Diet, Caffeine Free Coke (the kind in the gold cans that I only ever like in Georgia)

“Get up, kid!” My grandpa burst through the guest room door. We had planned to be on the water by 5:30; it was now 6:03. My adolescent lethargy was almost enough to make me slide back under the sheets, but a glance through the window told me that this was a day for fishing.

It was early June in Newnan, Georgia. From noon until dusk, standing outside was like standing in a furnace. But there was a small, magical window of time in which the temperatures were mild and the large mouth bass rose from the grass. Yes, they were hungry and we were ready to throw everything but the kitchen sink at them.

This is what we did when I visited my grandparents every summer. We fished. Now, since I was not a year-round fisherwoman at this point in my life, my grandpa always stocked up on a few dozen jumbo minnows before I arrived. This is not cheating, but, under the blazing summer sun, the odds were in my favor.

My grandfather saw my contemplation and walked out of the room. “Two minutes and I’m leaving without you!” He shouted back. I knew he wouldn’t but that didn’t stop me from jumping out of bed and dashing out after him like a fresh, young springbok. I was barefoot and t-shirted, the promise of the catch stealing all the sleep from limbs.

I darted down the stairs to the basement where my grandparents stayed. In two leaping bounds, I’d past years of memorabilia hanging along the wall. “Oh, Anna, sit down,” sang my grandmother in that special tone only a grandmother possesses.

“Sorry, Gram, gotta go, gotta go, big fish, today, big fish!” I repeated myself out of excitement. In these golden days, I was a regular zealot with nothing to do but do.

Every day, we played this charade: both knowing my exuberance would not allow me to sit and eat in these fleeting morning hours. So, every morning, my grandmother handed me a container of macaroons and a diet, caffeine free coke (the special ones in the gold cans that I only ever liked in Newnan).

Never stopping for a moment, I grabbed two rods and the old, tackle box and took off down the stone path. I always regretted not wearing any shoes on account of the jagged rocks in the soles of my feet but it was always forgotten as soon as I jumped up the three stairs up to the red, wooden dock. My grandpa followed behind with that agonizingly slow pace that adults always seem to have. I surveyed the lake. Touches of sun peaked behind the westward pines. This was a day for fishing.

"Festival"-Sigur Ros

"Weighty Ghost" -Winter Sleep

"Agape" -Bear's Den

"Here's To Now" -Ugly Casanova

"Cosmic Tim" -The Great Bear Trio (outro to an epic 90s alt film of self-discovery + a fiddle. tell me the world doesn't make sense after the initial confusion subsides.)

"Beast of Burden" -The Rolling Stones (didn't realize how much i'd miss my dad. here's to you, pops!)

"As a deer pants for flowing streams so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God... Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life... Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God." Pslam 42

Whose

Wow. It is more overwhelming to sit down and write about this past month than I had anticipated. I have so much to say, so much that I’ve learned. Some good, some bad, but all right because of my Teacher.

What seems like ages ago, I departed sweet, sweet Chesapeake. I said goodbye to my spiritual home and the brothers and sisters that walked with me through laughter and tears, joy and pain, with Jesus, always. I left the place that taught me so much about what a community of love and fellowship can look like through the earnest pursuit of He who has already sought.  The place that I cannot describe because What has moved through it is not of this world. Chesapeake still holds a special part of my heart but three weeks ago I was made to leave by the will of my Creator… and the beginning of classes. So, to the mountains I went, with Jesus still at my side.

I will not pretend to be able to write all that I have been taught in my three short weeks here. It utterly astounds me that each night I cannot even finish recording the movement I saw that day before I pass out on my bed. Since I now eat, sleep, play, and learn in the same place, twenty-four seven, Jesus has been on my mind, twenty-four seven, almost obsessively. I sometimes begin to think I’m going mad but am happy to be a fool to the world for my very best Friend.

He has shared much encouragement and peace with me as I transitioned into the big, bad world of university life. I am enveloped by His presence. He is visible, tangible in every river I swim and wood I walk. He exists within the love of believers, here, evident and true, and I am never without joy as I wait to see what He will show me next. However, I also see an abyssal voidance of Him, rather the recognition of Him. It is very real, in my heart and the hearts of all who surround me. That is where things became difficult.

