God flying out of people’s mouths!

Did you know God flies around everywhere in New York City? Did you know I saw him shoot out of people's mouths? Did you know that you did in fact land on annsrants.com and not the 700 Club?

Sure the smell of urine can ruin your dinner of FREE Sunchips from your Swag Bag while you are racing down 6th Avenue, but don’t let that distract you from the Godliness in New York City. I'm not referring to the pizza, the lox, or your image on the Super Screen in Times Square, divine though they undoubtedly are.

I sat in a theater and watched Marin Mazzie in Next To Normal channel something enormous, opening her mouth and soul and lettin' the Yaweh fly. She knelt on the stage and vessel-ified herself before us, and all Julie, Wendi and I could do is sit up in our seats, try not to blink too much on our insufficiently waterproofed mascara, and cause ourselves a sinus headache from trying to hold back teary-guffaws and inappropriate audience outbursts of

YESSSSSSSSSSOHMAhhWHAAA-AA-AI AI AI

Okay, so that was only me. I’m sorry for the person behind me, because when Marin and her real life husband Jason Danieley shared the stage I’m pretty sure my hair shot straight back behind me Mach2.2 style, while my right hand started doing that one-hand praise-Jesus wave.

I did not sleep that night. The Savior, he would not let me rest! (and neither will my key words after I post this) My roommates wanted to sleep, but I sat like Gene Wilder in a Cher wig, snarfing FREE cookie swag and proselytizing musical theater to my very tired roommates--one in dire need of vocal rest. ((((Sorry, my Bitchin' Talented friend...))))

Then the official BlogHer conference started and that was more “oh my god” flying out of people’s mouths than actual God, but there were moments of that too.

Like this. It was almost too much beauty and pain for me personally, and yet never never enough.

And a hug from her

And all the amazing going on with Heather and Maggie and their tandem sobriety journey (as in simultaneous, not as in a bicycle built for two) and their book I can’t wait to read.

And then, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON a teeny boy opened up HIS mouth at the Kirtsy Gala. He played the piano and sung The Lord On High Holy Rollin’ child prodigy style. Meaning, he covered Lady Gaga's "Paparrazzi" but if you listen you will understand. More weeping and raising my eyebrows, looking around as if to ask everyone IF THEY ARE SEEING THIS FREAKY LIGHT EVERYWHERE TOO, or have the three hours of sleep reduced me to a 36-year-old preteen groupie wearing a top purchased from a store named Hot Mama.

Eventually I took all of this energy and danced for some hours straight—channeling my seventh grade soul. Remember when dancing among only your girlfriends was completely normal except for 3 cute boys that everyone wants to dance with so you pretty much have to ignore? Also because you are married and a mother now, and don’t even notice a little?

And submerged in all this BIG DIVINITY (a potluck recipe, and also the words tattooed on God’s bicep) I could experience it and surround myself with it and not try to insert myself in it.

Last year I felt so nervous at BlogHer—meeting friends and idols—that I couldn’t connect in a genuine way. I felt I had so much to prove and it was all clawing at my insides. You will read about people feeling snubbed, and certainly some people do lack social graces, or consciously withhold kindness--thankfully I avoided that this year. But I think at least part of the reason I avoided it is because I was busy with joy, and I kept bumping into it and I laughed and laughed and laughed, danced and danced and paid attention as That Holy Dudette vroomed out of people’s mouths all around me.

Because I don’t know when I will see God zooming out of mouths like that again—but I know it happened in New York City. I can't wait to go back.