Hey there friends!
As the New Year fast approaches, I thought a little change would be nice. I have recently started a new blog called These Are Not Windows.
I have thoroughly enjoyed the years spent here on Fighting Entropy and am thankful to all my faithful readers. I'm excited to start on a new blogging journey.
If you'd like to keep track of me and my crazy words, please follow me at my new niche.
Blessings to you and your loved ones in 2015!
Read on!
Much love,
Anna
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
What I've Learned of Hope
it's this time of year that gets me.
trying not to think about the short days, the long nights,
the gray skies, and the dropping temperatures.
I know.
there is beauty in this barren winter landscape, too.
but during these few cold months I find it hard to hold on to the hope of that beauty.
right now it's easy to be filled with Christmas lights, family, and the joy of all the festivities.
but what about the following months of bitter cold?
how do we hold on to hope even through hopelessness?
what I've learned of hope is that sometimes our hearts are too
weak to hold it themselves.
sometimes hope does not come from within ourselves.
sometimes it is He -
He the ultimate Hope.
He who fills us, renews us, and brings us slowly, surely,
into His light.
into His hope.
"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us." ~ Romasn 8:18
as we look forward to celebrating His birth
may we also look inward and find our Hope -
not in the things He has created -
but in Him who was created,
for us,
and may we be filled with His hope.
trying not to think about the short days, the long nights,
the gray skies, and the dropping temperatures.
I know.
there is beauty in this barren winter landscape, too.
but during these few cold months I find it hard to hold on to the hope of that beauty.
right now it's easy to be filled with Christmas lights, family, and the joy of all the festivities.
but what about the following months of bitter cold?
how do we hold on to hope even through hopelessness?
what I've learned of hope is that sometimes our hearts are too
weak to hold it themselves.
sometimes hope does not come from within ourselves.
sometimes it is He -
He the ultimate Hope.
He who fills us, renews us, and brings us slowly, surely,
into His light.
into His hope.
"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us." ~ Romasn 8:18
as we look forward to celebrating His birth
may we also look inward and find our Hope -
not in the things He has created -
but in Him who was created,
for us,
and may we be filled with His hope.
...love, anna...
Monday, November 24, 2014
Read My Scars & Listen to My Wounds
Whoever reads this, I really hope you take this to heart.
I want to talk about being a sensitive person.
Don't roll your eyes.
I am a very sensitive person - always have been, always will be - and though there are many times I wish I could change this about myself -
I'm not going to apologize for it.
In a world where we are berrated for being vulnerable,
in a world where circumstances and people give us every reason to be cynical,
in a world where we are taught to "grit our teeth and bear it" -
I am completely aware of pain. My pain, your pain -
the world's pain.
Being sensitive does not mean that I am weak.
It means that I see, acknowledge, and feel deeply and excruciatingly.
Shedding tears over hurt is not pathetic.
It simply means I'm a human being who feels.
This is not to say that less sensitive people are any less capable of feeling than I am. Or that I don't have my own issues with insecurity.
I am simply so tired of people's refusal to read each other's scars & listen to each other's wounds.
We are human. We are fragile.
I will not and cannot ever apologize for being a sensitive person.
And I have absolutely no reason to.
I know this is rambling and poorly written, but to anyone out there suffering because you've been told to "just get over it" -
let me tell you,
I see your pain
and I acknowledge it.
I challenge you to love genuinely, to be sensitive, and to be aware of other's pain.
End rant.
I want to talk about being a sensitive person.
Don't roll your eyes.
I am a very sensitive person - always have been, always will be - and though there are many times I wish I could change this about myself -
I'm not going to apologize for it.
In a world where we are berrated for being vulnerable,
in a world where circumstances and people give us every reason to be cynical,
in a world where we are taught to "grit our teeth and bear it" -
I am completely aware of pain. My pain, your pain -
the world's pain.
Being sensitive does not mean that I am weak.
It means that I see, acknowledge, and feel deeply and excruciatingly.
Shedding tears over hurt is not pathetic.
It simply means I'm a human being who feels.
This is not to say that less sensitive people are any less capable of feeling than I am. Or that I don't have my own issues with insecurity.
I am simply so tired of people's refusal to read each other's scars & listen to each other's wounds.
We are human. We are fragile.
I will not and cannot ever apologize for being a sensitive person.
And I have absolutely no reason to.
I know this is rambling and poorly written, but to anyone out there suffering because you've been told to "just get over it" -
let me tell you,
I see your pain
and I acknowledge it.
I challenge you to love genuinely, to be sensitive, and to be aware of other's pain.
End rant.
...love, anna...
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Dimly
"for now we see in a mirror dimly"
and is this mirror dim?
I don't know what I see or how brightly I see it.
I can't help it - these descending leaves and this crescendoing of years is what gets me.
there was a time when there were twelve hands around our table and though I feel sufficient with six, I am not whole without
the other half.
"then we shall see face to face"
here we go 'round the clock again, and yet, I think these changing colors can only signify another season of darkness.
conflicted again, I go to the mirror in search of some beauty, am I not face to face with the fact of
falling?
here I go - mending and lending my sarcasm.
was it not for the hope of something
that we fell?
"for now we see in a mirror dimly"
wouldn't I love to be more than dimly noted -
there stands she, more or less enough.
"then we shall see face to face"
there must be something metaphorically wrong with me,
I see too brightly.
