You (all)

I've just returned from a weekend of volunteering at the Passion: DC Regional (in Fairfax, VA). It was a blast meeting tons of new people and serving an organization whose vision I totally stand behind. The weekend was made even more memorable rooming with 2 crazy Brazilian girls who LOVE people, taking tons of pictures and, more importantly, God.

While driving to meet a friend for brunch in Georgetown on Sunday, I realized something:

People are more inclined to do what you ask if you refer to others as "y'all" OR if you ask them to do stuff with a southern/other-than-Yankee accent.

I say this because I was given dirty looks from antsy college students who were trying their best to jet to the front rows for each session. Had I reworded things or used my best Southern accent, I'm positive they'd have complied eagerly:

YankeeAnnie: Don't run. Take your time, you'll find a seat. Thank you and enjoy yourselves!

South-of-Mason-Dixon-LineAnnie: Would y'all mind not runnin'? I'd reaaaallly appreciate it. Thanks.

[FYI: I've just volunteered for their Atlanta Regional in April... I'd better work on my drawl, yes? j/k ]

Tell it like it is, brotha!

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves. - Henry David Thoreau

So true, so true... *Sigh*

Martha (Stewart) Living?

Last week at Bible study we talked about self-righteousness - our innate ability to twist God's words into thoughts and habits we decidedly think best/holy. We become/are modern-day Pharisees, condemning others while we puff up our egos.

That night, I took a hard look at my motives and found that I am Martha. I have Martha-Righteousness. Instead of allowing others the joy of serving with me, I convince myself that by doing all the dirty, behind-the-scenes work, I allow them the opportunity to enjoy themselves. I'll sacrifice my time with God and His people for them. It's the right thing to do. Try as I might to convince myself, what really drives my heart is selfishness and pride.

And I don't like it because I know that He's calling for more Mary and less Martha in my life...

(Un)Unthankful

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them sing joyful praises forever.
Spread your protection over them,
that all who love your name may be filled with joy.
- Psalm 5:11, NLV

I read this last night before I lay myself down to sleep.



... That all who love your name may be filled with joy. I thought about my previous posts, my life til now, and regret filled my heart. I have lived ungratefully. True, storm clouds befall us and things won't go our way, but in light of the love and acceptance of God, these things fade. They are specks in an infinite mosaic of beauty. A comma in a grand epic penned by mighty hands. They are nothing. Incomparable.

If I do indeed believe that my Father loves me, and that His Son had spread His arms upon the slintered tree, than should I not live in gratitude? Should I not marvel at the saving grace offered to one so undeserving? Should not my heart leap, my head bow in humble thanks?

Yup, that about somes it up

Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat. - Mother Teresa

She Will Be Loved

I was IM-ing my friend this afternoon. We were laughing at the hilariousness of the WholeFoods even I mentioned earlier (see below).

Out of no where she came to a revelation:

Annie, I think we both need to make some MAJOR changes.

*Thump* Her words fell like a stone, ripping away at my self-awareness and confidence.

To be candid, I've never dated nor been kissed. It has been a subject that has brought me profound pride (in not falling into the ridiculous OC-inspiring love triangles I witnessed in high school) and, at the same time, has left me disillusioned. In the same breath I've comforted and flogged myself and wondered if something really was wrong with me. Am I THAT horrid? That frigid or odd that boys wedge 12-foot poles between us?

And, if I'm to be even more candid, I must realize that I am scarred and afraid to let someone in and let myself become undone by him.

Very few know this, but my father was notorious for his wandering eye. (It was the reason my mom filed for divorce 10 years ago.) Throughout their marriage he secretly courted other women, doting on them with the attention, gifts and time that should have been ours. We were dealt the short end of the stick. The loving father I knew as a child devolved into a beastly stranger. Dr. Jekyll became Mr. Hyde when my brother and I reached puberty.

And the curious thing was that my mom knew what was at the core of this change in him. She knew from the very beginning, heard from family acquaintances about his frequent meetings with this woman or that. And yet, with hopeful desperation, she convinced herself that he'd change, he'd come around. He never did.

He's still with the woman my mom once loved as a sister. While she and her children enjoyed his love and devotion, my brother and I became nothing more than platonic relations in his life. At first he came to visit on birthdays and on Christmas. Then it was Christmas and one of our birthdays. Then just a birthday or Christmas. Then... nothing. Not a phone call. Not even a card. Like that, he disappeared into the fog.

His absence and decision to break free from us, has burned a hole in me that I sometimes fear is so deep and so jagged, I might never be healed completely. There will always be a small tear in my heart, one that will, every now and then, let pain and jadedness seep in like acid on a fresh wound. I have been left a bit insecure and a lot jaded and suspicious.

Sometimes I feel like a wounded dog limping along foreign streets. I wimper and with sad eyes plead for help, but, if you come too close and I'm not ready, I bite... too stupid to see the difference between the hand that brings healing and the one that inflicted my wounds.

And I fear this wound will (and is) keeping me from finding my happily-ever-after, from finding and welcoming love.

I wonder at missed opportunities I just couldn't see because I was too focused on licking my wounds. I wonder if there will ever be someone out there who can love this mess in me. I wonder if I'll ever let my guard down long enough to let someone in.. all the way in... into the madness and stormy seas within me. I wonder if I can ever love someone, if I even know how to love. Who can love this? Who will love... me?

WholeFoods: A Recipe For Love

Single? (Or know someone who is?)

Searching for the peanut butter to your jam? The butter to your croissant?

Join us for an evening of "Great Pairings"...

This was in WholeFoods' latest email I received this morning. They're holding a "Singles Night". I'm pondering whether or not I should go. (I mean, I haven't been hit on by 40+ year olds in a few months. I think I'm due for a gross-out booster shot) But the thing is: I find it oddly hilarious and unsettling...

Even WHOLEFOODS wants to set me up... *sigh*