a shout out ((to all the beautiful souls in the house))

He was always there. 
Always there at every basketball game, every baseball game, every football game.
Most people came and went, but Brandon, you see, he was always there. 
We were just sitting there, the two of us. Eating our bacon pizza with green peppers at the red checkered booth. Talking about some crazy dream of ours to raise money to build a well.
That's when Brandon came up and sat down at the booth right beside me, catching me off guard. 
I didn't really know Brandon, other than seeing him around town a couple times before. 
And while I didn't know his story, it was obvious he had some handicap that made him an outcast in the town. 
That's not fair, I know. 
Someone shouldn't be an outcast just because they're different. Because they're a little slower. Just because there's something about them that they can't change. 
But more often than not, that's what life is: unfair. 
The next fifteen minutes were some of the most precious.
Brandon didn't really pay attention to me. He was too busy talking to Nick. And to be honest, I can't even tell you what they were talking about. I heard little bits and pieces of it. I heard them talking about video games and music.
But mostly I just watched. I watched as this boy of mine, this best friend of mine, sat across the table from me, listening so intently to Brandon, genuinely caring. Asking questions. Hardly even noticing that I was staring because he was too focused on what Brandon was saying. 
I couldn't help but think, "This just must be one of the most beautiful souls I've met."
It's moments like that I think I fall in love. 
With humanity. With people. With life. 
When I see people's hearts bleed through.
It's moments like that when I think, "Perhaps we really can change the world."
Not with the big acts, as great as they are. 
But with the small acts that often go unnoticed by others. 
Genuinely asking someone how they are. Baking a plate of cookies. Holding the door opening for someone. Giving them a chance. Encouraging them. 
Because, believe me, you never know how much a small act you do can impact someone else. 

These Stain Glass Tatters

I hate to think.

Because when I think, it takes me to some very dark places.

Places that I can't escape from.

I'm slipping away.

I can feel myself falling.

And yet I can't do anything to stop it.

I feel like I am watching in slow motion as the person I thought I was falls apart.

Who was this person, this girl?

The girl who knew all the answers?
The girl who always had a smile on her face?

The girl who was determined to change the world?

Was she the easy way to deny who I really am?

The mirage of who I want to be?

Whoever she was, she's dying now.

Bit by bit, she's crumbling.

Piece by piece, she's falling apart.

This facade that hide the pain.

That buried the questions she didn't want to face.

Because, you see, you can't run forever.

No matter how hard you run, no matter how fast, the person who you truly are will always catch up.

Always.

But tell me—what kind of life is this to live!

One of emptiness. Of desperation. Of fear.

Tell me! What kind of pathetic, meaningless life is this to live?

The night is coming. The light is leaving.

I try to hold onto the precious remaining shimmers of light but they are fading fast.

The darkness consumes me, welcomes me with open arms.

God, where are you now? Where are you in this darkness?

I beg, “Come and bring your light!”

But I am stuck, lost in this ever-lasting night.

And the girl, the mirage of who I once was, still keeps crumbling, dying.

And when she is gone, I am left with who I really am.

At first, fear paralyzes me. I can't move. I look towards my feet and realize they are covered by masks.

Masks that represent who I once was. The painted smiles that hid the pain. The tidy answers that kept God neatly tucked in little theological boxes where he could be explained and understood.

That's when I realize. I am standing in the remains of who I once was.

I feel vulnerable, exposed. And afraid. So very afraid.

After a while, curiosity overtakes me. Curiosity over who I am now that everything else has been stripped away.

And then I notice, a little girl hunched over in the corner. Shoulders shaking. Sobbing, most likely.

At first disgust fills my mouth. She looks so small. Lonely. Barely alive.

But then, for some reason, my heart starts to ache for her. I can almost taste her pain in my mouth.

I timidity walk over and stand over her, about to put my hand on her shoulder to offer comfort.

But she starts to speak and I cannot move.

I listen to her soft mumblings, hurt laced in each word she says.

I cannot move. Her words captivate and paralyze me.

“What's the point of fighting if you have nothing to fight for?