While I have found much joy in experiencing being pushed far, far out of my comfort zone for Him, it has been hard. I sat under a tree on the Drillfield and cried on my third day here because I had already walked farther than I had all summer and just could not physically handle it. I cried because I missed having a community that knew and was known to me. I cried in class when one of my older friends gently reminded me of my iniquities. I cried because I had overcompensated the strength of my own heart. I just recovered from one of the rarest surgeries performed today faster than any surgeon in Portsmouth Naval predicted. I got through that; this college thing should be no sweat. Wrong. I have been incredibly humbled in the time I’ve been at school. What? Why was this happening? Why had my strength fled as quickly as it came? Why were things moving and shaking around me more quickly than my heart could understand?

I was looking up sermons by Judah Smith when I was stumbled on to one entitled “Jesus Is With You Always.” Click. Okay, his recounting of Paul and Silas’s time in prison did nothing to quell my pleading heart until he said of the worshipping disciple, “…and what’s real to Paul is Whose he is.” I clicked off the video. I remembered writing that in a blog before my surgery. The reason why I have been breaking down is because, again, I had forgotten-as humans always do-the one fundamental Truth of life. IT DOES NOT WORK WITHOUT JESUS. It does not function properly or beautifully without its one and only Author. Even in my attempts to pursue Him here, I forgot this. I, again, was trying to show people Jesus of my own accord. I was making it all about the big, ol’ M-E, me. Just as I did in the pre-op room, just as I have repeatedly my entire life.  But, the beauty of this is, He never fails to remind us of His presence and graciously bring us back home, again.

While I have cried many tears, here, in humility of myself and mournfulness of my sins, I have been reminded of Joy through the sweet tears of Grace. I will never, ever be enough, for college, for a new community, for this world. But Jesus loves me enough to redeem me in all of it. I cried and shook as I went up to take communion at church. I am reminded Whose I am each moment I realize the enormity of the Cross. That Jesus’ body was broken for me. For us all. In these mixed up times of laughter and tears, of growth and transition, I can do nothing but sing praises to a God Most High.

What I am listening to:

“O.N.E.” -Yeasayer

“Haller Lake” –The Cave Singers

“I Need a Dollar” –Aloe Blacc

“Arms” –Seabear

“Virginia May” –Gregory Alan Isakov

“About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them, and suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations were shaken. And immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bonds were unfastened.” Acts 16:25-26

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God… And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:1-2..14

23rd Street

A quick update since my surgery: everything has gone according to plan and my scars are healing well (they are actually pretty cool and allow me to sense the presence of Voldemort). I have been getting back into the normal swing of things and am on track to go to Virginia Tech in the fall! I also got to swim for the first time since surgery in the Chesapeake Bay a few days ago. It was special because swimming is one of my favorite things to do and it had just rained so I had the entire ocean to myself. I have been continuously learning and praying since my surgery. I have never so fully committed to Lord as I am now because of that sickness. I am thankful it happened so early because what I am learning is that, before, I was not even alive.

The Holy Spirit has recently been a topic on my heart and in my studying. I have prayed to be granted its command and, as for all who ask, I have been able to feel it's miraculous power. I have experienced it when I was getting violently sick and blood was coming out of my drainage holes. I shrieked and I cried and I could not physically handle the pain. But I gave my burdens up the Lord and the pain became a mere object which held no power. What else will the Holy Spirit do if we only allow it into our hearts?! I can only imagine what being "built... into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit" can mean for our lives on this earth. So, for the first time, I am following where it leads me.

This past Saturday, my friend, Danielle, and I went down the Virginia Beach Ocean front at 10:30pm. God must have had a hand in it because we had no business going out there so late. We were not going to drink or smoke or party or anything that people do there at night, but we still ended up on the corner of 23rd street, wide-eyed with no expectations. Wearing maxi skirts and sandals in a sea of skin tight dresses and 4-inch heels, we stuck out like sore thumbs but our night's adventure was only beginning.

