Amy Writes

I'm sitting on my sofa at 11:47 on a Monday morning. It's not an altogether unusual occurrence: this is about when I make myself something for lunch and plop myself down between projects and chores. But today, I'm not alone in my house. Buzzing around me are three girls actively staving off boredom. One has claimed the kitchen as her domain today and the house smells of popped corn. The other two are shuttling various objects from the garage to a bedroom...gym mats, laundry baskets...a beach chair has now made the trip there and back. I've lost the ability to care when it will all go back to its rightful place. My bedroom has been transformed into a fully functioning office as Matt conducts his business at a folding table. As he spends his day on the phone with people concerned about their ability to retire, only a thin sliding glass door separates him from a never ending loop of Broadway music, Disney songs and FaceTime dates in the toy kitchen. With the exceptio...

Our oldest just celebrated her thirteenth birthday, which means that we just celebrated our thirteenth year of successful parenting. Yay, us! And if I'm being honest, which is kind of the point of writing through one's feelings, I'd like to hang up my parenting hat. I mean. Thirteen years is a long time to commit to something, right? I've never done ANYTHING consistently for thirteen years. I feel like we've got a pretty good product, she's doing fairly well for herself, I'm quite satisfied with a job well done. If only. Parents are really good about warning other parents about "what's next." Sometimes it's discouraging, and sometimes it's super helpful. Sometimes it's contradictory - Two is really hard, No wait til they're THREE - but everyone seems to be in agreement that Thirteen is one of the Seven Circles of Hell. So, right when you're feeling pretty good about getting the training wheels off and pushing this li...

I'm gonna need some help, South Florida. We're losing the good ones. As a native South Floridian, which is kind of a novelty, there is one conversation I have with people all the time. It goes like this: Normal people: So do you ever get used to this heat? Me: Yes. Of course there's more to the story, but I know that generally people aren't really interested in how I, personally, deal with the oppressive weather. They just want to make the unique observation that I live in a place that can feel hotter than the surface of the sun. I assume it would be like living in New York City and getting asked if you see famous people all the time, but less glamorous. Maybe it's more like living in LA and being asked about the traffic. But there is another conversation that happens way too often, and it's one that breaks my heart, every time. Normal people: We're moving. (Other variations: Our 5-year-plan is to move away; We can't wait to get out of her...

I remember staring down at this little blonde headed girl as we were about to get the school day started and thinking, "I can't do this anymore." Her shining hair, always worn in two long braids, grabbed the sunlight and brought tears to my eyes as I faced the inevitable.  I was tired. Tired of getting places on time. Of meeting the demands of others. Of fighting this strong little being at the end of each day when she was worn out from performing her best for others all day long. We were going to have to home school. Maybe, at home, we'd have time to get to know each other better. She'd have time to do her thing, and somewhere in there we'd fit in some education. Maybe, at home, we'd get the best of each other. We made it five years. Now I stare into the face of this young woman who is tall enough to look me in the eye, and I tear up because once again, I'm tired. It is time for me to surrender my baby girls and turn the page on a new chapter,...

Two posts ago, I wrote about being a recovering accomplisher, and how it felt okay to stop mid-project and say, effectively, "lesson learned...next?" It's a great post. I just re-read it and I really agree with myself on it. But it didn't stick. It never does. I must have written it expecting there to be a "next thing" right around the corner. OK, coach, got it! Yessir! Thanks for that lesson! I'm ready to play! But I haven't really been thrown in the game. Instead, for a few months, I've been feeling more like a ball girl...or sometimes even a fan without a ticket. One by one, the things that I've held onto, the contributions that I thought made me a valued team member - have been stripped away. Some through humbling physical trials, some through limitations brought on by this crazy life stage, some as gifts that just aren't working as well right now. They are all things that have me (or someone else) saying "not you, not ri...

We call it "reentry," that period of time where you stumble back into reality after being on vacation for a few days.  For what feels like weeks prior to leaving, we make preparations to leave - we do wardrobe checks and shop around to fill in missing pieces. We print itineraries, gather necessary identification, make arrangements for the kids. We do loads and loads of laundry so there's less mess to come home to, we fold, we pack, we empty trash, we clean counters, we wipe floors, we eat through the food in the fridge, we give someone a spare key.  And then five minutes later, we're back, with dirty clothes and jet lag, or sea legs, or vacation colds, and an empty fridge and we sit for a minute surveying the mess we've been able to make in under an hour at home and we wonder... what just happened? We drown for a bit in the depths of real life - of appointments and homework and driving and cleaning and unpacking, but usually we surface again before long wit...

