Today is a big day at Vanderbilt University. Let me see if I can explain this correctly in normal people terms.

The policy makers at Vandy have written a new nondiscrimination policy.

[That's good. Discriminating is mean.]

Except.

This particular policy says that no organizations on campus can discriminate because of the core beliefs of that organization.

For example, if an atheist wants to be a leader at a Christian organization, that organization must let the person run for leadership. Or if a leader gets elected in the spring, changes beliefs in the summer, the organization cannot remove that person from leadership in the fall.

So. That’s bad. Organizations of all kind should be allowed to decide what type of leader they have AND they should be allowed to ensure that leader adhere’s to the core beliefs of the organization.

Here is an article about an important meeting today and here is an opinion piece by a Christian leader at Vandy.

Here’s another great article explaining it way better than I did. [Seriously.]

Why do I care?

Great question.

I care because I believe God wants to move in the lives of the college students here in Nashville. I believe that the winds are changing in this town and the college students are feeling the breeze. I watch on Sunday nights at our college ministry service and I see what God is doing. And I know part of the reason I am in Nashville is to usher the presence of God into the lives of college students.

And I feel like this is a battle.

I can’t explain the feeling I have in my knower about this, but I feel like it has big implications for the future of the spiritual climate for college students at Vandy and beyond.

So I’m asking you to take three minutes today and pray for today’s meeting. Pray for religious freedom at Vanderbilt. Pray for revival to pour through these college students. Pray that this will turn the hearts of the students TOWARDS Christ.

Pray that in the meeting tonight, God would be glorified.

I moved to Nashville 3.5 years ago.

And would you believe, no kidding, that this is the SIXTH house I have occupied in this town?

So, mathematically speaking, that’s like moving every 7 months or so. Barf.

[I know your next question and no, I am not in the witness protection program. And even if I was, could I tell you?]

[Do you think they let people in the WPP have blogs? Maybe.]

Here’s what else is super weird about how much I have moved. Prior to going to college, do you know how many houses I lived in? ONE. My parents still live in the house they built the months before I was born.

Since going to college? ELEVEN.

I feel like there should be some good 70s lyric to insert here about me being a nomad, a wanderer, a free-spirited woman without a consistent place to lay her head…. something something flowers in my hair something something flowy skirt.

This new house in Nashville is so darlin’ and great and will be a real joy when it is not full. of. the. cardboard. boxes.

I may be a hippy wanderer, but I gotz lotz of junk.

There are a few different ways to tackle unpacking, and I’ve tried them all.

1. One box a day keeps the stress away … You can just be disciplined and unpack one single box each day. Sure, it’ll take you up to two months to unpack, but you won’t feel exhausted.

2. Today’s the day … Just do it. Every box. Everything in its place. Miserably tiring but effective.

3. I’ll figure that out later … unpack what you can, avoid the things you don’t know what to do with. [This is my preferred method of dealing with emotional pain as well, just FYI.]

4. Boxes are like storage pieces … don’t unpack. Just use the boxes. Not recommended.

5. I’ll buy the pizza … invite your friends over, let them help you unpack, and you feed them as payment.

This time, I’m doing a combo of #3 and #5, with a splash of #4 … just until I get a desk up here from Atlanta.

And being that it has been seven months since I had all my material possessions in one building, I’m excited to announce that I have only lost two things in these 217(ish) days:

1. my checkbook
2. the knobs that go on top of my four-poster bed

I do not know where they are.

But there are a few boxes left to unpack, so I’m not without hope that they will be found.

As soon as the house is done, I will give you a proper tour. I’ve done it before, for Annie Parsons. And I shall do it again.

. . . . .

Question time!

What’s your method of unpacking?

And where do you think my checkbook is?

I can’t even begin to tell y’all how much I LOVE my church, Cross Point. There are a lot of backstories that led to this place, which we don’t have time for, but just trust that it has taken me 3.5 years in Nashville to find a church like this.

[Sure. We could have a twelve hour debate about church picking and the theology behind that and what-have-you, but please can we not? Thanks.]

While I was still in Scotland, I emailed Wes, the college campus pastor at Cross Point, and I said, “Wes. Please. Let me volunteer for you. Puh-LEEEEZZZEE!!”

We had never met. So he said, “Rein it in, sister. Let’s have coffee first.”

So we did and I passed the test. And now I get to hang out every week at the college service and meet cool students [big waves to Hannah and the other girls!] and disciple girls and lead a small group and plan parties and all of it.

