It is my honor to introduce you to Shawna whose actions served as inspiration for this blog!

I first met Shawna at a Home & Garden show early March 2011. I was strolling through the exhibits with my family and we happened upon Shawna’s booth which featured handmade flower clips. The beauty of the flowers caught my attention. My daughter who is very much into fashion was right behind me. I remember picking up many flowers that day, gently handling each one, viewing them from all angles, admiring the artistry within each creation, and taking special note of the fabrics I found to be most beautiful. My daughter followed suit and began begging me to buy her one. Being the practical and sometimes frugal person I am, I told my daughter “no” gently but as firmly as I could, took a business card, and promised we could call Shawna if we needed flowers for my daughter’s flower girl debut at a wedding the following month. I smiled, said “thank you” to Shawna, and began walking away. Shortly after we left, Shawna came after us with flower in hand. Clipping the flower on my daughter’s boot, she said “this is for you” with a big smile. My daughter broke out in a grin from ear to ear, as did I. We thanked her for being so kindhearted and promised we would be in touch. I couldn’t believe that a complete stranger would be so kind as to give my daughter this beautiful fabric flower clip…just because she had a big heart for a little girl passing by.

Needless to say, when it came time for flower girl preparations later that month and the bride gave us free reign to find a flower for my daughter’s hair and for the flower girl dress, I embraced the opportunity! I contacted Shawna and she advised me to pick out an assortment of fabrics that would match the dress. I poured over all of the options and landed on four or five fabrics I found to be beautiful and matched the color scheme for the wedding. I met Shawna at a local bagel shop, fabrics in hand along with a picture of the flower girl dress for inspiration. For some reason, I vividly remember the large container of fabric flowers Shawna brought that day as samples. She picked up each delicate flower as if it was a masterpiece worthy of great care, just as I had earlier that month at the Home & Garden show. Ultimately, we agreed I would need Shawna to make two flowers, one large for the flower girl dress and one small one for her hair. We parted ways and Shawna promised flowers in one week.

One week later, Shawna and I met again at the bagel shop. This time Shawna had a box of flowers in hand, a beautiful gold box with silver tissue paper lining. Let me be clear. I expected Shawna to bring TWO flowers that day. Instead, she brought SEVEN. One stunning large flower for the flower girl dress, two flower trios for my daughter’s hair that were beautifully arranged miniature bouquets, one “extra” flower she “just made up quickly,” and three little purple hair clips for a cute added touch. I was absolutely stunned. As Shawna pulled each flower out of the box to show me, I could not believe that not only did she meet my expectations, but she exceeded them far beyond most people have ever been able. I remember experiencing such joy that I felt like I was on the edge of tears the whole time she was presenting me with the flowers. I noted, too, that Shawna was glowing with excitement as she shared with me her creations. It was so clear to me that Shawna had a very special gift and she did not hesitate to use it to bring joy to others’ lives. I left, flowers in hand, feeling blessed beyond belief. A week later, I experienced the joy all over again when the stylist chose one of the flowers for my daughter’s hair, and I pinned a flower on her flower girl dress just hours before she walked down the aisle.

To this day, I have kept the box of flowers in a special place in my closet. I never threw away the box because I want to always be reminded of the special gift Shawna brought to me that day. Those flowers were so much more than fabric pieced together for a flower girl’s hair and dress. They were a reminder that there is always beauty to be discovered in this world, that God has endowed each one of us with special gifts that He longs for us to share with others, and that I need to be much more intentional about seeing and experiencing the joy others bring to my life. If I enter each day having an extremely high set of expectations, I will ALWAYS be disappointed. If I enter each day asking God to give me fresh eyes to see what is often unseen, my expectations will always be exceeded far beyond what I could have imagined.

Today I challenge and encourage you…

Are you living life slowly and intentionally enough so that you can truly see people?

Do you accept the gifts others bring into your life, or do you overlook or disregard these gifts because you are too busy to notice or don’t feel worthy?

What special gifts do you possess? Are you using your gifts to make a difference in others’ lives?

