7 years later...

This face still gets to me. I saw it first in a dimly lit hospital room and I was transfixed. Emotions, levels of love I'd never known before flooded me and I was done for. Now, all these years later, though she's bigger...and sassier...sometimes, when I look at her face, I'm in that hospital room again. My heart is slain, again. I see those wide, inquisitive, tender eyes, those delicate lashes, that nose I would caress with my chin as I sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". And. I'm. Just. Done.

I think, no matter how old she gets...or how sassy...at the end of the day, it will always come to that. She will always be that sweet girl, that amazing, tiny, sweet, wide-eyed girl staring back at me from her incubator, slaying my heart.

At least I hope so.

I sure do hope so. I hope that there will never come a day when I will look at her face and fail to be be struck by what an incredible gift she is in my life...what a miraculous, amazing, sweet and sassy gift. I hope there will never be a day when I don't want to hold her, caress her nose and sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"...

and maybe kiss these.

Un-Giving Up.

Mornings. They used to be my prime time. I'd wake well before the sun, "rarin' to go", as they say. I woke, really awake and not at all zombie-like. I didn't hit the snooze button. The morning was here and I was glad. Mornings were my comfort time, the sweet spot of my day. I loved the look of my living room in the pre-dawn hours, illuminated by a lone lamp with small beaded fringe. I loved the smell of coffee (light and sweet) filling the house. I loved the feel of the little love seat I snuggled into, digging my feet between the cushions for warmth and coziness. And, most of all, more than the little lamp and the cozy love seat, even more than the coffee, I loved what came next.

After I got settled, I laid a pillow across my lap, placed my journal on one side and my bible on the other and read and journaled and prayed and read and journaled and prayed until the sun was up and it was time to get ready for work.

From this vantage point, those mornings seem like a crackly, black and white movie...recorded on VHS.

I'm not sure how, or specifically when, but those mornings were slowly picked apart and destroyed by TV at night and hitting the snooze button...and then, eventually, hitting the "giving up" button. And, since then, it seems, the fruit borne of those mornings is slowly rotting away, too.

But God...

A few cold and hazy mornings ago, I managed to get up without snoozing. I managed to read a tiny bit. I managed to get out of the door early enough to not be 3 minutes late to work. And, as I drove, I listened...to my thoughts, to the sounds of the road and to the music coming from my iPod. Just before I got to work, this came through the speakers and filled my heart with something I've known only rarely since those mornings of old ceased to be. What I heard was:

"Hope...is coming for me."*

In that moment, it was as if God blew on the faint embers smoldering in my heart and then, there was a flame again.

"Hope...is coming for me."

It was like I could see "Hope" running after me, searching for me, determined to find me. Desperate, even. "Hope" is coming for me...not to devour, or destroy, or disappoint, but to fill me and my life to overflowing with the things I truly need. Hope is coming to fan that flame to a blaze, consuming fear and doubt and disillusionment. Hope is coming to give me joy.

So, today, I'm hitting the "un-giving up" button...and waiting, because "Hope...IS coming for me... He's coming for me."

*this is the song, if you would like to hear it. :)

The Saints are in the Superbowl!

For those of you who maybe don't own a TV or have been living in a distant land without access to the outside world, guess what?

The impossible has happened.

Or in the words of local commentator, Jim Henderson, "Pigs have flown, hell has frozen over, and the Saints are going to the Super Bowl!"

After 43 years, nearly 4 hours of play and a perfect 40 yard field goal in overtime, the New Orleans Saints, one of the oldest teams in the NFL to never make it to the Super Bowl, earned that right last night...

and they got to do it at home in the Dome!

It was a long, emotionally wearing and, at times, frustrating game. And though I tried to remind myself that "It's just a game. It's just a game.", it really felt like so much more.