Well, I made it 8 of 31 days. And you know what? I am totally ok with that. I've written before about how I have a hard time sticking to personal goals. I don't even make New Year's resolutions. I know I won't make it past January 3. Diet plans. Exercise plans. Reading plans. School projects, charts to fill out, etc... I start them all. I just can't seem to be bothered with finishing them. Last year, I trained for and ran a half-marathon . It was a huge accomplishment. I collected a medal. I wrote about what it felt like to start and finish something for the first time in years. And then I spent months nursing a bum hip. Early this year, I signed up to do it again - to chase that feeling of accomplishment. But eventually it became obvious to me that ALL I was doing was chasing that feeling of accomplishment, and I was likely to do it at the expense of my physical health, so I bailed. I like walking. I'd like to be able to do it for a number of years hencef...

Today is my birthday, and I am off, celebrating in real life! But as I considered how to celebrate here, I decided to flash back to a day that I really, really liked. Without realizing it, we'd been waiting fourteen years for this near perfect day. The year we got married, a band that was special to us began a tradition that would intrigue us for more than a decade. A music festival at sea, with some of our favorite performers, sailing annually. The Rock Boat. Isn't this a lovely spot for a little show? For thirteen years of powerful lineups we would consider joining them, and each year we would decide against it and say bon voyage as the ship set sail. We were too practical for something so whimsical; we almost always had no money, or a newborn, or a nursing infant, or a house closing or a trip planned with friends before the new dates were released. But one night last year, we pulled up the website and without too much discussion or debate, booked a non-refundable...

When I committed to this project last week, I knew I was being impulsive. But liking people was on my heart, so it's what I jumped at. I could easily list 31 people that I felt needed to know...I'd just work my way through my own family and get into the mid-20s... But what I didn't consider was confidentiality. It's one thing to write "Brother," or "Sister." I have one of each. Can't mix 'em up. But I am about to dive into a matrix of nephews, nieces and in laws that, without using names, is likely to confuse even me. And then if I start in on friends? Well, it's going to start sounding like a litany of unspoken praise reports. "Ive got this friend..." So because this challenge is primarily about me typing something for 31-days, I'm going to go back to the drawing board, and maybe figure out how to tell some of these stories in a different way. Speaking of doing something a different way - remember that sister I wr...

Being the middle child has its drawbacks - largely in the "Oh yeah! There's a middle child!" category. We are the quiet ones. The peacemakers. The "where did I leave that one?" kids. But being in the middle of the pack does have its benefits, the foremost being that the trail has been blazed by that trailblazing first born. My sister is my invaluable trailblazer. For decades now, I have followed in her footsteps and she has always been gracious enough to advise me on where to step and where not to step. Sometimes verbally. Sometimes by example. Sister, you are a faithful friend. A cheerleader. A rally-er of troops. You are an inspiring mother - giving, serving, planning, plotting. Your thoughtfulness is backed up by actions - you see needs and you meet them, end of story. You are an endless resource of emotional and physical support, not just to me but to anyone who needs you. You are a gifted leader and organizer. Your love for traditions, quality tim...

It's Sunday night. It has been a full weekend and I'm just now sitting down to get my writing in for the day. I am tired. So instead of writing what I'd planned to write, I'm giving myself a bit of a pass from the personal, in favor of a list. Everyone likes lists, right? So, here it is. The definitive, authoritative, list of 5 things that I like this week, in no particular order, with limited editorial comment. 1. Melodime - Try them. You might like them. 2. Brant & Sherri's Podcast - Dear Brant: I like you and your awesomeness. Sincerely, Amy 3. Showing myself grace - I can't recommend this highly enough. You've gotta try it. 4. Reading books I've read before - In a fit of "I must find something comfortable to read and I CAN'T FIND MY COPY OF WHAT'S SO AMAZING ABOUT GRACE," I started Wuthering Heights again. It's kind of like What's So Amazing About Grace, but without any grace. Or hope. And in spite of i...

Today, I was watching a football game with some friends, and a 16-year-old picture of my little brother flashed on the screen. It was just for a second, but my husband and I both spotted him and said something, which resulted in a minute or two of stopping, rewinding, playing again, screen grabbing. As a few of us were having fun with grabbing his mug off the tube, one good friend got hung up on a little detail: "I didn't know you had a brother!" Not, "I didn't know your brother played football," or "I didn't know he was a quarterback," - it was a full fledged denial of his very existence. Oops. I DO have a brother, and our lives are lived more or less on top of each other - sharing circles of people, but rarely the same circle. I assume, because we grew up here kind of as a pair, that everyone knows him...or at least knows about him. Turns out, I do have a brother, and I like him very much. Brother, I like you because you are true....

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."  - When Harry Met Sally Oh, Harry & Sally. It's my favorite romantic comedy of all time. The story is perfect. (Real, messy people!) The setting is perfect. (New York City!) The music is perfect. (Harry Connick, Jr.!) And this quote is so perfect, because life together isn't sustained by a feeling in...

I would bet that most people, when beginning an essay about why they like their dad, don't consider including the words "world domination." But that's why I like my dad. I like you, Dad, because with you, nothing, including world domination, is out of the realm of possibility. I like that your crazy ideas can still surprise us and stretch us and get us thinking outside the box. I like the way you light up when people enter the room. I like how you make plans for play - with us, with the kids, with your friends. We've learned from all of that - what may look like a tennis ball and a shoe to most is, to you, all the equipment necessary for a limitless supply of endeavors to test your prowess in feats of strategy and skill. I like that because of you, because of the way you have always spoken to us and encouraged us to learn and read and grow, I can write sentences that include phrases like "a limitless supply of endeavors to test your prowess in feats o...

Let's pretend this was posted Wednesday, okay? Thanks. Because, Wednesday, in addition to being the first day of October and the first day of this writing challenge, was also, a number of years ago, the first day of my mom's life. So it seemed like a good opportunity to spend some time telling my mom why I like her. But I missed it. Mom, I like you because I don't think you'll care that this is a day late. I like that you're laid back like that. (At least it's earlier than your real present!) Mom, I like you because whenever humanly possible, you are smiling. You not only tolerate us and all of our mood swings, difficulties and take-over-the-world tendencies, you are the hub of the wheel and your dedication to gathering the 20 of us together as often as possible is establishing a legacy of family togetherness that will endure. I like that when my friends run into you around town they a) know who you are, and b) make a point to tell me how sweet you ar...

So. Here's the thing. I've been off facebook for a little while now, and through a series of other circumstances, emotional events, conflicts and other regular life stuff, I have been knocked off my footing a little bit. Nothing terrible. Just off a bit. Uneasy. Insecure.  As it turns out, facebook, while doing its part to pile on the insecurities, also served up an adoring audience of thumbs-up giving friends, who virtually validated me every day. But now that I've left the auditorium... "26 people like this!" is no longer countering the cries of "I DON'T LIKE SWEET POTATOES." "Do you know what it's like shopping with three chimpanzees?" ... no one cares. There's no little comment box that pops up above my head when I voice something hilarious - just crickets. Uncomfortable silence. God loves me, I know. But I'm not sure he laughs at my jokes. And he definitely doesn't eat my sweet potatoes. Over the last ...

My apologies to any email subscribers who received half a post in their inbox this morning... you caught me practicing! There's more to that story, maybe I'll get around to actually telling it. In other news...did you know you could subscribe and receive a direct e-mail feed? Look over there ---------->>>

It has been kind of a weird week, and as I've tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to organize my thoughts, there is one thought I keep coming back to... I love this. It's been a week of gratitude, not for anything in particular, but just that I get to be a part of this. This life. This family. These friends. This church . This place. It's been a week of searching, of evaluating my gifts, my weaknesses, my offerings and my shortcomings...of wrestling with whether I'm in the right place, with the right people, doing the right things...or enough of the right things. I think I am. It's been a week of being reminded of God's faithfulness in spite of my fogginess - a 95% on a math test, an unexpected "I'm thankful for you" text, the opportunity to settle a silly bet between friends, two unexpected amaryllis flowers in my backyard, a new favorite song that reminds me of what it means to be in a Gospel community, a husband who gets my quiet days, a lo...

It was the day before we were planning to start school, and I panicked a little. I had done so little to prepare. I mean, my first week's lessons were pretty much written out. The books were not only ordered, but actually already in the house and I had even leafed through most of them. The school table was cleared off, we had sharpened pencils and all necessary software was loaded and ready to go. But still, I didn't feel ready. I felt like I was missing something critical, and when I realized what it was, I almost kicked myself into a last minute frenzy of Dollar Tree + Pinterest + MAYBE THE PRINTER WILL WORK IF I JUST HIT IT HARDER madness. I had forgotten neglected to prepare any over-the-top Back to School cuteness. No matching dresses. No special breakfasts. No adorable "First Day Of..." printouts for pictures. There were no treats awaiting my children at all - just a "good morning, I think we have some Eggos" and "Here's your new Penmans...

Last week, I sat in the allergist's office as she injected some 39 tiny needles into my arms. As I waited in the quiet for the track marks to appear and my respiratory enemies to make themselves known, unable to troll facebook because...well, you know..., my mind had time to wander. Why do people subject themselves to this? What was I really going to do with this coming information? The answer, obviously, with all allergens, is that knowledge is power. Once I know what is making me sick, then I will be able to avoid those things, or take measures to prevent a reaction if I know I'm going to be exposed. I will know more about what makes me uniquely me, and understand how I can endure a three month sinus infection by simply breathing the same air as something that my friend can snuggle up to and kiss on the mouth. It occurred to me then that when I wrote that last post, I was essentially declaring an allergy. What may never negatively affect someone else was making me sick. ...