Thanksgiving

"Let me see you" she'd say. From the edge of the antique kitchen chair she'd reach her arm out toward me and grab my skirt. Quite the seamstress, my Great- Grandma Katy. She always wanted to know where I got my skirts.

I remember what it was like when she didn't have her walker. I remember the green and white chalk out back, in the coffee cans. Walk into the wet garage, old wet, and take a quick left. Only green and white. Where did all the other colors go? I always wondered. I remember the burgundy awning that would shade our drawings from summer heat. I remember her sitting on the porch.

Mom always taught us to be nice to Grandma Katy. That's not really the word... she just... let us know that she was to be given to. That it was part of our job, as her great-grand kids, to love her well and realize that she loved us well all the time. It was for us to say thank-you. To appreciate. To make sure we cleaned up when we were done with the videos and wooden blocks in the play room. When we went to Spoon street it was special. It was like we were giving credit where credit was due. This woman loved whole-heartedly into four generations. She was part of us.

Camel cigarettes still smell good to me even today. Back then I suppose they didn't, because it took my baby scrunched up face, along with my newly drug-informed cousin, that eventually motivated her to put up her last cigarettes. "Grandma, smoking is bad for you!!!" And after 70 years, she stopped. Just plain stopped. Funny that even since that real sacrifice, I like the scent because it makes me think of her. I must like her. I must've internalized that house, somehow, and what she kept in her apron pockets all of those years.

In the Shalom house we have a red couch. I reach over it to find the two gold lamp pulls that bring light into our space. Antique light illuminates the room and I only think about the table it used to stand on. Jeez, I don't even know how old this thing is. I don't know how old anything else was, either, that we cleared out of that condo in June. I really just don't know. I can't reconcile the frog that was found dead smushed between old quilts. I can't reconcile the military cuffs that used to be my great-grandfather's. I can't reconcile the morning bonnet or the mini tequila bottles or the "I love you Grandma" birthday cards. And I DEFINITELY can't reconcile all of us going through her stuff all at the same time. Oh good gracious, she would have a cow. She would just have a cow. Think of all this tissue paper we're just crumbling up and throwing away.

There's a picture of her on my phone that I can't get myself to get rid of. It's not even OF her, stupid Anna. It's of orange juice. Her face is seen in the upper right corner just looking at me through those wide-rimmed glasses. I usually wondered what her inner monologue sounded like. I knew that she wanted me to get the right brand of orange juice. Tropicana, no pulp. But I also wondered, in that moment, what she thought of me, and if I was doing a good enough job of loving her. I was thankful for that day. That day was a rite of passage. The first rite of passage is being taller than Grandma. haha. That became easier as she got older and seemed to shrink faster than anyone anticipated. Or at least that I anticipated. The second rite of passage was running errands for her. I loved to think that I was finally like my mom and the rest of the cousins; she trusted me to go out and pick up what she needed. Finally, I could do something for her. Finally, at 19, I could start to thank her for all the cool things she did for us. Finally, there was a way I could maybe.. improve the situation. Ways I had been looking for as I really started to notice her struggling. 

It really wasn't fair for Grandma. It isn't fair for anyone, really. Everyone should have the ability to keep their dignity for as long as possible, and she was so independent! SO independent. I mean, this is the woman who went off to her own marriage ceremony on the back of a motor cycle. This is a woman who went through raising small babies while her husband was in the military. This was a woman who fought in the midst of prohibition and the Great Depression and snobby great-grandkids who really never appreciated why on earth you'd save a zip-lock bag. She was sassy, too. I liked that about her. Her love language was bossiness. I... think. It's kind of a debate. 

The last time I spent one on one time with her she told me about Albania. It was so hard for me to keep up with who was who and when they were with who and why. She kind of assumed I knew those things. I wished I wasn't so out of touch with our family tree. I saw her eyes move back and forth with mine and it was obvious we weren't on the same page at all. Not like that one Thursday when she told me stories about her old one room school house. Not like that day. No, she wasn't getting me this time. And I wasn't very well getting her.

