Amy Writes

Last weekend, while visiting the 'ville and the family who lives there, our almost-3-year-old was attacked by a vicious animal. Seriously. Our clumsy little munchkin had done her thing - which is to walk ten feet, forget she's walking, and kind of just fall down, but with some serious forward momentum which results in a pretty good wipeout - in the doorway of a restaurant we were leaving. In the nanosecond between the time when I said, "Oh, you're okay..." and when I reached down to swoop her up, Kujo appeared. Teeth bared, barking at full volume, some mangy shepherd-mix thing roars into my baby's face -snout to whimpering little helpless nose. I'm not sure what happened next, because both baby and I burst into tears. I heard something about "oh, she doesn't like small children..." and then I saw the dog owners sheepishly racing to their car. There was some kind of meager apology issued that I interpreted as "hey, at least we pulled her

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.

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'

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.

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 fr

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 disappoi