the Secret Time

Sleep is weird.  It's something you're totally a part of but hardly involved in.  Most dreams you have you don't remember, and when you think about it -- it's kind of weird that 7 or 8 hours of every day is spent doing something you can't remember.

While on this trip to Cincinnati, Katrina and I are sharing a bedroom, and I woke up this morning to find a tweet from her that had been written sometime during the night:

KStyles@Anniepeterson just turned 2 me in her sleep & mumbled incoherently. When i asked what she said she replied "am i awake? Am i even alive?"

I want someone to tell me what happens while I'm asleep.  How did I say this?  What did I mean?  AHH!

The weird thing is, I feel sure that I've heard this recently -- like from a dream someone else had, which makes me think it might be important.

Part of this curiosity comes from a story my sister Amy told me once.  She said that she would overheard our other sister, Suzanna, talking in her sleep...talking to Jesus.  She was just telling Him how much she loved Him.  I don't think she ever remembered that, but Amy knew that Suz was meeting Jesus while she was asleep.

We're still alive while we're asleep, and I am about to die of curiosity to know what it's like.

Adventures in an Airport

Do you see the cuteness I get to deal with here?

This post is going to have to require from you two things.  1) an ability to picture the scene I will try to paint with words and 2) a sense of humor.  

This morning I went to the airport.  Me and two minivans and three carseats and four other adults and a tired toddler and a couple boys and two infants.  

Yeah.

I built a lot of arm muscle carrying a carseated infant in each hand through the check-in line.  We also had multiple large suitcases and one double jogger.  People around us smiled at the babies, and smiled more, and then wondered how we were going to survive.  One man offered to help, but I kindly refused -- maybe I looked ridiculous saying "I got it", but I just didn't see how he could actually make himself useful.  Sometimes you just have to buckle down, carry the babies, and shuffle the suitcases.  

Once we got up to the actual check-in, we stood at the computer screens, surrounded by a sea of baggage, hurriedly taking babies out of carseats and holding them in arm.  Katrina and I each took one while Kelsey tried to corral Zoe and get the bags figured out at the same time.  The check-in lady asked the babies' names and made them their own boarding passes, and somehow we walked away from the counter with every child we had arrived with and all necessary boarding passes.  

And then we fought the REAL battle.  Security.  By this time, Randy and Jill who had been parking had joined back up with us, and we headed in, ready for anything.  Katrina and I took turns holding both babies so that the other could get her jacket off to put in the scanner, it was like there were a million computers to take out and put back into bags, we directed unsuspecting people away from behind us in line, and somehow made it through.  The man had to inspect every single bottle we had brought with water for formula in it, and when Katrina reached out to take one she thought he was done with he barked "Don't touch that.  I have to check all of them."  

We took turns carrying multiple bags each and chased an energetic toddler and carried babies through the hall and finally found a spot to rest and get more smiles from people passing us.  

Once we got on the actual plane, Mercy started crying and I worked to console her while having one of those panic moments: "Oh my goodness...what if the baby I'm holding spends the flight screaming??"  But she didn't...instead she went peacefully to sleep in my arms and let me and Katrina (who held a sleeping Anna) have a quality conversation.  Imagine that.

The rest of the day included waiting in the airport for our rental van, driving to Cincinnati from Indianapolis, a stop for food at Wendy's (I have been so hungry today -- it's crazy!), a visit to the famous Cincinnati Vineyard, and Skyline.  

Skyline was quite the experience...Randy and Kelsey had been raving about it to us for a long time.  They had to explain to us about a million times the difference between a three-way and a five-way, and when the waitress asked us what we wanted, we stammered and stared at Randy to just dictate what should be gotten. It's definitely the opposite of health food, and they have bibs that they hand out, which I don't understand because it's not like you're eating ribs.  Katrina made me wear one, and I felt ridiculous (because I looked ridiculous).  I got a three-way and one conie, no onions.  Let the Skyline eater understand.

Oh, Skyline.  I basically had no choice but to be impressed with you, even though your "chili" isn't really chili.  That's okay, I'll like you anyways.

Cincinatti

I have such a trouble spelling that right.

