Amy Writes

I have decided to show a little grace to myself and allow a re-post of an older entry for this week's Remarkable Faith post. Now that Steven Tyler the Idol Judge moves me to tears almost weekly, I find this post to be maybe truer for me than before...enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------- As I've said before, my mind tends to wander a bit on Sunday mornings. It wanders to the store, it wanders to the calendar, it wanders to the mismatched paint colors above the east door. Sometimes it wanders to scripture unrelated to the message - I consider that some kind of victory, although I'm not sure it's a point in my favor, since it's still evidence that could be used against me, should someone be peeking over my shoulder. Anyway, one Sunday this summer, my mind wandered to the Aerosmith concert we were planning to "attend" the next night. I noticed that I was starting to feel giddy, which started me thinking: Why am I 187

This January, my grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. She was surrounded by her three sons and 8 of her 17 great-grandchildren. With the exception of a few minor glitches that come after 90 years of living, she is in great health. My grandfather, also in great physical shape, will turn 89 in April, followed closely by my other grandmother, Nana, in June. Nana is still driving. Altogether, our children still have five great-grandparents living, four of whom we see on a regular basis. This, I believe, is remarkable. This remarkable living legacy is the reason why, by the grace of God, I don't have a lot of experience with funerals. There have been a few - my other grandfather passed away when I was in college, but only after losing both legs in WWII, surviving a major heart attack and quadruple bypass surgery and a pretty serious stroke, among many, many other trials. He was a fighter, and though we all miss him, his funeral was like a victory celebration - his fight w

I am part of a very special group of friends. We love being together whenever possible. Almost all of us have kids at home all day long, so when we get together during the day there is a significant increase in the noise level.  As our kids get older, finishing a sentence - or sometimes even a whole conversation - is getting easier. But there are days when we are all taking our turns disappearing from the room to beat our children.  I'm kidding about beating our children.  But we do vanish regularly to have a word with this one, or to remove that one from a situation, or to exact some type of punishment for a certain unacceptable behavior. Sometimes, we have to disappear completely and go all the way home with a screaming child in tow. And no one looks twice. No one raises an eyebrow or tells us to take it easy or questions anyone's parenting decisions. We just shift over and start monitoring an extra kid or two while one of us is having to be the enforcer. And every now and th

Today is one of those days when I just can't...get it...together. I can't. I have been back to bed twice, hoping that pushing the reset button will make it all better, but it's not working. Today was supposed to be a kind of back-to-the-grind day, as we've been on "Spring Break" for about a month (yay, homeschooling!!) So I stuck to my (fading) guns and we got school & piano done, and even did some of the things that we don't do on lesser-motivated days. We took a series of photos observing our new garden.We planted seeds in our little greenhouse box, we went outside and tried out the new skateboard, we foraged through the fridge for lunch (instead of defaulting to PB&J). I think one of the hardest parts of homeschooling is that (I feel like...) when I'm not at the top of my game, everything suffers. Or at least I'm surrounded by the evidence of everything suffering. I don't get to leave my house behind and go to work and just mak

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:1-3 The Guest List.  Any bride knows the importance of those three words. Whether the list be long or short, it is painstakingly created. It's the one chance we have to make a list of people we believe love us enough to spend the better part of a day - or in my case, a weekend - celebrating us. That's right. My wedding was an out of town, weekend affair. Our guests were invited not to spend just a few hours with us, but a few days in the Happiest Place on Ear

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house, - you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?" - Mr. Rochester to Jane Eyre "What would you say is your greatest strength?"   I remember getting that question about once a week near the end of college. Interview after interview, no one ever seemed to come up with another way of asking that or its tricky cousin: " What would you say is your greatest weakness?" ( "Weakness? Well, sometimes I work TOO hard. I just don't know when to stop. I dedicate myself to a project and don't stop until it's done, sometimes at the expense of a good meal or a hot date. It's a real weakness." Did anyone NOT answer that way? ) My standard answer to the strength question was usually: "Well, sir, I am extremely loyal." I don't know how I proved it - I hadn't held a job for more than a summer at a time (and that was only o

"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10(b) That's Jesus talking. Let me give you a little background on this verse: according to every Sunday school clip art graphic ever created, we know that Jesus was wearing a white flowy robe at the time of its utterance, and the words were spoken with arms gently and warmly outstretched. Scholar/artists disagree about whether the white robe featured a purple or blue shoulder sash or a nauticalish rope tied at his waist. His shoulder length, Northern European hair had definitely just been brushed and there'd been a special on whitening at the dentist that week because his pearly whites are sparkling.  I think, because it's such an easy one to remember, I immediately associate this verse with Sunday school - where we specialized in easy-to-remember verses. And I immediately associate Sunday school with Clip-art Jesus. So for me, this verse - John 10:10 - is a clip-art verse. It can be used ov