We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. Romans 12:6-8

Amy

It is my joy to introduce you to Anne! If I were to name someone the Godmother of my blog, it would be Anne. She embodies everything I want this blog to be about.

I have been taking Anne’s cardio kickboxing class at Lifetime Fitness for six years. Being a group fitness junkie, I have tried almost every class that exists at two nearby Lifetime Fitness clubs. There is just ONE class, ONE instructor that has managed to keep me inspired and motivated to come for SIX. WHOLE. YEARS. Anne.

Let me tell you about Anne…

Anne is a master teacher.

Anne understands people.

Anne motivates.

Anne has a good sense of humor.

Anne exudes excellence.

Anne is quietly confident.

Anne has energy that anyone would admire.

Anne gives it her all.

Anne inspires.

Anne is disciplined.

Anne is a role model.

Anne encourages.

Anne reminds us that we are strong.

Anne stretches us and pushes us to our limits.

When I first started taking Anne’s kickboxing class, we met in a large studio. Given Anne’s master teaching abilities, it was not at all surprising that the studio became notably overcrowded. Management moved our class to the gym and it seemed the class quadrupled in size overnight. Now, it appears there are 100-200 people in attendance every week.

Let’s take this a step further….

Yes, Anne is a master teacher, as evidenced by the list of personal attributes above. What is it, though, that she taps into that makes so many people want to attend her classes? What is it that this one man experiences simply watching Anne’s class every week while on the treadmill? What is it about Anne’s heart and specific giftedness that keeps people coming back for more?

I am deeply curious as to why so many people come to Anne’s classes, and I am even more curious as to why they keep coming back week after week, year after year. It is impractical for me to interview every person to gain more insight as to the why, so all I can do is offer some personal insight.

First and foremost, Anne is the only person in my life who has been able to get me to the point where I am so focused I am able to completely zone out everything except what I am physically doing with my body. I am constantly thinking. Anne manages to help me stop thinking and overthinking, even if it is just for one hour each week. Anne reminds me that I can do great things. She reminds me that I can do anything. Anne motivates me and makes me want to be a better person. Anne makes me want to go harder, go faster, go longer. She pushes me to the limits of my physical self, yet somehow I miraculously feel the most awesome and alive I’ve ever felt reaching those extreme limits. She reminds me that it is good to take care of myself. Anne is so reliably excellent that even in the midst of life’s deepest pain and hardships, I can go to her class knowing without a doubt I will feel better when I leave.

Last, but not least, Anne reminds me that it is not all about me. It is about offering ourselves, it is about using our gifts to bring joy into others’ lives. Every week at the end of class Anne reminds us to “spread the joy.” Anne, I promise I will do my best to spread the joy. Thank you, Anne, for the deep joy you have brought into my life.

Today I challenge and encourage you…

What are you doing to strengthen your body, to nourish your soul, to push yourself to the outer limits?

What special giftedness did God create in you that others can’t help but notice?

How are you spreading the joy?

Is there someone you feel compelled to mentor, to love a little more, to spend time digging a little deeper with on a regular basis?

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is —his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2

Amy

It is my pleasure to introduce you to Dan! The details of this interaction with Dan have very little to do with the fact that he is my pastor. In fact, this story tells of an extraordinary encounter with a fellow human being who pushed beyond the status quo.

I arrived at church late that Sunday morning, so I quietly seated myself at the back of the sanctuary, baby on floor sleeping in her car seat. I brought change and uncertainty with me that day.

I had been home on maternity leave with our third child. In just a week, I was set to return to work in my part-time private practice as a speech-language pathologist. I was already clinging to these last days at home, kids at school and alone with my baby girl, free of constant distraction and stress that work brings. I had been in the bubble of maternity leave, but what revelations and changes were to come when I embarked on the new normal as a part-time working mama with three children?

I knew for a while I was going to stop nursing the baby that day. I knew the third time around it was going to be better to complete the weaning process before returning to work. Pumping in my car in random parking lots didn’t sound enticing nor feasible with my work schedule, and I was eager to lose those extra 15 pounds of baby weight and wear my normal clothes again. I know some may believe this to be selfish, but with all three of my babies I had a love-hate relationship with nursing and had to give myself permission to do what felt right for me as a mother. So that morning at 3:00 a.m. I nursed my baby for the last time, quietly, together.

