"i just wanna be like You"

"He will use the concert/trip to teach you something important, so be prepared to learn."

This was advice from my dear friend Kathryn, letter-form (the most sincere form of communication, jussayin').  Little did I know, she was right.  But not about the topic she's thinking of.  No, my lesson was on focus.

See, I went on this trip with a few wishes, daydreams -- whatever you want to call them -- tucked in my pocket.  My crush was on this trip, and I was hoping to catch his eye.  I'm not the flashy kind of girl, and I'm not overly flirty.  I'm content watching from a distance, pondering all these things in my heart.

But just because I don't show my 'like' for someone doesn't mean I don't think about them.  Doesn't mean I don't enjoy a smile meant just for me, or a "Hey Anna!".  Doesn't mean that person wasn't my focus. Because he was.  Until now.

For those of you who are big time Lecrae fans (memememe! :)), you know how awesome a role model he is for us teenagers that are learning to pursue Christ.  Well, he's not just an awesome role model -- he's an awesome preacher.  I know God gave him the words because it was like they were gripping my heart; they weren't flat like usual.  He talked about how the world's like a sandbox and how you can drink sand all day long, but it's just going to make you more thirsty.  And how if you're not drinking in Jesus, you're still going to be thirsty.  He said Jesus can't be a part of your life.  He has to be your life.  And in that moment, I knew I needed to make Jesus my life, not just a piece of the puzzle.  Because He's the glue that holds the pieces together.  Not a boy.  Not my social ranking.  Not the amount of money in my pocket.  JESUS.

And yet, I can't seem to find ten minutes in my day to spend with Him.  He's lucky to get a prayer at the end of the day, memorized and droning.  I think more about a guy than I do The Guy.  More about questions on my homework than The Answer.  More about this world than it's Creator.   It's pathetic and "I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake."

I want Him to be my focus, but how can He be when I won't put forth the effort?  I seriously need to reevaluate myself and see where God is.  'Cause right now, I'm like me.  And me is tired of apathy.  Tired of being ineffective.  I don't want to be like me.

"I just wanna be like You -- walk like, talk like, even think like You.  The only one I could look to.  You're teachin' me to be just like You.  I just gotta be like, like I just gotta be like You..." -Lecrae

dear soccer,

I love you.  I love you, I love you, I love you!  And for no reason at all, really.  Besides the fact that you're extremely exciting to watch and some of the guy players are quite attractive. *blushes*  But really, you're just so intense!

I was on the edge of my seat the entire game last night.  Between the head-butts, kicks halfway across the field, and goals that were so close I could taste them, I was completely mesmerized.  It was like I had found my true love, except, well...oh, never mind.  The experience was enthralling, and it was as though I had ended a novel with a cliff hanger -- I wanted more!

Yes, yesterday was the first soccer game I've ever attended.  And yes, I attended because my cousin was playing and I needed ten bonus points in chemistry. *shuffles feet* But you definitely made it worthwhile! With a score of 1 to 1, 10 minutes of overtime, and then PKs, my nerves were kicking in. During the last shot, you had everyone on their feet.  I can still picture it: the ball flying through the cold, autumn air, whirling past the goalie's opened hands, and making a comforting swish as it landed in the net.  For only a moment, there was complete silence, then the crowd roared with applause and fans flooded the field.  The soccer guys attacked each other with hugs and noogies*, full of pride for their team and the heart each player had given.  It gave me that warm-fuzzy feeling* from the ends of my hair to tips of my toes.  And it was only 30 degrees outside.

What a great sport you are.  One game and you've won (no pun intended! ;)) me over.  I can't wait until we meet again.

Sincerely,
Anna

*an action in which a guy puts another guy in a headlock, then lovingly scrubs his victim's head with his fist as though washing a dog

*the sensation that occurs when you see a puppy sleeping or a baby smile :)

dear picture day,

listening to: a penny loafer saved is a penny loafer earned by relient k
reasoning: penny loafers are pointless... just like picture days.  i think matty t. would agree.

the feeling is mutual.  i hate you too.  all you are is a beauty contest, but you mask the real beauty that a picture doesn't portray.  all you see from a picture is a fake smile and the top of a shirt.  can you say lame?  unfair?  completely opposite of what this person normally looks like?  and another thing, what if you decide to come around when a whole bunch of people are having a bad day? all you're gonna get is straight faces and annoyed glares. what if you ruin a girl's entire life all because her yearbook picture turned out exceptionally horrible?  or blind someone with your bright lights?  or cause a geeky person to stay home because they're so embarrassed of their pimples or glasses or something? don't you think of anyone but yourself?  do me a favor and replace yourself with an x-ray.  an x-ray that shows all the good qualities behind those awful pictures.  all the kindness, laughter, smarts, strength, persistence, hope, passion, and love.  the things that really matter -- the things the whole world deserves to know.  maybe then we'd realize that the name on your shirt, the zits on your face, and the number that's on the scale -- we'd realize all those things are worthless.  maybe we'd see that we're all beautiful to Him.  and that's all that really matters.

sincerely,
anna, the girl who wants x-ray vision