I think, the older I get, the more I remember. Taking the clothes out of the washer, I remember that I have been meaning to clean that little rubber seal thing for like 3 months. Putting the clothes into the dryer, I remember that I need to sweep the area in front of the dryer where the used dryer sheets seem to go to die. Heading back into the kitchen, I pass the shelf where we keep the soda and remember that we need more diet coke, and then remember that I would like a diet coke right now. I open the fridge to look for a diet coke and remember that I need to come up with a dinner plan. Digging through the freezer for meat, I remember that I froze those strawberries from last week and was meaning to have a smoothie this morning. Reaching for the blender I remember that someone asked me for a drink - did I ever do that? I don't remember, but both children are otherwise occupied so everything must be fine. Although, I do remember something about asking them to clean their rooms

Hooooow many times have I seen Annie? It must be a number in the hundreds. Add to that the number of times I've listened to or sung the music, seen the play...and, oh, yeah - there was that time I DIRECTED THE SHOW IN HIGH SCHOOL. Well, technically that was the sequel, but still, I was immersed in the story for like 4 straight months. So imagine my surprise when tonight, I'm just sitting here, minding my own business, being mom of the year by ordering pizza, cuddling up with the girls and having an Annie-watching pajama party - singing along with every single number and... what? Tears? What the...? Tonight, I saw a completely different story. See, there's this girl. An orphan. Let's call her...Annie. She's a pretty good kid, looks out for others, sings very sweetly. She's living in hell, but it's all she's ever known. She can imagine something better - she just doesn't know how to find it. She makes a couple of attempts at escape, but finds tha

I rolled over and looked at the clock. I expected it to be somewhere in the late 7s or early 8s...giving me plenty of time for a leisurely shower, a big cup of coffee and the Sunday circulars before heading to church. Almost eight years ago we joined the church we still attend, and this past Sunday marked the end of a chapter there. Even though my family was out of town and I had kind of a free pass to skip, I didn't want to miss the last Sunday we'd have there with our friends, who had served as beloved youth pastor (and beloved youth pastor's wife) since joining the church on that same Sunday, almost eight years ago. We'll see them again. A lot. So it wasn't so much that I felt like I couldn't miss being in the same building with them, although there was a twinge of that. It was baptism Sunday. I didn't want to miss the last baptisms he'd be performing up there. Eight years ago, I chose to be baptized at our church. I'd been sprinkled after c

From one of my favorite songwriters, Ken Block. I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to write a song about the transformative work of the Gospel. But he did. I have known this song for awhile. I have been loving this song for a couple of weeks. Enjoy...

In the morning, the Eastern light pokes through the blinds above our bed and dances around our comforter - but my eyes are rarely open enough to enjoy it. It's not until I've dragged myself to the shower and let the water run over my face for a minute or two that I am treated to this little bit of happy. With the bathroom door positioned just so, the sun shining through the blinds creates a vertical line of oval dots on the door that I can see from the shower and I decided this morning: I adore morning light. I know it's cliche. Who doesn't love morning light? There are countless songs and poems written about morning light. I think, probably, you have to be a pretty grumpy person - or a teenager - to not love morning light. I'm fascinated by how the softness of the light in the morning immediately transports me back to childhood Saturdays. I associate the streaming sunshine with lazy days, full of potential. The house moved slower on the weekends. We'd may

As I tossed and turned last night, sleep eluded me. I'd had kind of a busy day, had stayed up late and tried to wear myself out preventing a sleepless night, but I still found myself studying the clock at 2:42...3:17... The problem wasn't that I had taken a long nap or had a lot of caffeine or couldn't get comfortable. The problem was that something was missing. A six-foot-2, sandy-haired something that belonged on the other side of the pillow. I've never had a problem sleeping while Matt's out of town. Well, I've just never really had a problem sleeping (she writes, at 12:36 a.m....) I get numerous invites from people with extra beds who are concerned for my safety/health/sleep when they realize I'll be solo, but I have always been just fine, thank you. But last night, for some reason, it wasn't happening. My defender wasn't there. We laugh about this, because he says he feels the same way when I'm not home. As if I'm the one who

So, like the rest of America, I know far more about Charlie Sheen than I do about Libya, the government or New Zealand's devastating quake. Kind of shameful, really. But I will say Charlie has brought much laughter to this house this week. Come on - tiger blood? Adonis DNA? Warlocks and F18s and exploding bodies... there's almost nothing he's said that hasn't been laugh out loud funny. Except for when he described his home life by saying: "There's nothing broken here." Um, reality check, Charlie. EVERYTHING is broken there. It's around here where I stop laughing, and start getting a little choked up. Lay aside Charlie's own madness and very, very bad choices and the fact that his kids are in the middle of it. Those "Goddesses" he's living with? Those are someone's little girls. At some point they were innocent pig tailed cuties who played with dolls and put on shows for their parents and dreamed of being princesses. But