After untangling the cord, I place one white earbud in each ear. A first generation iPod Nano loaded with thousands of songs goes in my right hand, an iPhone in my left. I push playlist, then Amy’s workout, searching for the song that matches my mood. Sometimes the day dictates secular, sometimes worship, sometimes a mix of both.

I turn up the music, loud. I can’t hear anything else. The world as I know it is drowned out. I thank God and know this will be good. It’s always good. Because somehow, that drowning out of the world through exercise and music is a filter. It helps me feel and see life more clearly than ever before.

I begin. I let my body take the lead. I walk and run as I feel moved. I’ll worry about the numbers again someday, but for now, I go with the flow. Most days, my body knows what it needs. Just minutes in, I can tell it’s going to be a mostly walking day or a mostly running day. And so goes for the music – secular, worship, or mix. Intuitively, I know what I need.

But whether I’m walking or running, listening to secular music, worship music, or both, one thing remains true. My desire is to see as God sees. I open my eyes, prepare my heart, and listen.

A man with a cane makes laps. He walks with a limp, but he’s as steady and as strong as he can be. As I pass not once, but twice, three times and more, I envision a day when he’ll throw his cane and run free.

It’s a school day and mom has two kids in tow. She teaches them down dogs, they exercise their hamstrings with big balls and shoot hoops on the court. She has no qualms that she’s the only mom with school-aged kids at the gym on a Monday at 9:30 a.m. She’s in her element, that’s clear. Living your dream, living your purpose always feels right, even when it’s out of the ordinary.

Sarah, an employee with disabilities, makes her way down the stairs. An elderly woman stops Sarah half way down and helps her tie her shoes.

Most days, a petite woman with a blonde pony tail spends her time with a personal trainer. She’s strong, she’s a fighter, an encourager to those around her. Her body language says – I’m fighting, I refuse to give up, I will give it my all.

And then there’s the elderly couple. They’re bent over together as they walk the track. It’s phenomenal, a once in a lifetime testimony I wish everyone could see. They’re not just bent over, they’re bent over to the same degree, walking side by side at the same pace. If you look at them from across the track it’s as if they’re one. Others can’t help but notice. Some engage, others smile quietly to themselves as the elderly couple passes. I’m dying to know their story, but I’ve been afraid to ask.

The ladies training below look like robots. They cross the gym the same way every time. One leg up, one leg down, all the way across and back again. Their personalities are completely lost in the robotic movement. They don’t fight, they don’t resist, they just keep moving on.

The man with Down Syndrome stacks the steps. Slowly, but surely, puts each one in place. They’re squared, stacked at the same height. It’s a quiet area. He does his work without complaining, at his own pace. It’s a hidden beauty I can’t help but wonder if anyone sees too.

That woman on the treadmill, she gets me every time. She runs like the wind, throws punches in the air, fire is deep in her bones. She’s strong, fierce. I’m convinced she’s overcome, convinced there’s worship music blasting loud in her earbuds.

The old guys, they’re wearing jeans, leather belts and boat shoes. They walk in groups, at their own pace. They don’t give a damn about how fast or slow anyone else is going. They do it their way. There’s community with those guys. They’ve seen it all, done it all. They’ve paid their dues. They show up day after day, and I love them for it.

He looks over as I pass, attempts to engage in conversation with questions and comments. “You work at the grocery store? You look just like a cashier there.” “It’s been a week and a half since hunting and nobody’s shot themselves.” I remove my earbuds with just enough time to listen and respond – “That’s a good thing, right?!” Some might call him a little creepy. I think he’s quirky, sweet, well intentioned.

Moms wait in hoards for the prime time group fitness classes. They’re dressed in Lululemon, Athleta, Under Armour. There’s pressure to be thin, really thin – fit, really fit – your best, perfect. I spent five years in those rooms. I understand the pressure, I know how it feels. I know the need, the drive, the longing, the striving to be good, better, best, perfect. It’s too much for me these days. I can’t keep up. I take my own path now, but I get it. Believe me, I get it.

