Toto, we aren't in kansas anymore...

Alaska has the most beautiful sunsets

So cute

 My friend and I got to ride a float plane similar to this. We flew to a nearby Native Alaskan village and spent the night at this cute lodge. On the way home, I got to ride in the cockpit with the pilot! 

You would not believe how insanely big some of the cruise ships are!! 

Letting Go

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me 

when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me 

when I got nothing but my aching soul?

In today's culture we have glamorized the cross.

We forget that the cross meant death and loss.

We proudly string that object around our necklaces

Forgetting that the cross once meant disgrace.

 

The cross is a symbol of death, torture, and gore.

It is at the cross that I become no more.

But it is also at the cross where I find rest for my soul.

Where I am restored, made holy, made whole.

It is at the cross I realize I don't have to keep trying to be something I'm not.

It is at the cross the battle over my soul was fought.

 

So the cross is a symbol of death, yes, but also one of life.

It is where we die to ourselves and eternal strife.

It is where we learn what it means to truly live.

It is where we learn what it means to sacrifice and truly give.

It is at the cross where I lay my burdens down.

And realize you hear my cries, even if I never open my mouth or make a sound.

 

It is at the cross where I die to myself so you can live in me.

It is at the cross I catch a glimpse of eternity.

And see the unlimited love you have for me.

 

 

Beautiful Humility

"Anna, I need help. I'm going to overdose."
I'm not sure if you know what fear is until you've heard someone you love say those words to you. This time, it was my friend Holly who lived caty-corner to my house. So I slipped out of my house and Holly and I sat down and talked under the soft blinking canopy of stars. She talked, I listened. I listened as she talked about her struggles, about the anxiety attacks, arguments with her family, and the desire to overdose and end her life.
"I just want to die," she told me. "Do you see how miserable my life is?!"

What could I say?

Do you ever have those times when your life is as starkly different as night and day with the person you're trying to reach? And you wonder...how in the world can I ever connect with them? My life is a piece of cake compared to hers!
"I'm so lucky to have you," Holly said softly.
I assured Holly I loved her and reminded her she was a fighter. It was gonna get better.
What could I say?
When I went back inside, it dawned on me. The beautiful truth about Jesus is that he left it all. Heaven. Glory. Splendor. Perfection. Beauty. To come down to earth infected with disease, death, decay, and damnation. He loved us so much he came down to us. To connect with us. To live life with us. To weep with us. To teach us. But ultimately, to die for us. Because of that, we have a great High Priest who is able to connect with us in our weaknesses. Incredible, isn't it?
So. Application. Sometimes you need to stop trying to bring people up to your level. Instead, bring yourself down to their level. Weep with them. Feel their pain. Hold them tight. Through his example, Jesus showed us the beautiful humility of love. Love always humbles itself and connects with people where they are.

Relentless Love

"People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel."

Those words resonate with my soul. They remind me to cherish those around me. They remind to love. Deeply. Passionately. But it encourages me to do more than simply that. Those words encourage me to not just to love, but to tell others how much I love them. I love those around me so, so much sometimes it hurts. But oftentimes I forget to tell them how much they mean to me. There have been so many moments over these past years where I have realized how important it is to tell others how much you treasure them. 

The first was a couple years ago at a speech competition. We'd gone back to the hotel and my dad called my mom. When my mom finished the phone call, we immediately knew something was wrong. Mom sat us three girls down on the bed and, through blurry eyes, preceded to tell us that our oldest sister, Kristen, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Sometimes you don't realize how precious someone is until you might lose them. I remember the fear that went through my heart. I remember trying to hold myself together, gather my thoughts, and force out the question we were all wondering: would she die? And I remembering breaking down in my sister's arms. I saw life is such perfect constrats of black and white in life. I saw so clearly what was important and how much time I had wasted on what wasn't. We praised God when we learned that Kristen's tumor wasn't cancerous, but I will never forget how I learned to stop being distracted by the petty things on life. 

The second thing that made me realize how fragile life is was when my uncle was shot. I'll make it short. My uncle stopped by the side of the road to see if a broken down vehicle needed help. No one was there. He continued towards home, stopping to talk to his neighbor about the broken down vehicle he'd seen. As dusk as setting, two men emerged from the trees and started shooting at them. My uncle and his neighbor were both shot multiple times and soon rushed to the emergency room. Both men survived, but face a long daunting road to recovery. I realize through that experience that life is extremely fragile and can be snatched from us without a moment's notice. That's why it's essential to let people know how much they mean to us. Because, in the blink of the eye, it can all be gone.