Growing up a Saints fan, I don't ever remember feeling like we were missing something by not going to the Super Bowl. Sure, it would have been nice, but they were our Saints win or lose. Our families gathered to watch the games on Sunday. Our radio stations played countless Saints tribute songs. And we sported our black and gold all year long. Even as a small child, I knew who Tom Dempsey was and truly believed that Archie Manning was the greatest QB of all time. I loved the Saints because they were our Team and because of the memories we made as a family cheering them on.

Even all through this amazing season, I never really thought about the Super Bowl, I just enjoyed the ride! But this past week leading up to the game, all of that changed. Here we were, in a place we'd been only one other time before, at home no less, one game away from the biggest game of the year...or, for most of us (fans and players included), the biggest game of our lives. And then, the tears started to fall.

Now, I've never cried over football before, but, the team I love has never been this close to greatness and to finally getting the admiration and recognition they deserve. Or so I thought...

As emotional and excited as I am about our win last night, I am equally disheartened reading what others continue to say about us. Still, after the season we've had, our victories are basically deemed the other team's fault. Much is being made about how heroically Farve played in the NFC Championship Game last night and some even go so far as to say that the Saints didn't win...the Vikes lost or gave up the game to us.

What?

What about the fact that we went toe-to-toe with Mr. Wonderful, Brett Farve and won...despite the fact that we had the ball less than they did, were subject to some very disappointing and just plain biased calls/penalties and made some serious mistakes on our own that basically gift wrapped the game for the Vikes? What about all the effort our defense put into the game getting to Farve, forcing fumbles and turnovers and making interceptions. What about Drew Brees who threw the ball around a lot less than Farve and still managed to keep the game tied? What about our offensive line who actually protected our QB? What about a 23 year old kicker who messed up a chip shot not too long ago, scoring the winning points for his team to go to the Super Bowl? What about winning our first 12 games? What about beating Tom Brady, Kurt Warner and now Farve? What about 43 years of waiting? What about 4 years of working and training and building up a team that is actually a contender when it was once a joke? What about a Coach and QB who jumped in and made their adopted city their home at one of the worst times in that city's history? And, what about the fact that, when all is said and done and you tally up the bad calls, missed calls, mis cues, and mess ups on each side, it really comes down to which team was able to pull out a win in spite of all of that.

Say what you like, this time that team was the New Orleans Saints.

Finally!

In a couple of weeks, the Saints will be marching into the Super Bowl to the beat of their own jazz band and by the sweat of their own brow to take on our 4th Future Hall-of-Fame Quarterback. We didn't get here by luck, by playing bad teams or because of other people's mistakes, we got here because we won the most games in our Division and put Brett Farve's pants on the ground a whole heck of a lot. So, folks/doubters/biased sports writers and commentators, stop making excuses for your favorites, accept reality, and deal with it!

The Saints are comin'!

Surrender

My hands hold safly to my dreams
Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am
Now you're asking me to show
What I'm holding oh so tightly
Can't open my hands can't let go
Does it matter?
Should I show you?
Can't you let me go?

Surrender, surrender you whisper gently
You say I will be free
I know but can't you see?
My dreams are me. My dreams are me

You say you have a plan for me
And that you want the best for my life
Told me the world had yet to see
What you can do with one
That's committed to Your calling
I know of course what I should do
That I can't hold these dreams forever
If I give them now to You
Will You take them away forever?
Or can I dream again? ~ Barlow Girl

A poem...sorta.

There's a peace in letting go

In choosing to stop

In saying no

In not thinking about that thing

Whatever that thing may be

There's a peace in resigning

In being in today

In stopping and resting

In not letting wishes have their way

No matter how sweet they may be

There's a peace in knowing

In trusting God

In believing He is good

In waiting for His promises

Because they'll be perfect no matter what they may be

When they're done

When you're done

When He's done

When It Is Finished

You will say "Amen" and "Thank You"

"The" Game

I haven't blogged in a while. Life has been nuts! Between photography, migraines, babysitting and cantata preparations, I have had very little time. However, I try to make time for what is important: church, family, Saints games. ;) Speaking of which...did you see the game last night? Saints vs. the Patriots?!?!?! If you didn't, you missed one heck of a game! It was quite the monumental event! And I have typed a lot of "!'s" in this post. Sorry. (!)