Where in the world is Annie, you ask?  I am on the trip of a lifetime with a few of my most favorite people in the whole wide world.  The Bohlenders have begun The Zoe Foundation.  It's unbelievable -- I love these people.  You can read all about it on the webpage, but basically it's a foundation to make adoption accessible and possible for the people of God.  Why adoption?  A positive alternative to abortion...because we don't just oppose abortion out of some random moral conviction -- we oppose abortion because it destroys the lives of children that God loves.  And if God loves them, then we are called to love them too.

Please go watch the video HERE!  

Blue Wool

I have had the privilege twice now of praying for the mom's group my sister leads.  One sister is the host, she invited the other to come teach, and then I (and Amy) got invited to come help pray for people.  (Pray as in hear the voice of the Lord specifically for the people there)

We've been going after insignificance, and identifying how it holds all of us hostage. Insignificance has held women hostage for years and years...  It convinces women across the world and across the church that the roles God designed for us are somehow wrong/not as good or important as men's roles.  See, the genders have totally different roles, and that is a beautiful thing.  That is also a completely different blog post that I will not be writing tonight. :)

I just wanted to jot down and share with you all one of the things the Lord showed during our prayer time.  

So often we get caught up in trying to make ourselves perfect.  We think that Jesus is standing there, expecting a high standard of us and waiting for us to attain it.  We think we believe He helps us, but end up finding out that we really think He's a hard taskmaster demanding perfection.  I felt like one of the things the Lord spoke to tonight was that we believe that He is constantly expecting us to move forward, to be taking ground.  We see him as the director of the show of our lives, wondering how holy He can get us before that day we die.  But I think the truth is that sometimes, He just wants us to be.  

It was like a picture of the shepherd.  Imagine a shepherd telling one of his sheep: "Okay now, Fluffy.  I have been shearing your wool for a while, and I figure you will have watched me a lot and learned how to do it.  I did half of it yesterday -- how about today you show me how you can do it yourself.  We'll see at the end of the day how much you were able to do, and hey!  if you get inspired, you might even want to dye it blue, just to be productive."

What in the world?

That's not how shepherds are.  I think of Jesus, the Great and Good Shepherd to be One who will take a day with us and say something more like "Here Fluffy [Annie...Amy...Jeff...Tim...Suzanna], I found some great grass over here.  Today, I want you to stand here and really enjoy this grass.  I love it when you are well provided for, so this is the job I'm assigning you today:  enjoy your grass, courtesy of Me."  Then the sheep goes munching away, and has a good time knowing that he/she is absolutely adored by this shepherd who provides and cares.

Yes, the Lord has things for us to do.  Yes, He does works that are sometimes really intense in our hearts -- and they all turn out to be part of that LIFE abundant He said He came to give us. 

He loves you, Fluffy.  Enjoy the grass.

"Neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore..."

This morning, my heart felt like an open wound.  Pain resurfaced that has been crusted over for a while.  

A few weeks ago, I read this blog post by Kate McDonald, and the title has been in my head ever since -- "When Boys Hit Girls".  The simplicity of the statement hardly begins to describe the evil of it.

I know someone this happened to.  I remember the day I found out.  I remember the time before, and the time afterward.  I remember being angry that my friend had been so hurt.  I was angry in an intense, focused way -- a way I can only remember feeling twice.  Once was that day, and once was a few weeks ago in a dream about human trafficking.  

I remember how broken my heart was, broken for the pain she was feeling, and I remember my friend Jeff asking me how I was doing the next day, and I'm pretty sure I said something like "terrible."  My heart was broken...so sad to see my friend hurting so badly.

It makes me angry to see the devil take it out on God's people.  Every one of the women that goes through something like this has an exquisite design, purposes God made them for...and the enemy whacks them with this.  He tells them they're worthless and that they deserve to be treated like dirt.  That makes me angry.  Angry.

Today I found out that my heart is still broken.  It felt like I needed to process it all again, I needed someone close to explain it all to.