...love, anna...
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Echoes
if there's anything I've learned from
tears
it's that pain is not relative -
if it hurts, it hurts.
if there's anything I want you to know,
it's this -
that you are not
an echo.
and if you're somewhere wondering
with age-old tears
how many times you must send your echoes
into the past
until you finally realize how very far you are
from it,
let me tell you that
you are far
and wide
and deeply
separated from
it.
and no amount of tears or guilt or self-hate
can ever amount to how much
worth you are
in His arms
or how very far and wide and deeply
He has forgiven you.
and if you're sitting, wondering who or what or why it is
that you've cried so much for,
let me tell you that you
are so much more loved
than you could ever dare dream.
that you
are very much alive
and very much forgiven.
I know - you think you can't overcome -
you think you'll never be more than
an echo,
reverberating through
past mistakes -
softer, softer,
until you
fade.
I know - there is much pain.
but somewhere between birthmarks and crows' feet
you'll be okay
somewhere -
between side A and side B,
you'll find your way.
and I know that you are so much more than
an echo
and you deserve so much more than to
hear yourself vibrating along
empty walls.
and if there's anything I've learned from tears it's that
pain is not relative,
and if you're wondering how many more times you must
echo into the past...
if it hurts, it hurts.
tears
it's that pain is not relative -
if it hurts, it hurts.
if there's anything I want you to know,
it's this -
that you are not
an echo.
and if you're somewhere wondering
with age-old tears
how many times you must send your echoes
into the past
until you finally realize how very far you are
from it,
let me tell you that
you are far
and wide
and deeply
separated from
it.
and no amount of tears or guilt or self-hate
can ever amount to how much
worth you are
in His arms
or how very far and wide and deeply
He has forgiven you.
and if you're sitting, wondering who or what or why it is
that you've cried so much for,
let me tell you that you
are so much more loved
than you could ever dare dream.
that you
are very much alive
and very much forgiven.
I know - you think you can't overcome -
you think you'll never be more than
an echo,
reverberating through
past mistakes -
softer, softer,
until you
fade.
I know - there is much pain.
but somewhere between birthmarks and crows' feet
you'll be okay
somewhere -
between side A and side B,
you'll find your way.
and I know that you are so much more than
an echo
and you deserve so much more than to
hear yourself vibrating along
empty walls.
and if there's anything I've learned from tears it's that
pain is not relative,
and if you're wondering how many more times you must
echo into the past...
if it hurts, it hurts.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Why I am Unabashed (and why you should be too)
In the recent months I've been working on a project that deals with an issue I'm very passionate about.
It's the issue of beauty.
And I know...I KNOW...
you're probably tired of hearing that
"You're beautiful no matter what they say"
and
"It's what's on the inside that counts."
These things may be true, however, my goal is not to reiterate everything you've been told a million times simply because I know if I do that no one will listen.
I'm tired of hearing it too.
My mission is NOT to through a bunch of cliches at you and call it a day. I'm not trying to create some feminist soap box on which to put down men and society. And I'm not trying to place blame on any particular party.
My mission is simply this:
To seek beauty - to seek the beauty that can only come from Christ - and to seek it boldly and unabashedly. And if I encourage even one other girl to do the same along the way, then I'd consider that a victory.
So here it is, world - listen close girls, boys, men, women -
I am unabashed.
I'm tired of being told that I'm not
enough -
that my beauty can only be based on numbers, scales, and measurements.
I'm tired of believing that I am somehow
lacking -
just because I can't get guys' attention.
I'm tired of seeing girls throw away their self-respect just to win
the wrong kind of attention.
So to this generation,
and to all future generations,
let me tell you -
There's nothing wrong with you.
There's nothing wrong with loving yourself -
forgiving your flaws,
seeing past your imperfections,
and embracing the fact that here you are -
very much alive,
and very much beautiful.
I love my God and all I want is for His beauty to shine through me,
and it is inconsequential whether or not
anyone else sees the beauty in me,
because I know who I am,
I know what I believe,
and I've chosen
to love myself and to be
unabashed of that.
...love, anna...
For more information on the project and our upcoming event on November 8th at Beans on Broad, like the facebook page!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Don't Carry it All
By Friday of this week I was dead-beat and the only thoughts I had left were of sleep.
I find myself at the edge of this same precipice every year.
Finding the strength and will to get up every morning sometimes is about all I can muster and I've become consumed by lists and sticky notes and I'm so focused on only the things I can
cross off instead of what really
matters.
Instead of thinking "here I am" I find myself wondering
"where to next" and if for one fleeting moment I find myself sitting idle the only thought that enters my mind is
"what am I forgetting?"
I trick myself into thinking that I can carry it all,
that I have it all together -
I can be a perfect student, editor, actress, administrator, writer, friend, daughter, and sister.
I can do it all.
This past week tears and meltdowns and sleeplessness proved only that I am weak.
That I am wholly insufficient
without the steady arms of
my God.
I've found this to be true so many times I've lost count,
yet still I stand here,
staring over this canyon of all the things that
overwhelm me,
and am too stubborn to turn to the One who conquered them all.
This week, may we once again make God
the center of our lives,
and may we be humble enough to let Him
carry us.
I find myself at the edge of this same precipice every year.
Finding the strength and will to get up every morning sometimes is about all I can muster and I've become consumed by lists and sticky notes and I'm so focused on only the things I can
cross off instead of what really
matters.
