.same love.

just watched a documentary on Mackelmore and Ryan Lewis.
important things are always happening.
i tend to forget about it. how
something beautiful and important is always happening.
for people on different levels...
for ourselves, our communities, our world.
and i'm thankful for that.

"when i was at church they taught me something else. if you preach hate at the service those words aren't anointed. that holy water that you soak in had been poisoned  when everyone else is more comfortable remaining voiceless rather than fighting for humans that have has their rights stolen. i might not be the same. but that's not important. no freedom till we're equal. damn right i support it."

and thankful for this.
so thankful.

.ode to sleep.

.i'll stay awake.
.cause the dark's not taking prisoners tonight.


.i have so much to say.
.unexpected and beautiful wonderful things have happened.
so... here's the story.

my roommate and best friend katelynn was going to some concert last friday. the person she was going with had to bail so she asked me to come because she had already bought the tickets and she needed someone to drive theses two random girls and her to indy. so i said- of course. i knew how much this concert meant to her, and i knew she didn't want to go alone. so off we were. i spent 10 bucks to go sit in the amazing chill section with all of the 50 year old men. the first band was horrible. i laughed so hard that i had to move the back because i didn't want to be rude. then the second band was way better. as soon as the opening bands got done i went to go find katelynn and ended up being super close to the stage and next to her. then... they came on stage... INSANE. not an understatement. i had no clue what i was walking into but as soon as they came on stage- my night was made. it was incredible. i couldn't stop smiling.

.why am i not scared in the morning,
.i don't hear those voices callin.
.i must have kicked them out.
.i must have kicked them out.

i've never been to a concert where i had no clue what was going to happen next. ive never been to a concert where i didn't know any of the words and it didn't matter because i felt it in my gut. i've never been to a concert where i just looked over at my best friend and cried because of the perfection of the moment. i've never been NOT star struck or fan girly about musicians that i wholly approve of. i've never been the one to deny a hug ever. everything i'm saying is an UNDERSTATEMENT. there is no way that anyone can fully understand what took place- i don't know why i'm trying. i just guess i want to testify or something. haaa. but seriously. I WANT TO TESTIFY.

i swear i heard demons yelling
those crazy words they were spelling
they told me i was wrong.
they told me i was gone.

worship. it's just worship. and the crazy thing is that not all of us will get to experience that devine freaking moment that God set up specifically for me and who knows how many others. but there's something about writing it down. reminding myself it's real. it would still be real if i didn't tell you. but... i wanted to.

but ill tell them
why won't you let me go?
do i threaten all your plans?
i'm insignificant.
please tell them
you have no plans for me.

im in love with a God who is in love with His children so much that He created them so full of talent and passion and ambition that He uses them to spark the other ones. to set the others on fire.
this was one of those instances. and i couldnt be more thankful.

i will set my soul on fire.
what have i become?

.singing songs that nobody wrote.

.i don't know why i feed on emotion, the stomach inside my brain.

an experience of which i have nothing to compare it to.
these people. they feel.
they are real people.
just people.
they love.
they're fearful.
they're excited.
they're broken.
they're encouraging.
they're inspired.
they're brave.
they're goofy.
they're creative.
they're... blessed.

.i don't want to be heard. i want to be listened to.

i didn't want to be hugged.
i just wanted to express my amazement.
so easy to see my Love in that night.

.does it bother anyone else that someone else has your name.

i left that show.
speaking of our God.
staying up till 7 am speaking and thinking
deciphering.
my only keepsake- my burning calves the next day.
thankful for the pain that was a reminder of being alive.

.i scream.
.you scream.
.we all scream.
.cause we're all terrified.
.of whats around the corner.

alive.

.we stay in place cause we don't wanna lose our lives.

that's what that was.
alive.

.so lets think of something better.

if i could say nothing.
i could say i was alive.
they are alive.
we were all alive together.

.down in the forest we'll sing a chorus.
.one that everybody knows.

i went expecting nothing.
and was blown away.

.hands held higher- we'll be on fire.

my God orchestrated the most perfect
seemingly random night.
full of surprises He is.
glorious surprises.
that night can only be chalked up to Him.
and I'm so excited and thankful for what that will mean for me.
for what is to come from this.

.singing songs that nobody wrote.

im still deciphering.

.airport people, they come and go.

