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On Wednesday night, my friends Caitlin, Christy, and I made a trek up to Chicago to visit our friend, Emily. Emily is a sophomore at Judson University, about an hour outside of Chicago, and well… she just needed some love and fun. So, we drove up there, stayed in a fabulous hotel, and had a blast all day yesterday.

What I love about Emily is her unique ability to make absolutely anything fun. When I was an intern at E91 and she was a sophomore in high school, we sat around my house for an entire afternoon seeing how many M&M’s we could shove up our nose without getting stuck. I guess you could say we both have a love for simple and childish ways of life.

Emily’s best friend died this year. I keep trying to find other eloquent ways to state that, and there are none. Her best friend died and since then, inevitably, a part of her has been lost, too. Yesterday while we were touring around Chicago, we made human boxes instead of human pyramids (Not enough people for a pyramid? Make a box instead!), ventured in and out of hotels–wanting a peek at their ballrooms and courtyards, and just laughed. A lot. But we also sat in a lot of silence. The type of silence that recognizes that life is forever different, and also very painful, and that losing your best friend to death takes away a piece of who you are. It just does. And no amount of words or laughter can change that.

We walked all over the city, laughing one minute and talking about the mystery of God the next. Asking questions about why God allows evil to happen while simultaneously scouting out box-making places. Venturing in and out of H&M looking for clothes and then seeing a yellow balloon that says, “Consume less, share more,” as we wandered down Michigan Ave. It was the ultimate irony, I suppose. Life is both beautiful and so very painful.

Because death is just so full, and man so small
Well I’m scared of what’s behind, and what’s before
And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears
And  love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see what you find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair
(Mumford & Sons, After the Storm)

Ten years ago, I was fourteen years old and a freshman at Lawrence Central High School. I was clueless, insecure, yet just narcissistic enough to believe life revolved around me (in my credit, I think most 14-year-olds are this way. . . I think).

We were in ISTEP that week, a standardized test that any kid in Indiana takes at least every two years (or so it seems). Even though my class wasn’t taking it that year, we were still stuffed into an auditorium every morning that week while our other classmates were testing. I remember that morning, our English teacher told us we were going to watch a movie and break into discussion groups afterwards, so we had to pay attention. The movie was Pay It Forward, and about halfway through, my Social Studies teacher came in, turned it off, and said we all needed to go back to our classrooms right away. We shuffled back, probably complaining about the inconvenience of having to move 100 yards, and walked into room just as the second plane hit the World Trade Center. I have to confess to you that before that day, I didn’t know what the World Trade Center was. I remember wanting to ask, but not wanting to look stupid or naïve. Our teachers let us call our parents if we needed, and I called my dad because I thought my uncle was flying that day, who lived in New Jersey.

Then our English teacher, Mrs. Guthrie, told us to just write. We had “Seed Journals,” for our class (which I am still on the hunt for), and she told us that the rest of the morning, we needed to just write. She turned on the television, sat there and stared, and we all wrote. No one resisted or did anything stupid; I think even as selfish 14-year-olds, we knew life wasn’t about us that day. I remember my Biology test being cancelled that afternoon, and going home to mom glued to our television. I remember my dad came over to my mom’s that night, and we spent a few minutes watching the footage together, as a family.

That next year, I joined my high school’s show choir, and we had the opportunity, on the 1-year anniversary, to sing at all kinds of memorial services and events that honored those that lost their lives that day. I think only then did I begin realize the magnitude of what this really meant for our country. I remember my choir director, Mr. Bridgewater, not being able to get through The Battle Hymn of the Republic without lots of tears, and the rest of us sniffling through, as well. We competed in NYC that year, and spent about an hour at Ground Zero. Near the end of our time, Mr. Bridgewater called us together to sing one of his favorite, Song of the Unsung Hero. We knew that moment was significant, but we didn’t get it. We still don’t. But we knew life wasn’t about us.

My sophomore year of high school, I joined an InterFaith club, wanting to know more about Islam, as this event has sparked a lot of curiosity in my little brain. There, I met a few Muslim friends, all with a much different faith than the extremists I heard so much about. As I sat and listened to their stories, their worries and anxieties they faced on a daily basis, I truly learned what having empathy was all about.

I hope one day, when/if I have children, and they ask me where I was on 9/11, that I am able to recall these little memories–things that humanized this day for me. It’s easy to dehumanize and record it as a historical moment, but for many, it was the day that they lost their dad. Or their mom. Or their aunt, uncle, or grandpa. Many lost friends, co-workers, the ability to walk, or the capacity for love.

