Someone recently mistook me for Ann Voskamp, of Holy Experience.For a few minutes, this person thought I was that Ann — the Ann — who makes us sigh, ponder, weep.For a short time, I was thought to be the Ann who writes heart-melting, soul-achy prose. The one whose blog is an oasis, a repose.This person thought I was the one who regularly pours out her heart, offering beauty, insight, inspiration.Peace, poetry, poignancy.For a few minutes, someone thought I was that Ann.And then…I realized the misunderstanding.I cleared things up.And I was no longer that Ann.Suddenly, I was only this Ann.And so I wandered over to Holy Experience.Humbled.I meandered through metapher and admired adjectives. Feeling word-poor and image-bleak by comparison, I clicked back to my own speck on the blogosphere. I composed this post.No photos capturing slanting shadows grace the space.No rich content to inspire a deeper faith pours from my spirit at the moment.All I have are a few nouns and verbs. Occasional silliness. A story or two. Nutella.I’m just sitting here thinking.I’m thinking about what makes us who we are.I’m thinking about Ann.This Ann.That Ann.And I’m grateful that that Ann is sharing her gift with us, quietly tapping out all that she sees, pointing us to the Savior, gently recommending hope, prayer, study, love.