Dear Jenny,

As I sit down to write this letter, I can still hear your voice, I can still see your smile. I think of you so far away in Denmark, and I imagine the marks you’re making there.

My husband and I lived in Indiana two short years while I was attending full-time graduate school. I kept a part-time job as cashier and service desk employee at Target on evenings and weekends, and you worked at Target too. That’s where we met.

I remember your smile, your confidence, your kookiness, your always-readiness to tell a good story. I vaguely recall that your parents were missionaries, and you were fairly far away from family, just as I was.

But there’s one thing I remember most about you…you were the first person I’d ever met that seamlessly integrated “God” into your every day conversation. I didn’t have to guess you were a Christian, you actively spoke of God’s daily working in your life, so I knew without a doubt He was at the core of who you were.

You didn’t stop there, though. In all your speaking of God during random conversation with me, you also were the first one I’d ever heard refer to God’s “voice.” You talked about how you had “heard His voice,” how you wanted to “hear His voice” about a particular matter.

I’ll be honest, I grew up with a Christian upbringing in a Lutheran home. And I was a deacon at a Lutheran church on campus throughout my undergraduate studies. But Lutherans? Well, at least the variety of Lutheran faith I grew up in? We never spoke of God so freely in our random daily conversations, and we certainly never referred to “hearing God’s voice,” wanting to “hear His voice,” or having “heard His voice.” I didn’t understand what that meant, and I didn’t understand how I could hear His voice for myself. I just didn’t understand.

While I didn’t understand all that “hearing God’s voice” talk at the time, I want to thank you, because I understand now. I think you were the start of something, Jenny.

I know now that hearing God’s voice requires ongoing relationship, it requires active cultivation of faith, and it develops through years of praying, waiting, having a willing and open heart, and listening for answers that make NO sense to the world, but perfect sense in your heart. When all of those tiny puzzle pieces that seemed so random throughout the course of YEARS come together, His voice is there. When you’re seeking clarity and direction, and you’re suddenly bombarded with messages on that topic for days, weeks on end, His voice is there. And that’s just the start.

Having experienced this “hearing” of God’s voice for myself, I’d wish it for anyone. I’d freely give it to anyone, everyone. I truly would. But this speaking of God as if you know Him, as if He’s the center of your life, and this “hearing” of God’s voice is not a gift any human being can give you. It’s the work of the Spirit in you, cultivated through time and relationship. And to get to this place, you must follow, become vulnerable, open, willing to change. Not just once, but over and over again, every single day.

While I know you didn’t give me the gift of discernment, you made me aware it was possible, you made me aware it was real. You lived it like it was real.

And one more thing…there were no Covenant or Lutheran churches in Indiana, so Seth and I were forced to look outside of our familiar denominations when searching for a temporary church home those two years of graduate school. You were the one that led us to a non-demoninational Christian church in the heart of that college town. It was there that I experienced, also for the first time, faith expressed differently than I’d ever seen before. There were no hard-covered hymnals, no liturgy was recited. Hands were risen, lives were surrendered, relationships were cultivated intimately within small groups. From then on, we sought out similar Christian communities, and my faith grew more freely than it ever had.

For the way you spoke of your faith so openly, for the way you demonstrated that God’s voice really can be heard, for the way you inspired me to find community where my faith can grow freely, then and now, thank you.

With respect and admiration,

Amy

*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!

Dear Tim,

It’s Sunday, and I can’t think of a better day to say thank you.

After all of these years, I’ve held a memory of you close, dear to my heart.

You chose me.

I sat amongst a crowd of students on Sunday mornings in that little Lutheran church on campus. I have no recollection of how long I sat anonymously in those pews. A week, a month, a year? I’m really not sure. But the memory my heart retained all these years is the only one important to me now.

One day, seemingly out of the blue, you approached and said you’d noticed me on Sunday mornings. As you scanned the crowded pews, there was something about me that caught your attention. You noticed the way I intently watched and listened. You saw a light go on in my eyes when you preached, you felt I was processing this faith talk differently, more deeply. You saw something special in me, and you invited me to join a special student ministry as a deacon.

I said yes, and spent the rest of my college years as a deacon, assisting and leading worship on Sundays, participating in regular gatherings with 20-30 other deacons, and building my own grown-up faith.

I’ll be completely honest, I wasn’t a perfect deacon. There were plenty of Sunday mornings I’d come in to church knowing full well I’d been up really late the night before with the Delts and the Delt Girls. Considering my position as deacon and having grown up by what seems a million light years in my faith since then – I wasn’t always the shining beacon (or deacon) of holiness those days.