I also got to write nametags for people as they walked in last week. Meaning, I got to speak to almost EVERY.SINGLE.STUDENT. As you can imagine, I was practically drunk on excitement after that. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, people.

I learned something important about Annie while I was in Scotland. [Mixing first person and third person? You're welcome. I'm a professional.] I feel the most alive when I’m doing ministry. I just do. I wish I could just write and speak and talk with college girls about God and life and the et ceteras that come along with this phase of life.

That is my sweet spot. 

But. I still have to help set up chairs and clean up the green room and sweep. [I'm guessing... haven't done that yet, but I bet I will.] And I really try to do it with a happy heart because I don’t want to be a nightmare volunteer.

But that is not my sweet spot. Not even a little bit. I call that my “sweep spot” – doing the thing you don’t want to do but needs to get done. And even though I find so much joy in college ministry, I don’t love the parts of ministry that aren’t fun.

[Hi. I'm Annie. I'm super mature.]

When it comes to church service, what is the right thing to do?

Do you pursue and seek out your sweet spot? Or do you just look at what needs to be done and step into that sweep spot?

We all have limited hours to serve… so how do you pick?

I’ve been thinking about this so much lately. I watch some of my friends serve constantly throughout their church, doing the yucky stuff. And while it is impressive, I also wonder if they are tapping into that firey spot in your knower that says, “I WAS MADE TO BE RIGHT HERE.”

But I know that some people really do feel like their sweet spot is the sweep spot. Which I find amazing.

And there are others [not me of course... ahem.] who tend to lean towards the idea that if that fire isn’t raging and I’m not passionate about it, I don’t want to do it.

And by the way, isn’t our human nature SO annoying that we get tired of serving at all? I think that is super annoying. I wish my flesh didn’t scream for relief every time I’m doing something I don’t love. Sheesh, for that matter, even when it is stuff I love there are times when my flesh screams “GO LAY ON THE COUCH AND WATCH THE BACHELOR!”

[We have GOT to talk about Ben. Soon and very soon.]

So I’m putting the question out there to you.

When you are serving at church, do you look for your sweet spot or do you look for a sweep spot?

Is your sweet spot the sweep spot?

Do you pursue serving in your strengths or do you find that serving anywhere better reveals your strengths?

Have you found your sweet spot? What is it?

Tell me how you serve.

I got back from Scotland approximately eight weeks and two days ago.

I only know because one of my besties in Nashville birthed a baby the same day I got on a plane. So yesterday, when she tells me, “Yep, he’s eight weeks old exactly,” my brain immediately thinks, “Man, I’ve been home for eight weeks and a day.”

Which means, God bless ‘em, I’ve been living with a married couple for eight weeks while I’ve been trying to find my next home. Sure, I didn’t think it would last eight weeks, but alas. It has.

We’re gonna call them The Givers. That is not their real name.

No reason to expose their real identity because….

• they never signed up to be blog fodder
• they live a bit more quietly than I do
• when you hear how great my life has been, you’re gonna want to move in with them too and they aren’t into running a bed and breakfast.

It has been a blast. I can’t even tell y’all. They are some of the most generous and wonderful people I’ve ever known. And something I’m growing to learn about myself is that I totally love co-habitating.

[Probably the more appropriate term is "community living" but co-habitation is just way funnier. But you know what I mean.]

Here’s why co-habitation with The Givers has been awesome.

1. They buy the kind of popcorn that just say “BUTTER” and it is delicious.

2. When I sign up to make approximately 150 cake balls for a wedding, there are people to work in that factory.

3. We all love the same TV shows. So when the three of us settle into the house at night, there is no awkward “who gets to watch what they like” moments. We just start the DVR and all are pleased.

[Caveat: They don't DVR The Waltons. But I don't mind.]

4. Living with a boy who is married to one of my dearest friends is awesome. I can ask him guy questions. “When that boy texted that, what did he mean?” and the like. So pretty much, the conversations my other guy friends avoid, Mr. Giver can’t avoid. Because he lives with me. Boom.

5. There are a few pair of eyes that can work on the puzzle.

6. Mrs. Giver is a counselor. AnnieBlogs is an over-emoter. These things work well together. [More for me than for her.]

7. I’ve learned so much from living with them. For example, Mr. Giver is a big believer in pro-active conversations so that we don’t have reactive conversations.

Example.

