Be still, and know that I am God. (NIV)

Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God. (The Message)

Arrêtez, et sachez que je suis Dieu. (French)

Fermatevi e riconoscete che io sono DIO. (Italian)

Quédense quietos, reconozcan que yo soy Dios. (Spanish)

Let be and be still, and know that I am God. (Amplified)

The Local Taco. Yum.

Grandma Kacky making her guesses.

I heart the Boatmans.

Ansley's view at the hospital.

Shelby gets inspected.

Too cute.

When best friends think alike.

Dear Shelby Jennings Boatman,

I don’t know when, if ever, you will actually read this. But I’ve gotten in the habit of writing letters to my friends’ babies and well, you are my friend’s baby.

Like, a really brand spankin’ new baby.

Shelby, I want to tell you something. For the rest of my life, when I think about God answering prayers, I will think about you. I cannot tell you how many nights I sat and cried with your mama, praying that someday, she would have a child. I can’t tell you how many roadblocks tried to keep you from ever being a being. Ask your parents that stuff- it’s a lot of technical medical mumbo-jumbo.

But I can tell you the minute your mom told me you were coming, I knew that God heard us. I knew that you were the one He made, the one He picked for such a time as this, the one that didn’t need to be a day earlier but couldn’t be a day later. I am as sure as the sun rises that your life has purpose. Live like it, Shelby. Live a life with purpose because I knew you before you were you and I am certain the girl I prayed for is a part of God’s story for this world.

Your parents are going to absolutely make you crazy. Your dad is going to take too many pictures and your mama is going to make too many lists and she will teach you be so polite it will make you sick (and well-mannered). And at some point, I know that you will say how glad you are that Ansley and Adam are your parents. Your grandparents are going to want to talk to you on the phone. Do it- they are amazing and you have a lot to be thankful for in your gene pool. Your aunts and uncles are going to buy you lots of stuff. That’ll be awesome.

And me? Well, I’m going to want to bake lots of cookies and laugh at your jokes. I’m probably always going to ask you what book you are reading and expect a real answer. I may hug you too much because I’m trying to squeeze out some of that faith that your parents have sown into your life. I’m also going to cry a lot. Cause, Shelby, that’s how I roll.

Finally, I want to say thanks. Thanks for being such a tangible reminder of God’s faithfulness. Thanks for showing up, just in the nick of time, before hope was ever off our lips. Someday, when you are old enough to need to hear a story, I’ll tell you mine. And right smack in the middle when you start to wonder if I give up hope that God can hear us when we pray, I’ll say, “here’s where it gets good, Shelby. See, here’s where you came along.”

With so much love,

Honorary Aunt Annie

(Aunt in charge of entertainment)

But it happened.

Enjoy these while I spend my Saturday at the hospital with the Boatmans waiting on their baby to be born! [that'll probably make me weepy, too]

[Also, my official title today is "AnnieBlogs, honorary aunt in charge of waiting room entertainment." Oh, you better believe I take that title seriously. Pictures to come.]

Ok, to the topic at hand: tear-inducing videos.

[By the way, subscribers, there are 2 videos here- so click on over if you can't see them.]

Ok- who all cried? Y’all confess.

Also, have a great weekend.

• go to the bank [I just drive thru and say, "so, there's still a little somethin' somethin' in there, yeah?" Sometimes they frown and that means, "Sorry, sister."]
• change the sheets on my bed
• finish laundry
• get a pedicure/manicure

That last one, well. Here’s why. When you are the “speaker” at a camp, people look at you. All the time. Whether you are on stage, off stage, laughing, talking, or just sitting on the back of a golf cart.

It’s not bad. It’s not weird. It’s just the way it is.

So it is important to look good. At least, I think it is. At least, I thought it was.

I wanted to look trendy and cool and Nashville and pretty and taken care of.

But I ran out of time. That week pre-camp was so ridiculously stressful that the hours were full and mani/pedi got bumped. And for all the talk I do about not wanting to be a Christian speaking punk and not wanting to care about what people think, the fact that all twenty of my nails were bare was a distraction to me.

[This is the point where the author (me) is reminding the reader (you) that the main character (me) is flawed.]

So I went to camp with ugly feet.

And God took many an opportunity to remind me that it did not matter one little smidge.

Like, not at all.

Not one camper noticed my toes. Or if they did, they were kind enough not to mention it.

You know why it didn’t matter?

Because the speaker doesn’t matter.

The speaker’s toes don’t matter.

The only thing that matters, in those moments that really matter, when that middle school girl has fully tuned her ears and the Holy Spirit is pounding in her heart, and she knows deep in her knower that God is telling a story with her life- God is all that matters.

God is always all that matters.

When Annie the Speaker forgets, heck, when Annie the Girl forgets that God is all that matters, chaos ensues. [And pride. And issues. And all manner of sinful things.]

So I’m leaving my toenails bare for a while as a reminder of how little other stuff matters. Whether you are an awesome speaker or an awful speaker, a patient mom or a struggling mom, a college student or a college professor, the truth is still the same.

God is all that matters.

Seriously? Instructions?

A summer beauty.

Lake Geneva Youth Camp says thanks.

New fav color : Esse Body Language

A summer beauty.

A summer beauty.

]]> http://annieblogs.com/2010/08/18/smile-wednesday-08-18-10/feed/ 1 http://annieblogs.com/2010/08/17/chicago-fire/ http://annieblogs.com/2010/08/17/chicago-fire/#comments Tue, 17 Aug 2010 09:00:55 +0000 Annie http://annieblogs.com/?p=4260 So you know how I feel about professional soccer. I heart it. Mucho.