But there’s something beautiful about my college years as deacon. Something that speaks the real truth of God’s grace, mercy, and sovereignty, something that attests to His unique plan for each of our lives. Faith isn’t a one stop destination, you get it and you’re good to go for a lifetime. Faith is developed over time, grows through experience, becomes grounded as it’s tested through trials.

I wasn’t a newbie to faith when you found me. I grew up in a Christian home and knew what it was to go to church, Sunday school, VBS, youth group, confirmation, and the like. But when I left home for college, it was time to step into my own grown-up faith, start my own faith journey.

I wasn’t perfect, blameless, holy or complete when you found me. God knew that.

But you chose me. He used me anyway. He grew me anyway.

For this, I’ll be eternally grateful.

Thank you for coming alongside, for guiding me the right way, for seeing deeper and choosing me.

With all sincerity and much more grown up in my faith,

Amy

*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!

Dear Jen & John:

When I think about my college years, you two inevitably come to mind.

We played flute in wind ensemble for three years under Dr. Brock’s direction, chairs one, two and three. We practiced and performed who knows how many hours together. You were music majors, I was a NON-music major. But you welcomed me just the same.

I felt comfortable around you from day one. Period. There was no adjustment period. There was no getting to know you. There was no pretending. There was nothing but authenticity from the start. And I’ll be honest, that’s what I loved about you the most.

It’s incredible, really, how I could be myself around you. Over the course of my life, I’ve met just a handful or two of people with whom I felt 100% at ease. I include you two in that unique group. That gift you gave, the gift of authenticity? It means the world to me.

Whether we engaged for 2 minutes, 10 minutes, 2 hours, or overnight on a wind ensemble trip, I was at ease with you. We laughed, we were goofy and kooky, and others might have even thought we were a little nerdy at times. 🙂 But we got each other, we understood each other, we meshed like mashed potatoes and gravy, peas and carrots, rice and beans. We talked about anything and everything. The hippest and coolest trends were not our gig, the latest buzz words were not in our vocabulary.

We came together to perform beautiful music, but when it came to our relationship, performance was never the name of the game. You were real with me, and I was real with you. No airs were about us, no secrets were held. All the cards were on the table. It wasn’t forced, it just was the way it was.

Our relationship was a BIG breath of fresh air.

A relationship so rare, it’s a gift. So today, I thank you for that gift. Thank you for being you. Thank you for letting me be me. 100%, both ways.

Sitting long and still in the beauty and authenticity of our relationship,

Amy

*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!

Dear Delts & Delt Girls:

You’ve held in a special place in my heart for years, and I’ll continue to be grateful for you for a lifetime. It’s hard to fully wrap my mind around what I want to say to you today, but I’m confident in one thing. You made a big impact on my life.

I have no doubt you entered my life at the perfect time. Ya, God’s not so interested in all the socializing we do, and He certainly doesn’t care for all the partying some of us do at different times in our lives. But He is most definitely interested in building our character, in helping shape our true identity, in moving us forward from where we were – to where we need to be.

Without you, I would not be the woman I am today, and for that I am grateful.

Looking back, our relationship seems meant to be. That first week of college in the fall of 1994, Denise and I walked down the main street of campus, passing countless fraternity and sorority houses on the way. After several blocks, we came to the Delta Tau Delta house on the corner. It was rush week, and you were all playing a game of volleyball on the lawn outside. One of you must have called me and Denise over, because before I knew it, Denise was talking to a bunch of guys, and I was engaged in conversation with my future husband, Seth.

The relationship stuck, and before we knew it, we were fully immersed in life with the Delts. For some reason, you welcomed me and Denise with open arms and shortly after, our closest girlfriends joined in the fun. You were the Delts, and the handful of us girls became affectionately known as the “Delt Girls.”

Nearly every Friday and Saturday night, we found ourselves at your fraternity house. Most needed a special invite to enter, but because we were the Delt Girls and everyone knew us, we walked right in, no problem. And once we got in? Let’s just say there was a LOT of partying to be done. We had a blast! We danced the night away, right into the early morning, with all that loud music in the basement. “Sweet Caroline” and “Come On Eileen” were some of our favorites, among other modern classics like “Baby Got Back.” Sure, we’d venture to other houses once in a while, but you were our home base, the place we called “home.”

In fact, we’d spent so many hours at the Delt house that first year of college that by the time Seth and I started dating in the spring of 1995, I knew that house like the back of my hand. It sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Every square foot of that house is still etched in my mind 16-17-18-19 years later.