Mr. Giver: “Annie, we love you being here. Have you found a place to live? We’re not tired of you yet.”

Annie: “Mr. Giver, thank you for your kindness. I’m still actively looking. Hopefully soon. But I love living here.”

And scene.

No emotions. No freak outs. No kick outs. Just a proactive convo. Love it.

8. There is almost always someone to talk to…. proving once again, I have issues.

. . . . .

These last eight weeks have taught me a lot about how I want to live. I want to be generous and giving even beyond what is normal. [Yikes... I should have been out of there WEEKS ago. Bless them.]

I move out Friday into my own place. And the miracle of it all? We are all sad.

My tip to you, person who thinks it would be cool to stay with some friends for a while? Leave before you want to and leave before they want you to leave.

Also. Restock their popcorn.

TOP 5 FRIDAY is when we each list five of our favorite things, depending on the topic. Feel free to join in via the comments or by posting on your own blog and linking back here. Play along. It’s Friday.

. . . . .

I love when people email me questions about Nashville.

It is like when someone asks you to brag about your siblings or your kids or your own personal best friend’s accomplishments. Meaning, I love talking about Nashville.

When you lovelies come to town [and I love when you do], you always want to know where to eat, where to play, and where to hear the best music.

So today I’m going to tell you my favorite places to eat lunch.

See, we eat out a lot here. Like, A LOT. Because so many of us are singlets and we love to hang together, we have managed to find a few great lunch joints that don’t cost a pretty penny but are totes delish.

[Uh oh. Nash talk. Sorry.]

So in no order of preference, here are my top 5 favorite lunch spots in Nashville.

. . . . .

1. Baja Burrito

Similar to, but better than: Moe’s Southwest Grill

What I order: A chicken taco, chips, and a drink

Approximate cost: $5

Don’t miss: The roasted tomato salsa or the fruit tea.

Etc.: Do you know this thing I speak of? Fruit tea? It’s amazing and it is EVERYWHERE in this town. These restaurants will each woo you with their unique blends of tea, orange juice, other juices, and awesome. And Baja’s is one of the best.

. . . . .

2. McDougal’s

[The website is, well, lacking. But it gives you the address, which is necessary.]

Similar to, but better than: Zaxby’s

What I order: Grilled chicken salad, no red onions, ranch dressing on the side.

Approximate cost: $7

What not to miss: If you like spicy, they have great honey-spicy stuff. But as for me and my house, we will not eat spicy. Also, you get a tiny dollop of ice cream at the end. Don’t forget to get that thang.

. . . . .

3. Burger Up

Similar to, but WAY better than: Ted’s Montana Grill

What I order: The local salad with grilled chicken

Approximate cost: $11

What not to miss: Sweet potato fries. And fried pickles. And the woodstock burger. Dang, just eat there a few times and order something different every time. You won’t be mad about it.

. . . . .

4. Edley’s

Similar to, but better than: your average BBQ joint

What I order: They have a special every day, and I usually get coerced by my emotions to get that. But if not, the turkey BBQ sandwich is my choice.

Approximate cost: $8

What not to miss: The coleslaw. It’s vinegar based, which makes me terribly happy.

Etc: Edley’s is brand new, but has won our neighborhood over like whoa. I say that to say, I haven’t tasted everything there, but my friends certainly have [my people go there EVERY DAY], and it is all amazing.

. . . . .

5. The Grilled Cheeserie

Similar to, but better than: I mean, is there a comparison to a truck that drives around town and makes amazing grilled cheese sandwiches? Me thinks not.

What I order: The basic grilled cheese and tomato soup

Approximate cost: $8

What not to miss: The truck. It parks somewhere different every day, so you need to check their facebook page to see where they are parked. Tricky stuff, restaurants with wheels.

. . . . .

YOUR TURN!

If you live in Nashville, share your favorite lunch spot!

If you live outside of Nashville, why not tell us the best lunch place in your town? 

If you have read my book, you know this already.

I used to hate me. 

As a teenager, I was my own worst enemy. The only thing that was worse than looking in the mirror was looking in the mirror while trying on new clothes. It was horrible. I spent many a high school shopping trips wiping away tears in a dressing room.

I didn’t buy nice clothes. It felt like a waste. I didn’t wear pretty things. What was the point?

My heart breaks for that Annie. She missed so many chances to be beautiful.

God has taken the last decade and a half and done a mighty work in my heart and mind. He has changed me from the inside out. Though I still have to fight the lies in my head, it is minimal compared to what used to rage between my ears.

