Almost...

I can taste the finish line. I can see the baked cake. It's almost time, people.

One paper on Indian politics.

One paper on John Reed.

Two final exams.

One paper on Plato.

One presentation entirely in French.

Then...FREEDOM.

Once I have been freed from these educational fetters, I would like to:

• Dress up and go out to dinner.
• Watch the Young Victoria.
• Stay in Parkland until 1am, just because I have no homework to do.
• Spend the night at Carly's house on a weekday.
• Read books (which aren't listed on a syllabus)
• Go out to coffee in the middle of the day
• Oh, and I can't forget to visit Chicago and hopefully KC because Jesus just provided the plane tickets I needed.

I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to May 15.

Him and Me.

There are parts of me that only He sees. He made the depths of me, and I figure that's the way it should be.

The other night I went to bed with a familiar longing revisited: "Jesus, I just want to be beautiful."

Something so simple and straightforward and...obvious...and yet somehow the reality of it was surprising. Bethany Dillon inspires me to want to write the real things.

When Peter talks about the hidden beauty I am called to have... This week it struck me that hidden implies that it is real even when it's not seen, and it must be sought out to be seen.

And when I come to Him, with my list of complaints against myself, I insist: "Jesus, this is what I see."

He replies: "Annie, that's not what I see. Which of us has clearer vision?"

He makes me beautiful.

Not for me.

I am so incredibly thankful for my dad.

Today I called him, freaking out, ten minutes before my piano lesson. "Dad, would I be crazy to drop piano right now?" He calmly replied: "Right now, three weeks before the end of the semester? Well, at first it does sound a little...crazy..." After we talked over the whys and the what-fors, he affirmed my choices and advised: just decide what you need to do and do it confidently. If you're overwhelmed and something has to go, drop piano. Or if you can do it, do it.

It all turned out alright, and my professor was extremely encouraging, and as for piano, I'm going to finish the semester and do my best and hey! Lord-willing, in 3 weeks, I will still be a pianist. This particular Bach sinfonia may still not be perfected, but the piano will still be my instrument.

But that confidence from my dad and the encouragement that my life is not falling apart and I am not a failure means more than you know.

There are only 12 days left of classes, then finals. Sometimes I look at these next weeks and think: "YES! Almost there!" Other moments, I look at them and want to curl into a ball. How am I going to get everything done? What am I doing next year? Why is my whole school not saved? How do I give a French presentation? When am I going to start that paper? I'm serious, that Politics reading just multiplied in length by a quadrillion paragraphs. WHERE'S MY COFFEE??

Then I have a moment. It's kind of like the one with my dad today, only it's with my heavenly Father.

Annie, you're not a failure. This is my burden, let me carry it. You're going to finish strong. I'm with you. I'm for you, and if I'm for you, who can be against you? You're doing great, just keep going. You're not alone in this, and grades really aren't the end of the world. You're not a failure, You're not failing me, You're not missing the mark.

So for you...I don't know what your area is. Maybe it's not homework or school. Maybe it's your job, or your parenting, or your house that needs to get clean. Take a second and realize right now that the voice telling you that you're failing and you need to be doing it better...it's a liar. As my dad says: "If it's not from God, it's not for you."

My intimidation over school and my feelings of failure are not from God, so they are not for me. Mmm-mmm. No way. Not for me.

What have you been carrying that's not for you? Lay it down, let it go. He'll take care of the rest.

I'm a Refugee

I have run away from America. Blame it on Jackson's harassment stories, blame it on the high gas prices...I've crossed the border.

Canada is not very different. They have different money, even though they use the dollar sign. They play baseball and football and soccer and basketball, but man, their hockey is a lot better. In fact, we're all sitting together right now, watching a playoff game. I feel so Canadian.

Their mountains are very beautiful. Their speed limit signs are confusing, because you're allowed to 70 on a regular street. Gosh, those speeding Canadians.

I got to use my new passport, which was very exciting. The Canadian border patrol agent wanted to know where we lived, what we were doing, etc. Then she asked if we were related. We're not, but our last names are almost the same (I have finally found a Petersen with an "e"!!) Border patrol agents need to learn how to smile. (Also, I can now say from personal experience that there is more than one Canadian border patrol agent. Take that, Byron.)

I came with Carly. Here is us, being happy.

My friend's parents just had a conversation about how warm it was in the house. "Yeah, it's like TWENTY-FOUR!" I looked over, extremely consternated. Carly: "degrees celsius." My word, we're not in Kansas anymore.

Conundrum

There are so many amazing, spiritual things I could write about. My heart is literally overflowing, but at the moment I have one serious problem.

I am tired. Very, very tired. Also, I feel kinda sick.

This week has been incredibly intense, and today I have a class (I already had one this morning also) and then a study group and then a master class (fancy! not really) and then work and then babysitting, and...

I'm thinking about skipping class to take a nap. Don't judge. Yesterday I almost skipped French class to finish a paper, but I didn't. I feel like I've racked up didn't-skip points, which maybe just maybe I could redeem today? I even told my dad yesterday that I was thinking of skipping and he just said "I understand." Also, my French teacher found out I had a paper, and she gave me joke extra credit points for coming to class! That's always good, right?

I'm not saying I think it's okay to skip classes all the time. Just maybe some of the time. :)

Too bad my Russian Revolution teacher doesn't know about joke extra credit points. I should probably just go read and prepare for the quiz. *bangs head on table*

What about you? Did you skip classes in college? Or even now - do you ever just stop yourself and think "wait a minute, I just can't do all of these things because my body may collapse or implode or something of the sort?" Please tell me you've had that thought and that I am not a complete laz-o for being too tired to go to class.

Even though I'll probably go to class.

For serious. Really, though...

He is Divine and you are De Branch. hehe.

Middle of the Night

"I'm a college student, I'm not allowed to sleep." Let me just be honest right here at the beginning, I'm supposed to writing a paper. No use hiding it.

I'm back from Hawaii. Hawaii is wonderful, simply wonderful. I think the island life convinced me that certain places have anointings, and God has chosen those little rocks half way between China and California as a special place for refreshing His people.

I left Hawaii with a whole new perspective. When I say a whole new perspective, I really mean it. New plans for the future, new ideas about the future...I think what really happened was new HOPE.

I like hope a lot.

On my last day there, I was standing on a hotel porch, looking out over the ocean. Chloe had shown me this secret spot at the hotel across the street from their subdivision, where we could steal away to any time and just sit next to the ocean. This was my third trip or fourth trip to the hotel. Chloe was at school, I was on the phone with Katrina, and all of a sudden I saw a spurt. Water, straight up in the air. It took me a second to process it, and my eyes darted back to the spot in the water. Sure enough, the smooth arch of a whale's back slid across the water. I'm pretty sure I lost the thought I was trying to say to Katrina and stumbled over my words. A whale. I saw a whale. I had asked Jesus that I could see a whale, and there, on my last day (the one that wasn't supposed to happen), Jesus made that whale swim exactly to that spot so that I could see it.

Why wasn't that day supposed to happen, you ask? I was supposed to fly out a day earlier, but a light on my airplane broke and I got an extra day. An extra day. An extra, wonderful, life-changing day (for a lot more reasons than a whale sighting).

Jesus loves me a lot, and He reminded me with a trip to paradise. Today, there's new joy in my smile and restored light in my eyes. Thank You, Jesus, for lighting me up. I can't wait to see what's up next.