Instead of thinking "here I am" I find myself wondering
"where to next" and if for one fleeting moment I find myself sitting idle the only thought that enters my mind is
"what am I forgetting?"
I trick myself into thinking that I can carry it all,
that I have it all together -
I can be a perfect student, editor, actress, administrator, writer, friend, daughter, and sister.
I can do it all.
This past week tears and meltdowns and sleeplessness proved only that I am weak.
That I am wholly insufficient
without the steady arms of
my God.
I've found this to be true so many times I've lost count,
yet still I stand here,
staring over this canyon of all the things that
overwhelm me,
and am too stubborn to turn to the One who conquered them all.
This week, may we once again make God
the center of our lives,
and may we be humble enough to let Him
carry us.
...love, anna...
Monday, September 22, 2014
This is Not the Story
One day,
I hope to hold my child's hands in my hands,
if I am blessed with a child,
and tell him or her
my story.
I'll whisper in my child's ear,
"this is not the story
I had planned,"
and I'll look down at those perfect fingers
in my too-old ones,
"but this is my story."
I hope that my years of growing pains,
all the pencil marks on the closet wall,
and all the growing pains that left me broken,
but somehow,
stronger,
will lead me to tell
the truth.
I hope when I tell my story
I'll have forgiven myself
for the things I cannot be,
and I hope when I tell my story
I'll love myself
for the things I am
that make me
whole.
When you ask for the first time,
I'll try my hardest to look into your eyes,
your carved fingers
held tight in mine,
and I'll try my hardest to tell you that
this is not the story
I may have written for myself,
but the author of Beauty knows far more than me,
and after all,
this is His story.
I hope to hold my child's hands in my hands,
if I am blessed with a child,
and tell him or her
my story.
I'll whisper in my child's ear,
"this is not the story
I had planned,"
and I'll look down at those perfect fingers
in my too-old ones,
"but this is my story."
I hope that my years of growing pains,
all the pencil marks on the closet wall,
and all the growing pains that left me broken,
but somehow,
stronger,
will lead me to tell
the truth.
I hope when I tell my story
I'll have forgiven myself
for the things I cannot be,
and I hope when I tell my story
I'll love myself
for the things I am
that make me
whole.
When you ask for the first time,
I'll try my hardest to look into your eyes,
your carved fingers
held tight in mine,
and I'll try my hardest to tell you that
this is not the story
I may have written for myself,
but the author of Beauty knows far more than me,
and after all,
this is His story.
...love, anna...
Sunday, September 7, 2014
We're Alive, and It's Not by Accident
I wanted to take a moment this week to send a reminder out there -
to whoever you are -
that you're very much alive
and it's not by accident.
I don't know if anyone else feels this way, but often times I feel like I become easily bogged down by the negativity of the people around me and by my own negativity.
We all complain. We all complain TOO MUCH.
This week I just want to remind you what a beautiful, broken GIFT
your life is.
We're not here just because.
We're alive and breathing and we have so much to sing and speak and dance and write about.
We're here and we're privileged and we're blessed.
We get to WAKE UP in the morning,
we get to GO TO SCHOOL,
we get to BE EDUCATED,
we get to LEARN NEW PERSPECTIVES.
We're here and we're all broken in certain unfixable ways but
we can go to the sink AND DRINK WATER
we can go to the store AND BUY FOOD.
We have BOOKS to read and MUSIC to listen to and a BEAUTIFUL world around us.
We're not STUCK in Grove City, we're LIVING in Grove City, and we're SAFE.
We have BEDS to sleep in when we're tired,
COFFEE to wake us up,
HOMEWORK to make us think.
We have WORDS. We have THOUGHTS. We are ALIVE.
And it's not by accident.
We need to start rejoicing, because no matter what you're going through, there is ALWAYS a reason to give thanks.
God gave you this life,
and it's not by accident.
to whoever you are -
that you're very much alive
and it's not by accident.
I don't know if anyone else feels this way, but often times I feel like I become easily bogged down by the negativity of the people around me and by my own negativity.
We all complain. We all complain TOO MUCH.
This week I just want to remind you what a beautiful, broken GIFT
your life is.
We're not here just because.
We're alive and breathing and we have so much to sing and speak and dance and write about.
We're here and we're privileged and we're blessed.
We get to WAKE UP in the morning,
we get to GO TO SCHOOL,
we get to BE EDUCATED,
we get to LEARN NEW PERSPECTIVES.
We're here and we're all broken in certain unfixable ways but
we can go to the sink AND DRINK WATER
we can go to the store AND BUY FOOD.
We have BOOKS to read and MUSIC to listen to and a BEAUTIFUL world around us.
We're not STUCK in Grove City, we're LIVING in Grove City, and we're SAFE.
We have BEDS to sleep in when we're tired,
COFFEE to wake us up,
HOMEWORK to make us think.
We have WORDS. We have THOUGHTS. We are ALIVE.
And it's not by accident.
We need to start rejoicing, because no matter what you're going through, there is ALWAYS a reason to give thanks.
God gave you this life,
and it's not by accident.
...love, anna...
"This is the day the LORD has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." ~Psalm 118:24
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Thoughts from a Sleep Deprived 16-Year-Old
So this whole sleep thing...is not happening.
You'll have to forgive my half-conscious thoughts, here.