What's the point of living if you have nothing to live for?

What's the point of it all? This pathetic, meaningless life.”

It hits me. In some way that I can't fully explain, this girl is me.

I feel the panic rise up in me.

I feel the disgust all over again.

I have to get out of here.

I turn to leave, but I can't. The walls are coming closer. The room is shrinking. They're trapping me in, locking me in a tiny cell.

“No! NO!” I scream, pounding on the walls. Cement. My hands are cracked and bleeding. Trembling. I sink down, unable to contain myself any longer as tears begin to spill out.

I am trapped in a tiny room with my worst enemy: myself.

Then I see it. Through my eyes blurry from tears, I notice the cross in the room. Stained with blood.

An emotion swells in my soul, something I can't describe.

“What was it that you saw in me that you loved enough to hang on that cross? What was it you saw?”

Then I feel anger. Pure rage. I stand up, shaking my first at the ceiling.

“Tell me! What was it you saw in me that you were able to hang on that cross? Don't you see who I really am? I am ugly. I am unworthy. I am disgusting. Tell me why you love me. Surely you can't love me more than I can hate myself. I'll ask you one more time—what was it you loved enough about me that you willingly hung on the cross for me?”

There is no answer. Only silence. Deafening silence.

“Some kind of God you are.”

Something bright flashes in the corner of my eye, making me look away. The first light I've seen since being trapped in this tiny cell. I turn around, slowly, hesitantly.

There I see it: a stained glass window. It intrigues me, pulls me in. Some of the colored pieces of glass are bright, others are calm, reminding me of life. Memories come rushing back. Counting falling stars. Holding babies in my arms. Laughing until tears came to my eyes.

But something wasn't quite right with the picture.

I lean forward, frowning. Some of the pieces of glass were once bright, happy colors—oranges and reds and purples. But over time they were painted over with darker, ugly colors. Happy days that turned into long, lonely nights. Carefree days that quickly turned into crying on my bed, begging God for an answer. Crying in my closest, feeling so lonely and rejected. The fake smile that turned into the deep sadness that never really went away.

But despite the dark colors, the stained glass window was beautiful. And then I realize. Just like the girl in the corner, this window represented me. Broken bits and pieces, some representing color and laughter, others representing hurt and buried secrets.

I am so intrigued by the window that I nearly miss the small words written in the corner:

You are the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus.

I stand up. I can feel my heart beating for the first time in forever.

I close my eyes, open my mouth.

“I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus.”

And when I open my eyes, the darkness is gone. 

Darling

Dear Darling,

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

I'm sorry that people treat you the way they do. I'm sorry they walk on you. I'm sorry they take advantage of you. I'm sorry they bully you simply because they know that you refuse to stoop to their level of stupidity. I'm sorry that life isn't fair. I'm sorry that I can't be there to hold you and wipe away your tears. But I know that I can't make everything better. I know that this is your battle to fight. You're a fighter. But not a fighter in the sense of the physical word. Fight, my love, for things that you cannot see. Fight for peace, for love, for unity. Remember forget, my love, that only love wins in the end. Because, sure, a few punches or harsh words might win the fight. But only love wins the battles. And why does it matter if you win a few fights only to lose the battle? Never lose sight of what you're fighting for.
I know that you're breaking right now. You feel like you've reached the end of your rope. You're done. You're sick of putting up with all of this.

So then fight.

Fight like hell.

Fight them back.

And remember. Remember that everyone has a story. Remember that people act the way they do for a reason. Don't be too quick to judge. As ludicrous as it sounds, be gracious with them. Love them. Maybe years later they will look back and remember you and what you stood for.

Don't stoop to their level. Whatever you do, don't stoop to their level. They don't play fair. What would it accomplish, stooping to their level? Sure, maybe you'd win a fight, but what about the battle? Only love can win battles.

Remember that you are so much more than what they say. You are so much more than the lies they breathe down your throat. You are so much more than how they treat you. You, my darling, are my hero. You are strong. I believe in you. I believe in you.

                                                                                                -Me

P.S. Do you have any idea how much I love you?