I wear the crown necklace sometimes. My fingers reach up to my neck and I can feel the gold chain beneath my fingers. A gift, passed down to me from the family tree that I came from. A gift, the provision that was passed down to me as well; opportunity to live well and to be known. A gift, her name that is part of my name and part of my make-up.

I don't know what it will be like this Christmas when we don't have to pour a quarter cup of coffee anymore, or sit playing with our Christmas presents by the forever coffee table. There was always gum drops on that thing when I was little. One day along the way she switched to take 5 bars. Real different, but still awesome. That coffee table is with my mom now, holding on to it for me for my first place. I don't really want my first place though. I don't want to be older. When I think about the condo, I just want her back in it I don't want to be on my own and grown up. I just want her back in it.

For a woman dearly loved and dearly missed.

Be grateful for those you love and for those who love you well. 

-Anna Catherine.

Pay Attention: What's been given to you on that silver spoon?

Today I was cruisin' facebook and I found a link from my dear friend Candace. We met in New York, doing advocacy to fight human trafficking. Kind of. I am still only learning what it's like to fight. I only heard of the war recently.

Today I am wearing orange because I just came from the football game. There's tons of chatter because it's homecoming weekend. Parents are everywhere. There are babies in Wheaton-striped onesies, popcorn spilled all over the place, the swim team was wearing all their craziness (overalls, floaties, rainbow afros), and obviously, there were all our boys out on the field. Today is a fun day.

Sometimes in the midst of fun, I become captured in other things. After about half time, I went home to study because I'm trying this new thing called responsibility. Facebook begins this process because I like to see what's going on in the small universe of social selectivity. That's when I found the link.
http://www.buzzfeed.com/copyranter/violence-against-women-in-fashion-continues-unabated

I love fashion. I like stalking designer labels and finding that pair of shoes that makes you feel like you have a million dollars. Because if you have a million dollars, you are powerful and people like you. (Or at least, that's what I've gathered). Because if your hair is perfect and your lips look nice in apple red men will want to love you. (Or at least that's what I've figured). Creativity and design certainly is interesting and a fashion can be a beautifully strategic art. Somehow, however, we let creativity and design that can be beautifully edifying in terms of God's creation and let it get slowly eaten by these little culture bugs. Lies in green, worm forms of truth that take us away from goodness bite by bite.

Don't read this unless you care. I assume you wouldnt've started if you didn't care. But... my fingers needed to do something. The bottle of my heart was shaken shaken shaken up and there's an explosion.

I know there's a ton of people outside having a good time at the football game. I'm glad for the moments of happiness we can have, gathered with our good friends, being excited over games, and solidarity, and home. Sometimes though I can't jump back into the happiness. I get distracted by culture-lie bugs like in this article. The next thing I know I'm not thinking about the football game I just came from but I'm on my bedroom floor. I'm doing push-ups until my arms are too tired but I'm still mad. This then moves into kneeling in the carpet, face towards the sky saying "WHY GOD, WHY" are we so stupid????

Why are we so stupid???

Why do we, yes, WE post degrading images of women being raped and stuffed into car trucks and say, "so buy the shoes I make"???

There are men and women living in the U.S. and around the world who are regularly exploited for sex and vulnerable to great physical and emotional violence. In these situations, dignity and value that we have been given by the Lord Most High, the beauty of us that can be seen because of Jesus, is clouded over by ash and smoke. These are situations that we look on with disdain and rejection, "WHAT VULGARITY", we cry.

However... if only these men and women were wearing the right high heels? If only... they looked like a million dollars? If only it was Dolce and Gabana who said they could be raped...
then we say, "sexy".


To Miley, I sigh quietly. I wish there wasn't a man taking nude pictures of her in his apartment. I wish he could look at her without seeing her as his possession, I wish she had enough power to stay famous by wearing clothes.

And because I know neither of them, I'm being judgmental. Caveat.

I wish we understood what God wanted intimacy to look like. I wish we respected the vulnerability and beauty of the body which is connected to our hearts and our souls. I wish we let little girls have all the opportunities in the world, even if their choice were to only wear parkas, sweat pants, or no make-up. I wish a girl never felt like she had to lay down for a man to get anywhere.