She’s thin, sickly thin. Her hair is sparse, thin too. Skin covers her bones, there’s nothing between. The thickest part of her upper thigh is barely bigger than my arm. I wonder what she’s battled, the demons she’s faced, the wars she’s waged. She’s not just thin, she’s hollowed out.

ONE obese man frequents the treadmill on the far side of the gym where the man with Down Syndrome stacks steps. It’s quiet there. Perhaps he thinks nobody will notice him. One day he’s absent. I notice an obese woman hop on the elliptical just two down from the treadmill the obese man uses. Goose bumps run up and down my body. She’s the only obese woman I’ve seen at the gym, he’s the only obese man I’ve seen at the gym. Both choose the same safe hiding place. Slow and steady, they won’t give up. This battle is theirs and they’re here to fight.

I pass her on the track. She’s short and she’s hiding. Her hands are in her pocket and her head is down, way down. Her plight, unknown, but she’s here to walk through it, work through it.

As I sit to stretch, a little girl comes running around the track wild and free. Mom follows close behind. Both with big smiles.

The baby says “hi” and “five” as we prepare to leave. She knows, our buddy’s up ahead. He’s there, every day, washing windows. He has Down Syndrome, but that doesn’t keep him from making a difference. She grabs my hand, wants me to give high five first. All three of us smile at each other, I tell her “It’s your turn, give your buddy high five!” She inches slowly but surely to her buddy, gives him high five. He smiles and waves bye. And as we walk away, I turn to look back and I’m blessed with the greatest gift of all, a gift that can’t be replicated or done justice with mere words. There he is, kneeling down behind the window. He’s looking out at my baby, beaming, bursting full of joy, watching her walk away. She brought him joy as much as he brought us joy.

Yes, thank you God, is the only appropriate response.

It’s all in His hands.

All this, just a glimpse of the way God sees. His love language is music. It’s loud and His song is always right – for you. He knows your heart, He knows your tribulations and your triumphs, and He loves all of us the same. He’s with you every step of the way. His heart is beating fast – for me, for you, for them.

Amy

When you walk, your steps will not be hampered; when you run, you will not stumble.  Proverbs 4:12

The story is still being written.

It’s the sentence that’s been ringing true in my heart for months.

It’s true, you know.

My story? It’s still being written.

Your story? It’s still being written.

I want answers. I want clarity. I want direction. I want to know what’s next. I want to go this way or that. I don’t want the in-between. Whatever it is, it would be awfully nice to have it now. I don’t want to think, overanalyze or wonder what if. There are moments I don’t even want to believe. Because sometimes believing leaves me feeling like I’m grasping onto pieces of dandelions I just blew off in a wide open field. I just want to know. Forget the wishing. Forget the story between here and there, God. Couldn’t you make it clearer, faster, easier? Couldn’t you just get to the best part of my story and leave it at that?

And you. You want to give up, throw in the towel. It’s just too much. You’ve been through enough, had enough of this, done enough of that. It seems there’s no hope. Really, it truly does. Things couldn’t get much worse. You’ve done it all and it all’s left you with nothing. Rock bottom defines you. Heck, it’s defined you for weeks, months, maybe years. Everyone else’s “what in the world was she thinking,” “why in the world would he do thats” take hold of your heart. The weight of hopelessness settles in. There’s nowhere to go but down. Or at best, stay the same. Forever. In a moment of raw honesty between you and God, you ask – are you for real? After all this, is there any chance my life will have a happy chapter again?

But the God I know? He’s not done, He’s not finished with you yet.

Because the story is still being written.

My story is still being written.

Your story is still being written.

This, I know for sure.

If you’re a believer, if you’re not a believer, whether you’ve turned away from God or never known Him at all, whether you’ve felt or denied His presence in your life – it doesn’t matter.

Because the story is still being written.

We’re made in the image of God. His fingerprints are all over us. So He’ll keep fighting and He’ll keep writing till the end!

Trust the sound mind you’ve been given.

Trust the beat of your heart, your soul.