And all those Delta Tau Delta formals? We got dressed to the nines and gathered together for special nights out. I’ll never forget those nights either. We brought our best adult selves to the table, and after a formal banquet, awards and recognition, we danced the night away. Those nights made me feel so grown up – I was growing up.

Ya, there was a boat load of dancing and partying, hanging together until crazy late hours of the night during those years. But here’s the thing. We were in this unique place between childhood and adulthood. And having been through those years in the most classic of ways myself, I’d wish it for anyone. It’s a unique time of life where you’re fully child and fully adult, completely irresponsible and completely responsible all at the same time.

If I had to go back, I’d do some things differently, sure. But considering the big picture of life, I don’t regret a moment. Those years with you, the Delts and Delt Girls, shaped my character quite significantly.

Speaking of character, I have one last thing to add…YOU were men of character. That’s why I’m proud to have known you, that’s why I’m comfortable admitting I don’t regret a moment. You were men of integrity. You were intelligent beyond belief. You were going places in life. You were funny and witty, classy and down to earth all at the same time. You were warm and always welcoming, and you were all going to be great husbands and dads someday. When I didn’t find a place among the sorority sisters on campus, you made me feel like I belonged. The Delts – you were my guys. Every one of you, including Seth, my loving husband of 15 years. The Delt Girls – you were my girls. Through thick and thin, you were there, through it all. We were all there, in community, together.

Seth and I have three kids now. As a parent, I, of course, don’t want them to party it up hard in college. But what I do desire for my children is safe place to be, a safe place to land, for those in-between years where they’re fully child and fully adult, before they know who they really are. It’s a vulnerable time, really, and I’m just so grateful I found that kind of community in you. I’m grateful for who you were. You made me laugh, you helped me have fun, you welcomed me into your home and you made me feel comfortable. And best yet, you introduced me to my husband, my favorite Delt of all.

Amy

*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!

SPECIAL NOTE TO MY READERS: This letter wasn’t as easy to write as I thought it would be when I planned the series. I was nervous to write before I even started. In fact, there was a part of me that wanted to keep all these years of gratitude to myself, skip right over this post, and leave it at that. You see, the truth is, as I publish this letter and know it will have a permanent place on my blog, there’s a part of me that worries what other people will think. I’m worried there will be judgement, whispering. She wasn’t as good of a girl as I thought. She wasn’t as wholesome as I thought she was. She partied with fraternity boys on multiple occasions and now she’s publishing it for all the world to see? But I’m sitting in my truth. My whole heart is laid out for you in this post today and I believe there’s something to be gained from it, for me and for you. This group of individuals was pivotal in my life, and although I’m MUCH, MUCH more conservative today than I was during those years, I’m not ashamed of who I was during that time. So thank you in advance for seeing deeper than what might appear on the surface. I ask NOT for judgement, but for deeper understanding. It’s the coming together of multiple life experiences that makes an individual who they are. God can use anything and anyone to shape us into our best selves.

Dear Quinn & LeeAnn:

The back of this picture is dated November 20, 1995.

Can you believe it’s been 18 years since we stood in front of the camera for this picture? I can’t!

What in the world were we thinking?! I know we were all glammed-up for a night on the town, and we probably DID look pretty cool that night back in 1995. But those jean vests, and the fact ALL THREE of us were wearing them at the same time? (Did we plan that or were we all just trendsetters?) And look at those jeans! Girls, let’s just be honest and say they make us look about twice our size. On top of that, what’s with the belts? I guess if nothing else, they brought a pop of “color” to break up all the JEAN going on in this picture. It looks like you two got the shirt right, but me? Pure disaster. So baggy. I’d never wear that in public these days, even on a bum around stay-at-home mom kind of day. The hair’s a little 90s but not horrible, ladies. And may I say with sincerity, Quinn you really did rock that jewelry, and LeeAnn your knack for fashion shined through with those silver shoes.

But take all that away and look at our faces. Youthful, glowing, gorgeous, timeless. We had so much fun together. We laughed and shared the good times, all the time. I’ll never forget all the nights out with you, the way you made me laugh, the silly and crazy things we did together. I was blessed by your friendship and the pure joy you brought to my life.

So let’s call it all good and leave it at that! Because our fashion choices that night 18 years ago don’t define us nor our friendship one bit.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this awesome, once in a lifetime time-stamped photograph. It’s definitely one to treasure.

You’re the best, ladies.

Amy

*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!