Sometimes I wish we'd just stay home. Don't get eaten by the world. Don't let that Elle magazine tell you how to wear your hair this month. Go ahead. Dye it green. Shave it off. Wear only overalls and grey jumpsuits. Be a computer engineer. Stay single. Have the coolest 27 cats you ever wanted. Become a politician. Have many children. Be a lawyer for social justice. Make full body wet suits a thing. Abstain from dancing to Kesha. Tell Robin Thicke to go to prison. Grab a microphone and tell your community to be better. Tell your best friend that she/he is incredible. Tell someone who annoys you that they were made by God and that you love them. Be nice to people when you go through the drive through. Try to learn how to say people's names right.

We are not alone. And we need to respect ourselves and each other.


You wouldn't go up to a famous art piece and say- "This is mine. Whatever time, intention, and effort there was to create this beauty doesn't matter because I will use it for my own purposes. Actually, this canvas should've all been purple. Maybe I'll cut off the top half. Actually, I don't want to love and appreciate it, but I could use a new door mat."

I hate us sometimes. We're so stupid.

...God doesn't say that, though. Thank goodness for the hope in him.

But now, thus says the LORD, your Creator, O Jacob, And He who formed you, O Israel, "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!

Dear God,

I'm sorry for not loving myself and your children the way you love. You give us millions of chances, and I want to be gracious enough to give chances like that, to experience grace the way you do. Please, good God, help us to stop exploiting one another.

Help us love instead.

What happens when I read

My two cents may not be important to you. However.. I write all the time and debate actually sharing it again, and here we are! Someone who I love a lot told me not to stress about blogging, just write when you feel like writing.

After being bombarded with the craziness that I have complete accessibility to via the Internet, I feel as if I'm watching the earth explode from far away. Do you ever get that feeling? Sitting safely behind your screen and keyboard, you can say basically whatever the heck you want because you're safe. Your arguments can be blind and unfiltered, your grammar can suck (yes I noticed, it was supposed to be funny...), you can make large generalizations and war out your own emotions at the expense of others.

Baby side note on generalizations. WE'RE ALL GOING TO MAKE THEM. Why?! Because no one, literally no person ever in existence has time to comb through every statement ever made and make it logically sound. No one has TIME to go over every sentence they've communicated and picked out all the potential holes and nuances that may have made it imperfect. That is the beauty of community- all perspectives are needed and can positively contribute to the whole. This is why I get frustrated when I read comments sections are articles in the top news.

You really only can read comments sections if you a) are prepared to procrastinate big time, or b) have some kind of self-loathing complex. It's kind of awful, people are cray. (And you might just want to explode at me and tell me why that last sentence was the worst. That's fine, and you can. But in all honesty, it's just my opinion so why do you care that much?)

It is in some of these moments that I start to greatly miss camp. There you had to be on your toes at every moment. On top of things, always on the look out for what kids needed, etc. And until my school schedule becomes more heavily loaded... I have time to read comments sections.

The point of this post wasn't really just for me to say all that. I just wanted to utilize an outlet where I could express the deep dissatisfaction I have with the way things are sometimes. I think... no, no this isn't okay, none of this is okay... but I can't logically explain why. It just isn't.

My professor said it perfectly this morning, when he was reiterating what our school president said in chapel yesterday. We are filled with a holy longing for completeness, wholeness, and light (or something like that).

A holy longing. There. There it is. That is why I'm upset that there's nude women in "Blurred Lines." That's it.  Because it would be tedious to try and logically support why I believe that shouldn't happen. It's hard to prove to a general audience. But there are those deep, deep gut feelings that are meaningful. I can't tell you how difficult it is to enter into some of these controversial conversations and feeling as if I've already lost. Which I'm sure we've all felt.

But the gut feeling is a holy longing. God created us from his place of loving power. Respect was part of the plan. Honor was part of the plan. Sacrifice and submission were part of the plan. Being humble and kind to our loved ones was ALWAYS THE FRICKING PLAN. Giving isn't an anomaly! Making sure we don't rape people isn't something to politically or logically struggle with!  And guess what- it's difficult to say why. Because people can argue you forever about stomach-churning craziness. But I'm going to advocate arguing with our gut feelings sometimes, aka, the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit tells me that when people are cherished, freedom and beauty opens in a way that grows joy and safety, righteous living and more prayers because we ache to celebrate being loved. That may be too vague but I think you've seen it.