And as I sat in the prayer room this morning, memory of the pain rushing back, I looked up at the worship team and just about fell apart.  I live in a community full of people who love Jesus, and guys who would never ever ever hurt a girl.  I'm not trying to romanticize this or anything - I'm just trying to say how huge the gulf is in the comparison.  And how terrible that feels.

And then...then I thought about the fact that someday Jesus will come back and make it all right again.  The title of this post is that verse from Revelation, about how there will be no more death or crying -- I can't wait for that day.   There is hope between now and that day also... hope that He turns our ashes into beauty.  Hope that the plans of the Lord are sure, and that He is our protector.

I sat heart-broken this morning, unable to get it off my mind, and told Jesus how it hurt, and it was like he sat next to me and said "Me too..." and it was like I could see Him weeping.  We are not alone in our pain.  You are not alone in your pain.  It breaks His heart more than it breaks ours that His children are hurting.  He's coming back, and He will repair the broken places and put His healing hand on our hearts.  On my heart, on your heart...He can heal us.  He will heal us.

If I wrote a letter to Princeton...

It would go something like this.

Dear Princeton,

If I attend your school, I'm bringing the power and spirit of Elijah with me.

Amen. Er, I mean...Thank you,

Annie

Because really? That's what it would take. And that's who I am. I mean, I'm not Elijah, but that's what I'm called to.

Today I had my interview with a Princeton alum, and it was much more involved than the Harvard one. Harvard's was at Starbucks...Princeton's was in a conference room on the top floor of a fancy office building, and all the hosts ran around wearing [totally dorky] Princeton sweatshirts (which I thought about refusing to wear if I attend, but then realized that that was indeed a silly promise to make). Starbucks--downtown KC...I want to go to Harvard.

Anyways.

The interview itself was just about as laid back, except it was much! longer and we got a lot deeper. He just asked question after question (not in a grilling sort of way, just a looking for as much info as possible sort of way). He asked about music school, and he asked about what I liked to study, then he asked about what ELSE I liked to study, and he may have even asked a third time, which led me to talk about science which is pretty much at the bottom of the list Things I Like to Study.

Then he asked what the Harvard lady didn't ask. He asked what TheCall did.

Me: "We pray. [pause] We pray and we set up large events to get lots of other people together to, um, pray! We pray for our nation."

Him: "So, specific issues, or just general?"

Me: {Alright, I'm just gonna have to be brutally honest} "for abortion, and we've been doing a lot of stuff in California, so, homosexual marriage."

Him: "So, a political activism fused with...religion?"

Me: "No, we're not political activists. We just believe that God has a hand over politics and the government, and we ask Him to influence our nation to make choices that honor Him."

He was really impressed with how many people we got on the mall, and I told him how I had gotten to be on a real football field in San Diego!

He asked what I saw myself doing in twenty years. I answered: "Well...not having a big career. [stare at the wall] Actually, raising children. And I have a passion for adoption, so..."

And the other contestant for most fiery answer of the interview: He asked what I'd been reading recently. My mind went blank about anything except the Bible, so I smiled awkwardly for a minute and then went with it: "Well, um...the Bible! Yup, mostly the Bible!" Then I remembered: "Oh! and a few months ago I read this book called Pegasus Bridge", then went on to explain that to him.

As we talk, it becomes apparent that this man majored in religion at Princeton. Read that again. He majored in religion at Princeton. Not exactly where I'd expect to find trustworthy doctrine. Turns out he had to study the early Christian church for his senior thesis, which led me to ask: "If you don't mind me asking...what did you and your professors do when you got to the part about the angel letting Peter out of prison?"

He said they interpreted it allegorically. The last half of our conversation was about religion, and the world's views on it. In response to his explanation of the conclusions about all the different cultures just trying to express the same experience, thus resulting in different religions, I pointed out that there's a spiritual realm. I tried to explain that yes, the Navajos were having an experience that they were trying to explain, but that experience was with darkness (a demon).

At another point, I got to just blurt out (after him talking about religion being something some people are more interested in than others and "that's okay"): "Until you MEET Jesus! and you realize, He's a person! And oh-my-goodness this is REAL! And, this is life or death!"