For this post I'm just going to list a bunch of random, possibly unimportant, but possibly (maybe) wise thoughts I've been having of late.
Deep breath. Here we go.
1. School is starting on Tuesday and that sucks. Not really the school part - I guess I'm dreading the high school part - if you know what I'm getting at.
2. I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. And something Maya Angelou said about it - "It's one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself - to forgive. Forgive everybody."
Why is it so difficult to forgive?
3. There's a real big whopping difference between being honest and being insensitive. As a sensitive (and often times, over-sensitive) person, I find honest people to be difficult, and honesty in general a rather hard pill to swallow.
4. I'm not above it all. And I sure as heck don't have all my crap together.
5. Humility vs. Giant Insecurities. Am I humble or am I afraid?
6. Listening. I think it's one of the most important qualities a person can have. We all carry untold stories inside of us, and we all want them to be heard.
7. Cynicism. How do you move on from hurt without becoming cynical and bitter?
8. There may be two sides to a story, but there's only one truth.
9. It's never as simple as it seems. (It's never as complicated, either.)
10. I should sleep. (But I probably won't.)
You'll have to forgive my half-conscious thoughts, here.
For this post I'm just going to list a bunch of random, possibly unimportant, but possibly (maybe) wise thoughts I've been having of late.
Deep breath. Here we go.
1. School is starting on Tuesday and that sucks. Not really the school part - I guess I'm dreading the high school part - if you know what I'm getting at.
2. I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. And something Maya Angelou said about it - "It's one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself - to forgive. Forgive everybody."
Why is it so difficult to forgive?
3. There's a real big whopping difference between being honest and being insensitive. As a sensitive (and often times, over-sensitive) person, I find honest people to be difficult, and honesty in general a rather hard pill to swallow.
4. I'm not above it all. And I sure as heck don't have all my crap together.
5. Humility vs. Giant Insecurities. Am I humble or am I afraid?
6. Listening. I think it's one of the most important qualities a person can have. We all carry untold stories inside of us, and we all want them to be heard.
7. Cynicism. How do you move on from hurt without becoming cynical and bitter?
8. There may be two sides to a story, but there's only one truth.
9. It's never as simple as it seems. (It's never as complicated, either.)
10. I should sleep. (But I probably won't.)
...love, anna...
Friday, August 15, 2014
And This is All I Know
All I know is that life is
horribly wonderful
and
painfully beautiful.
And that somewhere between sunrises and
graduation caps
and wedding vows
and tears,
there is growth.
And that sometimes before that growth takes place
we have to make decisions
that sometimes tear us a little.
But in order to grow,
we must stretch.
All I know is that God keeps pulling me back.
Back, constantly, and relentlessly,
despite my foolish meanderings,
my attempts to carry it all,
my refusal to let go.
And I have so much further to go,
and I am so tired.
But He is not finished with me yet.
This unfolding of years is my story,
and I am not the author,
but you're welcome to read.
All I know is that somewhere between
the bitterness,
the anger,
the months of keeping it all in,
the walls I've built,
and the words I'm too afraid to say,
is a God who knows,
a God who sees,
who loves,
who forgives.
He is writing this story, these words, and He's not finished yet.
And this is all I know.
horribly wonderful
and
painfully beautiful.
And that somewhere between sunrises and
graduation caps
and wedding vows
and tears,
there is growth.
And that sometimes before that growth takes place
we have to make decisions
that sometimes tear us a little.
But in order to grow,
we must stretch.
All I know is that God keeps pulling me back.
Back, constantly, and relentlessly,
despite my foolish meanderings,
my attempts to carry it all,
my refusal to let go.
And I have so much further to go,
and I am so tired.
But He is not finished with me yet.
This unfolding of years is my story,
and I am not the author,
but you're welcome to read.
All I know is that somewhere between
the bitterness,
the anger,
the months of keeping it all in,
the walls I've built,
and the words I'm too afraid to say,
is a God who knows,
a God who sees,
who loves,
who forgives.
He is writing this story, these words, and He's not finished yet.
And this is all I know.
...Love, Anna...
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Okay, I Lied
I know I said I'd be back in September but here I am,
it's August 10th,
and I can think of little else.
I'm not sure I'm ready to recount all of my adventures this summer or spit out some deep and meaningful rant about life.
I just want to stop by, say hello, so you know I still exist and still have something to say.
The dwindling weeks of summer will soon give way to another year of school and craziness, but as my brother reminds me quite frequently,
"A man never steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man." ~Heraclitus
That is all for today.
It's good to be back.
it's August 10th,
and I can think of little else.
I'm not sure I'm ready to recount all of my adventures this summer or spit out some deep and meaningful rant about life.
I just want to stop by, say hello, so you know I still exist and still have something to say.
The dwindling weeks of summer will soon give way to another year of school and craziness, but as my brother reminds me quite frequently,
"A man never steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man." ~Heraclitus
That is all for today.
It's good to be back.
...Love, Anna...
Sunday, June 1, 2014
A Break I Will Take
Hey y'all!
After some thinking (and a whole lot of failed writing attempts) I have decided to take the summer off from this here blog of mine.
I hope to expand my horizons this summer and start writing a lot of new material. Recently, I've gotten really into spoken-word poetry (check it out: Sarah Kay: Spoken-Word) and I hope to work mainly on that this summer as well as try to get involved in some spoken-word groups in Pittsburgh.