Have faith strong enough to withstand ALL doubt, ALL fear.

BELIEVE that God can enter your story at any second and BLOW you away – just when you think the story’s already been written, just when you think the story’s at a dead standstill, just when you think it’s going to have to be this way forever.

With His truth, His power, His presence, He’ll blow you away, just like that.

He’ll take my story, he’ll take your story, and when you’re least expecting it, he’ll show up. You’ll wake up and realize He’s creating a turning point for you, right now. You’ll wake from your deep slumber and realize He’s performing the miracle you never expected. And suddenly you’ll see there’s a lot more hope today than there was yesterday.

So believe it. It’s true.

My story is still being written.

Your story is still being written.

Because the God of the universe is still working on you. He always has hope, He knows there’s always a way, and He wants to light your way. If you’ll let him.

Amy

Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  Psalm 139:16

She’s my baby.

We waited and debated for years about whether we should have another one or not. God led the way when we finally decided to bring it to Him in prayer. The answer was a clear and resounding – yes. And my answer for any mama and daddy questioning whether they should have more or not, will from here on out be – yes.

There’s a big gap between the big ones and this little one, and since she’s been here, my eyes have been opened wider to the beauty of staying home.

I’ve spent 11 years struggling to find the just-right balance between staying at home and working outside the home. Heck, I’m still in battle today. But here’s what I know for sure – you’re still working even when you’re at home.

Staying home is a work of the heart and soul. Tending, mending, bending, loving on little souls that’ll one day become big souls. Breathing in, breathing out, doing it all over again the next day. It’s taking messy, ordinary moments and choosing to see them as beautiful. It’s being quiet enough to hear and see what’s needed, moving outside of your rushed, hurried agenda and self to breathe and just be with your little one.

The days are numbered. I’m not fooling myself anymore.

So instead of shucking the corn on the counter, I bring it to the ground. Before this moment, she didn’t even know there’s a cob of corn hidden in that green. So I take her hand and help her pull down, like this, with just the right angle and tension. And begins the shucking of her first piece of corn. We put each piece in the pot when we’re done, and white stringy things are everywhere. When I’m not looking, she grabs one of those raw, uncooked corn cobs – and starts eating.

It’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

When we walk, we linger. I take her out of the stroller and she walks, she leads. We’re not in any hurry. There’s no reason to rush. We stop and look at dragonflies perched on dead weeds. We don’t look once and move on. We take it all in. We soak it in from all angles. And when we’re done, we start slowly back towards home. She finds a curb, and I could push her on. There’s no reason we need to stop again. But we stop, and she learns. She goes up and down that little curb four, five, six times. She’s doing it on her own, and it’s her first time mounting a curb by herself. There are weeds in the way, and we could be getting home much faster than this.

But it’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

She wants those Lucky Charms, that little stinker. Daddy brought them home, and I get it, all she wants are the colored marshmallows. She climbed up on the folding stool in the pantry all by herself to get those Lucky Charms, and mounted another stool to sit down and eat. Her smile is so big and her delight so evident. I break out the iPod and we listen to Stephen Curtis Chapman’s “Cinderella” and Sara Grove’s “It’s Gunna Be Alright.” My eyes are filled with tears, but I’m smiling too. It’s just the two of us, eating Lucky Charms at the kitchen countertop.

It’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

We went to Subway for lunch. She didn’t drink much milk, so we brought it home. I sat her down like a big girl at the granite countertop. The lesson? Try, try again. She opens the cap, puts it back on, opens it again. She puts her whole mouth over the lid and I try showing her it’d work much better if you do it this way. And she learns. She’s a baby big girl in her Elmo bib and purple tutu dress, and eventually becomes a milky mess.

But it’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

Daddy bought candy corns and pumpkins. She loved them to pieces, even though we only gave her five. So I brought this sugary treat outside for a little snack while we sat on the porch one afternoon after nap. I gave her ten, and that’s all she got. She stuffed her cheeks full when I let her, and she meandered a bit, up, down, and all around in-between each bite. I ate a few too, and did nothing but enjoy the moment, just me and her, snacking on candy corns on our porch. A bee came so we learned “no bee, go away,” her shirt and mouth full of candy corn juice.