I got to say (referring back the Peter getting let out of prison thing) that there was a Chinese pastor, Brother Yun, who had actually had that happen to him (getting let out of prison by an angel). I also told him that I know people who have seen angels, and I know people who have heard the audible voice of God.

Another issue we hit on was social justice...how IHOP is starting a school to basically learn how to do social justice in conjunction with the Gospel, and realizing that if you feed people but don't give them Jesus -- you're not really helping them.

I think it went well. He was friendly, and that feeling I had walking in? That one that said I'm a witness of the Gospel of Christ in that room more than I'm an applicant to Princeton? I think it was right on. Pray for this man! Pray that he meet Jesus in a real, tangible way.

The Feelings

Today is the 21st...doesn't it feel like something exciting should happen on the 21st?

A couple minutes ago, I could feel my heart beating in my ear. Thub-dub, thub-dub (thanks to my science teacher Jeff for that incredibly descriptive language...really -- otherwise I would have been calling it "thump-thump" my whole life!)

If any of you are wondering, I left the make-up on yesterday. I wiped a little of the eyeshadow off, and I'm sure it had faded quite a bit by the time dinner came around.

We went to Indian food last night, and, no offense to Kansas City (again) but...I miss Devon (click on the link! I can't believe they have a wikipedia article about it!). My school in Chicago was right off this street known as "Little India" in the city. You could go and buy shalwars and saris, and you could walk into the little cafe and get yummy samosas. The Indian food was authentic and, if you wanted to make any of it, you just had to go to one of their grocery stores that lines the street. Last night I ran into the troubled question of how in the world to explain Bollywood to people who haven't been on Devon and seen all the movie posters. In fact, if you want to feel like you're driving in India, you can just drive down the street. It's like four blocks of craziness crazier than the usual Chicago streets. I once just sat behind a taxi who was one car length from an easy parking space, but he chose to sit in the lane while the passenger came and asked about the destination, then went back to get luggage, then they had to load luggage in, then load the passengers...the car passing me in the opposite direction motioned for me to honk at the taxi, but I was too chicken. It was probably Wednesday or something, and I was probably hungry. Sometimes I don't think straight when I'm hungry.

After Indian food, we tried to go TCBY next door, because Christina and Katrina LOVE it, and Tim and Jessica are from Tennessee where it's a staple, and I had NEVER had it. It closed 15 minutes before we got there, so we ended up have ice cream at my house.

Then I dreamt about Costco and making Christmas crafts with a bunch of people -- from Chicago and here in KC. In fact, that inspires me. I should go write this dream down. See ya!

Painted

I've never won any of the sweepstakes that I entered (not that I've entered many).  I have these grandiose dreams about them, though, considering that I'm related to someone who went to BALI to take an all expenses paid, spa treatments every day on the beach, have your own personal butler, sleep in your own personal villa vacation courtesy of a friend's sweepstakes win.  I kid you not.  

So, last week I was at the Clinique counter in Macy's to buy something that they was out of stock when I was there the week before to try to get someone to teach me how to do my make-up.  They had a little box to put your info in, and the sign said you could win a free make-up consultation.  Well, why not?  It didn't hurt a bit, so I put my name in the box.  They called last week to say I won, and I was excited!  I actually won something!  It's possible!  

As the week marched on toward my appointment, though, my excitement got toned down.  One sister said: "Wait, what did you win?  Annie, I bet everyone won" because, when you think about it, it's always free to walk up and say "hey!  you want to do my make-up and show me what to buy from you?"  

Last night I even had a dream that I walked into the store and my sister checked the list and said "Yup...35 appointments today" and I was sorely disappointed because everyone had indeed won.  

The reality was that I went, and the lady put more make-up on me than I ever put on myself.  It was fun, though, and I got through the awkward "Is there anything you want to buy" by getting some cool lotion that will be good for skin.

At first when I left the store I wanted to hide my face.  I hoped I wouldn't see anyone I knew, and I planned on washing my face when I got home.  Then I showed a few friends and they didn't think it was overdone, and ever since I have been getting more and more comfortable with it.  I'm still on the fence about whether or not to take it off before going out for Indian food later with my friends...it's just more than I usually do.  

And that's all she wrote.