I remember 9/11.

Something very strange happened to me yesterday.

302 people visited my little blog. Yes, you read that right. 302 people.

That’s quite a bit more than the typical 3. And I’m not a numbers person when it comes to blogging. For reals.

One of my professors from college, Dr. Weatherly, linked my “Bible College Pet Peeves” post to his Facebook page. And seeing as how he has 2,207 friends to date, and people respect his opinion because he’s uber-smart, some of them ventured over to little-ole-Anne’s blog. Also, understand, I wrote “Bible College Pet Peeves” coming from a conversation with a Bible College Graduate, that now teaches Bible for a living, and never attended Bible class. So you get the irony.

I was casually changing my settings when I noticed the bar at the top said “147 visitors in the past hour.” At first I thought, “Something is wrong with my settings,” then I clicked on the Facebook link and saw the streamline of “likes” and comments. AHHH! What!? I frantically scrolled through my past posts, realizing the one RIGHT BELOW it is a photo of myself with incredibly greasy hair, also disclosing details about my lack of personal hygiene. On second thought, maybe that was not the most impression-management-savvy post I’ve ever written. And because my mom, a few friends from other states, and my best friend are the only ones to read my blog (I know, I’ve checked), that didn’t matter 2 days ago. But yesterday, probably 100 people saw that photo. And all my other personal biz.

The pastor in me says, “It’s good to be transparent and open with people about your everyday life.”
The human in me says, “OMG!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST WRITE FOR MY MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But, guess what? No one blasted me (too hard). And everyone has already forgotten about it. I guess it was a good dose of humility that really, my life doesn’t matter that much, and even if 100 people saw the photo of my greasy hair… they were sitting at home with the same style. So there.

It’s been a crazy busy summer over here in Wilson life, but the best kind of busy. We’ve been on two youth ministry trips, with a vacation to Florida coming up, and I’ve been through 4 books: Simply Christian by N.T. Wright, Help! I’m a Woman in Youth Ministry by Kara Powell, Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight, and finally Making a Mess and Meeting God by Mandy Smith. I’ve got 2 left on my summer reading list, but have I mentioned already I’ve got a week with my feet in the sand coming up? Oh, sorry. I do. I so do.

Time’s running short and I’ve got hair to dry and work to do, so this will have to suffice for now (unfortunate, I know). Happy Summer to every teacher-spouse I know… it’s truly a gift from above.

Hello world, meet my niece, baby Gianna.

I know, right?

First they came for the communists,
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a Jew.

Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak out for me.
–Martin Niemöller, 1892-1984

In the same way people stood in silence as so many Jews died, as blacks were denied basic, human rights, and as women all over the world were/are neglected of freedom . . . here we are, still sitting and ignoring what’s hard to swallow. It’s easier to distract.

I know I’m not the first to ask. I stand in a long, long line of people that have asked way before me and will continue to do so. But today, I bother myself.

“A faith without doubt is like a human body without antibodies in it. People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic.” -Tim Keller, The Reason for God

Trying not to be defenseless today. 

One of my very dear friends, Katelyn, got engaged this past week. On Wednesday afternoon, I flew down to Winston-Salem, NC to surprise her. I lived with her family while I did an internship in NC and, well, they became a second family to me before too long. It’s funny; they are all drastically different from me in many ways, and yet they are also very familiar. Katelyn and I could not be more opposite and yet our souls connect. We have the same temperament, are both very sensitive people, and show our ugliest side to the people we love the most. In these ways, we are identical twins. Plus–we’re both blondes, and blondes just understand each other.

It could not have been a more timely visit. Getting caught up in someone else’s life, looking through wedding magazines, drinking sweet tea, going to the Farmer’s Market and listening to country music was just what my soul needed.

Carolina reminds me of so much. The smells, sights, and sounds bring me to time when I was possibly the most insecure and paradoxically confident I have ever been. It was the place I realized that having a 50something-year-old best friend is really cool. I am constantly humbled by the people God places in my journey and friends that continue to mold me into the woman I am becoming. I hope I’m always in this process, that I never stop making new friends, and that I continually let life surprise me.

Thank you Carolina, for teaching me to breathe deeply, live slowly, and love genuinely. You were exactly what I didn’t know I needed.