A man named Aaron was standing alone holding a sign that said 'Free Spiritual Reading' and soliciting healing to all passersby. We, being inquisitive young adolescents, went up to talk to him. Aaron told us he was a third year at Oral Roberts University using his summer night to spread the love of Christ. How cool! We asked if he could join and initially just observed his methods. We watched as he told any interested people that he prayed in the name of Jesus Christ. If they decided to hear him out, he would go on to ask what they needed prayer for: physically, emotionally, spiritually, anything. Depending on the person, the conversations ended in varying strata of depth but Jesus was the topic of them all. 

Death was tangible and I have never been so spiritually attuned in recognition of it. The very real presence of the Holy Spirit begets the very real presence of the enemy. As we laid hands on people, both visibly and invisibly broken, we were scoffed at. A Russian man mocked us for fifteen minutes. He proclaimed his own beliefs that pleaded for the simplicity of the Gospel. A passing group of men cussed and laughed at us. A woman even shouted at us to go away from where we were. I waited for a pit of dread in my stomach in the midst of all the sneering but it never came. I was entirely protected by a Presence far greater than any other. A fire was merely ignited and fanned in my heart to carry out the work He set before me.

And we kept going. For the power I witnessed in a new and radical way that night was not going to yield to any matter of secular persecution. A man who insisted that he did not believe in an Omnipresent Being was still inexplicably drawn to our conversation and could not seem to carry on his way. When he allowed us to pray over him, I felt a surge of energy that compelled me forward still. We met  a woman in a wheel chair scheduled for a surgery that only one surgeon in the country can perform. The hope and excitement she had as we kneeled down to pray with her served a powerful reminder that we are all called to childlike innocence. I met a woman whose desire for faith was being suppressed by her fiance's militant atheism. She claimed to have gotten a stress ulcer around the same time as the engagement (coincidence?). I do not tell random people I meet about my recent surgery but something drew me to tell this woman. As I spoke, I began to cry. I did not mean to nor did I want to but there was something bigger at hand as she began to cry, too. When I laid down to sleep at 2am, I was persistently eluded. I could not stop thinking about the life I saw that night. A life only found after death.

The next afternoon I attended an incredibly Spirit-lead gathering at Big House church. I was overwhelmed by the effervescent joy and spiritual movement throughout the time of worship. I was also overwhelmed by a God that puts on our hearts what we often do not know we need. As the time progressed, a very sure voice in my heart pressed, "You are important. You are worth it. You are loved." I was broken down. A creeping doubt that I did not know I had was answered by a most-loving God. Answered in timing with my choice of inheritance. As I said before, I have never so fully committed to abandoning myself for Jesus and heeding the call of the Holy Spirit. This is often scary and opens up a whole new spectrum of vulnerability in our hearts. But, knowing the ways of His enemy, He reminded me of what it is all about. Towards the end of the service, a man felt compelled by the Spirit to speak and his words were big. Yes, jumping into the life of what our feeble hearts can be uncertain of is hard. Dying to our sins, dying to ourselves is scary. But it can never be matched by the second half of the process. We are born into a covenant of life. Everlasting life in the Spirit. We are alive in Jesus Christ.

What I am listening to:
"Emmylou" -First Aid Kit
"Nothing To Worry About" -Peter Bjorn and John
"Memphis Tennessee" -Mason Jennings

"It pleased God, in his goodness and wisdom, to reveal Himself and to make known the mystery of His will, which is that people can draw near to the Father, through Christ, the Word became flesh, in the Holy Spirit, and thus become sharers in the divine nature.
-I picked up a catholic bible for the first time and read part of "Divine Revelation Itself" from the Dogmatic Constitution On Divine Revelation. Pretty cool stuff!

"by which He has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature..." 2 Peter 1:4

Highs and Lows

Many of my friends and leaders are at Rockbridge Alum Springs this week for a wonderful week of Young Life camp. Here, the Gospel is shared to high schoolers in a real and accessible way. This is the first trip since I started doing Young Life that I haven't been able to go on but I am so excited to hear the ways God has been working there this week!

One thing that each cabin normally does is have each camper share their highs and lows, pows and wows, pits and peaks, etc., of the day. It is one of my favorite things to do so I figured I will share some highs and lows of my life in the past few weeks.

Low: Finding out about the mass in my pancreas. I have never been more anxious.

