Heartbreaking

Steven Curtis Chapman's 5-year-old daughter was killed last night after being hit by a car in the family's driveway.

I can't imagine.

A stranger to me, yes...but an artist whose body of work has blessed and strengthened me immeasurably, whose faith has inspired millions, whose ministry has enabled thousands of families to adopt children from China - children like Maria Sue, who was taken from Steven and Mary Beth's care last night.

Please, just pray.

This is how we roll

It's been kind of a crazy week in the AmyWrites/JustMatt home.

May is always a month of lunacy, anyway. Like most families with kids, or families who work with kids, or families who see a kid at some point during the week - our life tends to follow the school calendar more strictly than the lunar calendar. Every facet of life crams something in during this fifth month of the year, as if simultaneously we all realize that five months have gone by and we'd better get something done.

So we have fundraisers and parties and last-everythings. Piano evaluations, thank-you events, end of the year recitals. All of these happenings involve some kind of effort: a prepared food item, a gift, a babysitter.

I intentionally keep us as un-busy as possible, but there's a three week stretch here where my calendar looks absurd, with arrows and scribbles and notes and numbers - all indicative of opportunities to be with people I love, celebrating things I'm excited about.

Naturally, it's a time of year when health is required and peripheral distractions are not welcomed.

Naturally, that's not how it works.

Last week's calendar was wiped clean when, naturally, my oldest daughter came down with a fever on Tuesday... and still had it on Friday. Being the seasoned, non-alarmist (cheap) mom that I am, I let the poor kid suffer with the fever and the tuberculosis-sounding cough for four days - playing "you can't have my co-pay" chicken with the childhood illness that should "work itself out" in a few days. Oh, but it's May, and I have a kid with an IgA deficiency, which means that, naturally, by the time we made it into the doc 10 minutes before the weekend, she was like, a day away from pneumonia. (seriously)

So we've been hitting the antibiotics hard, quarantining the family and hiding out at home. For a week.

Hoping to lay low enough to get her back in school today and to make it to a piano lesson before she has to play seven (yes, 7) pieces before a judge tomorrow, we stayed home all day on Sunday, not even venturing out to the pool. It was falling into place until....

Naturally, little sister woke up from her nap with a fever, 10 minutes after we made plans to drop the kids off and go out for a grown-up dinner. Cancel plans, scramble up some dinner at home (naturally, some of the ingredients I was planning to use had spoiled because, again, the quarantine thing. Couldn't make it to the store).

We get the kids in bed at last and start our Sunday evening laundry routine. Naturally, there's water on the laundry room floor. Surely, it's just a fluke - I'd overloaded the washer or something.

Meanwhile, oldest daughter makes her nightly appearance in the kitchen 5 minutes after being tucked in, naturally, tonight, holding a handful of blood that is connected to her nose. Naturally, the bleeding doesn't stop for 10 minutes and we have blood on the carpet, the sheets, about 100 tissues and a rag, which all belong in the washer...

Which, naturally, has now created 2 inches of standing water without even being on. Aha! It's a plumbing problem. Someday I'll tell you how much I love our plumbing company. Really. I think they should run the country.

But as I sit here and think about how crazy these last few days have been, I think about how little control I actually have, and how the curve balls really make life more fun and exciting and maybe it's because I've always been one to jump at a challenge, but I kind of prefer the chaos to the predictable. And I think, God, please, don't let me catch myself whining, because the people in Myanmar and China and Sudan and Haiti and Uganda and...

Still needing a theme.

I think these long absences are why I need a "theme." I keep thinking of things to blog about, and then I think, nah -that's not interesting. Or I forget. The truth is, I forget ideas more than I nix ideas.

But if I had a THEME...there wouldn't be a question. It might not always be interesting, but it would give me direction. Because the theme "Stuff Amy feels like writing about" is really kind of vague.

Well, thank you for your patience, anyone who's still coming around, and stay tuned - because I DO plan on a summer of writing.

Betrayal, Disbelief, Abandonment, Entitlement and other words that describe my prinicipled dilemma.

Stop me if you've heard this one:

I have been a fan of these guys for twelve (12) years. My first concert ticket, twelve years ago, set me back $5, and a two-hour drive from Gainesville to Orlando. It was in a cleared out church sanctuary with maybe 200 people. Maybe.

There are a few people who can claim fandom longer than me, but not many. And certainly not as loyally.

In the twelve years that have elapsed, I have seen my guys in concert at least once for every year -traveling to West Palm Beach, Orlando and even New York with my fellow groupie to catch them in Times Square. One year, fellow groupie and I promoted a show in our college town (which is fancy lingo for selling tickets, hanging posters and hanging out backstage). I've escorted them to interviews and escorted interviewers to them, I've snuck into a show early and "found" myself backstage where I didn't belong - only to have my loyalty deepened when lead singer Mac greeted us like we were old friends. We weren't, yet. That was way early. There were times later when I was backstage because I did belong, and I could just rock to myself as professionally as possible, because I was "working."

