the good life.

EDIT: How does everyone feel about the new blog face? I felt that, after a year of Perspicacious in green, it was time for something new.


Welcome to my world of whirling words.

Where to begin? I think I have just too many things that feel very important that need to be written about today. My reponse to this is to skip the fluff of introduction and the polish of transition and just leap into what's on my mind. I feel like this reponse happens often, and that it may or may not be a sensible way to organize my brain, but this is my blog and I always get good grades when I'm the professor, so let us begin.

1. The Retreat. Last weekend, I experienced something unlike anything I've done before. I was invited to go on a weekend trip with some people from the college ministry at my church. It was sort of meant to be just a gathering of people who are involved in Tribe (our community groups), Small Groups (the more intimate level study groups), and Conspire (the creative team), in order for us to be able to connect and re-focus before the Summer Semester begins. Now, probably no soul but mine will understand the impact of the pronoun in that sentence. "Us." Over the course of 24 hours spent locked up in a lakehouse with twenty-something people from this ministry, I fell in love with how at home I felt among them. They played games and ate food and there was much deep conversation over the table on the back porch, but really what captured my heart was just this indelible Something that was there. God burned in my heart so fully over the course of that weekend, I didn't even know what to do with how happy I was just to be alive. He threw open the cobwebbed corners in me and filled them with the fullness of Himself. I felt absolutely loved, absolutely at peace, so completely undone in my inside world.

2. My Family is Beautiful. The night that I came home from The Retreat, I was just sitting in the living room deep in thought. I started to feel incredibly anxious, thinking about how much I needed to get done and how I should have gone running that day and a hundred other things that felt like an anvil in my brain. Now, in order for this next part of the story to make sense, you need a little bit of character background. I have, in my family, a mother who loves all things, except that which she hates. Those of you who know her will understand. She is passionate and big-hearted, welcoming in whatever seems helpless or hurt or loveable to her eyes. When you know this, you can understand how it is that the Morgan Estate has come to be the proud caretakers of pretty much what could be called a "pack" of dogs. Let me introduce you properly.


This is Cowboy. He is stout, and very furry. One could compare him to Patrick Starr from the Spongebob Squarepants cartoon. His primary motivations are "Get Food" and "Get Affection."



















Meet Indiana Appleseed. We really have no reason for naming her this, except that it sounds really cool. Indie is certainly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Sometimes it is actually intimidating to look her in the eye. It is our belief that Indiana's primary motivation is "Total Domination."














Lastly, this is sweet Ellie. As Indiana's daughter, she may or may not have inherited her mother's extreme intelligence levels. Either she is hiding it very well, or she's just really, really laidback. Her goal in life is pretty much to look cute, all the time, and to be very thoroughly hugged on a regular basis.



Now. Resume scene. I'm sitting in the living room, feeling sad that all of the weekends joys had given way so quickly to an overload when, out of no where, a game commences. My brother, for some inexplicable reason, decides it would be pure genius to run laps around the first floor of the house to try and get the pack to run after him. So he does, loudly, and waving his arms in the air as he goes. Within moments, both my mother and my twenty year old sister are in the thick of it with him, running laps and yelling and waving limbs and creating a general atmosphere of tomfoolery. As if this wasn't deeply amusing enough, the dogs are falling for it hook, line, and sinker, completely riveted by chasing the humans around the house in circles. So, in less than a minute, the ecosystem of our house has gone from quiet and contemplative to roaring and outrageous. How is this relevant to me?
I from my perch on the plaid chair in the den, can feel the old feeling warming my heart again. Anxiousness drops away like an old skin and I am overcome with so much goodness all at once that I can hardly keep it together: my family is beautiful! my life is exquisite! The laughter and the life that dwell in my home are so precious, and so rare. My family is a treasure.

3. Flowers from Italy. In the midst of this realization and in the midst of general mayhem, my father walks in stage right. He circles around the cyclone of family glee and makes his way over to me, holding roses in one hand and an envelope labeled "Annie Morgan" in the other. To my complete delight and utter confusion, he hands them to me and walks back into the kitchen. "Wha...who?" I stammer, smiling. The letter, once opened, explains in only a few words that Sam, my boyfriend, has not only very thoroughly remembered our one year anniversary while he is vacationing on another continent, but also has taken the time to make sure that there would be flowers in my hands for the occasion.
And as my family started up the music and began tangoing in the kitchen, I couldn't take anymore. I felt so deeply blessed and loved and cherished and fortunate and full all in that moment, and I could hardly explain why. Life is good, said the sound of my family dancing on hardwood floors. Life is good, said the sweet faces of a dozen roses in my arms, and the memories from a weekend when I felt utterly alive. Life is so, so good.

4. Roommate Wanted. After I have received Flowers from Italy, and after giving myself a few moments to stop crying and pull me back together, it seemed only appropriate to have a dance party! The Morgan Academy of Fine Arts and Dance in full swing. Everything from Salsa to Swing to Tango to Waltz to what can only be called "Free Stylin'," right smack dab on the kitchen floor. This is actually what got me to thinking about writing this blog.

Because ever since I've been planning to move to the Oglethorpe campus, I've been praying for the right roommate. Someone who will laugh with me and talk with me and someone who will help to make our room a safe place where we can be the most ourselves out of anywhere else on campus. And because, in the middle of Katie teaching my mom how to krump like Beyonce, I realized that this is sort of definitely part of who I am. I'm not gonna go to college and stop wanting to dance into all hours of the morning, so I'm probably gonna wanna find someone who will dance, too.

This does not, of course, mean they need to be skilled. That's not the point.

The point is I realized that I've been raised in a culture of spontaneous silliness and fun, and it's something I don't ever want to grow out of. Actually, I'd like to keep growing up into it, taking myself less and less seriously a little more every day that I live.

So. I feel like I just wrote a lot of words. I'll end with this, for fun.

WANTED: College Roommate.
Girl seeking Girl. 18 years of age.
Candidates should pray much, laugh often, and eat with verve.
Prefers night-owl personality, and someone who won't be mad at me if I'm a little bit late for things.
Someone who studies for tests, someone who will play games with me,
someone who may be persuaded to take risks.
Someone who would say "yes, that shirt looks wierd on you."
Someone who loves family, loves people,
loves God, and loves to live their life.


I'm not picky or anything. :)


Peace out, world. Thanks for reading.



[All photos in this entry are copyright of Mary Anne Morgan Photography 2008]