There are 4 children sitting behind me as we wait at out gate. All you can hear are giggles and joyful laughter. It's a far cry from the book section in the airport - everyone silently perusing the bindings and touching which ever cover strikes them. These laughing children and those deathly quiet adults seem to have something in common... they all want to be captivated by something, taken over by a laugh or an idea or a thought. They all want to be entertained. I don't remember ever being easily entertained but I do remember searching the bookshelves for anything to take me away. To take me somewhere, anywhere. To understand me or move me. I felt that as we all stood in front of these walls of books. Knowing that most of us aren't going to buy a super expensive book unless we need it to keep us sane on the long flights to and fro. I wanted to own every book i read the back of. top sellers and not top sellers. i wanted them all. i wanted the time to read them. i wanted the energy to read them. the excitement to live through them and tell people all about them. i feel like all of that makes sense. i don't remember being a little kid too often- but i imagine it's what i feel like when i'm surrounded by tons of unread books.

rain check.

I recently realized- like three seconds ago- that one thing that I love so much is when people do things that they are passionate about. I love hearing people who are passionate. I love seeing people do things that they are passionate about. it's beautiful to me. It feels like the way life should be. the way people were intended to be. in their "natural" state if things were the way they were supposed to be.

           


Tonight my roommate Kate held a candlelight prayer vigil for World Wide Diabetes Awareness Day which is today. I helped her set up candles because I knew it was important to her. She has type 1 Diabetes and is super involved in the Diabetes Community. She does a lot of stuff on AU's Campus. It's interesting to see someone so passionate about something that I don't understand well at all. Tonight she prayed for a long time as we stood in the cold. She prayed for so many things and so many people. It was like a glimpse into her mind- what she deals with and thinks every night.

It blesses me to see people live out the passions that have been laid on their hearts.

.A Sudden Stirring.

I can’t think.
I can’t think or read or speak when I’m not outside.
So I’m in the cemetery.
Saw a casket. They’re bigger in real life than I would think.

God’s been changing my heart. Working on it. Stirring it.
And not allowing me to ignore it.

What does He want? What does He need from me? Lately it’s been so many things on so many levels.

Freedom.
Death and decay.
Education.
Refuge.
Life.
Expectations.
Pride.

But first let us start with Aung San Suu Kyi.
My Mama is ill and weak and can’t get out of bed.
So I go read to her every week.
The book this 82 year old Jesus loving woman 

chose is “Freedom from Fear” by Aung San Suu Kyi.
If this name is unfamiliar to you- please familiarize yourself.
She is important, a human rights activist, 

and an ambassador for democracy, unity, and peace.
I got the opportunity to go see Aung San Suu Kyi speak in Fort Wayne during her U.S. tour after being finally released from house arrest.

I was in a coliseum filled with mostly Burmese refugees or immigrants and I was so blessed and so thankful to be able to have the chance to listen to her perspectives, see her personality, and learn from her. She spoke in Burmese and greeted her fellow Burmese people. There were Buddhist Monks and Muslims and even classrooms full of kids. It was freaking awesome. I got to share the whole experience with my best friend Taylor and we sat in awe as we watched all the different people clap and laugh and cheer.

 I will never forget that day. I will never forget that she spoke about the importance of education for all of the refugees. That the United States best gift was education and we should take advantage of that if we are going to further ourselves. She talked about how Burma is like no other country. How she hopes one day everyone can come back if they’d like. How the most important characteristic a leader should possess is honesty. How they have not yet reached democracy but this is the first step. A person asked how Americans could help and she answered by telling people about the situation in Burma and by being aware. She is in the same realm as Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., and Gandhi and it was easy to see that when she spoke so eloquently and passionately. Someone else asked her how she fell into politics- and she stated that she wasn’t forced into politics- she chose into it because she felt like it was the right thing to do and she still thinks it is.

Sometimes I stand in utter confusion of how people are the way they are.
Of how God made them.
If it was all Him, or their circumstances, or their personality, or what.
How do they have so much resolve?
How are they 100% committed?
How did they pick just one thing?

I don’t want to lead a small life.
I don’t want to be some great figure head or Abraham Lincoln or anyone else for that matter.
I want to be me but I don’t know what that’s like.
I admire these people who fought and persevered only because they believed in justice and did what they thought was right.

Do I have that resolve?
Do I believe enough in something to go balls to the wall?
Can I immerse myself in the fight for justice and truth?

