Well, she was an American girl.

It never fails: I can attempt the head-to-toe Madewell-look and drool over that Atlantic-Pacific blog all winter. But as soon as spring fever washes over me? Man-oh-man and glory be: I crumble.

I like Lilly stuff.

A lot.

Always have.

Put this girl in a print.

So OBVIOUSLY, LP's new State of Mind print makes my little heart race. I'm happy as a hummingbird to be tucked back in the Deep South, but I sho' did love racing around this country last year from Seattle to New York, Austin to Detroit and everywhere in between.

I mean, the print's just a different take on Atlantic-Pacific, right? Right. 

Nice work, LP.

Photo credits: 1 / 2

Blog post title: "American Girl" by Tom Petty, again. I know. I named a post after that song once. But when it's your favorite song, you're allowed.

Yup in my white tee.

This is one of those moments when the best way I know to translate enthusiasm from moi to you is to type things like: an;dslnfa;sidnf;aisdnf;asdnf;akdn;awoier and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. If we were texting, I'd probs be using a lot of Emojiis. Gosh, I am so mature...

If you've followed me a while, you know I appreciate a good run. I'm not exactly good and usually rely on my inhaler and prayer to continue to supply me with oxygen and the breath of life, but I think running is so fun. 

Or should I say I've only thought it was so fun.

Enter The Color Run.

Gasp! Of COURSE I want to run 3.1 miles around my pretty city of Atlanta and have colored paint thrown at me! At 9 a.m.! Of course! Brilliant. Now you just tell me that doesn't sound like a blast and a half. THIS IS GONNA RULE. Sistafrands from my small group and I created a team, so after March 31, we shall have thrilling photos like these guys:

Whoohoo!

Check and see if there's one around you: My fave cities Seattle, Austin, Vegas, and Pheonix are some of the locations on the tour de color list.

Now then. To a) cross my fingers that dry paint doesn't increase asthma symptoms, and b) progress to the point that I can actually survive this looming Nashville half... Advice? This will be my first!

Photo credits: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Blog post title: "In My White Tee" by Dem Franchize Boys.

A letter from Becca.

I think our very first picture was snapped on Bridge Pointe Drive. She was in a crisp, mama-sewn pilgrim outfit and I had war paint and a king-sized, fringed pillowcase died brown and my head through a big hole in the top. We were both barefoot in the yard and geared up for Thanksgiving Party day for the Trinity Presbyterian first grade.

Since then? Shoot. We've lost count of memories. And photos.

The following post is form one of my best friends of 17 years, Becca. She's one of my wisest sisters and she carries me. Obviously I was stoked when she approached me with this. Take it away, Bex:

Hi ladies,

I am a dear friend of Miss Magnolia here. A few weeks ago I approached her about writing a guest post about some things that were happening in my life. She was so gracious to allow me the opportunity to speak to y’all, and I pray that what I have to say strikes a cord in someone’s heart.

See, here’s the deal: I got dumped. 

There, I said it. 

Cold, hard, and fast. 

It hurt, it is still hurting almost a month later.

You’re probably thinking, “Oh great, another break-up blog post about how Jesus, wine, and the right amount of Kelly Clarkson can get you through." But that’s not what I have to say. I wish I was just giving out an easy cure to heartbreak, but darlin', there’s no such thing. This isn’t the first time, and it may not be the last.

So let’s get down to it.

I’ve been dumped. I hang up the phone with my best friend, put my head on the steering wheel, and cry. Cry doesn’t do it justice--I sob, really. The big heavy tears that seem to come, not from your tear ducts but from way down in your gut. And they burn the whole way up to the top. So I cry for a while, and I say a few choice words because I believe in my soul that sometimes that is the only thing that makes you feel better. And then I pick up my lead-heavy body and drag it to my bed where I pull out my journal. I open it up to the newest page, dot it with a few tear drops, and this is the first thing that comes out of my heart and on to the page:

"Why am I always ALMOST good enough?"

You see, like I’ve said, I’ve heard it before: a few versions of “I should love you for reasons A, B, and C, BUT….” I’m sure the boy thinks he is reassuring. But he always leaves me thinking, “If you SHOULD, then why don’t you?!” And it hurts. You feel like you almost made it, you almost had what they needed...