It’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

The big ones came home. We needed pumpkins and they wanted to bring friends, so we brought two neighbor kids and all six of us headed to the apple orchard. We could’ve bought the already-picked pumpkins, but why? Part of the fun is picking your own. So with one in a wagon and four walking, we headed to the pumpkin patch in search of a just-right pumpkin for each. We basked in the glory of this pumpkin patch just for us. The sun was shining, the weather just perfect. With several BIG pumpkins and a baby in the wagon, we made our way back through the pumpkin patch. It was heavy and a little awkward…

But it’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her babies.

We were the first to wake. Just me and baby. I plopped her in the bathroom where we’d disturb no one else. I could have gotten ready right away, the day ahead was planned full. But it was better to sit right down on that bathroom floor. She played. We played. The people got on the bus. They went in and out, the door was open, then shut. The horn honked and the bus played “The Wheels on the Bus.” When she tired of it all, she sat down on my lap. I held her whole green frog feet in my hands, and was grateful I’d taken the moment.

Ya, it’s all good. This is the work of a mom who’s at home with her baby.

Amy

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.  Colossians 3:23-24

Last month, I participated in The Nester’s #31Days for the first time! My series was titled Letters to the Unthanked and I published a blog post ALL 31 days of October. From Day 1, I knew#31Days was going to be a BIG challenge and learning experience. So I started this post and documented a lesson learned every day. It was all real time and I think it’s interesting that there’s little redundancy. #31Days is like a marathon, there’s something new around every corner!

So let’s get to it! 31 Lessons From #31Days…

DAY 1: Do your landing page right the first time.

I published my introduction post on September 30th knowing it was going to serve as the series landing page on my blog. For some reason, I was under the impression that we we would be linking-up at the Nester’s site every day during the series. When I read the Nester’s instructions and discovered my landing page was the ONLY post I’d link-up at her site, it really changed my perspective. (Consequently, I made edits to my landing page on Day 2, and then went in again to make some final edits on Day 31.)

DAY 2: If you have a day job, leave enough time to get your posts published and up on social media sites before you head out for work.

This morning, I had my alarm set 20 minutes earlier than normal to get my #31Days post online before a long day of work, but my baby woke up before the alarm went off and my oldest daughter woke up feeling sick. Between those two unexpected interruptions, it took me 45 minutes to complete the tasks. (From then on out, I left 40-45 minutes to do my final edits, get the post published and up on Twitter and Facebook before work. This lesson is, of course, null and void if you schedule all of your posts and tweets.)

DAY 3: If you’re doing a faith, inspirational, or self-improvement series, prepare to get emotional.

Writing today’s post brought me to tears while writing and editing. Depending on the topic of your series, #31Days can be serious heart and soul work. Also note, a bit of writing fatigue already started to set in today.

DAY 4: Prepare for the best and worst, and the worst might happen.

My niece was admitted to the hospital at 12:30 a.m. today. I met my sister and niece at the hospital when they arrived via ambulance, and was there most of the day. Luckily, I wrote today’s post last night, so all I had to do was publish it at 6:30 in the morning before I went to sleep. Had I not written the post last night, today’s post would have been non-existent.

DAY 5: There will be setbacks, but worry not.

Because of my niece’s hospitalization, I only got 2 hours of sleep and spent all day at the hospital yesterday. I went to bed at 8:00 last night, so I missed my late night writing time. I had a lady’s breakfast out this morning and another visit to the hospital this afternoon, so I didn’t get today’s post published until 6:15 p.m. The tight timeline made me a little edgy, but in my sleepless state, I wrote from the heart. It was all good and turned out to be a great post!

DAY 6: If you’re twiddling your thumbs before the #31days series starts, go ahead and start writing – a little.