Think of one person you know in your mind who seems... settled. Someone who seems to be at peace and can see life through a lens of ultimate joy beyond devastating circumstances. No one's perfect, I know. But I hope we all know someone who we view this way.

If you got this far, thanks for listening. I hope we become the kind of people who fight for ideas not just because the Bible says so, but because the Bible is the looking glass into who God created us to be and what kind of world he created us for. And that world is all about love, joy, peace, SAFETY and RESPECT.

So screw all this controversy about modesty, and inappropriate dancing, and blurring the lines of sexual consent through catchy lyrics. I don't even want to talk about it anymore. I just want to respect people and love them because that's what God wants. That's what he wants.

Opportunities

That's how my mom described it today when I was venting/talking about my recent transitions that have involved Michigan, NY, and Pennsylvania. The many challenges that come with working with new people and all sorts of kinds of people is that you don't always see eye to eye. These are learning OPPORTUNITIES. (Catch that positive connotation right there). Also, coming to new places and knowing nothing while it feels like everyone else knows everything can be difficult. Opportunity.

I greatly apologize for not keeping you updated on my adventures that continue in full swing this summer. Not because I'm vain enough to think that it's like... meaningful to you or anything, but I definitely left you on a unfinished note. Last time I wrote in this I was at Mont Lawn Camp volunteering. Once we returned to NYCUP we finished up our internships and entered a time of "Debrief." Yikes.

Ohhh debrief. Somehow, in one weekend, I was supposed to figure out how to process everything we were supposed to learn and everything I learned on accident. Somehow in six weeks I had to figure out how to... untangle the spiderweb of emotions that sped through my soul. It wasn't an easy six weeks at all. It was really difficult. Our teams went through multiple health difficulties, exhaustion because of lack of AC ;), working with people from really heart-breaking backgrounds, global issues, and squishing cockroaches that show up in the bed sheets in the mean time. Ya know, unexpected adventures. 

I had zero idea what I was getting into when I arrived in this fast-paced jungle. I had zero idea that I would be confronted with intensive spiritual formation, and remarkable encouragement to change the situations that confine our existence with Jesus that 's intended to be so free and sweet. These past few weeks pressed the way I think about people I meet. To those of you who gave because you love me or because you believe in the work God is doing or both, thank you. Your prayers were not in vain. Because I promise, the way I see the world is different. For every one of us who was involved in this project (I think it's safe to say), we see the world differently. And we are EXCITED to share in the work that God is doing to set the captives free! 

And freedom doesn't mean having a stable job, a  family, and living in a safe neighborhood, though those things are all wonderful and can glorify God beautifully. All of us experience different types of sin that hold us in captivity. Sometimes we make choices that are against God's will and other times things happen to us that we never, ever asked for. But the responsibility of the church is to reach out to each other and people who don't know him, because whether you want to hear it or not, people need help to gain freedom. And some people need it in the worst way.

Also, I've had the privilege of meeting some incredible people, as I've said before. One of those people is Ann, who was our direct supervisor during my team's internship. One of the awesome things she's done in her life is join a running club in the city. This running club is for homeless men who live at one of the missions in NY. So she would get up super early, run with these men and try to get to know them. HOW AWESOME IS THIS. People have all kinds of different needs. Friends is a need. Joining a running club is a way to do this. 

Another way to contribute to the overall welfare of the world? Buy fair trade things. Labor slavery exists on enormous levels and contributes to how most of how the goods are made that we buy in the U.S. That may not be surprising to you, but guess what, SO many fair trade goods are available at the places you already shop yet! I bought a beautiful journal and stationary at Barnes and Noble the other day that was totally fair trade! It's the little things.

Hugging kids also helps. The world is just more beautiful with more selfless love in it. The more we let God work through our open hearts the better we're able to love. Man, sometimes it's just hard. It's easy for me to feel like a failure or just generally selfish. But God works continually, ever-flowing with goodness, drawing us closer to him. So hug little kids. Smile at random people (that one is hard for me. haha.) AH so that brings me to one of the main points here, I got re-hired at Mont Lawn Camp. ;)) I'm in the Poconos for two more weeks because the Lord is good and opens crazy doors we don't expect.

