Running

I have a desire to run until my heart explodes and I fall completely unable to move. To completely expend myself and then to lie facedown on the ground, the night around me, and the cold air filling my tired lungs.

I don't know why.

Do I run to or from? Sometimes both. Sometimes I want to run away and away, never looking back, always pressing on. But I can't. There is a voice in the center of my head that quietly commands, "Go back, Anna. Sit down." just as I press my hands to the door. If I try to ignore that, there is an audible voice and very real hands that won't let me run. Sometimes I just want to bolt.

Other times I want to run toward something. I want to pursue, and to be chased, all at once. I want to run till my heart explodes. And I want to fly too. I want to leap around like a child in the backyard catching fireflies until bedtime. 'Cept my fireflies are joy and peace and love and hope and Jesus.

But really, I don't know why. I just want to run until I can't.

Looking at the Sky

...because nothing will burst until we get beyond ourselves.

I want to see hearts whole. I want to see a world that has ceased groaning and crying and instead is satisfied. I want to see Christ touch this planet.

Yet we worry about our lives. Countless minutia bog us down and instead of reaching for the light free falling above us, we stare at the ground, wondering where all the light went. I am learning to look up, into the sky...to seek the light instead of what I want. Yes. Instead of what I want.

What I want will go away. The little things. My little dreams are so little. But what God wants...and what I want because of God...will not fade. I want to see hearts become whole and even more precious to Jesus. I want joy on formerly empty faces.

I do this even with my faith. I delve too deeply into the details of me and God, and I become consumed, then, with the minutia of faith. Ironically, it is as soon as I begin that that I lose hope, for what hope can be found in picking apart details? Hope comes from loving God and loving Light. Seeking out beauty in darkness. Finding strength for fear. Recieving gladness when grief is overbearing. This is light. This is God. His name is Love.

So from there, I begin. I love. I love God. I love people. I love my jobs. I love my school and schoolwork. I love God. I look up. I chase the little star pieces until I can catch them in my hands and hold them, sparkly, shiny. And I can show them to the world, one heart at a time.

flecks of gold

I know that when real stars expolde all kinds of exciting things happen regarding black holes and supernovas and all sorts of things my brother could probably tell you about. He's the one who made it through Stephen Hawking.

I'm talking about light shattering and spreading across space, filling darkness with flecks of gold. Words and ideas...precious pieces of hope in a space so cold it sometimes forgets the gold flecks.

Time for the stars to explode.