High: Finding out about the mass in my pancreas. I have never run to God with such urgency and desperation. I have never been met by any person with such love and faithfulness.

Low: Being imprisoned in a hospital room. I am a go, go, go, sleep when you're dead kind of person. I am going absolutely nuts sitting in this stupid room. I have not seen the light of day for a full week now and I am dying to get out. 

High: Being imprisoned in a hospital room. I have spent a lot more time with my family before college, which is a blessing I probably would not have experienced with the busy summer I had planned. I am able to slow down and listen to the heart of Jesus. I am given time to think and meditate and pray on the Word. This, too, is a blessing for which I can be nothing but thankful.

Low: Only having 10 days of full-fledged summer before the pain of surgery and inhibitions of recovery. I will not be able to do half of what I normally would with the injury to my abdomen and requirements of tube feeding and stomach draining.

High: Only having 10 days of full-fledged summer before the pain of surgery and inhibitions of recovery. I have never made more of 10 days in my life! Every concert I went to, every conversation I had, everything was amplified in the most beautiful way. It showed me a better view of what life can be when we recklessly abandon everything to follow Jesus.

Low: The doctors and nurses- I've dealt with a vast amount of people over the past week in an intimate enough way that I can pursue real conversation as they constantly change my drainage tubes and give me shots. On days that I am stubborn or apathetic and don't focus my heart on Christ, I fail miserably at loving these people. It is kind of a slap in the face.

High: The doctors and nurses- Though I cannot possibly love every single doctor and nurse I come into contact with(human nature, people), I am reminded, again, of the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. And our very real dependence on it in becoming more like the people the God created us to be. One specific example involves a med student that has trained on me for two night shifts(basically keeping me alive). I already have a hard time dealing with the training aspect of this hospital; sometimes I just want the best care the fastest. Additionally, this girl did not rub me the right way. The very real and bratty side of me came out the first night she was assigned to me. I wouldn't say my standoffish actions towards her were extremely horrible or unwarranted by worldly standards, but they definitely did not glorify the good Lord above. When she blew out THREE veins at FOUR IN THE MORNING, I was, needless to say, pissed. The second night she was assigned to me, I was, again, unenthused. I remember looking up and saying, "Very funny." But thinking hard on Jesus and praying for my heart every time I pressed the call button resulted in a 1:04am conversation about Jesus with her. It was so cool!!! We talked about a life with faith and dealing with hardships while walking with the Lord and it was such a beautiful moment of realizing what God can do with our hearts if we are willing. When she left, I looked up and smiled.

Those are just a few of the highs and lows I have experienced over the past week. I'm sure the learning is not done and I am so excited for that. Things are definitely hard. This is the hardest thing I have EVER dealt with in my very short life, for so many reasons. The pain, the lack of sleep (yeah, hospitals=no sleep), the boredom, the fear, the anger, the doubt. There are a lot of things going on in my heart right now: far too many to write about. But I growing and transforming in the Spirit each day I am here. Things are moving and shaking all around me, but one thing's for sure: a life with Jesus looks a lot better, folks, there is no doubt about that.

What I am listening to:

"Keepsake" -State Radio

"Seven Chinese Brothers" -R.E.M. 

"1940(Amplive remix)" -The Submarines

"Working Poor" -Horse Feathers

"And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Joy!

I was extremely naive going into this surgery. About how much it would hurt and how long it would take to heal. And yesterday learned that I am "opioid naive," as well. Basically, I had a really bad trip off all the drugs they've been putting into my system. I was panting with fear and on the verge of tears as I asked my doctors if I was going to live. They all looked at me like I was off my rocker; I essentially was. It was a bit embarrassing, in retrospect, but a nice walk around the ward calmed me down. As I was settling back down, my good friend came to visit me. Before leaving, he prayed over me with a subtle urgency. His demeanor made me aware of what I was learning.