The third thing was my beautiful friend Grace. I met Grace when I went on a mission trip a couple years ago and soon became best friends with her. Grace's family moved to the Dominique Republic to be missionaries and we hadn't had much contact over the past few months. All that changed when she called me one day. I could tell something was wrong, but had no idea what. Grace said, "I need to tell you something. We're back in the states." I thought that's what she had to tell me, but she continued. "...because my mom died." At sixteen years old, Grace's mom was gone. Forever. 'The future," Grace said, "is the hardest part. We were gonna go back packing through Europe next summer. We can't do that now. She'll never see me in my wedding dress. She'll never get to hold my grandchild. She was so excited about being a grandma." While talking on the phone, I noticed my metals on my dresser. I'd just gotten back from the speech tournament in Council Bluffs which was, hands down, my best tournament yet. But in that moment, I hated those metals with everything I was. I saw so clearly what was important. And it wasn't those metals. Not at all. I remember once when we had to take cover because there was a tornado warning. I ran back to my room to grab my blanket and saw my metals hanging on my dresser. So temporal. Please. Don't become distracted by things that don't matter. 

Having said all that...I hope you understand that I'm not just a "sweet person." I've learned time and time again how fragile life is and how it is vital to tell people how much they mean to you. A simple "I love you" or "I hope you're having a good day" or "here's how much you mean to me" or "I appreciate you because..." Go out and love relentlessly. Love passionately. Love when it's painful. Love when you don't feel like it. Please, I beg you, stop being distracted by things that don't matter. Stop being distracted by winning and earning metals. Stop trying to be the prettiest, smartest, funniest, strongest...best. Stop striving for temporal, perishable things. I pray...that at the end of my life...and even now people will not remember me as someone who was great at forensics or funny or anything else, but someone who loved deeply from her heart.  "Love," Jesus said, "must be sincere."

So what are you waiting for? Go out and love with relentless abandon. 

"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost." 

- G.K. Chesterton

The People I see

I was named after the Bible character Anna. Anna, a Prophetess, was an amazing legend to be named after. According to Luke, Anna never once left the temple. Instead, this devoted servant worshipped and fasted day and night, displaying her hopeless love for her Lord. She was right beside Simon’s side when he gently cradled the newborn baby Jesus in his arms. From that moment on, she couldn’t shut up about the child. She looked forward to great expectation to the day God would deliver Israel.

            And yet, oftentimes I don’t live up to the legend I was named after. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I don’t see Jesus’ eyes of grace and compassion staring back at me at all.

            Instead, I find myself staring at Pharaoh.

            You think that an odd comparison?

            Perhaps.

            But let me explain. All too often, I find myself acting like Pharaoh. In the times of darkness and confusion and plagues in my life, I find myself in desperate need of God. I cry out to God, plead with God, beg for his deliverance. In those rough places, I am quick to recognize my dire need for God. And yet, when the plagues are gone, when I am finally out of the deep waters that once threatened my life, I always seem to forget my need for God. Instead, I find myself pushing him away, pursuing my own agenda.

            And other times when I look in the mirror the person I see staring back at me reminds me of Pilate.

            Pilate. The man whose hands were stained red with the innocent blood of God’s gift to humanity. He tried to lay the blame on the people. He tried to remind them that it was their children whose hands were guilty of bloodshed, but-in reality-the decision rested in his hands. I am often like Pilate because I am all too eager and willing to do anything to get people’s approval. I am often like Pilate because I am afraid to take a stand for what is right. I am often like Pilate because I sarcastically question, “What is truth?”

            But most of all, I am like Pilate because I am guilty of crucifying God’s precious gift to humanity. My hands are stained with the blood of an innocent man.

            But most of the time, when I look in the mirror I see the accusing, dark eyes of the Pharisees staring back at me. We Christians are much too quick to accuse the Pharisees of hypocrisy and judgmental motives. How ironic that we judge the people who judge. After all…how are we any different? The Pharisees didn’t recognize who Jesus was, you say. But do we? Do we realize that Jesus is the face of the prostitute on the corner of the street, just doing her job so she can provide food for her children? Do we realize that Jesus is the homeless man pushing his shopping cart of precious belongings that we avert our eyes from? Give me one good reason as to why the person staring back at you in the mirror is any different than the Pharisees inscribed on the pages of the Bible. We cluck our tongues at the behavior of the Pharisees, but yet we fail to recognize the Pharisee that lives in each of us.

            Pharaoh. Pilate. Pharisees. People I recognize when I look in the mirror.