Hence the reason I want to blog about the most beautiful dress I have ever bought. Because it is a redemptive thing, you see.

There was a fun New Year’s Eve party this weekend, swanky stuff, cocktail attire. My plan was to wear a new bridesmaid dress [that is also, luckily, gorgeous] but I decided to pop up to the mall just for fun. I had a little Christmas cash that I was willing to drop on a new dress.

I entered the department store and encountered a very kind lady. She asked my size, the occasion, and then her eyebrows raised. “How do you feel about sequins?”

See, here’s another thing. When God changed my heart and mind to be able to see myself more the way He sees me, a lot of things changed. I started to genuinely love some girly things that I didn’t before … namely, SPARKLE / GLITTER / SEQUINS.

So when she offered sequins, my eyes said it all. But I still answered, “yes and yes and yes please.”

She reached through a line of dresses hung on a rack to the very back. She said, “we only have one of these and it is in your size.” And then she pulled out a navy blue one shoulder number, covered from top to bottom with blue and black sequins.

I had a few other dresses in my hand, but it was useless. My heart beat always and only for that blue sequin piece of beauty.

I tried it on. I sent a picture from the dressing room to the fashion decision makers in my life. We all agreed.

It was beautiful.

I loved every minute that I got to wear it. And I’m going to wear it as often as possible in the future. To lunch? Maybe, if you ask nicely. To your birthday party? Or your wedding? Or to buy groceries? Probably. Because I love that dress.

(Me and Nichole and Lyndsay)

Why tell this story? It seems weird to spend a whole post talking about a dress.

I’m writing this in honor of that fifteen year old Annie, that girl who didn’t know she was pretty. I’m writing this because I would give anything to sit down with her. She needed to hear that when you look good, you feel good. That a beautiful dress can change the way you look AND feel. She needed to know that she was prettier than she heard in her head.

I didn’t know then. But I know now. And I am so glad to have seen, first hand, that God can take the lies away and replace them with truth.

And that He has made everything beautiful in its time.

[Will you share this story with a young woman in your life who needs to read it? Or a friend who needs to know that there is hope for her sad heart? Maybe she will listen better than I did. Maybe she will find a beautiful dress sooner than I did.]

Also. Just for kicks. I got my nails painted with tiny confetti sequined nail polish. Do you love or do you love? Try it sometime. You’ll be glad you did.

. . . . .

Do you have a piece of clothing that you LOVE? Tell me about it!

I’m happy.

For recap’s sake, here’s where I’ve been since I was in Scotland last week.

[I was in Scotland last week. I used to live there. My insides feel bizarro.]

I spent a jet-lagged and wonderful Thanksgiving week with my family. We ate lots of food and I slept some weird hours and I got frustrated at weird times and really enjoyed some weird moments that probably no one else even noticed. I ate Waffle House’s hashbrowns and Chick-fil-A’s chicken and Aunt Carol’s grape salad. We played Wii and I got my nails painted burnt orange.

I also washed clothes and THEN DRIED THEM IN A TUMBLE DRYER.

[It was such a beautiful thing, that moment when the dryer stopped and the clothes were fluffy and not at all wet. I sighed with delight.]

We celebrated my mom’s birthday and Thanksgiving and it was just some quality family time.

I drove back to Nashville on Sunday morning just in time to go to church. I grabbed lunch with some girls and then spent a few hours with the newest baby in my life [he was born last week and I'm already DEEPLY in love with his tiny self] and his dear parents. Then sushi and a movie and a night of restful sleep in a city I love.

“Home sweet home” is a funny title for this post being that, well, I don’t have a home here in Nashville. I’m a vagabond, a couch surfer. I’m hopping from home to home for the next few weeks as I sort out a living situation… or better said, as I wait for God to open the right doors to provide the best place for me to live. [Prayers appreciated.]

But even without an address, my heart feels at home here in Nashville. It’s like the pool of my soul has stopped swirling and everything is settling back into place.

And the whole week I spent at my parents’ house was home sweet home to the millionth degree.

And for the last five months, my heart has been at home in Edinburgh, Scotland… and I miss that place and those people.

Life is weird, isn’t it?

Congrats to Sarah for winning the beautiful board from Glory Haus! Hope it inspires and encourages you, Sarah. We have another gorgeous giveaway today… so keep reading!

. . . . .