Dear Journal

January 30

Day 56

Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to understand.

Can someone tell me why kids in the states, for the most part, take school for granted and don't appreciate it while kids here are thrilled at the opportunity to go to school?

Some of them walk miles to go to school, even though it's not safe. It's totally normal to see little kids, some as young as five years old, walking to school by themselves.

The other day...I saw a tiny girl walking home by herself. There were five men walking a little ways behind her. A little while later...when they had disappeared and were out of sight...I heard a scream. I could hope and pray to God it wasn't what I dreaded.

You might wonder...

What parent in their right mind would let their five year old walk to school by themselves?

A parent who realizes that education=future.

A chance to make something of yourself in the world.

A chance to make a name for yourself.

A chance to break the cycle that has been in your family for generations.

Did you know...the reason so many girls are trafficked in India is because they don't have an education?

Here...education is everything

Before this trip...I never fully understood the importance of education. Since coming here, I can see it so much more clearly.

A couple weeks ago when we did a program at a school, we had the chance to talk to the person who owned the school, a dignified old lady who started the school 54 years old. When I asked her how the school got started, she replied that she and her husband had seen something missing from the educational system of the day so, in response, they started a school of their own. As she served us tea, coffee, and croissants, I felt honored to sit in her presence, almost as if I were talking to Queen Elizabeth. Here was lady who noticed a problem and determined to do something about it. Those kinds of people inspire me.

Sometimes. Sometimes I want to understand.

Can someone please tell me why the state of Kentucky can grow enough food to feed the entire world but a child in Africa dies every 5 seconds due to starvation?

I'm tired of people telling their kids to finish the food on their plates “because there's starving children in Africa.” Finishing food on your plate isn't going to help children in Africa, unless it helps you feel less guilty. You actually have to do something about it. Feeling bad isn't enough.

I'm tired of people saying they're starving when they have no idea what they're even saying.

God, forgive us.

I have felt and seen the pain in a whole new way on this trip then ever before.

I've struggled against letting my heart grow cold and numb.

I've been angry at God multiple times, wondering how he can still claim to be good.

But now...I'm not angry at God.

I'm angry at us.

Humankind.

With great power comes great responsibility.

How can we let this happen, God? How can we hear those stories and not even bat an eye?

God, I refuse to go back to normal. I refuse to let myself be unchanged by this trip, to forget what I've learned. I want to spend my life doing the impossible, challenging the status quo, and fighting injustice.

This...This is what I was created to do.

And I must never forget to love. Passionately. Love without conditions. Love with abandon.

Without love...I am nothing.

Talked with Nick about all that this morning. Wasn't planning on it...but realize just how much I've kept bottled inside during this trip. He said, “Anna...I don't even know what to say. Honestly.”

But it was okay.

Because I didn't need him to say anything. I just needed someone to understand me, to listen to me, to know their heart was breaking like mine was. He reminded me that I didn't want to be normal and that God didn't put me here to be normal but so that I could heal this world.

Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to understand.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't understand.

Lessons from the caterpillar

“It's kind of like a caterpillar, you know. You can't hold onto too tightly or else you'll kill it. And then you end up killing the thing you loved so much.”

“But what if I hold onto it too loosely and it slips out of my hand?”

“Then it's better than holding onto it too tightly and killing it. Don't suffocate it.”

“I don't want to loose it.”

“Just because you let it go doesn't mean you'll lose it. You'll find freedom. It's okay to hold on to something for dear life when it's selfless. But it's not okay to hold tightly onto it when it crosses the line of selfishness. And you know what else? If you let the caterpillar go, it'll turn into a butterfly.”

“The most beautiful butterfly.”