A church on the hill was opening doors that day. Every week on the way to church we passed this new church. The kids admired the beautiful building on the hill, begging to visit so they could go to Sunday school with children they knew attended, but we passed, traveling minutes beyond to our church. The dilemma had nothing to do with the church on the hill, for we had many connections with people there. As adults, the dilemma was that we LOVED our church, had found our home there, and had no intentions of leaving. We were spiritually fed, loved our pastors and the worship team, and felt a just right level of connection there. On this weekend, my husband and I had spent a tremendous amount of time debating where to go to church, leaving me in tears because it was such a confusing and important decision. We wanted to do what was right and best for our family as a whole. Should we attend the other church, opening day for the new building and an opportunity to insert ourselves into this new place, or should we pass by yet another week to our church, knowing the kids would see the cars in the lot? Knowing there was no perfect answer, we decided to delay the decision and wait for more clear direction. I would go to church with baby, and my husband would stay home with the two older kids. This was a solution for the moment.

After the service, Dan approached me asking “How are you doing?” I smiled, answering vaguely like “Oh fine, it’s been a little crazy. Just getting adjusted to life with three.” All the while, knowing he had hundreds of other people to greet besides me, thinking he was possibly just being polite because he noticed I was alone this week.

Dan proceeded deeper into conversation stating he noticed I hadn’t been tweeting as much since the birth of the baby. A pastor of a church this big noticed my tweeting pattern had reduced with the birth of our baby? My only response was to trust, because I had been tweeting less. Dan introduced me to a couple who was going to have their baby baptized the same day we were having our daughter baptized. Again, a pastor of a church this big remembered the date we were going to have our baby baptized, scheduled months later?

Conversation subsided and Dan turned to me again, asking a second time “So, how have you been doing?” Taken aback by his second rendering of the question, I answered, this time giving him more. I was going to be returning to work in a week, what the plans were for child care, how it had certainly been an adjustment to three but that our baby had been such an enormous blessing to our family and that we just love her so much. Eventually, our conversation wrapped up and we parted ways.

I could have shared more about how I was really doing, the changes I was about to experience balancing work and motherhood all over again, the debates we were having about church. It wouldn’t have been practical considering this was passing conversation after church. To be honest though, I didn’t feel at all deprived because in my recollection, nobody had EVER asked me how I was doing twice in one conversation.

So many questions came to mind in light of my encounter with Dan…

What was it that made Dan ask me how I was doing not once, but TWICE?

Why is it that I assumed Dan needed to talk to other people more than me? Why did I not believe it was me he wanted to talk to that day?

Why has this culture reinforced “Hi, how are you?” “Fine, how are you?” so much that I assume people don’t want to hear my real answer to that question anymore?

When was the last time I slowed down, really asked someone “How are you doing?,” and was sincerely open to hear the answer?

When was the last time I responded genuinely to somebody that asked me “How are you doing?”

Thank you Dan for asking how I was doing in a way that made me feel you genuinely wanted to hear my answer. Because of your model, I now challenge myself to give a sincere answer when necessary, even if it means admitting “I’m not doing very well today” or “Actually, I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed lately,” opening space for more authentic dialogue, connection, and truth.

“No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.” 1 Corinthians 10:24

Amy

It is my honor to introduce you to two living miracles, my sister Tiffany and my niece Raegan. Tiffany and Raegan are thriving against all odds.

My sister has given permission to share this story, and my parents have given their blessing as well. If you start reading this post, I suggest reading to the end to ensure you hear the story in its entirety, but warn you it is much longer than any blog post I ever intend to write! Here, I attempt to reduce a six-year story, (originally documented by me in a raw,  unedited, 200-page single-spaced document) into a readable blog post. When I first started writing this post, I spent hours crafting sentences to summarize ugly details of the first half of the story. While referring back to my journal and writing about the events of December 2007, I couldn’t endure the raw pain, couldn’t relive the unbelievable details of that month, couldn’t believe what I was reading in my journal actually happened, couldn’t bear to lay out for the entire world the worst moments of our lives. I just couldn’t bring myself to put it all out there. I am confident I have been called to share the story, but for now I must omit details and summarize the events of those six years as simply and with as much heart as possible. It is my desire that you will see this is ultimately a miraculous story of triumph over extreme pain and suffering.