$17 billion? What are we, crazy?

Got any gift ideas for Valentine's Day? We do. from Angel Mission on Vimeo.

I don't know anything about this organization, but the numbers in this video are astounding! $5 supplies water for that long? Crazy! (Thanks to Shawna for putting this on her blog!)

Did You have a Dream Last Night?

I'm going to try to type feverishly to get the craziness that was my sleep-consciousness written down.

It began with going to visit a college I've been thinking of. The dorms were perfectly clean, though not very inviting (think blue and white striped wallpaper).

It soon turned out that I had friends around! I apparently wasn't just visiting a college; no, no -- I was in Alaska. In comes twitter friends. @Rbohlender and @littlecone are going on a moose hunt. I want to go. They resist (well, particularly Randy resists). The snow is too deep or something. Anyway, he sends me to Tim to get what were called "tracking boots". I go into this other dorm room where there used to be boots lining the walls, but now there are only a few spares laying around, and none of them are my size. Tim's real nice, trying to help me, but there just aren't boots my size. Randy had promised that if I got the boots and "my car" (whatever that is), that he would at least pull me around with a snowmobile. Sitting at the windows are my friends Bruce and Becky Jackman, doing some sort of administrative work with the whole thing.

-----
That's the end of that part.
-----

At some point I am driving around Chicago (but then it seems like Kansas City). I'm supposed to pick up my sister Amy from work, but I drive in the complete opposite direction (her job is in Overland Park, and I drove to The View in Grandview) and end up at a restaurant/grocery store where my mom is meeting with someone. I beg for help (though I don't know why I needed help...) and call my sister to tell her where I am, half an hour after I was supposed to be picking her up. Somehwere in this, I'm pretty sure I visit my friend Amy's house.

-----
I think that's the end of that part...I know I'm missing something.
------

This brings me to what may be a different part, or it may be connected. At some point in a parking lot, I find myself with a bunch of other people -- some I know, some I don't. Turns out we're playing golf, and I'm surprised that someone let me play golf with Dick Cheney and Ed Hackett (Cheney, you know, was Vice President and Ed Hackett is one of the leaders here in KC). Some people are dressed up (Cheney's in a bow tie), and some lady in a red dress that I really liked jumped out on the field and said something to the guy shooting the ball just before he hit it. I thought the shot should be disqualified, but no one said anything, so neither did I. When it was Ed's turn, he did this whole cool dance/flip move to get on the ground to measure where the ball was.

I'm at some sort of huge reunion-party thing. There's a whole presentation, with videos and everything. Someone says to me: "You know [Insert old teacher's name] is here right? She has her baby, David, with her!" "David?" I say. "I thought she had a girl." Turns out she did have a girl, but named her David. Hmmm.

All of a sudden, it's my turn to preach/share. I try to communicate to people that it's time for them to reach out to the people around them. I want to use the example of my sister and bro-in-law who befriended and prayed like crazy for their neighbors who ended up getting saved and are AMAZING people totally on fire for Jesus (that part is true...that really happened). Up comes to where I'm talking some people who did just that -- someone who reached out, then the girl who was befriended-- and the video person does a nice little shot of all of us looking very happy as the audience applauds. Then we all walk off. At this point, it's like we're at my house in Chicago. We walk around the house (the girl was befriended is in a wheelchair) and up the back stairs.

Then we arrive at the back door (which is all glass) and can see everybody's husbands in the tv room, watching some sort of game. We stand, waiting to be let in, while they all refuse to budge until that play of whatever game they're watching is finished. In the dream, I remember wondering what game they were watching, then wanting to twitter about it. One nice guy finally gets up to let us in.

I wake up.

Interesting, eh?

A Return Interview

Dearest Amy, you are beautiful.

That's not a question.

Okay, I love you anyways. A question: Do you like mice?

[Laugh]. [Think...then laugh more] I like mice most when they eat through the pockets of my jackets.

Uh-oh. Explain what happened.

Well, see, I accidentally left some chocolate in my fleece pocket, and when I went the next day to retrieve it, it had been eaten, as had the pocket in the jacket. So now, I can't put anything in the pocket without it falling through.