Praise him because people are beautiful and worth fighting for. 

I'm thankful because the people here welcomed me with open arms, and because God himself is going to help us love through another weeks of craziness at Mont Lawn Camp.

Hugs to you from good ol' Bushkill, Pennsylvania, because that's actually a real place.

Love, Anna. 

Camp. The adventure continues.

If you could do us a favor, please pray that the kids that are at camp this week will go to City Camp on Monday. The plan is that kids who are at camp now will continue to be in City Camp's program in the South Bronx. This program includes mentorship, tutoring, and general support kids in that neighborhood.

I am asking this because it would be extremely beneficial for the kids. I'm also selfishly asking this because we have fallen head over heels in love with them. Even writing this makes my heart squeeze, thinking of the ways we've been able to hold kids this week. 

Last night we attended a Princess Party. Yep, you heard it. Picture a normal meeting room with round tables, a kitchen sink, a couple couches, and a fireplace. Now cover it with rainbow tissue paper confetti, a red carpet, tons of nail polish and make up, pink sprinkles, and most importantly- a sign that says "You are a PRINCESS, a daughter of the king". 

I've heard that talked about before or used with different phrases. And this is selfish and terrible, but I've always thought it was presented in a cheesy way. It's crucial for every girl and guy to understand that they're valuable and of infinite value because they are loved by God of the universe. But tiaras? Seriously? This princess party was not that at all. All the little girls sat around this red carpet as a "real live Princess" ;) came to read them a story. Oh my gosh, when I saw that sign I was about to cry. This whole event was a beautiful display of the love of God. Counselors sat around painting toes, curling hair, brushing through massive knots of hair, giving out cupcakes with TONS of icing, dancing to One Direction, and telling every single girl about 300 times that they were beautiful. This was their night to hear over and over and over that they're beautiful. Here at camp (this I've said before) kids just hug you. Not all of the kids, and most want to get to know you a little bit first, but when I sit down in chapel, kids just cuddle with me. Why? They know I'm gonna hug them back. That's basically what camp is about. The kids know that the people here love them and will do anything to help them. They are SAFE. Safe physically but also emotionally. They know that these people will tell them again and again that they're beautiful because that's how God thinks of them too.

I'm just amazed. That's basically the whole point of this post. I'm amazed. I'm amazed by the lightning bugs that cover the forest path up to our cabin, and I'm amazed by the doe and her three fawns that I wake up to behind it in the morning. I'm amazed by the ridiculous patience of counselors that hold on to kids that are pitching fits out of exhaustion, or how they teach little ones to swim that have never been in a pool before. I'm most amazed by how happy I am in the tiniest moments, like when one of my favorite little ones found two worms. He doesn't say very much or when he does it isn't loud. Yesterday he held out his tiny hands and said "They're my best friends." Then he hopped away with two worms that were on their way to death. Unfortunately, he really needed nap time so eventually I just picked him up and carried him. He didn't help very much so it took me a lot not to drop him. We were both covered in sweat and creek water and grime alllll over. He suddenly looks up with a gasp and a chunk of worm in one hand. "UGHH it brote!!" (broke, he meant broke). Fearing that he was going to drop both worm chunks down my shirt, I started talking to another counselor near by. Mr. Brandon helped us out by gently hitting both worms out of his hand. We said, Oh whoops, we got to let them go now. (This was best for all involved, I assure you). Little one was kind of upset by this obviously and buried his face in my neck. I just carried him and talked to him about things until he started smilin' again as we walked to our next activity. The worms were all but forgotten after a while, but I loved holding him and figuring out what we cared about. He really could've stayed in my arms forever, I would've been happy with that. You know some of these kids don't feel loved at home. I just want to say, stay here!! I'll love you every day. 

Maybe all this sounds silly, sure. But that's how I feel at the moment, and since you're reading this, you asked ;).

I've had the pleasure of being able to spend a lot of time with some really wise people this week. They're good with the kids, they're spiritually wise, and they give the glory to God. They're diligent in tough situations, compassionate towards those who are burnt out, and perceptive of others' needs.