We'll see what happens.
I will return in September to recount all of my grand (or not-so-grand) adventures of the summer months.
It's been a great and challenging year for me and I'm so thankful for all I've learned. Thank you for reading and don't forget about me!
I'll be back!
Don't miss me too much. ;)
After some thinking (and a whole lot of failed writing attempts) I have decided to take the summer off from this here blog of mine.
I hope to expand my horizons this summer and start writing a lot of new material. Recently, I've gotten really into spoken-word poetry (check it out: Sarah Kay: Spoken-Word) and I hope to work mainly on that this summer as well as try to get involved in some spoken-word groups in Pittsburgh.
We'll see what happens.
I will return in September to recount all of my grand (or not-so-grand) adventures of the summer months.
It's been a great and challenging year for me and I'm so thankful for all I've learned. Thank you for reading and don't forget about me!
I'll be back!
Don't miss me too much. ;)
...Love, Anna...
Monday, May 26, 2014
Because Life Happens
Well here I am, avoiding my notebooks and study guides and ignoring the fact that I have finals this week.
Because I'm too busy thinking about
life.
And how life
happens.
Time happens. Time goes...too fast.
My brother got married on Saturday. And on Wednesday, he and his wife are moving...
to Houston.
(Texas)
I don't know what to even think or write or say about all of these colliding emotions and memories and love that keep swirling all around me and I have no way to stop them.
But time is cruel in that it moves on. It moves on without looking back. It moves on and we have no choice but to move on with it, no matter how badly we want to pause, or to rewind, or to fast forward.
And that's okay because there is so much to look forward to. So many new adventures and places and road trips to be had.
But I have to admit, I am really bad at endings.
I'm okay at beginnings,
pretty fantastic at middles,
and pretty fantastically horrible at
endings.
I've had to keep reminding myself that
"this is how it's supposed to be" and
"this is how you're supposed to feel".
But I know myself and I know that I fear
change
more than anything.
I know that I fear
beginnings.
But I also know that every time my eyes fill up
with tears and my heart aches
because my family lives in a different state,
it's because
love
is the greatest and most precious gift anyone can ever receive.
And I know
that even though this new chapter seems scarier and bigger and less hopeful than the one I just closed,
I know that
I am not the author, or the co-writer, or the story-teller,
and this is just the beginning.
And I know that there will be more
memories and more
love shared and more
beginnings to be had.
So, as I sit here procrastinating and pondering, I'd just like to say how thankful I am for my brother, Sam, and for my sister-in-law, Olivia, for everything they are and for everything they inspire me to be. I love you both very much.
Here's to endings.
But mostly,
here's to beginnings.
Because I'm too busy thinking about
life.
And how life
happens.
Time happens. Time goes...too fast.
My brother got married on Saturday. And on Wednesday, he and his wife are moving...
to Houston.
(Texas)
I don't know what to even think or write or say about all of these colliding emotions and memories and love that keep swirling all around me and I have no way to stop them.
But time is cruel in that it moves on. It moves on without looking back. It moves on and we have no choice but to move on with it, no matter how badly we want to pause, or to rewind, or to fast forward.
And that's okay because there is so much to look forward to. So many new adventures and places and road trips to be had.
But I have to admit, I am really bad at endings.
I'm okay at beginnings,
pretty fantastic at middles,
and pretty fantastically horrible at
endings.
I've had to keep reminding myself that
"this is how it's supposed to be" and
"this is how you're supposed to feel".
But I know myself and I know that I fear
change
more than anything.
I know that I fear
beginnings.
But I also know that every time my eyes fill up
with tears and my heart aches
because my family lives in a different state,
it's because
love
is the greatest and most precious gift anyone can ever receive.
And I know
that even though this new chapter seems scarier and bigger and less hopeful than the one I just closed,
I know that
I am not the author, or the co-writer, or the story-teller,
and this is just the beginning.
And I know that there will be more
memories and more
love shared and more
beginnings to be had.
So, as I sit here procrastinating and pondering, I'd just like to say how thankful I am for my brother, Sam, and for my sister-in-law, Olivia, for everything they are and for everything they inspire me to be. I love you both very much.
Here's to endings.
But mostly,
here's to beginnings.
...Love, Anna...
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Fighting What?; It's About Time I Explain...
I started this blog last November.
Entropy, he went on to explain, is (and I am looking this up in my chemistry notebook, so bear with me, it's awfully scientific) the second law of thermodynamics (I am SO out of my element right now). Basically, it's a measure of disorder. (If you science nerds want to know the specific facts look here: Entropy).
But the way our teacher explained it is this: if you go into the woods and put a white plank of wood on the forest floor, and leave it there for a year, what will happen to it? The answer is obvious: moss will grow on it, the paint will fade and chip, the wood will rot, insects will make homes in it.
That's entropy.
After our teacher told us about it, I wrote it down right away and couldn't stop thinking about it. I just loved it and everything it represented and meant not only scientifically, but also in every person's life.
I had this phrase mulling around in my head for a year. I tried writing poems about it, but none of them could suffice.
So when I started thinking about blogging again, there was only one name I could think of that would be absolutely perfect.
And here I am "Fighting Entropy" for over a year now. I prove my doubtful mind wrong every time I sit down to write and every time I look at the name on my blog page, because I still love it, and it still mystifies and inspires me every day.