I don't think this is very interesting.

I'm the question-er. I'll be the judge of that. On to more important things: Do you prefer tulips or hydrangeas?

Uhmmmm... Hydrangeas. They're the big fluffy ones right?

Did you have any secret when-I-grow-up dreams from your childhood?

I wanted to be an ambassador's wife.

Whoa! To where?

Anywhere. I also wanted to be a cowgirl. I wanted to be able to ride and shoot at the same time.

You know, I think that dream is attainable. You already know how to ride.

Yes, but riding and shooting at the same time requires great coordination. And strength of arm. I'm not sure I have great strenght of arm.

But you could always ride in a car and shoot ping pong balls out the window, and you would technically be "riding and shooting". In fact, I'll drive for you!

As long as we're on the open plains.

Our tires might get stuck in mud.

That happened to me once. I was with a friend who thought that the way to get down a muddy road was to drive downhill as fast as we could. By the time we got to the bottom we did a 360 donut, and when we finally realized we were still alive, we burst into hysterical laughter. I asked her where she got the idea that the best way to get through mud was to go as fast as you can, and she couldn't remember who had told her that. Several miles later, we realized that multiple branches were stuck up in the wheel well. We tried to stop to ask for help and directions (so as to get off the dirt roads) but got chased away by a pit bull. "Welcome to friendly Kansas".

My goodness! I've never heard that story before!

That was the trip where I put the car in reverse while going 60 mph down the highway.

That sounds healthy.

I don't know how we did it, but God preserved our lives on that trip. We made it to the Grand Canyon and back in one piece.

Oh, you went to the Grand Canyon? Do you recommend it?

It was okay, but I REALLY reccommend Zion National Park.

And that's all she wrote, folks. Amy's now occuppied hush-ing a baby, bouncing him back and forth. Visit her blog, and leave her some comment love!

Dear Vicky...

Growing up, I was one of a little tribe of girls that ran around after church, feeling regal in our little summer dresses, danced during service altogether, and spent the week trading places playing at each other's houses.  Me, Laura, Veronica, Evie, Vicky...  We played and played and played.  I could go on and on about our adventures (especially me and Laura...boy, did we have some days).

Today I thought of Vicky, and thought writing about her just might be one of the best blogs I could compose.  Vicky and I were like little sisters...all my big sisters were big and grown, doing their stuff, away at college; Vicky only had a brother or two at the time.  Sometimes while my mom worked I would go hang out at her family's basement apartment.  We made cookies and danced (I had to be sure to bring my ballerina costume).  We dressed up in identical clothes (yes, we have pictures to prove it.  I don't know who, but someone got inspired to go buy us multiple identical outfits).  Oh, we played and played and played.  My bouncy red curls and her sleek blonde locks, we danced and we laughed and spent hour upon hour being each other's buddy.

Then Vicky moved to Nepal.  Her family became missionaries, and a piece of my heart moved away.  We were still Vicky and Anna, but with a couple thousand miles between us.  Her heart was captured by a people that were not her own, and they became her home.  Every time the Mills would come to visit, I got time to reconnect with Vicky and grow accustomed to the three or four inches two years had given each of us.  

It's an interesting thing, separation.  You know that change is happening in both of your lives, but you can't see it.  It still always catches me off guard every time I'm reminded that me and Vicky are still the same age.  She's in the middle of the college search just like I am.  

And, I have to tell you, she's beautiful.  Gorgeous on the outside and astounding on the inside. Faithful, sweet, and living like a girl whose heart has been captured by Jesus.  A few weeks ago, she connected with a friend in Mongolia (where her family is now) and ended up leading her to accept Jesus.  Oh, it thrills my heart.  If I had $2,000 to spare, I would drop it in a second and go see her.  =)  

Dear Vicky,

I miss you.  And I think you're amazing.  And I love you really really big.

Annie

I think I'll get Decaf.