After an amazing week at Lake Geneva Youth Camp, I rode the train back to Chicago to hang a few days with one of my besties, Betsy. If there is anything I have learned about myself as a speaker, it is this: I’m not good at “re-entry.” I struggle when it is time to return to my real life and for the first 12ish hours, I am so drained of energy that I am a mere shell of an Annie.

So, I figured Betsy should have to put up with that.

She took me to rehab, in the form of a deep dish pizza joint. And while we ate, Betsy said, “would you want to go to a Chicago Fire game tomorrow night?”

My jaw dropped and I said, “you are a great friend and absolutely.”

Because I have never, no not ever, been to a professional soccer game.

Fast forward to Sunday night. 2 dudes from Nashville, also maj soccer fans, just happened to be in town. They happened to have 2 extra tickets and a parking pass. We happened to have a vehicle. We gave them a ride. They gave us tickets. Bada-boom.

[And this is the point when the story takes a [not] surprising “welcome to Annie’s life” turn.]

Betsy and I say thanks for the free tix then part ways from the dudes, planning to meet at the car after the game. And we head to our seats.

And someone is in our seats. And they have tickets, just like ours, for those exact seats.

We get ping-ponged back and forth between a few employees and come to find out that our seats had been sold. TWICE.

The man behind the counter says, “you can’t go to the game, would you like tickets to another?” and I think the you-just-smooshed-my-puppy-with-your-cement-roller look on my face made him slowly slide the tickets back to us. “You’ll have to leave,” he said. BUT HE HANDED US THE TICKETS!

Betsy and I, heads hanging low (we are actresses, of course), turned around and walked back into the game and just stood by the frozen lemonade stand. Because the view was still pretty awesome.

Betsy and I decide not to tell the boys about the little ticket mishap until after the game. Both being Southern gentlemen, they would have immediately given up their seats. We didn’t want them to do that. Their seats were, well, spectacular.

And we were honestly content. I promise. I was just thrilled to be there.

Then, of course, this text message exchange occurs:

Dude: So, how are the seats?

Me: Great! [Not really a lie- they are great seats, we just can't sit in them. I hoped this would be a sufficient answer for him.]

Dude: Send me a pic!

Send him a pic?!? Sheesh. All I’m trying to do here is keep him from getting up. So, I sent a picture. Of Betsy.

That magically nipped the convo in the bud and we were able to watch the game. It was totally awesome. And even though they ended in a tie, and even though I was super-dee-dooper sweaty, I insisted on being photographed at the stadium.

Cause while I may be cool, calm, and collected at the Grammys, I’m a major geeky super fan at a soccer game.

[Also. Please notice Betsy to my left who will not ever turn around for a picture. Dedicated to the game? Nope. Dedicated to not taking pictures after standing outside in the heat for 90 minutes? Bingo.]

Whew. Forgive my lack of posting as of late. The sickness that took me the edge of myself has finally receded. I don’t know what kind of Yankee Bug that was, but good gracious. You Wisconsinians know how to grow ‘em!

I have a great plan for all the things I need to tell you this week [including but not limited to] :

• Lake Geneva
• a pizza that burned my chest
• the Chicago Fire soccer team
• my column in a magazine (including a giveaway!)
• rear-ending a family after they dropped off their eldest at college
• dirty feet
• some books that I must MUST tell you about
• and how I almost moved into the house next door.

Life did not stop when my respiratory system was overrun with mucus-a-plenty. Nor did my ability to brainstorm what I would like to blog about [apparently].

Also. I worked on that list during church [forgive me].

I’m a little late telling you this, but oh, y’all. It is a FUN month at (in)courage. Free stuff like EVERY DAY. Crazy, but true. Cause it’s our birthday. One year. One year of pure writing bliss. I adore (in)courage. Click on this beautiful button to see more.

[Literally. I just typed "beautiful bottom." Don't click on anyone's bottom. It's not polite.]

Today is my official catch-up freelancy day. So I will be writing the articles I owe [cough.(in)courage.cough.], responding to my email inbox and bloggy email inbox which both overfloweth, and conducting meetings throughout my day at Frothy Monkey [obviously].

Two delightful birthdays occurred over the weekend : Ansley and Melanie. Both women have stepped into super important places in my life and I refuse to picture it without them. Send some birthday love if you have the time, bloggites.

Phew. Can you tell I’ve missed you? It’s like I just want to tell you everything in one breath. Your turn. Catch me up. Did you write an awesome post that I need to read? Did something awesome/sad/cool/noteworthy happen recently that I’m totally out of the loop on? Are you pregnant? Engaged? Going on a date? Making a new recipe?

Just tell me how you are. Cause I’m nosy like that.

Well, it appears that they are equally as enthusiastic about sharing their germs as they are about sharing their circles of chocolate.

Because I am Down. For. The. Count.

There’s a lot of pressure in my head- stretching from hairline to chin and ear to ear. Drainage. Coughing. Headache. You know, the typical misery. And this misery loves the company of Nashville’s 100+ degree temps with 90% humidity.

So, if someone could get me some cheese to go with this whine, I really think it would put me on the road to recovery.

I’ll see y’all later.

I’m hanging out and resting a few days in Chicago before I head back to Nashville.

I have lots to share with you from camp, but for today, just a few of my favorite moments. There were many many many. But here are two that I happened to capture.

Cuteness personified.

Much more to come once, you know, my brain has recovered and my voice isn’t so tired and I stop being mopey like Eeyore because I had to leave a beautiful place full of awesome girls, super fun counselors, Godly staff, and gorgie-poo weather.

Sheesh- it was somethin’ special.