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!

Dear Denise,

You were my first college friend, my longest college friend, one of my very best college friends.

There was a time in my life when everyone was my BFF. Heck, Elsa just popped out a list of 16 “BFFs” in a big heart this morning before school! But then I matured and realized true best friends are much more rare than common. As an adult, I’ve never used the term best friend lightly, and I’m not the type to call anyone “bestie,” so I’m sincere when I say you’re one of the rare few I’ve referred to as best friend.

I knew you on paper before I met you in real life. I can still visualize that piece of paper – it came in the mailbox and told me all about my first college roommate, you! I was a bit nervous, I’ll be honest. It was my first year of college, and I’d never had a roommate. But I was all about starting fresh, starting new, so I was up for the challenge.

Denise. I’d never known anyone named Denise! You came from a small town, had teachers in the family, and grew up in a family of 3 – all things like me. As I read through that piece of paper, I became more and more confident this was going to be a great match.

We met that first day and hit it off big time! Within the first week of orientation, we met many of the people who would later become our best friends, both guys and girls. The connections we made during those first days, weeks and months were actually quite incredible – the interconnectedness within our circles of friends was crazy!

Speaking of friends…who knew we’d be hanging out with pilots-to-be and fraternity boys (“The Delts”), but a bunch of them became our friends, and fast! In fact, two of them were more than just friends, they turned out to be our boyfriends and later down the road, our husbands! Remember that first week of school? My husband says we were “trolling for guys” when we met him at the Delt house that first week on campus. I say not so much! We were making our way through the campus, familiarizing ourselves with the territory! And your hubby…it’s been so many years, I can’t even recall exactly how or when you met, but considering how many aviation dudes we were always hanging around with, it’s no surprise he became your true love.

But I jumped the gun in all my excitement about our friends and husbands-to-be. So let me step back a moment.

Our friendship was built solid. Like a rock. We roomed together for three years. We spent countless hours studying together and taking breaks, eating with friends in the dining hall, organizing and tending our dorm rooms and apartment, and talking for hours on end. We did fun stuff and stupid stuff, like the time we colored a big picture of the sun and hung it on our dorm room window when it was below zero and intolerably cold outside for way too long. You cut your hair, we stayed up WAY-WAY too late, we got crazy silly and out of control, and we hung with a ton of friends and a good handful of boyfriends before we officially started dating our husbands-to-be! That doesn’t even touch the surface.

We studied HARD and we lived BIG, BEAUTIFUL, and LOUD. Those first three years of college, and particularly that first year and a half, were some of the most fun years of my life. I can truly say I was a “fun” person during that time in my life. I’m so glad you got to see that fun side of me.

But college life wasn’t always easy. We lived together for three years, so inevitably, things came up. We’d developed an open relationship of talking for hours on end, so when we faced hard things, we faced them together.

If I could go back and walk next to us in those hard moments, I’d do it in a second. I’d be even more supportive, even more loving, even more understanding and kind. I’d share even more than I did, I’d open myself to receiving love and compassion even more than I did, and I’d be even more vulnerable with you about anything and everything. Because we had that kind of relationship. The foundation was there for anything to happen – for any depth to be reached, for all heights to be soared. Together.

I could go on and on and say how sad I am that we live so far apart, how we’ve only met each others’ children once or twice, how we don’t talk nearly as much as we should, how I’m HORRIBLE at maintaining friendship from a long distance and I’m so sorry for not being better about it.

But I won’t.

Because this friendship is open. This friendship is WIDE OPEN, girl. I’m not through with you yet, and I hope you’re not through with me yet.

It’s been a season of moving and changing and growing up little human beings – for both of us. And it’ll continue to be that way a while longer. But friendship once set on a firm foundation, like ours, is bound to spring back at a moment’s notice. And when the next season emerges, it’s going to be beautiful. The timing? Perfect.

So live on friend. Know you’re always in my heart, close by even though we’re far, far apart. I give you freedom to fly high wherever you are, I release you from all expectations in this friendship. You had me from the start.

Here’s to paying you back for all the sweet little treasures you’ve sent me unexpectedly in the mail through the years,

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 Sonja,

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I believe, in this case, it’s true.

I can’t thank you enough for the special role you played as my piano and flute teacher in junior high and high school. If we could go back in time, gather up all the people who knew me when I was younger and ask them to describe me, one word they’d undoubtedly include would be musician, flute player, flautist. And for that, much credit goes to you.

You played a unique role in my life, and there’s nobody that’s filled that role since. You tailored your teaching to me. You sought out material that not only fit my skill level, but my personality. I walked into your home for my lesson, and you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. You motivated me, challenged me, and brought out my very best. When it was time for recitals and performances in filled auditoriums, you put me at ease. I knew in my heart you were proud of me, and because you believed in me, I believed people wanted to hear the music I made. Really? I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

But you weren’t just my piano and flute teacher, you were also a role model and mentor. You lived a life of integrity. Your faith was apparent, and you treated everyone with dignity and respect. You lived out your love of music both professionally and personally,  loved your family, were dedicated to friends, and always had something to smile about.