It is difficult to know how to begin to tell the story that forever changed my life. The events that occurred with my sister over the course of six years impacted my family in ways I never, ever want to experience again. To retell the story means to open my heart, make myself vulnerable, bring to the surface feelings of desperation and helplessness, to put myself, my family, and my sister at risk for criticism and judgment. However, it is impossible to deny that God performed miracles in my sister’s life, so I feel compelled to tell everyone the story no matter how much it hurts to recall the details, no matter how much I want to hide it away and never talk or think about it ever again. I share the raw and real details of these worst of life’s trials in an effort to help you realize that God is still in the business of performing miracles, and that joy and healing are available to everyone regardless of their particular set of circumstances.

Let me step back and tell you a little about my sister before the chaos and destruction began. Tiffany…daughter of public school teachers, my younger sister, sister to our “baby” brother, blonde, beautiful, part of the popular crowd in high school, participated in band and choir, worked at a renowned resort where she earned large tips waiting tables, graduated from high school with honors, given a large scholarship from Minnesota Broadcasting Association, graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in communications, and held professional jobs the first two years after graduating from college.

And then it all came crashing down…the snares of addiction and mental illness were about to trap my sister.

Herein lies my sister’s six-year journey from June 2004 through July 2010 and just a taste of its impact on me and my family, told in as few words as possible…

Quit her job in Minnesota, moved to Los Angeles to attend fashion school, dropped out within weeks, family unaware. Spent thousands of loan money. Experienced a crash due to drug use, let homeless people in her apartment who trashed it and robbed her, claimed she was being chased by men and was going to be killed.

Entire family flew to Los Angeles in attempt to coerce her to come home. Venice Beach, homeless, theatrics, people claiming to be Jesus Christ and the “real” Christopher Robin, momentary show for tourists but real life for us. No thrill of Hollywood here. Walking ahead, running, chasing for one week. Let it Be. Heart-wrenching and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to coerce. Left her in Los Angeles in very poor condition.

Crashed again due to drug use, family convinced her to fly home to Minnesota, drugs coming out of eyes, hospitalized until stable.

Back in Los Angeles, crashed in drug-induced psychosis, driven back to Minnesota by mom.

Seven person, seven hour intervention in Minnesota, difficult to tell if psychosis due to mental illness or drugs, emergency room, hospitalized for two weeks. Chemical dependency rehab, diagnosis of bipoloar disorder, began medications.

Suicide attempt via overdose, hospitalized, outpatient chemical rehabilitation, stabilized with medications.

Another suicide attempt via overdose, hospitalized in intensive care for three days and nearly died, seven additional weeks in the hospital, back on medication, frontal lobe damage, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Prayer requests abundant.

Ward of the state, monitored by nurse and social worker for months.

No longer ward of the state, suicidal, emergency room, discharged and diagnosed as having “insomnia” and told “get some therapy for her drug use.”

Back to Los Angeles in apartment, an extra in TV shows and movies, healthy and productive for three months.

Living in commune, psychotic, not reachable. Did not recognize our dad.  Hospitalized four days, back on medications, psychotic again just as dad was trying to bring her home, Christmas presents in the rain. On drugs, kicked out of commune, homeless in Los Angeles. Missing for two days then shows up at commune intoxicated, fight, police. Hospitalized again for five days, discharged. Bill collectors calling. Family in turmoil trying to figure out how to get her home, calls to say she wants to come home, mom flies to Los Angeles, mom drives her home to Minnesota.

Car repossessed. Suicidal, hospitalized three days.

Dysfunctional, confrontational, argumentative, moved in with boyfriend.

Brother in accident & hospitalized for a week, going downhill fast, given medication, scenarios that felt like episodes of the “Twilight Zone.”