**moral of the story:: hold everything with an open hand**

Hey pretty girl, won't you look my way
Love's in the air tonight
You can bet you make this ol' boy's day
Hey pretty girl, won't you look my way

Hey pretty girl, can I have this dance
And the next one after that
Gonna make you mine there's a real good chance
Hey pretty girl, can I have this dance

Hey pretty girl, it feels so right
Just like it's meant to be
All wrapped up in my arms so tight
Hey pretty girl, it feels so right

Life's a long and winding ride
Better have the right one by your side
And happiness don't drag its feet
Time moves faster than you think

Hey pretty girl, wanna take you home
My momma's gonna love you
She'll make me sleep on the couch, I know
Hey pretty girl, wanna take you home

Hey pretty girl, let's build some dreams
And a house on a piece of land
We'll plant some roots and some apple trees
Hey pretty girl, let's build some dreams

Life's a long and winding ride
Better have the right one by your side
Happiness don't drag its feet
And time moves faster than you think

Hey pretty girl, you did so good
Our baby's got your eyes
And a fighter's heart like I knew she would
Hey pretty girl, you did so good

Hey pretty girl, when I see the light
And it's my time to go
I'm gonna thank the Lord for a real good life
A pretty little girl and a beautiful wife

                                           (Hey Pretty Girl:: Kip Moore)

Dreams

::Teach at a school, volunteer at an orphanage, or start sponsoring a girl in India

::Travel Europe with my sister Rebekah this summer

::get a degree

:let myself be loved by God

::get baptized in the Red Sea

::adopt a girl from India

::stop letting fears keep me from investing in relationships

::go on a mission trip to Mexico with the best friend

::never stop laughing

:;read more

::get my nose pierced

::learn how to serve

::have a vintage wedding
::road trip

::dream big

::My Year In Retrospect

Panama

My year started off in the Darian Jungles of Panama with an incredible team. It was there I learned about what it meant to give everything you have and leave it all on the field. I  learned what it meant to be a love revolutionary and love everyone you come in contact with. 

NCFCA 

 Competed in my last year of NCFCA and had my best year yet. So tremendously blessed by the past six years in NCFCA. The metals and trophies pale in comparison to the relationships I've formed and hold so dearly to my heart. I am so thankful for the lessons that speech and debate has taught me. It's challenged me to think and reminded me that words have power to breath life or death. 

SOMEHOW made it to semi-finals and missed competing in finals by one vote. So blessed. God seriously must have a sense of humor. 

Graduation

I graduated from high-school with two friends I've known since forever. Funniest moment was when I was walking down the aisle and couldn't remember where my speech was and was preparing myself to give an impromptu speech. 

Down South::Georgia 

Went down to Georgia to visit one of my dear friends I met on my mission trip to Nepal a couple years ago! It was my first experience "down south" and I loved it! I loved the Southern accents, sweet tea, and quaint little coffee shops and restaurants. 

Camp

Had an incredible week at camp filled with failing at playing sports, conversations under the stars, memorizing dozens of verses, laughter and jokes, getting one crap of a sunburn, and learning what it means to leave everything at the foot of the cross. 

Nationals

 Had the BEST time ever at Nationals filled with trips to Walmart and Sonic, hours of conversation, losing my voice, endless heavenly piles of bacon, and some of the hardest good-byes I've ever had to say. Treasured each moment of this tournament and couldn't ask for better people to compete with over the past six years! 

Alaska

Spent a week visiting my best friend in Alaska over the fourth of July. Watched fireworks over the ocean, toured the Disney cruise ship, hiked a mountain (almost died multiple times), and ate wild berries like a bear. Cheers to seven years of friendship with this girl! 

Nicholas Tate

 Cheers 3 1/2 years of friendship, taking risks, laughter, sparkling grape juice, coffee shops, poems, trips to the emergency room, attempting to learn how to drive stick shift, music and hard good-byes with this guy. Constantly blown away by how Nicholas shows me God's love every day and makes me look at myself through another pair of eyes and treats me ridiculously well and buys me chocolate and opens up the doors for me. He's a keeper. ((Even though he hates bacon as much as I love it.)) 

Family

Learned to value my family in a way I've never appreciated them before. Thankful for how I've grown so much closer to my mom and am learning to respect my parents, even if I don't agree with them. I love them beyond words.

Here's to deep conversations, learning to love coffee and country music, taking chances, adventures, taking chances, learning to be loved by God, traveling, friendship, prisms, music, and moving mountains in my life. Cheers. Bring in 2k14.