Jesus is it. He is everything. He is the center of every variable tangent our courses hold. He is seldom never all we have but He is always all we ever need. I've had a lot of time to think in between all the needles and med students and I've been shown some big things. I've felt some big things is a more appropriate way of saying it. Going to church all my life, I've understood in my head that Jesus is the source of any joy I have but I've never truly known that with my heart. I definitely thought I did. I wouldn't say that I ever found joy in shallow things like money or material possessions, but I wouldn't say that I've ever solely found it in Jesus either. Every night, I thanked God that I could run and play and jump and move and just do. Do things with my friends, do things by myself, depression finds me at home with nowhere to go. I revolve my life around being out all day and night, occupying my mind. This is the faulty plaster I have been using to fill the hole in my heart that only the eternal joy of Christ can.

I do not think this sickness is in any way a punishment or reprimanding on God's part. Only the gift of feeling joy without secular happiness. I have been set free from the tenuous contentment of this world. And surely again will I be able to run and play and jump and move, but I am now being granted the experience of what joy is. The joy of incorruptible love. The joy of conquering death. The joy of our blessed Savior.

What I am listening to:
"Old Man" -Neil Young
"A Message To You Rudy" -The Specials

"Indeed, You are our glory and joy." 1 Thessalonians 2:20

Weak

Disclaimer: this was written under heavy anesthesia and pain medication

I arrived at the hospital bright and early on Tuesday. The nurses made me change into what are probably the most awfully designed scrubs I've ever seen (it's a good thing I've never been fashionable anyways). I waited and waited and got some blood drawn for labs. They took my vital signs then took me to a large room with many partitioned areas that reminded me of Grey's Anatomy or House. This is where I forgot. Where I forgot that all would be okay. That Jesus had my back. I had never liked those shows growing up; they scared me. Entering this area, I was gripped by the worst fear I have ever experienced. This was real. It was not some dream or a joke. I was about to go through something I could never handle on my own. This fear overwhelmed me and I kept forgetting that it didn't have to. 

I was placed on a bed and introduced to my anesthgiologists. They were all nice, but their deliberate intensity only reminded of how serious this all was. A lot of important people were there to watch because of the rarity of the procedure and I felt like an non consenting test subject. As they began giving me multiple IVs and telling me about my epidural, I teared up. This was the first time my unabridged emotions surfaced for all to see. I was a scared little girl sitting on a table in the middle of the pre-op area. I had forgotten whose daughter I really was and what that meant in combatting fear and other complements of Satan. I had forgotten to look above for my strength and I was really, really scared.

I don't remember much else besides the chilling air of the operating room and one of the anesthesiologists placing a mask over my nose. I had planned to sing Amazing Grace but I didn't even get through one verse before I succumbed to a medically induced slumber for eight hours. When I awoke, it was like all hell broke loose. 

I had previously worried about freaking out and pulling out all my tubes and wires when I woke up, but I quietly regained consciousness into a medicinal regatta of morphine and boluses. I remember tugging at one of the male nurses and telling him that I was in a lot of pain but I immediately knew that I was no longer sick. I knew that I had just undergone a extensive procedure that would require a long recovery, but i knew it was gone and I felt whole. 

They moved me to a room in the ICU where I met my wonderful first, night nurse who reminded me of Theresa Caputo from Long Island Medium(my guilty pleasure). My family was there and I was not in much pain so I thought my horizons looked pretty bright. Little did i know, the first night after surgery would be the absolute worst night of my life. I have never felt more pain and I have never felt more fear. My epidural was not working correctly, so i pretty much felt it all. And it all was much too much for me to handle. Thankfully, my sweet nurse held my hand the entire night and would not let any of the doctors touch me because the smallest nudge caused my entire abdomen to tense up. She coached me through breathing because I started averaging 5 breaths a minute and she coached me through enduring because I was scared.

The next morning, the "pain team" had managed to take care of a lot of the burning in my stomach. I was still far from comfortable, but I could handle myself better than the night before. The first day after surgery was really a blur. I refused to let anyone touch my stomach because it hurt so bad and I am thankful all the doctors forgave me for being a diva about it. 