Moved back home, talking non-stop for two hours, hospitalized, diagnosis changed to schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type.

Tells sister she is pregnant, tells mom she is pregnant, tells dad and brother she is pregnant, family devastated, appointments, ultrasound, fights, not sharing due date.

Visit to emergency room, discharged because “not suicidal” and “not needing immediate medical attention.”

Considering adoption, arguments, searching,15 weeks into the pregnancy.

Arrested, on 72-hour hold, mom visits social services offices, court hearing Christmas Eve morning, ultrasound indicated she is having a girl, ordered to lock-down facility, packing for long stay, parents fighting, family in upheaval. All during Christmas and New Years, just as two years prior.

Ultrasound revealed mass in baby’s lung, mass pushing other organs out of place, appointments with specialists made, dad with stress and rare lung disease moved to another state.

No longer considering adoption, confusion, arguments.

Appointments with perinatal specialists, soul damaging conversations, messed up relationships, court ordered and transferred to different facility in metro closer to hospitals and perinatal specialists.

Yelling, arguing, disrespect. More appointments with perinatal specialists, cardiologists, baby diagnosed with biggest Congenital Cystic Adenomatoid Malformation (CCAM) they’ve ever seen, baby’s lungs might not have room to form enough so baby can survive, baby might not have enough lung to ventilate or keep baby alive. Tears. Devastation.

Heads swimming, more ultrasounds, appointments with surgeons and perinatal specialists.

Special pass granted for pregnancy photo shoot arranged by me, one normal joy of pregnancy. Living with no regrets.

Agitated, leaving facility without permission, on lock-down.

Appointment with surgical director, team of doctors, review of baby’s case on weekly basis, surgical options reviewed, mass has remained stable in size.

Accusations, tears, insecurities, distrust.

Baby registry, preparing for the unknown, rejection.

Fighting, phone calls, tears, anger, perceived failure, dysfunction, longing for normalcy.

Ultrasound, stress test, perinantal specialist appointment, social worker, mass in baby’s lungs still stable.

Another appointment. yelling, more feelings of “Twilight Zone,” unhappiness.

Released from facility to visit my house. Chatter, disturbances, opening and closing of doors, intense words peaking, disrespect, accusations, back to the facility we go.

Phone call, has not slept for two nights, in poor condition, brought to emergency room, admitted to hospital, praying for peace and God’s will. Tears, exhaustion, frustration, regret, longings. Fear of failing. Asked us to consider adopting baby. Doing better. Discharged. No longer considering adoption.

More appointments. Preparing for birth in hospital where there is better equipment for delivery and baby with special medical needs. Discussion of c-sections, MRIs, heart-lung bypass machines. Told “there is nothing sure with this baby.”

Confusion. Compromise. Pastoral promises of a better future in eternity with God, suffering will seem like a blip in time compared with glory of eternity we will spend with Him.

More doctor appointments, mass same size, heart moving to left where it belongs.

Heated discussions. Accusations.

Baby shower in the facility. Expectations adjusted, this is real life at this moment. Kind women. Humbled.

Five appointments at the hospital. Feelings of neglect, mean words, more dysfunction. Laughing at inappropriate times, paranoid. All preparing for worst-case scenarios.

More doctor appointments. Baby’s mass appears to be reducing in size.

Mental health declining, inappropriate comments, laughing, humming, singing, talking, manipulating objects inappropriately. Deteriorating, wondering.

Praying and reciting Philippians…“Do not be anxious about anything…” Overwhelmed. Needing resolution.

Claiming the baby’s mass has disappeared. I heard reduction, not disappearance.

Staff in facility no longer able to provide care needed. Asked me to bring her to the hospital, emergency room. Agitated, crying, trying but unable to reason. Passage from Matthew about healing. Admitted to hospital. Agitated, asked me to leave.

Told she will be in hospital until baby’s birth. Transferred from one unit to another.

Frustrations, hurts, boundaries set.

Arguing disappearance of mass vs. reduction in size of mass. Persistence from both sides. Me feeling crazy, knowing I did not hear wrong. Lack of trust. Setting boundaries.