The bloggers who posted on Twitter that they’d written posts before #31Days even started were making me anxious. But now I see the advantage of writing ahead. Right about now, it would be nice to have a post or two written in advance. I’m staying afloat, but with the hospital setback, I’m still behind on posts. I still think part of the challenge of #31Days is writing as you go, so personally, I’d never want to write the whole series ahead of time.

DAY 7: Read other 31 Dayers’ posts. Share the love through tweets, retweets, favorites, shares, likes, messages, emails, and comments.

It’s challenging to find time to read other 31 Dayers’ posts, but focus on a few you find interesting and read as you’re able. It’s really encouraging to receive feedback from others participating in the series.

DAY 8: Make sure you get exercise.

I’m feeling physically and mentally exhausted from being a wife, mom, private practice owner/speech-language pathologist, and full-time blogger. That, paired with one kid who’s sick enough she can’t go to child care at the fitness center makes for little exercise for me. Make sure you’re getting enough exercise to combat all that sitting & writing.

DAY 9: When you plan your series, intersperse light posts among heavy ones, so you can switch the order of your posts at the drop of a hat.

I wasn’t feeling well last night, but forced myself to stay up late to start my post for today. I wanted to give today’s post my full attention, so kept at it again this morning even though I still didn’t feel well. After I got the post published, I reordered my posts a bit so I tomorrow’s post is light-hearted and easier to write. That gives me time to rest when I need it most.

DAY 10: Expect to experience a little setback if you’re sick.

Moving my posts around a bit yesterday freed me up to rest and write a short post for today. I felt better during the day, but by evening, I felt horrible again. I was in bed by 7:00 p.m., sleeping by 10:00 p.m. Tomorrow’s post will have to wait until tomorrow.

DAY 11: Be prepared to have your priorities tested.

The rest of the world will move on while you’re writing, and fast. If you’re committed enough to write a #31Days series, you’re clearly serious and passionate about writing. But if blogging isn’t your day job, you might realize your daytime responsibilities are piling up or even accelerating faster than usual. At some point during the series, your priorities will definitely be tested.

DAY 12: Never underestimate the power of a post – it’s SO much more than comments.

Today has come to an end. There weren’t any comments on my posts from Day 10, 11, OR 12. However, I received heartfelt emails from ALL of the people that were highlighted in the posts. Sometimes, you’re writing for an audience of one. And that audience of one is all that really matters. (I learned variations of this lesson again and again throughout #31Days. Letters to the Unthanked generated the largest number of emails and Facebook messages I’ve had, and for some reason, a lot of people left comments on my Facebook page instead of the blog during the series.)

DAY 13: Be prepared to be surprised.

When you write this much content, you’re bound to be surprised by something. I didn’t get today’s post published until 3:00 p.m. By 9:00 p.m., I received a sweet email from the recipient of my letter, as well as three significant comments on the post. One commenter indicated that when we were in college, I inspired her to start a gratitude journal and she’s kept one all these years. Who knew? You never know when a post is going to move someone, or when you’ll discover something you didn’t know before.

DAY 14: Your laundry will probably be out of control by now!

This is my typical daily writing schedule for #31Days: edit today’s post, publish today’s post and get it up on all social media, write tomorrow’s post, make contact with people highlighted in today and/or tomorrow’s posts, respond to email and comments on the blog as I’m able. Add to that children and a day job, and there’s not much time left for laundry!

DAY 15: Take a chance. The rewards will be bountiful.

I wanted to feature a professor from graduate school in my post today, but I knew I needed her permission first. I was a little scared, but asked anyway. She gave me permission to share a post, and after the fact, told me it was one of the greatest gifts she’d received in her lifetime. The post stimulated LOTS of fun Facebook messages and memories among my graduate school classmates.

DAY 16: Be mentally prepared to receive at least one unsubscribe notification during the series.

I’ve been blogging for 15 months. Before I started this #31Days series, only 1 person had ever unsubscribed. Today, I received my second unsubscribe notice of the month. As much as unsubscribe notices are bothersome, you have to accept it and move on. It’s bound to happen when you’re filling your subscribers’ email boxes with blog posts on a daily basis. Try not to be discouraged.

