My family spent nearly all of my childhood Fourth of July’s driving from central Iowa to northern Wisconsin to visit our cousins’ lake house. Green pine trees blurred by as I stared out the window, full of anticipation to get where we were going. Once we turned right onto Country Club Boulevard and pulled into the long, rocky driveway, I knew we’d made it. We were at the lake. 

There was always a natural rhythm to the days: slow mornings, golden afternoons on the lake, family dinner on the porch, and going out at night. I was so much younger than the rest of my cousins that they’d leave to go out, and I was one of the only people left behind. Secretly, I loved this, though, because it meant I could sneak away to my pen and paper and let the words inside of me spill into my journal for a few hours. Boat lights shined through the windows as they floated past the house, and as the moon rose above the water, I sat and appreciated the stillness. 

I dreamed about the day I would finally start this very blog you’re reading. I dreamed of speaking into other girls’ lives and encouraging them in their faith. I dreamed of putting all my creative energies together for the goodness and glory of God. And as I’ve dreamed and dreamed over the past ten years, I’ve realized that those dreams have not just been my own: they are a calling. I used to think everyone loved to write and had this itch inside of them. The more time that’s passed (and the more I’ve run-ins I’ve had with common sense), the more I’ve realized that “Putting Myself Out There and Being Vulnerable and Using My Voice and Story to Encourage Others”  is not, in fact, at the top of everyone’s bucket list. Who would’ve thought. 

Over the course of middle school, high school, and even just last year in my junior year of college, I’ve launched three different blogs (well, the last one was more of a resurrection of the debut blog, but that’s a story for another day). They were fun, they were great learning experiences, they weren’t great, and deep down, I knew they definitely weren’t what I was called to do. They kind of—totally—beat around the bush when it came to the real stuff. Sometimes they got close to sharing something of great meaning, but they’d shy away from the truth and the vulnerable moments just when I’d round the corner towards authenticity. There was quite literally one thing standing in the middle of the road stopping me. He was ugly and sneaky and mean, and he lived in my mind. Meet my pesky little nemesis, fear. 

Truly, the only thing holding me back from serving others with my words and story was fear. Fear of what people would think about me. Fear that people would think I’m weird, that people would think I’m preaching or a know-it-all, fear that people would think I’m hypocritical for writing such encouraging things behind a screen and then falling short of living it out in real life. And that, my friend, is where I pray that God is glorified. 

Because, honesty hour here, I fall short. A lot (I’m 100% human, just to clarify any misconceptions). I get tired and annoyed and prideful and sad. I can get so focused on what I’m doing and my to-do list that I don’t think I have time for the people around me. Today I pray and I pray and I pray that that’s where God gets glorified—that people can see that He is the one who fills in the gaps in my life with goodness and light and love, not me. That no matter the things I’ve struggled with, that His goodness and saving grace would be magnified, because I can promise you that it is not I, but He, who has transformed and redeemed all the shortcomings in my life. 

Due to this overwhelming, itchy fear, I was always scared to get real with any of the words I shared. Writing about my struggles with singleness or body image or never feeling good enough or sexual sin or… the list goes on. I was scared to write anything that I sensed other people around me struggling with, too. And ultimately, I was scared to say, in explicit, clear words, that Jesus Christ is my Savior and the light of my life—the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I go to bed with a full heart each night. I was scared to be “that girl,” “the weird one,” or whatever other discouraging labels are out there for the ones who desperately want their words to reach people in need and for their lives to glorify God. 

Someone recently (and urgently) pointed me to Galatians 1:10. As I read it, I could feel annoyingly perfect little beads of sweat forming on my forehead, and quite frankly, on the edges of my heart. Yep, this was the wrestling match I had found myself in for the past 21 years. 

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” 

Gulp. Yikes. Wow. There’s no beating around the bush here, that’s for sure. After I put a cool rag on my forehead, laid on the couch for a few days, and ordered a large, Margherita pizza to nurse that kick in the gut, here’s where I landed:

No matter what any, one single person could ever say or think about me, I am here to serve God. And for me, that looks like laying my life down in words and encouragement for those around me. I’m not interested in the opinions of others, but I am passionately and fiercely interested in how my life can glorify my perfect Father. 

And today, I am excited to share that I’m walking freely in that truth and running head down ever so diligently on that mission. 

So welcome to Anna Rose Writes, the space where I can practice stringing words together and encouraging you where you’re at. No matter where you’re coming from or what your life currently looks like in the midst of 2020, know that you are welcome here. You are welcome, and you are loved—both by me and by the One who is, quite literally, love itself. I’m so glad you’re here, and I can’t wait to keep running this race together.