Preparing for baby, yet still a possibility the baby might not live.

Perspective, boundaries. Fatigue. Fights. Fear. Accusations, misunderstanding. Not feeling heard or understood by anyone; one, Kelly.

Still in hospital, baby overdue. Family fights, feelings of inadequacy.

Prayers. Lots of prayers.

Induction. Unexpectedly, me as birth partner. Mom on the side longing to be closer. Demands, panic, escalation. Two doctors, mental health assistant, three nurses, staff waiting for baby. Forcepts, vacuum. Raegan was born!

 

Three nurses to baby’s table, baby to special cares nursery with me, mom stayed as post delivery companion, blood analysis, x-ray, monitors, neonatologist. x-ray showed there was a good sized cloudy white mass on lung.

Another x-ray and CT scan for baby. Surgery for mass removal scheduled three days after birth.

Disrespect. Guards up. Boundaries need to be set. Nurses strike adds to dysregulation.

Private baptism. New mom discharged. Radiologist and surgeons met, baby’s mass bigger and more complicated than originally thought. Going to remove entire upper left lung lobe.

Baby transferred to NICU. Insecurities. Pre-op, baby in isolette. Surgery, upper left lung removed successfully!

Protection vs. paranoia.

Two living at hospital for days, one getting a needed break. Baby on oxygen and ventilator. Unfounded beliefs. Accusations of selfishness. Confusion.

Baby fully recovered. Baby discharged. Drove home, baby and new mom living with our mom. Dad still living out of state. Regrets. Anger. Marital discord. Deadlines created. Exhaustion.

Propping up and enabling vs. supporting. More discord. Crying.

Weekly home visits for baby by nurse. Very little sleep. Pacing. Confusion and clarification of identities and roles. Control. Psychiatrist appointment, new medication.

Visit to the house. “Take her.” Wild goose chase to AA meeting. Break time. Mom overworked and stressed, very alone, crying, red face. Drove away, helpless.

Baby shower discussions. Guilt, principle, confusion, longings vs. reality, too much to process. Grateful for others stepping in.

Accused as paparazzi. Argumentative, isolated from baby. Losing energy. Artificial deadline looming.

Break needed, unexpected request to come and take baby for a week or two. Urgency, prayers, phone calls to in-laws, phone calls to mom to verify need. Plan for next day. Baby sleeping peacefully. New mom with mom. Phone call, “major problems here.” In and out, lethargic sounding, pottery broken, crisis in the background. Offer to come now for baby. Baby still sleeping peacefully. Calm after the storm. More phone calls. Verify plan for next day. Husband makes trip for baby. Baby at our house for one week. Contact nurse to communicate temporary transfer of care at new mom’s request. Many calls from new mom to check on baby.

Series of last minute unfortunate events leads new mom missing baby shower. The show must go on. Drive baby to shower. I’m not mom. Old friends. Gratitude. Grace. Forever a memory.

Blankets and onesies prepared for arrival back home. Missing baby. Baby transfer. Met half way. Wandering, wondering. Baby back home in mom’s arms.

Ongoing discord. “God, I lift this to you.”

Visit. Things are good. Haven’t seen her like that for six years…

You might be asking, so that’s it? That’s the end of the story? Yes and no. That is the end of my sister’s six-year saga of trauma that forever changed the lives of every individual in our family.

I choose to view this story as one in which humans were brought to their very end, not once, but on multiple occasions. As humans, we had done all we could do, tried as hard as we could try, worked as hard as we could work, tapped all the resources we could tap. It was during the moments that we were at our very end, that the only hope, the only option that was left, was to pray and leave it in God’s hands. God saved my sister’s life and brought her restoration, not once, but on multiple occasions. This is truly a miracle. Not only did God save my sister’s life, but he also saved the life of my little niece Raegan. Humans, very educated ones, told us repeatedly over the course of months that little Raegan may not survive. Humans were preparing for the worst (possible death), while God knew all along that Raegan was going to be here on earth to live a great, divinely inspired life of her own, but also to bring my sister real hope, love, a reason to live, and promise for a better future for our family.