That leaves just one more little thing I must explain, so as not to leave you in the dark about anything.
Why "fighting", you might ask?
Well, I've thought about that a lot, too. What are we really fighting against in this world?
I think sometimes - well actually, most times - we're just fighting ourselves. For me, I fight insecurity and complacence. Some fight lethargy. Some hatred. Jealousy. Hopelessness. Some fight all their lives, determined not to be what their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents were. Because entropy - human nature - will take over if we don't try to fight it. To be better, to love more, to try harder, and to trust God.
Entropy is not the devil. It is not the evil forces that we can't control. It's not nature. It is what we all fear becoming. It's what's in us that could potentially destroy us. But fighting it means that we won't let it.
And it's not this glorious battle we all fight to defeat it. It's the slow, daily struggle of our lives.
But the hope in it is this.
Every day, every hour, every season of our lives that we struggle and fight against entropy and everything else that burdens our hearts, we do not have to struggle alone, we do not have to lose alone, and we do not have to win alone.
I started this blog with a head full of doubt (hey, that's a song) and a heart full of hope.
I didn't think I'd keep up with it.
I didn't think people would read it.
I didn't think I would love it as much as I do.
When I sat down to create this blog, I had two names in mind. Even though I debated between them and asked my Mom which she liked better, the choice was already clear to me.
My blog was going to be "Fighting Entropy".
What?
What's entropy? And why are we fighting it?
Shocking confession: I did NOT come up with the name. (Are you super let down now and never want to read this blog again?
Thought you would be.)
Funny story, actually. I learned this phrase from my eighth grade English teacher. One day he was telling us (I have no idea WHY he was telling us this) that he once had a bumper sticker on his car that said "fight entropy". He laughed like it was the most hilarious thing.
We stared at him with blank faces.
Like we knew what entropy was.
But the way our teacher explained it is this: if you go into the woods and put a white plank of wood on the forest floor, and leave it there for a year, what will happen to it? The answer is obvious: moss will grow on it, the paint will fade and chip, the wood will rot, insects will make homes in it.
That's entropy.
After our teacher told us about it, I wrote it down right away and couldn't stop thinking about it. I just loved it and everything it represented and meant not only scientifically, but also in every person's life.
I had this phrase mulling around in my head for a year. I tried writing poems about it, but none of them could suffice.
So when I started thinking about blogging again, there was only one name I could think of that would be absolutely perfect.
And here I am "Fighting Entropy" for over a year now. I prove my doubtful mind wrong every time I sit down to write and every time I look at the name on my blog page, because I still love it, and it still mystifies and inspires me every day.
That leaves just one more little thing I must explain, so as not to leave you in the dark about anything.
Why "fighting", you might ask?
Well, I've thought about that a lot, too. What are we really fighting against in this world?
I think sometimes - well actually, most times - we're just fighting ourselves. For me, I fight insecurity and complacence. Some fight lethargy. Some hatred. Jealousy. Hopelessness. Some fight all their lives, determined not to be what their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents were. Because entropy - human nature - will take over if we don't try to fight it. To be better, to love more, to try harder, and to trust God.
Entropy is not the devil. It is not the evil forces that we can't control. It's not nature. It is what we all fear becoming. It's what's in us that could potentially destroy us. But fighting it means that we won't let it.
And it's not this glorious battle we all fight to defeat it. It's the slow, daily struggle of our lives.
But the hope in it is this.
Every day, every hour, every season of our lives that we struggle and fight against entropy and everything else that burdens our hearts, we do not have to struggle alone, we do not have to lose alone, and we do not have to win alone.
"The Lord will fight for you,
you need only be still."
Exodus 14:14
...Love, Anna...
...Love, Anna...
Thursday, May 1, 2014
A Beautiful Mess
I have a fear that eventually I'll just have nothing good to say. Maybe I don't but here I am anyway.
I don't really know what to write about since lately whatever was left of my ability to think and my emotional capacity have been stripped down to the bare minimum and it's starting to show despite my few efforts to hide it.
I keep saying I just don't care anymore.
But I don't really mean that.
What I really mean is that I do care.
I care too much.
And when you care too much,
you shove all the caring-ness into nooks and crannies so no one has to see it and so you won't have to admit that the small pieces of your heart that you shoved into a corner somewhere are starting to show.
And I guess all I really want to say (that is, if any of this makes sense at all) is that it's okay to care.
And I can just feel the hypocrite in me oozing out from those words because as I write this I realize those words are
for me.
I guess I just hate appearing weak, feeling vulnerable, or admitting that I care.
It's easier to shrug it off and say you don't care.
But in a world that is all about the external shell of "everything's alright here" I think it's important that we let ourselves be vulnerable.
It's really hard, at least it is for me.
I want nothing more than to be the girl who has it all together - no issues, no insecurities, no tears, no problem.
Problem is, I'm not that girl.
Most of the time I'm a mess of a human being and a darn good pretender.
When you're vulnerable, you're bound to get hurt. But if you keep everything bottled up, you're bound to regret.
When you're too busy trying to keep it all together, you're really just falling apart. I think maybe if you just let yourself be the mess you are, like you're supposed to be, God will, in His time, find a way to make you a beautiful mess.
I don't really know what to write about since lately whatever was left of my ability to think and my emotional capacity have been stripped down to the bare minimum and it's starting to show despite my few efforts to hide it.
