snap quickly became my new best friend. Although they do not make very good eye covers. That was a stupid move on my part, I had ginger snap crumbs in my eyeballs! No bueno! We arrived in Lincoln after a long journey at about 6:00, and I didn't get home until nearly 7:00. Our friends from South Dakota where staying with us. Noah, who is Rudy's age, decided it would be funny to sit on me as I was laying on the couch watching Legally Blonde with Payton. That kid might be two years younger than me, but he is about as tall as Rudy, and a heck of a lot heavier than Rudy. I had bruises! Anyway, while at camp we studied Psalm 1. I am always amazing by this passage. So now I will continue to be planted firm in the Word of God, as a tree planted firmly by the water, as well as pursue my walk by faith.

Daddy

I meant to do this yesterday, but I was entirely too busy, so I am doing it a day late. Just for the record. Days like this kind of annoy me. I mean why do we need to dedicate just one day to showing our daddies how much they mean to us? Shouldn't we do that everyday? It's the same way with Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, and Grandparent's Day. It's quite ridiculous actually.

Anyway, my Daddy is amazing, and I love him so very much. We don't always see eye to eye, and we argue quite a bit, but that doesn't matter. If you were to see this guy walking down a dark ally at night, you would probably turn around and walk the other way; he's a pretty intimidating guy. But once you break through the rough outer shell, he is a big softy. My little sister pulls the Daddy face all the time to get what she wants, and he gives in. I can't pull the Daddy Face anymore, I have lost my cuteness. This picture has a name, and it's a quite debatable name. This picture has forever and always been "Baby's First Tractor Ride", however, it's not a tractor, it's a lawn mower, so the name is under current debate. Mom is insistent upon not changing the name. My Mom tells me stories all the time about my father's reactions to me when I was born. My personal favorite is, "Put her back, she ain't done yet." You see, my head was VERY cone shaped when I was born, which concerned my strange father. My parents always say that they are surprised that they even wanted more kids after I was born. I was a terrible baby. At the time, Momma was working full time as a pharmacist, and Daddy was working full time as a Battalion Fire Chief in Millard. Mom says that one night while Dad was on duty I cried for so long that she almost took me to the ER.

My Daddy is so firm in his faith. He stayed so firm to the Lord when he went through the major trial of getting hired as Fire Chief and taking on a high demand job and then getting "laid off" from that same job less than 18 months later. There were so many late night meetings, phone calls, and conversations. We thought Dad's job would be less stressful as Fire Chief, but we were wrong. My Daddy had to put up with so much, and he never buckled under pressure. I'm not allowed to talk about what happened with the "lay off", but just know that my Dad did the right thing. He fought hard for the right thing. The "lay off" was not easy on my family, it was very hard. But my Dad always told us that God has a plan for us, and that He would take care of us. Daddy was right. A little over two weeks after the city council voting in favor of eliminating the position of Fire Chief, the Omaha Fire Department contacted us offering Daddy his job back. It was such a huge blessing. Shortly after we moved back, Daddy received an award presented by the Omaha Fire Chief. It was such an honor for him, he worked hard for it. My Dad's job right now doesn't have an official title. It's a position specifically designed for him. I know that he is in charge of making water supply plans and he is in charge of coordinating new ideas for improving equipment and trucks. He may not be the best at English, but my father is VERY smart when it comes to firefighting stuff. His job requires many long phone calls and meetings, but he enjoys it. I'm sure he would like to be home more often, but when you have to drive a 2 hour round trip to work, you have to get as much out of each trip as possible.

My Daddy is amazing. He has always been there for me, leading me in the right direction and making sure that I don't fall out of line. He encourages me to grow up to be a godly woman. He expects a lot from me, so  he is very strict. Some people say that my parents are Nazis, and sometimes it seems like they are, but they just want what's best for me. I definitely would not still have my 4.0 GPA if it wasn't for their strict rules, and I would probably have gotten in a lot of trouble. Kids need firm rules and leadership like this, otherwise they wander astray. I love my Daddy to the moon and back.... even though he won't shave that disgusting mustache off of his face.