This month marks two years of my sister’s health! Tiffany has been virtually drug and alcohol free for two years, and with the help of a good psychiatrist, has found a medication that is working very well to control her schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Tiffany and Raegan live in Minnesota in the same city as my dad and mom who provide her and Raegan with a strong support system and love. Tiffany and Raegan have their own apartment, and they spend a chunk of every day at my parents’ home. Life is certainly not perfect, although is it for any of us? Raegan has a clean bill of health and just celebrated her second birthday. Raegan’s dad, paternal grandfather, uncle, aunt, cousins & great aunt love Raegan and are a part of her life as well. My parents (married 39 years this summer), although torn apart and very close to the end of the road through this ordeal, are now back together in Minnesota and have been navigating a path back to marital health. I am so proud that they managed to walk through this trauma, and wish them a lifelong marriage that they so deserve. I have been blessed with the sister I missed those six years, a beautiful niece who has brought joy to our lives, and the freedom to do what I needed to do to enhance my own well being, including pregnancy and birth of our third child and following my dreams to write.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge that I believe with all of my heart that my sister is living for a reason. I believe she is meant to do something awesome with her life. Maybe it is as simple as being an example of a miracle for those who doubted, maybe it is as simple as being a great mom to Raegan. Perhaps she can use her passions to start a tie-dye business, or maybe God wants her to volunteer at Teen Challenge and become a mentor. Could it be possible that God wants her to tell her story to youth and families, to share hope with people who struggle with mental illness and addiction? Maybe God wants her to go back to the streets of Venice Beach and reach out to those in need. I do not know what it is, but God knows.

Finally, although Tiffany is not currently dating anyone, I want to say to any of her future suitors…do not be overly afraid of my sister’s story. Yes, it might be scary to hear what has transpired in her past, but you have the opportunity to date a real, live miracle. God thinks Tiffany is special. God thinks she is worthy. God thinks her life is precious. And I hope you think she is precious too. I hope you love her and care for her from the depths of your heart, that you see Tiffany for who she is and not what she has experienced, or what labels she has been given by humans. God has labeled her as special, precious child. Love her, care for her, cherish her, empower her to grow and use her life, lift her up, treat her with respect and dignity, and do not be afraid. You have the opportunity to fall in love with one of God’s miracles.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Amy

I can honestly say that I am feeling good about myself right now. I love my family and have so many wonderful friends. We are now working on my anxiety and independence. I’m working on making a life not out of worry. Working on staying positive. I learn more about myself every day. I always jeopardize good feelings by thinking of something negative. Why do I do that? Seeing myself as beautiful. I’m beautiful and I have reasons to live. I need to tell myself that more often. Life can be good. I have reasons to live. I am loved. My heart is big, and I’m a friendly person. I am more than just a face. That is what this message is all about, and it feels good.

I told my psychiatrist how I wish that my mental illness would just go away. It’s the constant conversations that stop in only at times. I can’t fall back, ever! I have to stick with a routine and be the person people know I can be. It’s tough at times, but I must stay strong. DO NOT FALL! For years, I was trying so hard to prove that I was successful. I did not want to give up on my lifestyle. I had to give up that past lifestyle to begin to be the true person that I was meant to be. I am happy now without the drugs and numerous relationships. My new life has been a time of self discovery. I know that the right opportunities will come around if I stay strong and true to myself.

The reasons to live are so powerful and real. So good! Life is wonderful. There are so many beautiful people in this world. We should enjoy what we have. I feel that the only true feelings come when there is a love for what you’re doing. That love may come and go, but you have to cherish it while it’s there. To never give up on what’s there. We have to enjoy each moment. I used to just live. Now I am living for a purpose.

Tiffany

UPDATES AND ADDITIONAL POSTS ABOUT MY SISTER ON THIS BLOG:

Because We’re All Homeless Without a Savior {With Slideshow}

When He Wakes You and Says Write. Write!

How To Love Like Jesus Every Day After Christmas

When You’re a Single Mom Who’s Living With Mental Illness