To commemorate the night, I wrote up my own personal take on the game. Check it out. :)

There is no doubt in my mind that Saints fans will be talking about last night's game for a long, long time. No matter what any of the Saint's players say or how diplomatically they say it, last night was a pivotal win, a big win, a milestone, one for the record books, and one fans will refer to and re-live via stories and Facebook mobile uploads for years to come. Now, I'm no sports buff. Ok? I don't know all the jargon and terms or even fully understand what all the different downs mean, but I know when we're good...and last night the Saints were the best I've ever seen them in my life. Forget Archie Manning. Forget the Dome Patrol. THIS team is the realest deal if ever there was one. So...for posterity's sake, I thought it would be fun to share how I experienced "the" game and ask you to respond in turn. It should be fun, and I might cry...so here goes:

The Friday before Thanksgiving, I asked my boss for permission to host a tailgate party lunch at work on the day of this big game. I thought it would be fun for everyone to get together, munch on snacks and talk smack about the Pats. He said "ok" so long as people didn't get all nuts and come to work in body paint or anything. So, that Monday, I arrived at the office with my snacks in hand, excited for our little party and, moreso, for the big game. The last time the Saints were on Monday night football, I watched the game at home, screaming and yelling and cheering all by myself. I was certain I didn't want to do that again. Lacking any other invites or offers closer to home, I drove out to my parents house to watch the game on their 60-inch television, but not before I changed into my Saints t-shirt and drew a fleur-de-lis on my face with eyeliner. When I arrived at my parents house, the kids were nowhere near ready for the game, so...to remedy this, I wrangled up a few white t-shirts and drew fleur-de-lis on them, which they proceeded to color and embellish on their own. Then, the game began. I have to confess, through most of the 1st quarter, I was a nervous wreck. My stomach was in knots and when we ended the first drive with an almost missed field goal and the Patriots answered with a TD, I almost cried. I started bracing myself for the worst. I consoled myself, thinking, if we are going to lose, better it be to a championship team, right? I walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and mumbled "We need to get 3 interceptions in this game, too, guys." Then came the interception! That stunning McKenzie interception, which also left me wanting a good old McKenzie's kingcake...but that's another story for another day. It was then that my hope started building! With each of the following passes, tds and interceptions, I was on my feet, I was screaming, I was high fiving and then screaming again for my mom who was sick and had no voice to scream herself. But, it was the last TD, that beautiful last Marques Colston TD that sealed the deal for me. He was in the end zone with that ball securely in his hands and I burst into tears. We were up by 3 touchdowns. We were really going to win this thing! Wow! It was just amazing and I was still wiping tears from my eyes even as Darren Sharper made another interception. Then, I jumped up from the sofa and ran over to the TV screaming, joining my dad and brother. And,then the tears started flowing again. Whew! What a night! What a game! What a toll it took on my vocal chords! And, as if that wasn't enough, Belichick pulls Brady and sends in the back-up QB! The saints sent Tom Brady to the sidelines!

Seriously?

WOW!

Bless You Boys!!!

Coming out of the closet...

I have a secret. Its one I've kept for a long time. I've tried to maintain the illusion, but now, well, I've sort of been exposed and I feel like I really just need to come clean. I need to confess. I need to make a proclamation. I need to say it loud and proud and be done with it.

So...

Here goes...

I am a Saints fan. I always have been. I pretended I didn't really like football. I never told anyone about the times I snuck on to ESPN.com or the sports section of NOLA.com to check scores and stats and read articles, or about the times I listened to the game on my radio in the car all by myself.

Yes, I'm serious.

Ok, so there it is. I've said it. I feel cleansed. Slightly less girly, but cleansed just the same.