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.

Live from Paradise

I'm in Hawai'i! On the flight in, I had to sign a declarations form that I wasn't bringing any strange budding plants onto the island. I caught my first sighting out the plane window at exactly 5:31pm local time, and have been in heaven ever since.

I am with one of my favorite families of all time and am just having an absolute blast. Got to spend some time at the University of Nations, which is a main YWAM base here in Kona. Their prayer room is fantastic. Just a simple sound system and a room full of people who adore Jesus, singing their hearts out.

Went to the beach with Chloe and by the time we left, my heart was a lot lighter and my smile a lot bigger.

At night me, Chloe, and Nick drove up a mountain to see the stars. We could see the city lights below us, but the lights above us far exceeded them. I have never seen anything like it. There are SO MANY stars. You don't know these things when you've grown up in a city. :) They were so clear and they were everywhere, and I just laid my head backwards out the window and sat in amazement. Every one of them has a name. Every one is seen by Jesus every day.

Hawai'i reminds me that God is good, and that He is close. He is close to my every day life, and He is beautiful all the time.

4:40am

I am claiming victory. This morning did not go like yesterday!

Last night I procrastinated like it was an Olympic sport. First I won bronze, then silver, then gold. Then I went to bed and decided to get up early and try the paper again, because His mercies are new every morning. That's a promise, right?

I kid you not, I set four alarms. FOUR. Also, I have discovered a way to conquer my sleepy mind. If I set my phone alarm to ring with my phone-call ring rather than the usual wake-up ring, my brain jolts awake. Haha, got you, brain!

Also, I prayed. When I have to wake up in the morning, I ask the Lord the night before to help me, because goodness! sometimes waking up is hard to do.

So I was awake at 4:40, got time in the Word (I think not doing that would have been a fatal blow to my day. It makes SUCH a difference!!), and then went upstairs, lit the candles, turned on my computer, started the coffee pot that I prepared last night, and began on the paper. Things got done, and I am so thankful. There's more to do, but I think I have plenty of time. I also got to read Antigone for my 10am class, and have breakfast at the table with Jena and the kids. This morning is surprisingly fantastic.

Hmmm, maybe I should wake up at 4:40 every day. Other than the fact that when I stop moving I feel as if I might fall asleep, this feels great!

8:21am

I have been sleeping an abnormally normal amount lately. A full 8 hours is unheard of at my stage of life, I believe. Perhaps I should mention that I hardly ever set my alarm for 8 hours after I drift off, but I usually hit snooze for about that long.

Anyways, to get back to my story. I mean, to start my story.

This morning's two alarms (I always use 2 alarms) were set for 6:15. Figure in the time with the Word, figure in time for a shower, and be on time to my 8 am.

That's not the way it went down, folks.

Instead, I hit snooze at 6:15 and again and 6:27. After that I heard my phone clonk onto the chords sitting on the floor and ignored it. Actually, I must have picked it up, because I heard it clonk again. Realizing that someone had probably texted me, I picked it up and read a message from Jena: "R u up?" Um, up? Look at the time, it's 8:12. EIGHT. ONE. TWO. My class starts at EIGHT ZERO ZERO.

I start whimpering: "Oh no, oh no" (that's what I do when I'm alone and get worried), grabbed my glasses, and ran out my door, up the stairs and burst into the kitchen. Chris and Jena are standing in the kitchen and look at me, shocked at my bursting through doors and such and I start to cry and say: "what do I dooo?!"

Jena: "Oh, your 8am? [pause] Are you crying?"

Yes, people, it was probably one of the more dramatic mornings of my life.

On the trusty advice of people who successfully graduated from college, I went to class late. In fact, it was only 9 minutes from my leap out of bed to walking into the classroom. The teacher only half-way publicly shamed me and all was well. We usually have a quiz at the beginning of the class that you cannot make up, but today for the first time in the semester, there was no quiz!

And that was the beginning of my day. Stay tuned to hear how it ends. (Or more specifically to hear how successfully I write a paper on something I know hardly anything about... don't be shocked. Behind every good blog post is a paper sitting around procrastinating.)

Rest Assured

For some reason, I often think of a tweet that Katrina sent one day last summer. We were on our way to Chipotle, driving along Blue Ridge Boulevard (my favorite! Oh, j'ADORE), and I made a comment about how unsure I was of the next year:

KStyles

On my way to chipotle w/ @Anniepeterson. She made a comment about not knowing where she'll be this time next year. I grunted grumpily back.

I've thought about it, and thought about it again, and though about how funny it is that I STILL don't know when I'll be doing a year from that day. It was June 1, and June 1 of this year? I have no idea.

It's not that I don't have ideas, and it's not that my imagination can't think of enough options. Oh trust me, I've thought of options. But I have this suspicion that there's one option that's better than the others, and one God who knows what that option is.

So I wait. Waiting for Christmas morning is nothing compared to this. There are so many things that the need for patience and wisdom applies to. I'm waiting to know how long to be in school. I'm waiting for lots of my friends to meet Jesus. I'm waiting for others of my friends to get healed. I'm waiting for my husband. I'm waiting for my children. I'm waiting for my orphans.

I'm waiting for Jesus to come back. I'm waiting for injustice to be vanquished from the earth. I'm waiting to be fully known. I'm waiting to be presented blameless. I'm waiting to be free of the struggle with sin. I'm waiting to live forever with the One I love.

But the waiting, the waiting is beautiful, because rawness is beautiful. Throwing yourself on the surety of the goodness of God -- that is beautiful to Him. A weak heart that says yes -- that is beautiful to Him. And your waiting is not in vain; you will not be put to shame. You, in your waiting, will not be put to shame.

You will not reach the end and look back and say: "Wow, that was silly. What a waste of time!" or "man, I looked really silly having no idea what I was doing!" or "boy, maybe I didn't really need to wait on God to tell me every step; I could have made some up on my own..." No, friend! God's word promises that you will not be put to shame when you wait on Him. Wait with obedience, wait without passivity, but do not fail to wait.

Patience is not passive; on the contrary it's quite bold. So be bold and wait. The fruit will be good and plenty.

Xanthos

Last night I went to an engagement part for two people that are just full of awesomeness. Then, in true girl form, a group of us stayed at said party until after midnight, wigging out over wedding magazines with the bride. She was delighted that the first thing that needs to be done is: dress. I mean, who wouldn't smile at that?

Since I didn't get home until 1am, I didn't read my chapters of Homer. I know, I know.

Then, in class, for the first time in my college career and maybe only the 2nd or 3rd time in my ever-school career, we had a pop quiz.

About the chapters I didn't read.

And I guessed that there hadn't been a talking horse in the reading.

But there had been.

His name wasn't Mr. Ed. And he bothered Achilles (not the tendon).

Now I'm going home, and I will probably eat food. Hopefully you're going home and will probably eat food. And hopefully you don't feel like you wasted the last 40 seconds reading about the quiz where I denied the existence of a talking horse.

Actually, I still deny the existence of a talking horse. Au revoir.