As a quick recap from yesterday: God spoke Nashville into my heart in October of 2007. I moved there, alone with no friends or family, in August of 2008.

And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

But Nashville saved me.

Often people say, “Why do you think God moved you to Nashville?” and I still am not sure of the fullness of that purpose. I mean, I don’t have a list that is complete.

Because let me tell you, my hometown is great. My parents are awesome. My best friends are awesome. My job, my house, my church, all of it- totally worth sticking around for. So I didn’t move because I was unhappy.

It was because I was a wimp and because I had forgotten my first love. It was the only way God could save me from myself.

Nashville saved me from a life without courage. Many of my friends and family can live in Marietta and step into courageous situations, but I didn’t and probably wouldn’t have. I merely went wherever I could to be comfortable. And sorry to say, that isn’t a life that honors God to the fullest. [At least, it wasn't for me.]

Nashville saved me from a life where I love those around me more than I love God. I often used to make choices more dependent on my people than on my Father, and that won’t cut it. But moving to a city where Jesus was my only friend fixed that pretty quick. And gratefully, more friends came along, but that was only after I really learned, in the trenches per say, that Jesus is the only one that will be with me always.

Nashville saved me from a life of seeking comfort. I have said this before and I’ll say it 100 more times in my life probably- I am less comfortable, but more confident, in Nashville. Because I am so sure that God moved me there, I can be confident. But comfortable? Not always. Just ask Amber- she won’t let me wear fleece anymore; and if you ask me, that is the epitome of comfort.

Nashville saved me from a life of NO. For the first few months, I made myself say YES anytime someone asked me to hang out or go somewhere or do something. I mean, I had no friends, so anytime someone wanted to hang out, SO. DID. I. And then, a few years later, when I was offered the chance to live in Edinburgh, I was confident of my YES’s.

[See what God did there? I knew He was faithful with Nashville, so I could more easily say yes to Edinburgh. He's a genius.]

When God asked me to move to Nashville, I felt like He said, “Give Me your world.” And to some extent He did.

But the reality is, God said, “Give Me a chance. And I’ll give you the world.”

And He has. Nashville is the sweetest gift that I have ever received. The people…. don’t even get me STARTED on the people. I am the luckiest girl in the world, as proven by my 30th birthday. [Just watched that video again and I am totally boo-hooing right now. Ugh. I'm so grateful.]

My writing career has blossomed thanks to Nashville, including my first book, From Head to Foot, releasing earlier this year.

And God literally has given me the world- since moving to Nashville, I’ve gotten to say YES to New York, LA, Greensboro, Chicago, Seattle, Prague [on Friday!], Edinburgh, Dallas, London, Charlotte… and the list goes on. Would those opportunities have come along anyways? Maybe. But would I have said YES? Maybe not.

It hasn’t always been easy; it still isn’t. I still miss my Marietta life and people a lot [and often]. But I know the One who has called me is faithful. And looking back on the last 3 years, I can see how my life has morphed into a better story because He gave me the courage I needed at every turn.

My life is WAY bigger than I ever dreamed. And I am the braver for it.

And I pray that God uses this big life, as unworthy and flawed as I am, to inspire others to say YES to courage. 

. . . . .

I’ve saved today’s giveaway for this post exactly. Kandy at Bit O Whimsey had said it better than I ever could. [You can click it to see it bigger.]

One of you will win this beautiful 5×7 print … hopefully it will remind you to say YES to courage.

For the rest of us Less-Than-Winners , you can get 10% off your purchase at Bit O Whimsey using the code ANNIEBLOGS2011 until October 31. Pretty much, I want to own every piece of art she makes. So. I won’t blame you if you buy too much.

All you have to do to enter the giveaway is leave a comment [with a working email address] and answer this question:

When have you said YES and it changed everything?

[maybe marriage, a job, a city, a conversation, a purchase? there are tons of possible yes moments!]

You have until I wake up Friday morning [around 8am Scotland time, 3am EDT, 2am CDT, midnight PDT] to enter.

Go on… tell me your YES story!

So many of you reader-bloggy friends have jumped on board in the last few years. Which, I’ll have to say, is just awesome. Welcome.

Most of you only know me as Annie in Nashville. [Or, I guess, Annie in Edinburgh.] I’ve been in Nashville since August of 2008, but before that, I was a hometown girl- Marietta, Georgia. I lived ten minutes from my parents, two minutes from my best friends, I owned a home and taught elementary school and I was totally content to stay there forever.