DAY 17: Expect burnout, but press on.

There might come a time when you think what’s the point? What if I didn’t post tomorrow? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Last night, I was wearing a little thin. I spent time with my daughter who was under the weather, worked on family finances, and caught up with my husband. By the time I sat down to START writing the post, it was 9:52 p.m. But once I got writing, it all spilled out just fine and today’s post was among my most successful of the series.

DAY 18: Take a break! Get out and do something other than writing.

Winter is drawing near in Minnesota, so I forced myself to get outside and cleaned up the garden for two hours. Tonight, I went to a movie. Both were a wonderful hiatus from all the writing, and although I had to stay up until midnight writing tomorrow’s post, the break was well worth it.

DAY 19: Don’t feel obligated to reveal all of your blog post titles when you launch your series.

I moved my posts around on Days 9 and 10 because I’d been ill and needed lighter writing one day. And now, because my mood has shifted since Day 1, I’ve decided to delete two posts I had planned between Days 20-31. I added two new posts in lieu of the two I deleted. Be flexible. It’s ok to make changes to your series as you go.

DAY 20: Let the laundry pile up high enough, and your spouse just might step in and help!

The laundry has been piling up really high, much worse than the picture I showed you on Day 14. This morning, my husband took over. He did several loads over the course of the day. Thank you, Seth!

DAY 21: Don’t be afraid to make last minute adjustments to your writing schedule (in case I haven’t already said it enough)!

Just two days ago, I deleted two posts I had planned between Days 20-31, and replaced with two new posts. Today, I decided to delete and replace another post. Had I written all my posts ahead of time, I would obviously NOT make these last minute changes, but since I’m writing as I go, my mood and sense of the series as a whole allow me this flexibility.

DAY 22: Let your perfectionistic tendencies go to the wayside, even if it’s just for one day. 

I stayed up writing until 11:20 p.m. last night and woke up again at 5:45 a.m. to edit and publish. For the first time in this series, I published a post I normally would have left in the draft box. Based on my usual standards, the post needed at least two more edits, but I’d run out of time since I had a full day of work ahead of me. I published the post as it was at 6:20 a.m., and left it at that. It got a great response, so who am I to say what’s draft-worthy?

DAY 23: You might get a second wind.

As I was drafting tomorrow’s post, I completely lost track of time. The two older kids were at school and my toddler was napping. My computer screen showed 1:36 p.m. when I started writing. When I looked up again it was 3:25 p.m. and the kids’ bus arrived within seconds. Lesson? You might still have a little writing in you, even on Day 23.

DAY 24: Don’t break your writing routine, even if you’re desperate for time!

Let’s just say that it’s challenging to write a heartfelt blog post when the man at the table next to you keeps talking loudly about the “damn tail pipes” on his car! 🙂

DAY 25: Expect to feel vulnerable.

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into with this Letters to the Unthanked series. For the most part, I’m not an information sharing blogger. I blog to bring voice where there is none. I blog to connect, to relate, to speak to people’s hearts. Many of my everyday posts have a vulnerability to them, but this Letters series is filled with vulnerability. I’m feeling particularly vulnerable for three posts in a row now, but I believe it’s worth it. That vulnerability might bring about some healing, and it’ll help your readers see the real you.

DAY 26: You’ll live, breathe, and yes, SLEEP #31Days.

If you wake up at 12:30 a.m. and again at 3:00 a.m. after dreaming about #31days, just know it’s Day 26. At this point it’s nearly impossible to get #31Days out of your mind, even when you’re sleeping!

DAY 27: Don’t feel obligated to post at the same time every day.

I’m a planner, so I appreciate organization, timeliness and consistency. But when you’re writing and editing a post every single day for a month and still trying to have a life, it’s near impossible to publish at same time every day. So don’t worry about it. My posts performed relatively equally regardless of when they were published.

DAY 28: You might end up feeling a little CRAZED if you do #31Days, try to manage your household well enough so your spouse lets you do this again next year, keep a day job, and raise kids all at the same time.

