Anne with an E.

"There's such a lot of different Anne's in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting." L.M. Montgomery, (Anne of Green Gables)

We had one copy of "Anne of Green Gables" TV movie. It was a VHS recording of a PBS special. The tracking was awful... but I didn't care.

I remember watching the ENTIRE movie for the first time when I caught the chicken pox in first grade. I loved those puff sleeves just as much as Anne did. I desperately wanted to recite poetry and wear a rose in my hair.

I auditioned for the role of Anne for my high school play in 10th grade and was cast as Diana Barry. Six weeks before the show Anne had to step down from the role... and suddenly I was dying my hair red and practicing new lines.

I love Anne - her tantrums, her fears, her romantics, her growth into a strong young woman. Montgomery created a character who is brimming with fire, passion, and a deep desire to belong.

We all have multiple versions of ourselves during our lifetime. Some die away as we mature (thankfully) and others are changed and shaped by outside circumstances... and still others (the dancing, twirling, singing at the top of our lungs in an empty house) only see the light of day when we are all alone.

I've made my way to a totally new chapter of life - I've talked about it before: new EVERYTHING (or so it seems.) It's sometimes pretty challenging to decide which Anne is going to take the stage. I'd like to go all in right away, but I feel like I need to find my footing first... just like I did in 1st grade, 9th grade, as a freshman in college, or when I started my first job... or moved to Arizona... or met my husband for our first date.

After a lot of trial and error, I'm slowly beginning to understand how to accept all the different "Gingers" in me.

I think I can embrace who I am when I remember whose I am and the care He put into making me... the only me.

You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.

Psalm 139:14-16, MSG

Here's to all the Annes.

Valpal

This is supposed to be Val... but she's on holiday. (I say that because it makes me feel British.) Val was actually HERE for 5 days... but now she's at a staff retreat. That's kind of like a holiday... with team-building. ANYWAYS... Did you know that we've been blogging together since 2007? Ridiculous. A lot can change in 4 years. Here's a personal fave by Valpal from back in the day. Enjoy.

_______

OVERDUE LETTERS from AUGUST 2007

Dear Schick,

Remember when my little brother cut his face open with one of your lady razors? I know you felt bad, but it really wasn't your fault. What five year old boy wouldn't want to try and shave his face with his mother's razor while in the shower? We heard him crying and I was sent to check on him. When I screamed at Mom that his face was bleeding, not only did she literally jump out of her shoes, but I could swear that she left a little cloud of dust behind. In fact, I think as she ran, the background started repeating over and over and her legs turned into those giant circles. Of course he was fine, though he still has a scar from that little adventure. Don't worry, the family will not be bringing about a lawsuit as a result. We realize now that a five year old should never be left alone with a sharp razor in temptingly close distance.

Not your fault,
Valerie

Dear Hellmann's,

One time my sister and I were left alone to clean the kitchen after dinner. This included rinsing out the jars, cartons, and other items to be recycled. Now I don't think Ginger had a full understanding of physics yet, because when she turned the water on full blast andstuck the mayonaise jar under the faucet, she didn't exactly expect the water to come shooting back out at her. One good squirt and she was covered with a substantial amount of mayonnaise-y water. Oh, and did I mention that Ginger hated mayonaise? Because she did. A lot. So needless to say, this travesty was about on par with being covered with vomit.

Now the scream Janet Leigh let out in Psycho? Has got nothing on my sister at that moment. A few of the windows in the kitchen actually cracked from the sound. It wasn't long before she had sprinted out of the room, stripping off her t-shirt as she ran. Soon after, I heard a door slam and the water start running. Naturally a travesty of this magnitude warranted a shower so that she could be cleansed of all traces of the mayonnaise. I know this doesn't sound good for you guys, so I just wanted to write and tell you that this event was not a reflection on the quality of your fine product. Just yet another example of what it's like to grow up with an overdramatic sister (though to this day I still believe it was just a detailed ploy to get out of cleaning the kitchen and leaving me with the rest of the dishes).

Don't take it personally,
Valerie