So I’m sitting on my bed reading, and re-reading, and processing that statement, yelling at the Lord in my head, beating myself up, and hurting. When all of a sudden in the quiet ache of my heart I hear this:

“Sweet child, I know.”

And I think, "No, You don’t. You can’t. I asked You, I prayed that You would not let me hear this again, that You would save me from this heartbreak. You can’t know how much it hurts to be almost good enough."

Again, “Sweet Child, I know”.

So I stop and listen. And in case I wasn’t already face-down enough, I get this sucker-punch to the heart:

“The reason I know is because you say that to Me every day.”

Wow.

Yikes.

Me? I do that? 

“Yes, you do that. To Me.”

We do that. To the Creator of the Universe. We tell him every day, "You are almost good enough to have my whole heart. You are almost good enough to capture my full obedience. I SHOULD love you because of A, B, and C, BUT..."

BUT the world is so enticing. 

But surely you can’t be asking me to give up THAT.

But I don’t want to move there.

Work there.

Break up with him.

Forgive her.

Have that conversation.

Etc., etc., forever.

So darlin', The Lord of the Heavens knows about heartbreak.

Because we’re the ones breaking His heart.

Be thankful that His grace covers us, that in His mercy he loves us still. That no matter how much His heart is broken by our waywardness, He still chooses to love us extravagantly...

“For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. 
Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, 
so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

Hebrews 4:15-16

Lullabies into anthems.

"'Cause that's what He does. He takes little songs, little lullabies and turns them into anthems. His eyes are roaming throughout the earth, seeking to show himself to those whose hearts would be fully committed to Him."

- Christy Nockels on the story behind "We'll Sing Along"

It's going to take a while for my heart to unpack the imprint that Passion 2012 made. 

You just get ready, sweet friend, for the song mentioned above to drop on the album. I've not yet listened to Christy bring life to the lyrics without ending up with little "baby tears" as I call them in the corners of my eyes.

Great God, wrap your arms around this world tonight.

Photo credit: 1

Lessons from choir-singing.

Shelley Giglio tweeted this picture of choir practice.

I told you last week that I had musical news to report. The report, which you're aware of if already, is that I'm so humbled to get to be a part of a movement that's turned my life upside-down since sophomore year at Samford.

Passion Conferences unite a generation--mostly college-students--for Jesus's fame and reknown. This year? The Georgia Dome opened doors to 40,000 pairs of feet shuffling in for opening session.

Whoa baby.

The Passion choir--all 200 of us--is but a drop in the ocean of 40,000, but this experience of ushering in some of the hymns of our generation just stirs my heart. 

Because the thing is, I'm not that great at singing. Sure, I can carry a tune in a bucket and avidly cheesed it up in Samford Step Sing, but I'm talkin' we are backing Chris Tomlin and Christy Nockels. Let's just say that not every ounce of blood from the two Baptist ministers of music in the family trickled down to me.

But that's the blessing in this.

We are baby ants up there!

Looking out over a wall of faces in the Georgia Dome last night, seeing things from the flipside I'm not used to, it hit me. It just makes you just wanna bless, free, and speak truth over that generation of students--in a desperate kind of way.

"If any message, whether in print or person, was truly His idea and doused in His anointing, 

He has tested it meticulously on His messenger."

- Beth Moore, So Long Insecurity

Remember that advent season? That time of experiencing (still experiencing a bit) a time of binding and captivity? Time of experiencing battle with the enemy? I was just there. That season was doused in His annointing for such a time as this.

Because yesterday, today, and until Thursday, I can sing out and look over faces and declare louder than I could six months ago the freedom that is knowing Christ. It's a sharper image to me. It's a story I can actually tell now because God tested that message meticulously on me, the messenger.

I never desire that these posts be about me. I don't. Sometimes, I really don't know how to tell the story otherwise though than through just messily explaining what God's teaching me. But I still think He doesn't want me to keep this lesson to myself.

The one about meticulous testing.

'Cause when the clouds start to unblur and the sun peaks through, testing always begins to make a lot of sense. I know we all know this, but sister, it's a reminder I think we're going to need to tell each other a lot in this life.

At least someone can keep reminding me!

Click here to watch a live stream of this year's conference or to learn more!