I keep saying I just don't care anymore.
But I don't really mean that.
What I really mean is that I do care.
I care too much.
And when you care too much,
you shove all the caring-ness into nooks and crannies so no one has to see it and so you won't have to admit that the small pieces of your heart that you shoved into a corner somewhere are starting to show.
And I guess all I really want to say (that is, if any of this makes sense at all) is that it's okay to care.
And I can just feel the hypocrite in me oozing out from those words because as I write this I realize those words are
for me.
I guess I just hate appearing weak, feeling vulnerable, or admitting that I care.
It's easier to shrug it off and say you don't care.
But in a world that is all about the external shell of "everything's alright here" I think it's important that we let ourselves be vulnerable.
It's really hard, at least it is for me.
I want nothing more than to be the girl who has it all together - no issues, no insecurities, no tears, no problem.
Problem is, I'm not that girl.
Most of the time I'm a mess of a human being and a darn good pretender.
When you're vulnerable, you're bound to get hurt. But if you keep everything bottled up, you're bound to regret.
When you're too busy trying to keep it all together, you're really just falling apart. I think maybe if you just let yourself be the mess you are, like you're supposed to be, God will, in His time, find a way to make you a beautiful mess.
...Love, Anna...
Monday, April 21, 2014
Maybe It's the Weather
Well, April is flying by in greens and blues and yellows and I know once May is here, I might as well count this school year over
because May will slip through my fingers
like sand.
And all of this unyielding forward-moving motion of my life just seems to keep my body flying with the inertia of it while my heart has come to a halting
stillness.
I don't think the future has ever freaked me out more.
Not that the future holds anything foreboding,
but more that the future holds - well -
I don't know what it holds.
That's what's scaring me.
Because next year I'll forge into my junior year of high school
and people will start asking me what college I want to attend
and what I want to do with the rest of my life
when I'm just a loud-hearted,
utterly lost
girl
of 16 years old.
But before I get ahead of myself, I think I ought to take a moment to breathe.
To remember that tomorrow and the days and months and years after tomorrow are
God's to hold.
To talk long walks,
utter messy prayers,
sing to the breeze,
stand in the sunshine,
and most of all,
love the people God has given me to love.
Maybe it's the weather,
but my mind is in rare form lately.
Too many thoughts to think and words to write
and people to worry about.
But for now, I think I'm just going to say
"enough."
For now, I think I'm just going to
be full
of all of this crazy,
messed up,
wonderfulness that is my life.
I know it's been a while, so sorry for the random rambling-ness. :)
...Love, Anna...
Friday, April 4, 2014
The Thing You Think You Cannot Do...
Guess who was in my head and written on my wrist this week?
Good old Eleanor Roosevelt.
What?
Yep, it was her words of wisdom that I had etched on my wrist and tucked away in my heart this week:
Good old Eleanor Roosevelt.
What?
Yep, it was her words of wisdom that I had etched on my wrist and tucked away in my heart this week:
First of all, thank you Eleanor. You inspire me.
Second of all, can we take a moment to flashback to the beginning of the year when I wrote these words:
And this year, as odd as it sounds, I want to be brave.
I want to make new friends and try new things and somehow get my words to reach the far corners of this earth. I want to inspire.
A little over-eager was I. Still yet, looking back, I have a lot of respect for that all-too-zealous and ever-too-innocent Anna of last September.
Because at least that Anna knew what she wanted. At least she wasn't afraid.
Last September I proclaimed to an unknown audience that I wanted to be brave. That I wanted to be inspiring.
I'm not too certain that I'm either of those things.
But this week I learned something.
Listen up, because this just might apply to you, too.
I learned what bravery really is.
Bravery is not being fearless.
Bravery is not pretending you don't care.
Bravery is not shouting from the rooftops.
Bravery
is the decision that
what you want,
or often times,
what you need,
is more important than fear.
Bravery
is the voice that speaks
with confidence
even if it's shaking
even if it's small.
Bravery
is hoping
accepting
apologizing.
Bravery
is being honest
loving
and forgiving,
no matter the cost.
Bravery
is doing the thing
you think
you cannot do.
I don't consider myself brave. I build a lot of walls of almost-courage, pseudo-confidence, and bendable-strength. Truth is, I'm not of those things.
I am brave only because I have an army of my Savior, my family, and my friends to back me up.
I am confident only in the fact that I have a God who carries me, no matter how much I am carrying.
I am strong only with the strength He supplies me with daily through His love, His forgiveness, and His grace.
I want to encourage you to be brave. It's scary. It's hard. Sometimes it's not worth it, and sometimes it can make all the difference.
Either way, know this:
"If our God is for us, who can be against us?"
Romans 8:31
...Love, Anna...
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Why I Hate the Label "Christian"
For as long as I can remember, I've always loved trying to figure people out. I used to pick a box that I thought they would fit best in and slap them with labels I thought would suit them. I love being able to define people, things, places, so that they make sense to me.
It's easy, isn't it? If we force people into the boxes we believe they'll fit in, then we feel more comfortable with ourselves.
Problem is, as I got older I learned how complicated people are. One person can't be shoved into a single box or labeled one specific thing. I know I can't.
I became aware of the fact that no matter how long or well you think you know someone, there will still be things about that person that you will never know. And until you know every single tiny fact and thought and feeling of a person, you simply can't define him or her.