This has been a privilege. It has been a privilege to serve. Yeah, I'm not perfect and have lost my patience a lot this week. But the Lord has been so good to us. He forgives my wrongs and shows his beauty through stunning sunsets and water games and baby teeth coming out in a rush of blood at lunchtime. Hah. This is awesome. I love it. I love him. I love them. I love you.

Okay bye ;)

Being FAT.

Here at Mont Lawn City Camp they discuss with their staff the concept of being "FAT" or flexible, adaptable, and teachable. Hopefully I've been doing this a little bit, potentially gaining 20 metaphorical pounds.

It's crazy up in here.

We've been here since Thursday and it's taken most of our energy to just keep a hold of the camp schedule, much less all the rules, and absolutely not the tiny nuances that make camp, CAMP. I'm here with four other interns and we assist the staff who are called "Specialists". The kids spend four hours at specialty areas every day doing things like baking, archery, theatre, rock wall, etc. I'm working with theatre (no surprise there) and it's been quite the ride.

This week Mont Lawn is experiencing about half the number of kids they usually expect. We're here because this week is specifically for South Bronx kids who we've been working with for the past couple weeks back in New York. It's such a privilege to be here. Let me paint a quick picture on what this looks like.

On of the things we do in theatre is sit in circles of campers and counselors and pretend like we're handing around different objects, everything from an elephant to a bolt of lightning. The kids get super into it and start screaming when the pretend spider comes around, and get quiet if they're pretending to hold a baby. Younger cabins are willing to get into almost anything but the older girls will give you a run for your money. They've got quite the amount of attitude hahaa. Hard to compete with that.
I've been in the pool three different times today. Yes, there's a pool here. It's beautiful and a great haven from the ridiculously steamy weather. For one hour today about 85% of the kids were in the pool. Let me tell you, it's not THAT big. "WATCH ME WATCH ME WATCH ME SWIM" will probably ring in my eardrums for days. Not a bad thing. Just a loud thing. I think out of the percentage of water that consists of my body weight, a nice amount of it is not ingested chlorine and kid spit. Yummy. These kids want to be held a lot in the pool and in general. A lot of them want to be hugged almost always, and some of them just can't swim. It's so nerve-wrecking to watch the amount of potential hazards ensue in this arena. I am now accustomed to chronically holding my arms out in front of me, bracing myself for someone on my back, and listening for any coughs that sound more like a choke. Dang. It is CRAZY up in here.

Not all of the kids come from good places. Some slam into doors over and over and over. Last night three ambulances came. Some little babies just don't listen and take off every 5 minutes. The counselors here deal with a TON day in and day out. Please pray for the staff and the counselors and their summers here. They really go through it.

What I've tried to do while I'm here is to figure out how to interact well with this camp and how to keep the kids engaged and as happy as possible. We don't get to see the kids 24/7, so it's nice to help out the counselors when we can. It's so important for these kids to learn that the love of Jesus is real. It's so important for these kids to learn that the love of Jesus is real. It's so important for me to learn that the love of Jesus is real. It's so important for you to know that the love of Jesus is real. Because sometimes you get three ambulances, and you seem really outnumbered.

I'm really tired. I think I might go crash for a while, maybe for a really long while. Please pray for Mont Lawn Camp. There's so much love here for children that need good examples of love and respect. God is good all the time. Pray that that's communicated well and believed here.

Goodnight everyone!

A Quick Word

"Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said these things, he cried out in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go." 

I believe in God, but I don't always believe God. His existence is something I know is true, but God makes many promises in the Bible that I have a rough time with sometimes. Or if I know them in my head, my actions say my heart still isn't sure. 

"I will never leave you or forsake you"

Grace walked in and she was crying. Not big, obnoxious tears, but those little tears that are more upset than sad. She had a cute face, dark, long lashes and two french braids that burst from her ponytails because of the humidity. Standing next to one of the teenage volunteers, both her hands sat close to her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed together. To me, this said, "My mom left me here so don't try and make me do anything. I'm mad and you're scary and I don't like you."