As I speak, my toddler is eating the last of Fruity Yummy Mummy cereal daddy brought home from work, the kids’ Rainbow Loom bracelets are all over the counters, and breakfast dishes haven’t been cleaned up. And yes, the laundry is piled high in the back, AGAIN. But here I am, I’m updating this post and setting up tomorrow’s post so I can write during nap time.

DAY 29: Expect to be chronically sleep deprived.

I stayed up until 11:15 p.m. last night writing today’s blog post. Baby woke up crying at 4:44 a.m. I never fell back asleep and the alarm was set for 5:45 a.m. to get today’s post up before a long day of work. Total sleep = 5 1/2 hours. Average night’s sleep for #31Days = 5 1/2 – 6 1/2 hours per night.

DAY 30: Start thinking about what you’ll need to do to get a semi-balanced life again!

Today would normally have been a day off for me. I sent my youngest to daycare so I could go to an appointment, and spent the rest of the day writing reports for work.

DAY 31: If you want to know what it’s like to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus” over and over inside your head after you publish a blog post, join #31Days!

After you finish your 31st post, you’ll sing that song to yourself non-stop. And no kidding, you’ll notice other 31 Dayers referencing the “Hallelujah Chorus” on Twitter, too! Believe me, the song is more than fitting if you’ve made it this far. As great as it’s been, it’s great to be done.

Would I do #31Days again? It’s only been four days since the series ended, but here’s what I think. #31Days is a lot like childbirth. It’s definitely challenging and sometimes seems impossible to endure in the moment. But you’re so glad you met the challenge because your beautiful “baby” has been delivered, and before you know it, you’ll (probably?) be ready to do it all over again.

Well, that’s a wrap! If you participated in #31Days, I hope you can relate to the lessons I learned. I’d love to hear about your experience! Would you do it again? If you’re considering doing #31Days next year, I hope this post provided you some insight and please feel free to leave questions!

Congratulations and best wishes to all,

Amy

Dear Colleen,

I meant to send you this thank you months ago, but never did. Guess it’s better late than never, right?

Our relationship was natural from the start. You made me comfortable in my own skin, and I had a great sense of who you were. We understood each other without much effort.

We have very similar personalities, and broadly speaking, we’re on similar journeys right now. But the details and technicalities of our lives are vastly different. Perhaps God crossed our paths so we could see ourselves reflected in the other. Perhaps God crossed our paths so we could understand one another. Perhaps God crossed our paths so we could use our unique perspectives to impact and shape each other’s lives in a way that no one else could.

Whatever His reason, I’m REALLY grateful you came into my life, Colleen.

And here’s what I wanted to thank you for last spring, but never did.

You know those times we met for lunch and talked and talked? Those were by far the best conversations I’ve had with a woman for at least 15 years. I’ve not trusted a woman that deeply, been as authentic with a woman to that extent for a LONG, LONG time.

It might be me, it might be circumstances, or it might just be this time of life with little ones. But I’ve been busy, weary, worn down. I’ve felt out of the loop for sure, and at times, I’ve felt misunderstood. I’ve not been good at long distance friendships, and I’m only half-good with ones right in front of my face. I know I can be a little mysterious upon first meetings, and I know it takes a just-right scenario for me to open up and be completely authentic.

So, Colleen. I’m grateful you’re the one that finally cracked my code. You know just how to probe, just how to engage in a way that makes me trust, believe you really care and want to know. And I feel the same for you. It’s an equal friendship, a back and forth, so I don’t feel like I’m doing all the taking or giving.

We haven’t gotten nearly as much time together as I’d like. We’re both in seasons of transition, you more than me at the moment. But I really wanted you to know that you’re dear. I’ve been so blessed by you, and I hope there’s nothing that will separate us for a while. Because I want to keep working this out and moving this friendship forward. You’re an amazing woman, and I’m honored to call you friend.

With all sincerity,

Amy

P.S. Did you like the picture, Colleen?! Brenda shot this one for me incognito! 🙂

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!