It frustrates me to no end because I just hate not being able to figure people out. I want them to make sense, to follow certain patterns, to act only like the category I place them in.
All of this is quite ironic, because all my life I've fought against the labels and boxes people try to fit me into. All the while thinking, "They don't really know me."
Due to recent events in my life, I have come to hate all labels concerning "Christian." I hate the label "Presbyterian", "Methodist", "Catholic", "Baptist", and the list could go on.
If you want to call me a Christian, that's fine. You're not wrong.
But I do not consider myself a Christian.
*Now's the part where you do your best jaw-dropping shocked face.*
Now before you sound the alarm and start thinking everything I've ever written before is a lie, let me explain.
I am a Christian. But because of this crazy, upside-down, self-revolving, judgmental world, the name "Christian" has become a word that people either roll their eyes at or claim that they are one just because they go to church on Christmas and Easter.
If you were to ask me, "Are you a Christian?"
My answer would, of course, be yes.
But that's not all I would say.
Because I'm not a Christian by choice, a Christian biologically, a Christian because of my generation, a Christian because I' want to be "religious."
I'm a believer in a Savior and God greater and more wonderful than anything I've ever known.
I'm a saved-by-grace-alone.
I'm a I-do-not-deserve-salvation-but-He-granted-it.
I'm a hope-in-the-things-not-seen.
I'm a Jesus-is-the-only-way.
I'm a I-am-broken-but-He-is-sufficient.
I'm a His-love-is-the-perfect-sacrifice-for-my-sins.
I do not like to be called a Christian. Anyone can say they are one.
But we have to be careful about which we are living - are we living the label? Or are we living the truth?
It's easy, isn't it? If we force people into the boxes we believe they'll fit in, then we feel more comfortable with ourselves.
Problem is, as I got older I learned how complicated people are. One person can't be shoved into a single box or labeled one specific thing. I know I can't.
I became aware of the fact that no matter how long or well you think you know someone, there will still be things about that person that you will never know. And until you know every single tiny fact and thought and feeling of a person, you simply can't define him or her.
It frustrates me to no end because I just hate not being able to figure people out. I want them to make sense, to follow certain patterns, to act only like the category I place them in.
All of this is quite ironic, because all my life I've fought against the labels and boxes people try to fit me into. All the while thinking, "They don't really know me."
Due to recent events in my life, I have come to hate all labels concerning "Christian." I hate the label "Presbyterian", "Methodist", "Catholic", "Baptist", and the list could go on.
If you want to call me a Christian, that's fine. You're not wrong.
But I do not consider myself a Christian.
*Now's the part where you do your best jaw-dropping shocked face.*
Now before you sound the alarm and start thinking everything I've ever written before is a lie, let me explain.
I am a Christian. But because of this crazy, upside-down, self-revolving, judgmental world, the name "Christian" has become a word that people either roll their eyes at or claim that they are one just because they go to church on Christmas and Easter.
If you were to ask me, "Are you a Christian?"
My answer would, of course, be yes.
But that's not all I would say.
Because I'm not a Christian by choice, a Christian biologically, a Christian because of my generation, a Christian because I' want to be "religious."
I'm a believer in a Savior and God greater and more wonderful than anything I've ever known.
I'm a saved-by-grace-alone.
I'm a I-do-not-deserve-salvation-but-He-granted-it.
I'm a hope-in-the-things-not-seen.
I'm a Jesus-is-the-only-way.
I'm a I-am-broken-but-He-is-sufficient.
I'm a His-love-is-the-perfect-sacrifice-for-my-sins.
I do not like to be called a Christian. Anyone can say they are one.
But we have to be careful about which we are living - are we living the label? Or are we living the truth?
...Love, Anna...
Friday, March 21, 2014
I'm Human, How About You?
"I am so done being nice to people,"
was my mantra this week.
Which is ironic, because last week I wrote all about love and how we should love people and all of that wonderful truth.
But here's a shocker for you: I'm actually human.
Crazy, right?
When I first started this blog, I promised to always be painfully honest, even if it meant criticism or even judgment.
I'm going to be painfully honest with you this week, so brace for impact, because I just might crash-land into some hard truths.
I've always had the external attitude of "I don't care what people think of me" when, in fact, I do care. I care deeply.
The words you read here may be brave or wise or beautiful but my life does not always reflect what I say here.
Confession?
I'm insecure.
I'm terrified what people must think of me when they read my blog, or the expectations they may have for me that I'll never meet.
Another confession?
I'm not a brave person. At all.
One more?
I say things I shouldn't, gossip about people, disrespect adults, swear unnecessarily, have little patience...and listen could go on and on.
Why am I telling you all of this?
Point is, folks, I am not perfect. I am not someone to be admired or modeled after or depended upon.
I pour my heart out here, on this blog, because it's easy for me to write. It's easy for me to hide behind words.
But I am still human.
And I never want anyone to think that what I write here is fake or phony or unrealistic. Or that life is all sunshine and rainbows, because, trust me, it certainly is not.
Despite last week's call to "love people", I did not heed my own advice. My week was more like "avoid people at all costs, they'll only let you down."
It was just one of those "I'm so done being nice to people" weeks. And that's okay.
Sorry for the rambling.
Concluding this mess of a post in 3...2...1...
...Love, Anna...
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