These children are a challenge, sometimes. You feel it when a little kid rejects you. The afternoon continued with singing, and good stomping beats that reminded us that we were in an urban day camp. It takes all of my coordination to stomp, clap, dance, and sing at the same time. These kids have rhythm and they can show you on the djembe too. Songs moved into the lesson and I heard the gospel preached for little ears. It's confusing when I hear it this way, because sometimes it's hard for me to imagine power of cosmic proportions so simple. Glancing to my left I looked for anyone for anyone out of place. And there was Grace.

I guess tears hadn't been consoled. Though everyone sat diligently in front of Isaac, she remained standing with her fists as her mouth. "I'm Ms. Anna, nice to meet you." ...Nothing. "Can I sit next to you?" Nod. YES!!!!! (It's the little things ;)) Little groans kept coming out of her mouth and I was worried if she was really sick or something. Or worse, if she really didn't know what was going on and thought we were crazy people trying to get her. After getting her water and figuring out she was seven, I realized she had wrapped her whole little self up in her sundress, arms and all, desperately trying to hide. ..."Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" Nod. Hm...

It took her a while to figure out where the arms were and how to fit her fingers through the fading jean and strings of fraying thread. But she got it after a while, yanked it on and defiantly crossed her chest, all in the denim that's wrapped me up for years. It took a bit for her arms to relax but they did and she reached for the water, gulping it down in only a couple breaths. You can't even imagine my relief and fascination when I glanced over and she was sitting with her feet beside her, using her fingers to act out little animals and people. Baby hands tapped along the floor as I heard her whisper voices to match. Forgetting all about us and whatever had scared her half to death a while before, she finally felt safe enough to stop crying. Even better, she felt safe enough to play in the midst of her imagination. I could've sat there for quite a while, watching quiet contentment unfold with nothing but an empty cup and the floor.

This is what came to my mind last night when we were in the chapel having a worship service. We heard phrases like, "Give it to Jesus", or "Bring all your burdens to the cross", and in my head, I responded, "No. Where is a glass plate or porcelain mug I can chuck across the room? That is what I want right now. Now silently giving something to somewhere I don't understand." Now, dear reader, keep reading please. If you stop here I'll be upset. haha.

I was overwhelmed. Remember I told you that before? Remember the massage parlors that are brothels and houses of rape? Remember the Bronx and the man begging for food at the door of Burger King? Remeber the father with no 35 dollars and the kids who are called throw-aways? Remember the way I yelled at my team members yesterday? Remember the way I cynically analyze the church? Remember my identity searches that get me no where and my temptation to turn to vices of emptiness and lies and falsehood? Remember doubt?

It's time to forget the notion that all of this is permanent.

Right now, many of us are crying, I think, in our own ways. We are scared and feel a little abandoned by people we trust. We stand at the doorway with our fists by our mouth. Some of us have good reason to be afraid and take sin or cynicism and wrap ourselves all up in it, just trying to hide.

That's what I tried to do last night because all of these issues are too big for me. But here is where I need to shut up and listen to God. Maybe, sometimes, he even tells me about himself. Right next to me, he says I AM and he makes stars appear. Or he makes really good, nourishing food. Or he brings me a hug from a good friend. Or he helps non-profits start up to start fair trade goods. Or he brings one of my sisters into freedom through those he's called to do so. 

You're probably tired of these lists. My point is, God is really happy with you. He's happy to see you. When you sit on the hardwood floor and play and an empty cup and make up stories, he smiles because you're content. He's happy to hear you say your name and that you're seven years old because he likes the way your voice sounds. When you are kind to your family members who drive you nuts, when you hold your significant other at night, or even when you lose a business deal. God is happy to see you.

There is the whole part about sin. We can't ignore it, and we need to repent. But I just hope that in no moment do you think that God isn't happy to hear you when you pray to him.

This week I've been learning that even if I only want to throw dishes, I should just shut up and believe in Jesus. He did miracles to bring us to the Father who wants to know us. And God moves among us every day that we may know him. Believing it all the time is hard, but I'm gonna start to fight this battle of life with someone who loves me and is happy to see me when I come home.

Sweet dreams, beloved one.

Anna