So here's the deal. Favorite band is coming again, this September. With another favorite band. Pre-sale starts today. Good seats are...

SIXTY FREAKIN' DOLLARS.

plus...

A SEVEN DOLLAR SERVICE FEE.

...each.

Sure, there are other seats available, like, in the parking lot, for $30.

It seems to me that bands ought to have some kind of loyalty rewards program, like, how some gyms let you keep your original starting fee so that you're still paying $8 a month when all the newbies are shelling out $49. Or how cruise lines give you new bags and keychains and stuff when you become a "repeat cruiser." Or how Subway used to have that card where when you bought 10 sandwiches your 11th was free.

But they don't. I was offered the opportunity to join the fan club (for $30) and then I have the privilege of buying tickets earlier than other people, but at the same price. But anyone can do that. I want some recognition. I want a reward for 12 loyal years. I can sing lyrics to songs that the rookies don't even know exist. Entire albums are logged on my brain's hard drive. I have reached the point in fandom where I can look around a packed venue and honestly say that I have been listening to these guys from the beginning - longer than a good portion of the audience has been alive. (Christian shows feature a lot of kids in the audience.)

So I am torn. Do I want to go? Absolutely. Do I want to pay $67 per ticket? Absolutely not. Do I EVER win anything, like FREE TICKETS? Nope.

Alas. Thoughts?

Peter, Gomer & me.

As our year of studying the Book of Matthew comes to a close, we are studying the Passion Week. I should be working on my lesson right now, actually. But I'm not. I'm musing instead.

After Peter betrayed Jesus for the third time, one of the gospels says that Jesus - in the hands of his captors -turned and looked at him, a dramatic moment in an intense love story.

What was Jesus thinking as he watched his best friend deny their relationship? Can a sovereign God be disappointed, if already knowing the outcome? Can he be angry - if he is on his way to complete the greatest act of mercy in the history of the world? Can he be sad - or would that be feeling sorry for himself? Did he, in an act of cruelty, make eye contact to sink Peter further into his depths of repentant despair?

We were asked last week to answer the question: "What do you think Jesus feels when he looks at you?"

I spent some time asking myself the questions above. And I can't believe he's disappointed. I can't believe he's angry or cruel or feeling sorry for himself or me. What I see is Hosea.

Hosea, waiting faithfully for Gomer to get it right - knowing that she won't fully get it right until the eternal restoration. I see him standing there, waiting for the time when I can stop screwing around and we can be together, forever.

Kindergarten

In four months, our oldest daughter will start kindergarten.

I'm not sure what rip in the space-time continuum caused us to arrive at this point already, but it seems to be an inevitable eventuality.

And I don't know how it works for you, but when I am facing a difficult decision, God piles on the options.

"It's great to have options," everyone says. "There's no wrong choice," they say.

"In theory," I say.

See, we had just about decided what we were going to do about school in the fall. Just about. Until... another option arrived in the mail. We'd applied for a magnet program at a nearby public elementary school but were discouraged by the low numbers they promised to accept. It was a lottery. We never win lotteries. So we moved on.

Now, we have a decision to make.

To public school, or not to public school?

We are essentially deciding between the Primary Years Programme magnet at a nearby public school, which feeds into the International Baccalaureate Programme at the middle & high school levels, or participating in a home school co-op through the private, Christian school I attended for most of my life.

I'm sitting here trying to concisely sum up the details of both sides and I can't. There are money reasons and faith reasons and education reasons and principle reasons and mom reasons and family reasons for and against both of our top options. Maybe over time I'll muse about one or the other, but right now, I'm just a little swamped by that decision...and a few others.

So please, if you think about it, will you pray that one of them will jump out at us - fairly soon? Thanks.

When I Leave I want to go out like Elijah

I'm in the ravine.

It's my new excuse.

Like it? I got it from Pastor this Sunday. He got it from Elijah.

Elijah the Prophet was commanded to tell King Ahab that a big drought was coming. Then he was commanded to run for his life, specifically into the Kerith Ravine. There Elijah would be safe, hidden and provided for - by ravens.

Pastor likened Elijah's time in the ravine to "training camps," those periods of time where God pulls us out of action and beats us up a bit. Or a lot. He talked about illness, financial difficulty, being a mom of young children...

Being a mom of young children?! Training camp? Being hidden away for a time? What if that's what this time really is about - being hidden away while God preps me for service, for whatever service he really has in mind. Elijah's time in the ravine came before he called down fire, before he trained Elisha, before he left in his chariot of fire.

So maybe now, instead of saying "no, I can't" whenever I'm asked to serve, people will start hearing "Not yet! I'm in the ravine!"