That night my worst fear came true-not really my worst fear but I absolutely can't stand it-the nurse had to prick my finger to test my blood sugar. I know that's a extremely melodramatic, but it hurts, people! Luckily, the pain I was enduring in the rest of my body totally blocked out the little finger prick. I slept for a few hours before the doctors made their rounds at 4am. They had to take labs but my veins were basically nonexistent due to dehydration. I usually do fine with shots and getting blood drawn the seven times the doctor had to stick me almost made me cry. The rest of the second day was more of the same until I walked for the first time! I took a lap around the entire ICU (which is pretty exciting stuff for me these days.) I also had a lot of visitors. Sweet friends that brought me flowers and decorations for my room. All blessed reminders of how blessed I am. The day ended on a a wonderful note when I got clearance(questionably) to be wheeled outside for fireworks. Due to the location of my hospital, I had a million dollar view! I thought about how different it was from the fourth of july last year-and every other year for that matter- but how amazing it was in it's own way.

Today has been full of more progress! I woke up and the doctor ordered that one of my drainage tubes be clamped (I don't really know what that means but it is good). I still cannot be given tube feedings because my bowels haven't started working yet, but we are getting there! I walked six laps around the ICU without a sweat and the nurse removed my catheter. I was able to get up and go to the bathroom unassisted which seems minor but is a big deal! Moving around on my own is getting much easier and I am thankful for 11 years of travel soccer for teaching me how to push my body.

My mental health and spiritual stability took a dive for a few days. Not because I chose for them to, but because I was still obstinately trying to fight through some of the scariest and most painful moments on my own. I had forgotten Jesus in all this. I had forgotten that it was okay to breakdown and cry. A friend of mine reminded had me of this a few days before the procedure but I did not heed her advice. I had it in my mind that I had to put up a strong and confident exterior that was sometimes contradictory to what was going on in my heart. But here's the kicker; in Christ I can be weak. We are not made to withstand the transgressions of this Fallen world. I was scared out of my mind because of the nightmarish things the surgeons had to do to my body. I was frustrated that I could not glorify God in everything I did because the very human and sinful part of me was getting frustrated with situations and people over which I had no control. The beauty of the Light that I possess by faith is that it is stored a clay jar that emits ever more light when it is broken. So in relying on Jesus in every place I fall short I do not have to lose heart. Even when I feel I have outwardly wasted away, I am being renewed day by day.

What I am listening to:

"Blood" -The Middle East

"The Story I Heard" -Blind Pilot

"Victory" -Trampled By Turtles

"Hit Me With Your Best Shot" -Pat Benatar (I used to listen to this to get pumped up for soccer games)

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us." 1 Corinthians 4:7

"Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." 1 Corinthians 4:16

The Greatest

Well, the big day is tomorrow. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. But that fear is transformed into awe at the power of Christ’s love. Tonight, I sat in campaigners as a few of my sweet brothers and sisters prayed for my surgery. I cried. A lot. Because it was a realization of what a life with Jesus is all about. The fellowship, community, and love that we are all invited into. To walk through life and conquer death with. In the same room I sat in years ago after first learning about who Our Savior is, after first understanding what love could really be, I sat, tonight. Still completely taken by what was taken up so many years ago by Jesus. Still captivated and compelled by what I experienced when faith first entered my heart. This is so real and I could not be more wholehearted in saying that. 

At campaigners, we sang “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken” and I could not wipe the gigantic smile off my face as I read the lyrics off the wall. This sickness is hard and scary and real “yet how rich is my condition” that Jesus is stronger and braver and more real than anything I’ve ever known. I am beginning to understand how thankful I am, how fortunate I am. Not to have gotten sick, but that “God and heaven are still my own.” I have been given such a unique vantage point from which to witness His soveriegn power and His gracious love. It is all around me. The support and prayers I have received in the past two weeks have completely blown me away. A new lens that has shown me truer Beauty in every single thing about life. It has all been such a real and tangible manifestation of Who Jesus is. Sitting here on my bed, enjoying my last pizza lunchable, my last real food for a few weeks, I could not be more thankful for what He has given me in this sickness. The Cross is truly the greatest love story ever told. I could not be more thankful to experience true Love.

What I am listening to:

"Wagon Wheel" -O.C.M.S. and/or Mumford and Sons (this is my favorite song, ever)

"The Weight" -The Band

"Casimir Pulaski Day" -Sufjan Stephens

"Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my All shalt be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I've sought or hoped or known;
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heaven are still my own."

from "Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken"