Never give up.

I wrote this letter to myself in January of 2009. I was living in a hospital at the time, hooked up to a heart monitor that would chime at night every time my rhythm fell below 40 bpm. In January 2009, I had never experienced kids worship. I hadn't had the "moment" when I felt the Holy Spirit speak and I knew in my heart I was made to jump and sing and lead "the least of these" to declare power and truth over their lives. It's crazy to think that time existed. But today I happened upon an email and realized that this prophetic encouragement was for such a time as this moment. It hasn't been edited (sorry I was in an ee cummings non-capitalizing phase) and it's raw and real... 
and it was just what I needed to read today. I'm resurrecting this quiet, old blog space to post a 7 year old letter because maybe you need this, too. 
Keep going. Never give up.

i may not always feel this way... so i’m going to write this to you now. because right now might be all i have to put these thoughts to page and express what i want to believe even in the moments i don’t.

he said, “what makes you human is the greatest thing about you.” and in that, there is a struggle.  because you are human. you can’t be more, and even in the darkest of moments you aren’t any less. but because you are human, things have happened. and therein lies your story: your story has struggles.

don’t let go...
the struggles are shaping you.

to go to battle with yourself, first you have to fight. you’ve been fighting for a long time, and it isn’t over yet. but every moment you choose to fight is a moment that you are choosing the struggle, you’ve chosen not to let this win. even in the moments you try to deny it, you could have given up long ago. you could have quit. but you’re still going. and even if it hasn’t moved you from the base to the mountain top it’s kept you going, kept you climbing. 24-7 you try to deny the strength that could be, that might be inside. you don’t believe in it.

it’s ok not to believe in it yet.
it’s ok to struggle to believe in anything.

but people believe in you, people believe that you can win. people believe that you are more than your failures, more than your illness, more than the thoughts that plague your mind.. that fill your lungs with shame. you can breathe different air, and perhaps that is a choice. and you aren’t ready to take it yet. you aren’t ready to make it yet.

it’s ok not to be ready.
it’s ok to struggle.

you have these big dreams. multifaceted and built on a promise that you can use your humanity, your struggles to help those around you. you don’t want to believe you have to help yourself first... no matter how many people tell you otherwise. maybe because the idea of helping yourself seems so foreign that it’s far beyond a dream. it reaches past what you can grasp.

you don’t have to have it all together at this very moment. because not only will you eventually come to terms with the fact that you are only human, but eventually you’ll be willing to let others see it too. and not just in a room with the door closed and only the walls and the person you trust the most there waiting to let you fall apart and put you back together. your humanity is what connects you to every person that you meet. and maybe, your struggles also.

you aren’t ready to give up identifying yourself as sick. you still feel like you need to. for right now; you may. but that doesn’t mean tomorrow, next month, in a year that will be the case. you are still in the struggle, but remember: all that means is that you haven’t given up. you are growing each day. and while your body may be slipping, inside you are building up your strength. that’s good. the greatest battles may lay ahead. but continue to let the tools you learn be the armor that prepares you to fight. let every card you receive be a weapon against the trials you can’t see. they’re coming. but in time, you’ll be ready. you’ve seen that you can trust. trust isn’t supposed to be given like the bleeding heart you’ve attached to your sleeve. it’s ok to protect that which makes you feel safe.

but eventually, you have to stop letting fear be the fence that provides your safety. those wooden posts of woes caught on fire long ago and have been leaving scathing marks on those that try to come in. you have to fan the flames. you have done it, and you’ll have to do it again. let the proof that one person can extinguish the blaze soften you to the idea that another can as well. 

it’s ok to be scared.
but don’t forget you’ve learned something along the way,
in the face of that fear... it’s ok to trust.

let today be the tomorrow you’ve pathologically promised yourself. let each moment be the seconds you’ve let slip beyond your reach. it doesn’t mean everything is solved. and it doesn’t mean it should have been. borrow from what others have believed for you. what they’ve seen for you, told you, instilled in you. i think you want to take some of that confidence and outfit yourself with a new perspective. try it on. and let it feel wrong until it feels right.

it’s ok to struggle.
it’s ok to not believe.
it’s ok to not be ready.
it’s ok to be scared.

because the okayness is temporary anyway.
because your dream isn’t to be okay. certainly, your dream is to be more. but right now, with this next breath you take, you don’t have to be more. you can be what you are. and that doesn’t have to be fine, or wonderful, or all the tritely crafted lies you’ve fashioned yourself into believing. one day those answers will come, and they’ll be genuine. and those moments will be refreshing and they’ll be real, and they’ll be numerous. but right now you’re still struggling, because you’re recovering. and you’re hating the process, and the problems, and the changes. but you’re doing it. you’re being human. and whatever being human means right now, that’s what’s ok.

it’s ok not to be ok.

on friendship and risk.

I remember sitting across from my friend at her dining room table on a sunny fall day. The kind of day in the Rocky Mountains that makes you squint because the light is so bright glaring and beaming through the windows. I also remember my hurried mess of sentences that were all leaning toward but not quite asking the question borne from a void in my heart. At the time, I was very good at being the babysitter who would hang around to share life with the adults upon their return. I was similarly proficient in standing on a stage and connecting with people through my gifts.

trip to Seal beach in Florida, complete with sea lice

But when it comes to relationships, failure and insecurity have largely kept me from risking just being me, Amanda, without offering a side of service or calling in the package. 

So as I sat extending my heart with an open hand, I fumbled around in the unfamiliar posture. 

Friendship is risky. I've been a firm believer that it's better not to love at all than to lose what you've put your heart into. People disappoint. They hurt you when they're trying to help you. They don't invite you and you feel left out. They say the wrong thing and the lies you tell yourself magnify the pain. They betray. They misunderstand. They leave. They die. 

If you would have condensed by random rabbit trail into a simple question, it would have been this: 

Will you be my friend? 

But attached to all the extra words were my unspoken doubts. 

Will you accept me? Will I be enough? Am I worth it?

The thing about my friend Andrea is she listened between the lines, and heard the heart of my question. Before she responded she set some parameters, too. Though her kids love me, I wasn't coming into her life to be a babysitter. Though she saw value in my worship leading, that wasn't going to be the basis of our friendship. Over the past two years, she has answered every question my insecure self was not quite bold enough to ask.

And so I have been loved well and fully by one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. We have shared hours and white mochas, victories and valleys. She's challenged me and defended me. I've sat beside her child at the hospital and she's sat beside me at the hospital. The Parsley's have welcomed me into their family from our accidental vacationing in Florida together to Polar Express/Ice Cream/Dance Party nights. They have become my heroes and their realness has allowed me to see the mess of life as well as the joys. They do life well. And even when I try to walk out mad because they won't tell me what I want to hear.. they are leading me and teaching me how to do life well, too. They are pastors and they pastor with everything in them.

And now we are walking together through yet another season of learning. Andrea and I have cried, laughed, talked problems in circles, and dreamed of what's next. Because of all we've walked through (and trust me there's a lot) what's next has been one of the most difficult. And when things are difficult it's hard to do them well.

In my life, never more does this apply than saying goodbye.

The moment that loss even seems like an option, I normally bow out. I run. Hide. And skip the party. I lose people long before the moving van leaves. It's a lot about control. It's my effort to not feel what I know will be painful.

terrible picture, but a day to be remembered. 

In a week or two the Parlsey's will load up and move to Florida. I will not. They will continue to love people in a new location, as Worship Pastors at a new church. I will stay here and the following week realize a dream of recording a Kids Worship album. The Parsley's will not be there like I always expected them to be. I will rejoice in the faithfulness of God. And I will hurt. I am hurting right now. It would be easier to avoid and not watch packing and not attend the party. It would be easier not to do this well.

But that would not honor the friendship that was worth the risk. And it truly has been. If you told me 2 years ago it would hurt like this today… 

I'd still have had that squinty-eyed sunlight washed conversation.

i think that's what I've most learned from my friendship with Andrea. 

It's worth the risk.

The Miracle of an Ordinary Wednesday

Every first Wednesday of the month, a miracle happens at New Life. And it happens at New Life Next Worship.

It’s not because of the food, and the picture taking, and the mingling that takes place at 6:30pm; though the food is awesome (the cheese dip and bacon club spirals are legendary) and the fellowship with pastor’s and leaders at NLC is actually why we’re encouraged to be there. New New Lifer’s and longtime attendees come together and we get a chance to know their faces, their stories... their names. But around 6:50 or so the gathering shifts in tone and everyone comes into the chapel so Pastor Brady can begin communicating the vision, the story, and the heart of New Life Church. 

Because of other obligations that often tie up my Wednesdays, there have been several times I can’t make it over to that chapel until around 7pm or so. By this time, our staff is often seated outside, finally getting to eat their own plates and catch up with peers. As others duck out I like to sneak in and grab a seat on the back row. I’ve heard the bullet points, the stories, and the mission at least half a dozen times. But every time, every. single. time I fall in love with New Life all over again as I hear Pastor Brady talk. 

I guess it’s good that I love my church. I consider it my greatest joy to serve the kids and families of our fellowship through worship. But I know that’s because my love for New Life goes far deeper than the institution from which I receive a paycheck, or the church that I would attend even if I didn’t.

New Life is my family. That happened at a New Life Next a couple years ago. See, after the food, the fellowship and the vision comes the invitation... this is when the tears start rolling for me. Every first Wednesday of the month we invite people to join our family. We invite people into our worship, our brokenness, our tears, our triumph. In Psalm 68 it says that God “sets the lonely in families.” There is a multitude hurting, broken people in this world... a fact we all know. But Heaven breaks open a bit on the first Wednesday of the month and some of those hurting, broken people are set in family. It’s not a decision that we encourage people to make lightly. It’s the stuff of the kingdom.

And it’s real. I know because there have been Wednesdays when I have come to New Life just to hear it all again. Like a child coming to the dinner table to be reminded that she belongs, to hear the same old family story that has been told 100 times over, to be reminded that she’s a part of it all. I didn’t really have that foundation before I came here, so I treasure the miracle, I’m amazed by it, and I’m thankful for it.

This week I am learning a lot about my New Life family: about how they pray for me, and walk with me through the moments when I need them the most. I am continually overwhelmed by the people God has put in my life... It’s a miracle. A miracle that began on the first Wednesday of the month at New Life Next.

today I choose to be glad.

Yesterday I was talking to my friend who went to the Chris Tomlin concert on Wednesday night. She was given a last minute opportunity to use a free ticket and I had “jokingly” whined about her good fortune since finding out. But we all know in those moments that “joking” is probably laced with some real, even if minor, jealousy. I had asked around if anyone had an extra ticket, and I was pretty bummed when I didn't end up going but somehow... I lived through it.

Last night though, after a good 24 hours of moping I said to Angela, “I’m glad for you,” and then I paused and added with a sheepish smile, “because I choose to be glad.” She mocked me a bit for my tagline and even said it was tweet worthy. But the more I thought about it, I realized I meant what I said, and that my comment rang true not just for this minor instance, but for some current situations that are a lot more life altering.

We could get into a talk about comparing... but let’s face it, we all do it, and mentally we all realize it’s not helpful or healthy. But most of us still struggle with it in one way or another because we’re human and built within our human nature is a dissatisfaction with what we have and a desire for more. We were made for more.

I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. Some have been rooted in a desire to clean out my own heart. Others, though, have originated because I feel like I see some level of injustice in situations that very much effect me. Injustice is hard to sit with. I also think that injustice pins us right up against jealousy. And the jealousy that would love to rise up in me comes directly from a fear that at the end of the day I will not have enough.

Fear. That faithful robber of faith. A joy stealer. A liar.

This week alone that fear has caused me to question the very things that normally bring me joy. And if the enemy can get me to lose my joy.. in my job and in ministry, he’s won in more ways than I’d ever like to give him victory.

So what’s the answer? Well, yesterday my answer was to choose to be glad. Because I really am happy for my friend. If going to that concert was something I wanted to do, and if it turned out to be amazing, I should be thrilled that she got to experience it. And not just in that situation, but in some others where I get to see really great people experience new opportunities and blessings.

We as the body have the privilege and the call to rejoice with those who rejoice. What situation in your life can you choose to be glad about today? Whether it seems minor or massive, take your eyes off injustice and fear and exchange it for joy. I think you’ll be amazed at how quickly your own blessings come back into focus.

Where they should be.

my dear (and Chris Tomlin seeing) friend Angela

My Unspiritual Thoughts About Worship. (Part 2)

God showed up on Sunday. But then again, He does every week. We welcome Him, we expect Him, and it’s our intention that everything we do on the platform merely sets the tone for Him to be center stage.

I feel the weight of responsibility every Sunday. Not because I think it’s my “job” to get kids to hear God or “create a moment.” Ugh. No. The very thought of that resting in my control makes me cringe as I write. I’m thankful. We aren’t leading kids into something we create on a Sunday… it’s about leading out of a revelation of who God is. Our kids are savvy these days. The best way to get them to connect with and believe in a God they can’t see, is for them to see modeled real, intense, messy worship by someone they can. To show it to them, and explain it to them. That’s when they start to get it, and want it themselves. And when they want it, they’ll break down a few walls and actually get into it… without the Holy Spirit knocking them over.

That happened Sunday in BASE56. It’s the kind of thing you pray about but halfway through a sound check gone awry, you apologize to God and tell Him maybe next week you’ll get it good enough for Him to move. I think sometimes God must take us up on the challenge we don’t even realize we give Him.

And He moves. And kids start jumping and singing on Mercy is Falling. And the mercy and the grace and the joy that it speaks of in the song begins to palpably fill the room. And you see that it’s not about every kid breaking out in revival dance, but about the few that do that usually don’t and the changed hearts you can see on faces that normally scowl. And it’s so. so. fun.

And that’s where some throw on the brakes.

Worship is fun. When I describe a specific worship service as such I’m not under-spiritualizing the encounter. To me, there is no greater joy than seeing 5^th and 6^th graders catch it. I want worship to be every kid’s favorite part of Sunday morning. It’s not an effort to pad my ego, it’s a hope that they meet God and are rocked by it.

I tend to say “it was so fun,” a lot around here. If you watched the kids worship at Family Worship Night you know why. Because that joy unspeakable that won’t go away is contagious, and beautiful, and just so fun to watch. Because it’s real. And if we are raising up worshipers and sowing deposits… that’s what I want them to get.

My unspiritual thoughts about Worship. (Part 1)

Tomorrow, I’m going to actually tell you my unspiritual idea, but today I’m going to build a little context.

Here at New Life, we split our kids into kinderBASE (4&5 year olds), BASE12 (1^st and 2^nd grade), BASE34 and BASE56. I have the great privilege and responsibility of overseeing the worship in all those rooms. So on any given Sunday, I usually lead about 6 sets of worship with everything from tracks to live band. Lately my schedule has been something like this.

7:45am- BASE56 Band Practice

8:15am- BASEWorship Motions Practice

9:05am- BASE12 Worship (tracks)

run from upstairs over to the tent (and if you’ve ever seen this, or been run over by me, you know that literally… I sprint.)

9:25am- BASE56 Worship (Live Band)

run from tent back upstairs

9:50am- kinderBASE Worship (tracks)

and then I do it all over again in the second service.

It’s an exhausting morning. But it’s also my absolute favorite time of the week.

Crazy schedules, lots of running, and getting to jump and sing with a thousand kids is not why I do what I do. The reason I lead Kids Worship is because I passionately believe that kids can engage God. I believe in the heavy responsibility to train up the next generation of worshippers now, at elementary age. Kids can experience God, hear God, know God, and fall in love with worshipping God and because of that, I run fast, jump high, and yell and sing a lot on Sunday mornings. It’s about making deposits.

I took over worship in BASE56 this summer and for the sake of honesty I’m going to be vulnerable. It’s been the most uncomfortable, stretching, frustrating experience I’ve had in leading worship at New Life. For two years I’ve been really great at leading singing and hand motions for kids 4^th grade and under. But this venue is new, and hard, and there’s real live musicians playing instruments in a real live band. And I’m leading them. Which means that I’m working with… musicians. If that didn’t make me insecure enough, I’m also leading a bunch of insecure 10 & 11 year olds, most of whom are afraid to do anything less than what is cool and comfortable. Whereas a 2^nd grader will jump if I jump, yell if I yell and kneel when I kneel... A 5^th grader looks at his friends and will stay seated if they do, she won’t jump if the girl next to her doesn’t, and they will only kneel if the Holy Spirit walks up and pushes them over (ok… that might be exaggerating). In the midst of all of that, I love these kids. And I love leading them in worship. I love the challenge. I love dreaming about what could flow out of that room. And I love seeing little shift, kids taking steps. I love that the Holy Spirit is present and working.

We just took a brief break from live band in “56” for September. There wasn’t some big spiritual reason for doing this, it was simply because it was impossible to logistically come up with a band of musicians every week. This last week we relaunched live band. And the band was incredible. When we came together for practice I was so blown away I was convinced that the DBand had been reincarnated in the bodies of the people on the stage.

Not.

Band changes don’t happen in one Sunday… but God changes do.

(To be continued tomorrow… )

today.

today could have, should have, would have been my graduation day.

today's the day i could have made a lot of people proud. today's the day i should have been working toward since i first stepped foot on the VFCC campus. today's the day that i would have beaten all the odds stacked against me.

but today i worked at new life. today i babysat the andersons. today i did pneumatology correspondence homework. today i took a coffee break with a friend.

today looked a lot different than all the dreams i had as i walked through the brick buildings of "the Forge" years ago. armed with my oboe that played me into a scholarship and a name that went before me like a servant opening doors, i believed a new location would spell a change i had yet been unable to write.

no, i wouldn't change going to the Valley Forge. i met people i loved and yet don't speak to with whom i created memories i'll never forget. as i look at those faces on facebook tonight, i'm proud for them. amazed at who they've become. excited for them to experience the heartache and adventure of being an adult..

and i'm unsettled.

3 years ago i went from my birthday party to a hospital room within days. the people i did life with on a daily basis were permanently erased from face to face interaction. i still miss them today and yet wonder if i'll ever hug them again. notably: the instrument i had played almost every day for 9 years never again left it's case.

at the time i thought i was pausing the story. i tried for over a year to go back. you've heard it all before. the children's hospital. in and out, in and out. the accident. coming to New Life. and eventually... experiencing new life.

in my story, "the Forge..." became the was. a failure of my heart both on a physical and spiritual level. not a walk across a platform but a stain on my transcript. that place i could never quite get back to. and thus, part of the story, in all the winning never overcome.

i'm a little melancholy right now. honestly, i think i'm grieving a part of my story that will never quite sit right. my pastor has recently been sharing a lot about a traumatic event, and in reading i realize that much of what i'm feeling makes sense. mostly because what i experienced doesn't.

in the face of all of this: i am unshakably thankful. i am alive, and that alone is a miracle. in March, almost exactly 3 years after leaving the Forge, Jared Anderson (worship leader and father of 4 children i babysit and love) and i led a "Family Worship Night" where the Lord clearly showed me that He saved me from death's clutches, so that i could take off my grave clothes and dance.

and dance i do. i dance, sing, and worship in a way that i hope simply testifies that God's word is final. His words that are for us and love to us.

i know that my story didn't end when my time at the Forge did.

so today i am sad. but today i am also thankful. and the day after tomorrow i'll be in "big church" directing the kids of the New Life Kids Choir in a song about how sweet it is to trust in the One who walks with us through it all.

it is so sweet to trust in Jesus. yesterday that is true. tomorrow that is true.

and today that is true.

day 5. perspective.

i had an interesting conversation yesterday.

day 4. dear,

saturdays are crazy days. i always end saturday scratching my head wondering how the week is beginning again. likewise, i decided that saturday would be a time for reflecting upon where a relationship that i once valued above most others has gone. what i ended up with was a letter. while deeply personal, i have a feeling it would be hard for most to pinpoint the person to whom it's penned-- but there's probably a good chance they may come to this note at some point know. after this experience, i'd encourage anyone to write a letter you never intend to send with all the things you'd never say. powerful schtuff.

dear,

i'm taken with the idea that you're out there accomplishing all your big dreams, and finally, i'm accomplishing mine too. we're running the incredible race, and we're winning. but we aren't winning together. and i think we always thought we would. i want to call you up and tell you about all those big dreams. i want to tell you about the little moments that only you would bear witness as magnificent. and yet, we don't call each other. i smile when i think, if only you knew… and i know you must feel that way too. i think we once believed that we only needed a few more years under our belts, a little bit more maturing, a little bit less of ourselves getting in the way of us. but what we have now is merely the distance.

i'm proud of you.

you're living your life in all the wonderful ways i knew you would. i wish i was bold enough to call you up and tell you that you cross my mind in the moments that i capture. in the seconds where our daydreams are lived in real life. i wish you knew how eloquently my thoughts convey the reality we no longer share. i wish you knew how many times i would give my paycheck to fly and share a cup of coffee.

i wish i knew if you wished the same.

we're older, we're wiser. we're not the same, we're distant. but i think…

you'll always be my the other half of my future i didn't have. even if the days unfold and the future i choose to live looks different than the one we envisioned. you dreamed with me on the darkest days. you were the voice that talked me through the longest nights.

i hope you know that when i look back i see you. but when i look ahead i see you too.

because you believed there was something to look toward. you saw it when i didn't.

i think it's better than either of us could have pictured.

but you aren't in the picture, and somehow i feel like that was the last thing i ever thought would happen.

well, there's that.

todays Christmas song: What Christmas Means to Me (Hanson)

why? because i still contend that this is the best pop Christmas song-- yes. better than *NSYNC. and i know there's lots of naysayers. but it's been on repeat for me and it seriously takes me back to 4th grade. the christmas party. the first time we felt older. the teacher left the class for a few minutes at the end of the day (proof that we were older) and we cranked up the stereo when this song came on. we were all already standing and playing but we all moved around the stereo and danced. it was a wonderful, magical memory.

back when growing up was the achievement, what we longed for.

now.. at this season, how is it that we'd trade it all to be kids again? :)

day 3. thankful.

there is such a peace that comes with the Lord's timing-- walking through life along His ordered steps, letting Him have the space to move, allowing your journey to align with His bigger Story. i've heard that often and practiced it little, but i can already see how doing that in this season, through this journey is making is letting God move. God breathe into me. God speak.

last night at the mil, the talk was about being attentive to God. (see where i'm going with this!) along with that, it's about being attentive to the bigger Story. the God Story. what's awesome though, is when we realize that our story is part of the God Story. that what He's doing in each of us, is part of what He's doing in all of us. getting the bigger picture helps us zoom out of our present circumstances and see those circumstances in light of the Scripture, in light of the Bigger Story.

right now, life is not good. but the Bigger Story is the miracle that I am writing any of this. the Bigger Story takes stepping out of this day and this week. this struggle, this loss. what has God done in the last year? what has God done in my life the last 2 years? if, when we look in our rearview mirror, we look at what God has done rather than at how we have fallen short-- that's when we overflow with gratitude. not when i look at how i've messed up, but at what God has done in spite of my mess ups, what He's done with them.

it's putting God back into His Story.

when we take Him out of His Story, we have to be the ones that assume control.

(sound like we've gotten full circle yet? if not, read day two)

so i'm taking some time to look back. not at what i've lost [though that's easy to do] i'm looking at where God's Story has made my story beautiful. this time of year more than any other that's painful for me. but this season of the year especially shows how our jealous God is writing His Story. how He fulfills his promises. and how redemption is the heart, the plan, the answer.

look back, and you'll see that. today… i'm making a decision to be thankful.

todays Christmas song: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. (as sung by Miss Amanda, Everett, Beckett, and Francie Anderson)

why? tonight i got to hang out with the children i affectionately call "my kids." before mill we went to chick-fil-a drove through and then went back to my office to have a picnic dinner and watch toy story before i dropped them off at kidslife. in the van we sang christmas carols and everyone laughed and yelled. it was a sweet moment. i cherish those rides and those kiddos.

day 2. hope and a future.

certain situations and experiences have shaped my perspective. and my perspective created the amanda there is today.

for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

during all staff yesterday, as i reflected on my conversation from the night before, the Lord showed me a lot about how i've used situations where i've felt abandoned, and experiences where i felt threatened to color the way i react. they've led me to avoid those circumstances… led me down the road of control.

on a day to day basis, that looks like controlling my situation-- being in the front seat of the decision making.

as a lifestyle, it's doubting that God could really have a good enough plan-- that after all the disappointments that my dreams could ever be met by God.

the inability to trust that God's plans are better than my hopes, that Gods's future for amanda will meet my dreams, fulfill my expectations.

it's the "hope and a future" part of scripture.

to come back to that nights conversation, this question was posed to me.. it was perspective changing. it was one of those, oh… moments.

so, do you think that God's plan as a Good father, a loving father, is that the bondage you've lived in for 22 years is all that He created you for? what would be God's purpose? what would be the point?

which leaves me to wrestle-- if He didn't intend me for bondage, if that hope and a future really is true-- why am I not living it out everyday?

to keep this blog still tied to Christmas, i'm starting a Christmas song of the day. along with a reason. go.

todays Christmas song: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays. (*NSYNC)

why? this day was the thursday (our version of friday) after the church was closed for a week for thanksgiving. we all felt like we couldn't make it a moment longer. so, i put this *NSYNC classic on the super stereo and mia, brooke and i danced around and sang at the top of our lungs through the duration of the song. it did the soul good. trust me. if only we had pictures... next time though. it's gonna be a tradition for sure.

day 1. i think.

i think i was hasty. i think i jumped the gun. i think that had i thought things through, my bold, public statement about my journey through the 25 days of christmas would have been nixed. i think i didn't think.

and i know that's exactly what needed to happen.

i'm a private person. i think through everything. i don't let the world into my heart. i don't share what's really going on in me. i expertly craft walls that keep me safe and others out. i parrot the word "fine" till it's not even a word anymore.

the Lord has blessed me with a friendship in which i don't act (often). it's seems fitting, and in divine timing that i had a long chat with that person last night. everything about our conversation was so rooted in the deep things of my heart. the things that have tied me to frustration. and hate. and control.

frustration. hate. and control. these are choices. i don't know how or when i made the decision to live life so comfortably in their prison. likewise, my mouth tightly muted and my heart clenched beneath my fist put me.. keep me in bondage. to live in that posture-- it's inviting the enemy to come in and set up house. in making a decision without thinking, i made a different invitation.

even if i wanted to, i couldn't describe what freedom came in spurts and starts last night. i know a lot of my thoughts were intelligible. i'm sure most of what i said seemed nonsensical.

but it was a start. it was a gift from the Lord offered through the love of one of His children. a mentor that calls Him her Good Father.

i'm not there yet. but i think i'm walking closer.

i think it's starts when i stop acting. i think it starts when i stop thinking.

twentyfive days of christmas

i am not the amanda that i was a year and a half ago. something swiftly and soundly died in me about 17 months ago. sometimes that's what happens: death happens so that life can take shape.

i am not an "adult", graduated, married-- whole, healed and happy. i am not the amanda i thought i would be. i am also not the amanda that lived in a hospital 2 years ago. i am not the amanda that looked at twinkling christmas lights from the 8th floor of Childrens. i am the amanda that had to let a lot go, so that i could become an amanda i don't recognize.. so that i could be. and be.

i dropped my pen a while ago. i ushered myself into a life where i didn't control what happened next. (or at least i attempted failed, and attempted and failed some more not to control). i am glad i am not the amanda i was 17 months ago. but i am also not the amanda that i was 17 months before that: a student at VFCC and everything that accompanied that lifestyle.. the 17 months before that i was just beginning college-- just graduated, tentatively hopeful, heart given away.

hopeful. christmas is a season of hope. the birth of our long expected Savior signifies a hope, a people ransomed. as well as our continued hope for a second coming, His return.

i think there are a lot of earthly reminders of Christmas-- of our Christ hope-- even in some of secular Christmas practices. for kids, the month of December is a season of hoping, and a season of waiting. it's a season of expectations, and a time of wonder. everything seems "magical." christmas cookies, falling snow, twinkling lights, tree ornaments, jingling bells, joyful songs, wrapped packages, church productions. expectation. wonder… magic.

when 17 months adds to 17 months adds to 17 months somewhere you find along the years the marker where i stopped hoping. stopped. my expectations found their end in broken dreams. the flame of wonder went out. the magic.. the magic was gone. the month of december is not the only time i'm aware of it… it's just been the time the condition of my heart was most raw.

for a number of years i have silently hated Christmas. i am a holiday person. i am festive. i am easily excitable. i love to bring joy and share joy and experience joy. i think that's why my first inclination is to run (literally away) when Thanksgiving rolls around. i don't enjoy the way i feel nor do i want to share it-- but there is nothing more exhausting than hiding it.

the amanda i have been for the last number of years has let the emotions (and the lack of emotions), the memories, the struggles shape this month. and in a smaller way, my life. i have been challenged recently to take back those aspects of my life. and i am challenging myself to take it back right now.

here is where you come in. i invite you to journey with me through the next 25 days-- the first 25 of December-- as we lead up to Christmas Day. i will try my hardest to keep a daily update captured in words and through pictures on the ways i am taking back hope, taking back the magic… and in doing so, taking back a piece of my life.

i don't honestly know yet what this looks like: perhaps it's just a matter of finding the joy in the simpleness of making paper snowflakes, holiday cups, and seeing Christmas through the eyes of the children that have filled my life, perhaps it's surrounding myself with people and drinking eggnog rather than running, perhaps it's partially in reflection from others, i don't know. one of the things i love most in life is surprises, the last 17 months has been a surprise, i'm excited to see what surprises will come. i'm asking for your suggestions, for your encouragement, for your prayers. i'm asking you to walk this journey alongside me. if you want to.

maybe you need to heal, maybe you need to walk out of hate and into hope as well. i'm not sure where you're at, but i do know that complacency will leave us tethered to our frustrations and i'm frustrated enough to walk toward the something else i don't know.

come with me. 25 days till Christmas-- let the hoping begin. :)

psalm 23

"though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death; i won't fear. because You're with me..." psalm 23:4
i've come to see that His hand was with me through the last year and a half when life seemed the darkest. we walked through death together, and He brought me to the other side. and now...
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies..." psalm 23:5

it's so hard to reconcile this, when i feel like i'm my own enemy. when the battles i wage are against myself. when my war against my flesh is my waking thought, my step that leads me down to my daily destruction. i want to destroy myself...
the weird thing is, He wants that too.
we're in the same battle. but our wars are on different fronts. i must die, on that matter, we can agree. but in place of my death.... He must be what lives. when i tear down all the walls and peel back the layers, i don't want to just desire a wrecked amanda, a weak amanda, a little girl lost amanda. i am all those. but His power is made all the more perfect in my weakness. He put order to my destruction; for He is stronger. He cradles that little girl: He's the father she never had.
He rewrites my story.
someday i'm not going to be physically uncomfortable at the thought of sitting at a meal with Jesus. when i'll be able to stare her (myself, my enemy, my disorder) in the face and realize that the Jesus sitting next to me is stronger than the enemy holding captive what i believe. when the voice with fingernails squeezing piercing my heart isn't resounding.. defeaning my ears.
but i can't get there on my own. and i don't want that all the time. and i don't know what to do with the moments i don't.

He is my shepard. He will lead me. He will answer.

spiral theory

“i just can’t give up now. i’ve come too far from where i started from..

nobody told me this road would be easy,

but i don’t believe He’s brought me this far to leave me.”

 

it’s easy. unbelief is easy. doubt.. it’s easy. the road without the struggle, yes, that’s the easy route.

 

even as i began to write this, my heart aches for a road map. hearing the voice of God is much more difficult than reading the directions i’ve written for my life. it’s hard to wait. and it’s hard to not have the answers to the questions that are stirring in my heart.

 

i want to know the path. i’m impatient for what’s next. but really, i’m having a hard time not knowing if this waiting, and listening, and hearing is taking me the right way. if what i’m hearing is me 

or God. in the midst of the talking i’m doing, i’m trying to decipher a voice more knowing than my own. i feel like i’m talking in circles. and frustrated that my circular talk, clearly, gets me nowhere.

 

and then i fall down, and i wonder how to get back up. i look at the last year and half and i get frustrated. i start to ponder how many circles of thinking, created patterns of misaction, creating kaleidoscopes of mistakes that make me dizzy in retrospect and make me tired for the future. i want to be excited. i think that might be about shifting that circular thinking… to spiral thinking.

 

“spiral thinking.”

                life is like a spiral. you can never experience the same thing twice. we’re always moving, always lengthening the spiral. even if you get around the curve and you feel like you’re in the same place… you aren’t. you are never is the same place. you’ve moved outward and onward, to anoth

er ring of the spiral.

               

this spiral that has been the journey of the last couple years of my life is still moving. it’s moving on the good days, the bad days, and the days when i want the world to simply halt so that i can catch up. this spiral that is life never stands still no matter the pleasantries with which we beg it or the maneuvers we attempt to outsmart it. this spiral has been long, and hard, and so frustrating. but about a year ago i decided that it isn’t my choice to quit—that those sorts of decisions weren’t up to me. so i’ve been living, and trying

 and spiraling on good days and bad.

 

and i’ve made it through the year. i’ve made it 17 months. i’ve made it 21 years.

 

i’ve made it this far, i’ve survived the spiral. He’s brought me this far. we’ve lived the spiral.

and though i may not know what comes next and it may not be easy, He hasn’t failed me yet. and He won’t fail me now.

"this is that you were made for."

today, i shared a very startling revelation with someone. 

it's about what makes your heartbeat. i've really been seeing this grow in me since despo, and that's exciting. 

"this is what you were made for."

 far too often, i get caught up in the lies i've believed for so long about myself. lies that hinge on the belief that i am not worth love, forgiveness, dreams, a future-- really when it all boils down, the lie that i don't deserve life. 

 but the thing is, i wasn't made to believe in words spoken that shattered dreams or the whispers of an enemy unseen. i wasn't made for disease and bondage and accidents and brokenness. 

 i was made to have a heartbeat. i was made to run, and dance, and praise. i was made to come alive. 

 i was made to be worthy, to sing to and be sung over by my Creator. i was made to fight the lies, to fight the disease. i was made to love. and with that, it would be wrong for me to live guarded.. so i don't want to anymore. i want to be guilty of being reckless--of loving too freely, of hoping for things far beyond what i can see, of dreaming dreams too big for my earthly strength to reach--freely giving away that which does not belong to me. (that being every part of me.)

 because i am not my own.

 but i don't belong to my disease and my failure and my brokenness. 

 i belong to the One that fixes all of that. and then makes me new. 

my heart beats for the moments i spend being surprised by the greatness that He has for me. SERIOUSLY?! He has greatness for me? that's the revelation. a newcrazyexcitinglifebreathingrevelationstirringinme. that's the cry of my orphaned, broken heart. not just that He fixes it. but that He makes it come alive in Him. that He becomes me heartbeat. and that He fills me with dreams and desires far beyond my own. and that those desires, His desires for me become the only thing that makes my heart beat.

so that i can do much more than this (though this is a start).

so that i can do what i was made for.

(and yes, i know a lot of this is ending sentences with prepositions.. it just sounded better. so i'm breaking my own rule.) just deal. :)

i am.

i am alive.

my story, every line that i write, is indicative of the most amazing thing that happened throughout the last year of my life...

i lived.

my heart limped, my car somersaulted, my body failed, my soul ached, my resolve wavered, and my faith fell.

but i lived.

my God seemed indifferent, my disease all-powerful, my friends distant, my family defeated, and my future uncertain. 

and i lived.

i was a body of bones and skin. drained of life and purpose and hope.

when friends called i pressed ignore because i was too tired to paint a lie that i was ok. as morning dawned my night weary eyes strained to read the frantic letters i typed on my keyboard-- intelligible words about a hope i strained to grasp and a recovery i didn't believe in. days became weeks became months in a hospital that started to smell like home and taste like defeat. i dreamed thought to which songs would be played at my funeral rather than my college graduation.

this may sound morbid. really, it is, morbid. because honestly.. what is lifeless living but walking death.

and still, i lived.

i came home expecting to return to valley forge in the fall of '08.. sicker, that semester began and my hospitalization continued. my sights set on january, my body and my mind resolved to make it that far. for the fall, i entered the world and lived beyond the hospital. i returned to the forge for vacation and believed for more. then december came and i was confined to a wheelchair rolling past the twinkling lights of the 8th floor christmas tree. the constant tears in my eyes making the holiday colors bleed together and wash away what hope i held for spring. 

my new years resolution was to stay out of the hospital for the year: i made it six days. 

i stopped making promises. i could keep going but the next 6 months played out very similarly, save a passed nursing certification and a catastrophic car crash. 

all that, and i lived.

i believe people can be desperate for God because they cultivate a desire to know Him and continually fuel that until it becomes all consuming. i also believe desperation can stem from necessity. often times, the latter is a firecracker that explodes and dies. it's been that way for me before.

i think my experience is somewhat of a union of the two.

i'm not going back to valley forge. at this point, i'm going to say i don't think i ever will. obviously, God can radically change things as He's shown in the last year and a half. but for now He's doing something in me i can't remember experiencing.

because He didn't make me to be living dead. He created me for life.

i come alive when i stand in front of 300 kids and play a character that brings the words of the bible to action. i come alive when i am surrounded by over a thousand college age students passionately worshiping and growing. but most importantly, i am learning to come alive through talking. and listening. and laying back in arms far stronger than mine. i came to colorado springs last april broken. i attended a church without knowing a soul and without being involved for the first time in my life. i watched. i folded my arms and avoided eye contact. and then in a service at the june desperation service i sat and listened to a man tell me of an orphan mentality that i clearly held. i folded my arms and rolled my eyes as he told me i was a daughter.

that night, during worship God unfolded my arms and i stretched them high. 

i wanted immediate healing. i was "ready" for it. but perhaps the days and weeks since then have showed me even more about the single sermon that wrecked my world.

i am not an orphan. but i am learning to be a daughter. but that's another subject for another time.

for now: i'm alive. i once was dead but now i'm alive. 

i am alive.

 

**this is just the beginning. i'm starting a new story and i'm excited to see where the next year takes me. i know greater things are going to come of all of this and i will be happy to share what i'm learning and how i'm growing and how i'm falling in love with God along the way. please join me. i welcome what you have to say.