Here I sit, on the end of a futon.  The kiddos a few seats down are giggling at the stumbling steps of the butler in Aristocats, and the baby is getting changed into a new, soft snuggly onesie and jammies.  His mom is delighting over him and his chubby thighs, and dad is serving as a throne for the oldest son -- they went out earlier in the day and bought Suz a Valentine's Day card.  OJ told Judah to keep it a secret when they got home.  Judah responded by asking what it was.  "It's a Valentine's Day Card." Judah demands: "No, what's it REALLY called?"  OJ responds with: "a thumb-bunny".   Judah brings the flat paper bag holding the card to me, dimples making me melt, and says "it's a Thumb-Bunny!"  Sure enough, the card reads "Thumb-bunny"...[open the card] "loves you".

I'm blogging when I really should be compiling a resume of my activities and accolades.  My interview with a Harvard graduate is tonight -- we're meeting at Starbucks, and I'm wondering if what I order as a drink will make a difference.  Hold on here, I need to be honest with you.  I don't really want to go to Harvard.  

That leaves me in an interesting position.  When she says "Why do you want to go to Harvard?" what do I respond?  "Um, I don't."  That would be an awkward interview.  Or I could tell her the real truth... that if I go to Harvard, I'll go so that I can tell the campus the truth -- that there is one God who deserves our affection and worship, that Jesus Christ is the only Way and the only Truth, and that Jesus is coming back.  Yes, I have a brain and I really believe that.  And no, I am not willing to do any changing, swish-swoshing, or giving up of my beliefs and convictions.

Of course, I could go into REAL detail and tell her what my friend Kelsey suggested in response to my tweet about the whole ordeal: 

@anniepeterson You could say: "To take down the Jezebel spirit and restore righteous ideologies through fasting and prayer".  Scholarship?

Whew.  I think she'll like that.

Pod-blogging

I've spent the last hour learning how to blog.  I've been going through my boss's blog archives, gathering the story-line of his adoptions, and reading the wittiness that is randybohlender.com.  In fact, there was even a post about posting -- he said to just write nonsense until something good comes out, and just write what's interesting to you...not what you think will interest everyone else.

Good thoughts to chew on.  Munch.  Munch.

He also listens to podcasts.  I wish I listened to podcasts. I have a couple that I subscribed to because I thought they'd be interesting.  I have a couple that I subscribed to because Randy suggested them (today I subscribed to "on this day in history").  Did you know today is Glenn Beck's birthday?  I don't really know who he is, but I've been hearing his name recently, which has got to count for something.

The problem with podcasts is that 1)I don't have enough space on my iPod to fit them.  They never work!  It's like the bane of my iPod's existence...having to sift through and figure out what to put on and what to take off.  My other problem is 2) that even if I had space on my iPod, I never listen to it.  I have one of those radio transmitter things (thanks, Jeff!) but it doesn't work in Kansas City, which perplexes me because it worked in Chicago, and, no offense to KC, but Chicago is hopping, compared to KC.  Seems like there should be a lot less airwaves in Grandview interfering with my little signal, but that's okay.

What am I trying to say?  I think podcasts are cool.  I think blogging is cool.  I think Randy's blog is cool.  

The End.

Samuel Eats

And that's a big deal, because he's only four months old.  Check it out:



And one more cute picture, just for good measure.

FlyingMoose.com

That's what I'd be.  How about you?

In other news, I've been attempting to do pilates every day since last Thursday.  I'll admit I missed one day, and ended early because the video lady was getting on my nerves another day, but other than that, it's been good!  

Amy interviewed me!  Read it all HERE.  I meant to interview her too, but then we got busy planning the fabulous party we're putting on for another sister!  

On that note, if you got an evite from me, please read it.  That's all I ask, just read it.  (I can see who has and who hasn't).  Then, if you feel led to RSVP, go ahead and do it, but really...just read it so I can rest in peace.

The end.

I Have a Habit of Getting off the Highway in the Wrong Places...

A few years ago, three friends and I were driving home from onething Chicago, which took place south of the south border of Chicago.  If you know Chicago, you understand that this was a long way from the way, almost north of north side Chicago where we all live.

Now, we were coming home after the session, and it was dark and late.  This was also before I got a handle on directions and how to find my way places (I wasn't driving, but I was directing).  You can tell this is already going sour.