But that was not God’s plan.

And to date, moving to Nashville was the most difficult thing I have ever done. Bar none. Significantly harder than moving to Edinburgh.

It took more courage than I ever knew possible.

So I thought today I’d tell you the story of when I moved to Nashville.

. . . . .

In October of 2007, I started feeling this weird unsettled feeling. Not like something bad was going to happen, more like God was talking but I wasn’t listening. I sat down one night with my journal and began to write. Suddenly, on my page, at the bottom of a list of questions, it said this:

“Am I supposed to move to Nashville?“

And I was stunned. Why in the WORLD would I even write that? I loved my house, my job, my friends, my family- everything about Marietta. Why would I leave? In fact, I have NEVER been to Nashville and had approximately zero friends there. 

So I tossed the idea, though I felt an unearthly peace when I read that in my journal, and I told the Lord, “Ok, if this is YOU, bring it back. But if it’s me, let’s just forget the whole thing happened.”

[I think I even shook my hands out after this. You know, from dramatic "let's forget this" effect.]

I told no one. I just prayed. And it wouldn’t go away, though secretly, I really wanted it to…. more than anything, I wanted that gnawing call to courage to go away.

At Thanksgiving of that year, I emailed my friends Kevin and Mandy [folks I knew from UGA] to see if I could stay with them over MLK weekend in Nashville. Very nonchalant. Very “of course I’m not MOVING there, just visiting… of course.” [Now, we laugh. Because they knew.] I thought if January came and I still couldn’t shake this idea, I should probably visit Nashville. Since I had never been there before, and all.

I told my family at Christmas of that year. They all loved it, I don’t know why. Probably because of Jesus speaking to their hearts, too. But I still DID NOT love it and was pretty certain I had lost my marbles or was in some sort of phase. Why didn’t anyone else agree?

I then told my two best friends and it was horrible. [Good. I wanted it to be.] I wanted someone to say that this was a terrible idea and brainstorm for hours other ways to accomplish the same goal. Or set a timeline. Or cancel the plans all together. So we did, to no avail. They knew. I knew. I was moving.

I never doubted that God was doing this, I just wished He wouldn’t.

I visited Nashville in January, let my school know I was leaving after that year in February, sold my house in March, moved out in April, came on a mission trip to Scotland in July, and moved in August.

My heart broke for those months. Over and over again. From that day in October until the day I drove away from Marietta, my life was filled with moments of courage, moments when I knew I could change my mind, but I didn’t. I just kept taking the next step.

August 2008 arrived before I knew it. And I moved to Nashville.

Here’s the video I made on my first day alone in Nashville. I acted like an idiot because I had no friends and was bored and was mainly putting on a show for myself. You’re welcome.

. . . . .

Part 2 :: how courage… and Nashville… saved me.

Dear Laura,

I think about the first time we met- when you were moving in to Marisa’s condo and Betsy and I showed up to give you the key. And not help you at all. Thanks for not letting that define us.

Over the years, our friendship grew and we simply had a blast all the time. It was great to have another Georgia Bulldog in town, another girlfriend to confide in, and another soccer fan who really speaks the language of the sport.

Then.

Roommates.

As we have discussed multiple times, living with you healed a lot of hurts in my soul. You fought a lot of battles that were never meant for you. But you fought anyways. You cleaned up messes that others made in my heart. And I’m forever grateful.

You suffered through me leaving clean clothes in the dryer… for days. You put up with my true dislike of taking the trash out. You shared your own ROOM with me when our friend was in need a place to stay. For months.

[Side story: So Laura and I shared a room and a bed for a while. Girls can do that stuff and it's not as weird as it apparently is for boys, especially when a friend is homeless and broken and needs a room and a bed. Anyways, one night, we were laying in bed and I was reading Real Simple and Laura was playing Angry Birds and I looked over to her and said, "Yeah, this is NOT how I pictured my life at 30 years old." And I think she said for me to shut up.]

[Back to my letter to Laura.]

And best of all, Laura, you kept a close eye on my love of fruit, making sure there is an orange in the fridge many days of the week.

You’re a really really great roommate. And a great friend.

The way you love Africa, the way you love your community, the way you love T.J. Maxx. It is all inspirational.

Also, I respect the way you forgive people.

Which is why, Laura, I need to tell you something.

I hijacked your brown flats and brought them to Scotland.

Keep the forgiveness comin’….

I miss you. And so do your shoes.

Love,

Annie