I have no freaking idea.

The crazy thing is that there are tons of tiny MLKs running on this earth standing up for what they believe in and we have no clue about it. Little baby Pauls spreading the gospel as far as their pocket change will get them. There are people affecting the lives of others around them like little Mother Ts. They get no credit and no memorial but they do it anyway.

I think that’s the kind of person I want to be.
The faceless small doer in a sea of other faceless small doers.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the most selfish and prideful part of me  yearns for recognition.
And I want that part of me to die so that God can be recognized inside of me.
Can all of these blessings and talents He’s given me point people to Him instead of me?
Please.
Even as I say that I feel weak.
I want the pat on the back. I want to feel good and beautiful and loved and cared about. I want people to tell me how caring and loving I am. But no- I don’t need it. I know all of that already.
My God has made me beautiful and loves me. I love and care because of Him only.
I want to glorify and honor Him by doing the things I love and loving the people He does.
I don’t want to get caught up in my own pride. So now I pray that He will humble me.
Let me know that I am worthy but keep me aware that God is the greatest.

It isn’t a small life just because it won’t be remembered.
And I want to live life for God and not for approval.

This started out as a blog post about what God has been stirring up in me.
Little did I know that this was the answer.
Honestly I had no clue.

I was going to talk about how recently He’s shown me how blessed I am to have the opportunity to have an education and how I should fight for that. That I should also fight for my brothers and sisters who want that opportunity and should be given that right. I was also going to talk about how I recently feel like I want to teach English to refugees. I want to help Refugees assimilate in any way that I can and I know how freaking terrifying and lonely it can be to live in a place where you don’t speak the language. I want to love them in this way. So I’ve been looking into TESOL courses and also The Exodus Refugee thing in Indy is a non-profit that I’m looking into.

So here I am.
Confused at how I ended up talking about how prideful I am and how much I want to only care about what God thinks of me.

But I’m glad I did because it’s true.
And that’s that, I suppose.

.sounds like hallelujah.

I was just browsing through some of Lautrec's works- because I miss art and art history and then i decided to look up his biogrophy- because artists tend to have some of the most interesting life stories and it turns out he was friends with Van Gogh- oh my soul. I didn't expect to find such a delightful fact- but I guess I've forgotten that starving artists or artists in general gravitate towards each other, especially in the 1880s in France where the Bohemian lifestyle flourished. Van Gogh holds a special piece of my heart due to his story and similar struggles but his pieces never hit me between the eyes- Lautrec's subject matter is much more fascinating to me- he painted prostitutes at a time when he was swimming in a sea full of artists who painted landscapes. And his story is another artist's life.

My mom just called and we had a 20 minute conversation about Lautrec and art and how your short comings can really be a path to your strengths- in the sense of Lautrec and most artists and their battles. This whole thing was so unexpected and welcomed.

i wouldn't say I'm close to either one of my parents.
but I would say that the most moving conversations (there have been 3) that I've had with my mother in all of my 21 years -have been focused on art.
creating something seems so natural.
so vital to life.
i don't know if that was instilled in me by my parents
or by my Heavenly Father.
but either way- it's nice to find one piece of common ground to stand on with her.
to stand on this piece with her and look up at our God.
to connect - even if just for a few moments - in sitting back and appreciating diversity and allowing ourselves to remain in wonder
of something rare and full of life for as long as it lasts.
it feels so good to hear her speak
about something she has obviously been in love with forever.
to hear her words bend and shape
into sentences holding information as if it were fresh water-
i long to see and hear my mother like that every day.
it feels like for the first time- she's teaching me something.

when she speaks like this i imagine that this is the real person
this is the woman, my mother, that i would've met
if I time traveled back to her college days.
i imagine this is the girl I would've become friends with.
this is the Anna I would've sat next to in Drawing 101 - and fallen in love with her loudness and long blond hair and short skirts and bright blue eyes
made to look for the beauty in almost everything.
this is the girl so passionate and unsure and alive- before the rest of her life happened.
my mother has been all over world- with out me of course.
and do you know what she does in each city?
she goes to art museums. And she always sends me a post card.
i haven't realized it ever- until this exact moment...
but this is how my God loves me-
He gives me a Mother who loves me and she loves me by loving art.

and sends me a postcard.

and I couldn't ask for more right now, I couldn't ask for more.