At some point we meet the moment of doom of "uh-oh...which way on the highway do we go?"  All I know is that the highway says East-West, even though it runs North-South (don't despair...navigating Chicago isn't as hard as this post makes it sound).  I know it's labeled in a confusing manner, but I don't have any clarity on which way goes which.  Great.

We guess.  That was bad.  Now that I think back, did no one have a cell phone?  Badoink.

We guessed wrong...but didn't quite know how to fix it.  Oh ya, and we're running out of gas.  So, we get off.  Badoink again.

We pull into a gas station, the driver and friend go inside to get directions, and Amy and I wait in the car.  This is scary, we are nervous.  Let's just say that these two fair-skinned Scandinavians stand out like sore thumbs.  We sit in the car (I think I prayed, if I remember right), and look scared, apparently, because a man walks by and says to me through the [closed] window: "Tell your friend not to look so nervous."  Uh, that doesn't help, sir.  Don't talk to us!!

In the end, we got gas, we got directions and we made it home safe.  At first the story was just one of those "oops" moments to tell about, but then we started getting those looks from the people we told and comments like "you seriously don't know how dangerous that was."  It was pretty bad.  There's a story about a friend of my family who, having just moved to Chicago, decided to go for a drive.  He ended up getting pulled over by a policeman who walked up to his car, said "What are you doing here?"  Upon finding out this guy is just "driving around" to check out the scenery, the policeman says "I suggest you turn around and drive back that way RIGHT NOW."

SO...onto yesterday.   Oy, don't barrage me with chiding comments.

I had to drive OJ to the airport at 4 am.  It's still dark on my way back (and I totally know my way home...don't worry).  My problem is that I wore my glasses, seeing as I kind of just wanted to roll out of bed and into the car.  Somehow I've never noticed that I don't see nearly as well with my glasses, and on the way home realized it was really hard to read the signs.  There's lots of construction around downtown KC, and there was a place where the two lanes split into two different directions.  I read the signs and realized too late as I went one way that I was supposed to be headed the other.  Panic.

I think 35 South hits a highway I could use to get home, but I'm not totally sure.  And it's ten to six.  I thought about calling someone, but I would probably wake them up, so I decided to wait to disturb Peter's sleep until I was sure I was lost.  

I saw signs for Bartle Hall (where onething was) and realized that I could probably find my way there.  Only thing was I couldn't get off at that exit because the only two other cars around me were busy passing me right at that moment, annoyed by how slow I was going in my confusion.  Argh, this story just gets worse as I tell it, no?

So, next I see signs for Union Station.  I've been around there, I think.  I'm sure I could figure it out.  So I get off.  Don't see Union Station.  And somehow the signs pointing me toward it disappear.  I recognize some streets from driving around onething, but don't know what to use them for.  There are a few cars that randomly stop in suspicious places, and a couple people walking down the street.  There was a green light I came to, but I stopped because there was a guy with a shopping cart crossing the street and I wasn't sure he was going to stop.  

At this point, I'm getting quite scared.  Where am I??  Ahh!!  Downtown KC!  Ahh!!!  (Downtown KC is pretty bad...)  I almost pull over to text a plea for help to Twitter "If anyone is awake, please call me and HELP ME GET HOME!"  Instead, I see a light (literally).  A red, flashing light to be specific.

Praise. the. Lord. for whoever decided to build the Convention Center with four huge light towers that you can see from far away.  I return to Plan A, and make my way to Bartle.  Once I'm there, though, I still can't figure out where to go, so I pull into the Marriott (where tons of the onething staff stayed during the conference) and run in and ask the security guys at the desk "Hi, um...[nervous smile] I need help.  Can you help me find 71 South?"  They give me directions (thank you, thank you, kind, safe, cheerful Marriott security guys!).  I find it and am on my way home safely, still thinking about how scary that was and who I could have called.  I realize I know one person who is always up that early on Sunday morning, but I don't have their number, so it wouldn't have helped.  When I got home and told Suz she chided me: "ahh!  Don't EVER get off the highway in the dark!"

Oh, the stories.  How do I get myself into these messes?  Praise the Lord for always getting me out.