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.
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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.

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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.