And I don’t want to forget, you were so delightful. Yes, delightful is the best word to describe you. Lovely. Classy. A little bit feisty if necessary. Professional. Relatable. Thoughtful. And so sweet. That’s who you were, that’s who you are.

So I thank you, Sonja, for making music with me, for teaching me hard work and discipline when it would have been easier to do otherwise, for tailoring your teaching especially for me, and for making me feel cared for all these years later with Christmas cards, hand written letters, and notes of encouragement.

Your fruit has been recognized by my grateful heart,

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 Mr. Steblay:

You need to know that you were a really great tennis coach.

Tennis was the only sport I played, and I played it big. I spent hours and hours at the old tennis courts and the new tennis courts. Countless mornings, dad woke me at the crack of dawn to hit ball after ball at the courts, just the two of us. Then, after school during tennis season you’d meet the team at the courts and we’d practice our hearts out until the clock ran out. I vividly remember traveling to various tennis meets in the van with our team. You’d drive up front, and the rest of us would pile in the back. We’d do homework on the way to the tennis meet, and we’d chat and laugh on the way back. The fast food stops after meets were always my favorite.

We knew you expected a lot from us, and we performed well. Our team stood up to some of the toughest players from the toughest teams. I was more fearless than I knew at the time. In fact, I’d be much more fearful under that athletic pressure today – that’s for sure. And I credit you for instilling in me, instilling in us, a confidence and a skill level that allowed us to play tennis under any condition.

Through the years, I played singles and doubles with a variety of partners. I appreciate that you gave me a broad experience so I could develop into the best tennis player I could possibly be. My recollection is that I felt equally confident as a singles player as I did a doubles player, which signals to me you did a wonderful job of developing well rounded players. As mom of an almost 11-year-old who just finished six months of traveling basketball and six months of traveling baseball, I know the importance of developing well rounded players.

But in all of my memories of you and my time on the tennis team, there’s one that stands out amongst the rest. It’s a time I need to thank you for, but it’s also a time for which I need to extend an apology.

It was fall, the end of the season was drawing near. It was gray and it was getting colder, which always puts me in a foul mood. We’d been losing a lot, or maybe it we’d been winning a lot? All I know is that the pressure was on to win. We felt it and we knew it. We needed to win. Right before the meet that day, we stood outside the entrance to our tennis courts. You gave us your coach talk and said firmly, but enthusiastically something like “Let’s go out and win this one!”

And I, all naive in my youth, responded with a big sassy “WHY?”

You called me on the carpet immediately for my response. I deserved it. I had been inappropriate and disrespectful in my tone, and my timing was all wrong. So for that, for my questioning your desire to win and disrespecting your authority at the inappropriate time, I would like to sincerely apologize.

On the other hand, I also want to thank you for that moment.

1) You addressed my improper behavior, but then you moved on. For that, I am grateful. You could have shamed me or punished me further, but you didn’t.

2) To this day, I’m still fascinated by my “WHY.” It definitely has something to do with the high pressure I place on myself to do well, so sometimes when others point out I need to do well, it adds stress on top of stress and I feel like I have to perform perfectly. In this instance, I responded to your desire to win with a big fat “WHY” was because I already felt pressure to win before you pointed it out. I was probably stressed out, maybe even burned out. I needed to vent my real emotions, and in a way, I’m grateful I did because it gave me a way to release my pent-up frustration with feeling I needed to perform perfectly all the time.

3) When I questioned your desire to win with “WHY,” it was probably one of the first times I expressed a thought that went against the status quo. I wasn’t a disrespectful girl, nor was I a girl that regularly questioned authority. In fact, I was probably too quiet about my thoughts. So I needed to learn how to express my opinion even when it wasn’t popular, even when the majority thought otherwise. Being willing to speak up, say what I think, and not worry what others think is something I’ve worked on for years, and still work on through this blog. So for being there at the beginning of this journey, for allowing me to express my real thoughts and opinions without shaming me or punishing me forever, I thank you.

I know you may have forgotten this incident and erased it from your memory days after it happened, but I want you to know my long-term memories of you are fond, positive. The impact you made on my life was great, and for all those hours you spent with us on the courts, I am grateful.

With all respect and sincerity,

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 Nativity Director,

I was 12 that Christmas. You chose me to play Mary, mother of baby Jesus, in our nativity play.

From the looks of it, I didn’t think it was very cool to play Mary. Maybe I thought it was super uncool to be in a church nativity when I was TWELVE, maybe I thought it was gross to have to stand by the boy playing Joseph, maybe I thought that costume was lame and I was being polite but I really wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible.

But let me tell you, I’m grateful you chose me to be Mary that year. Because I never got the chance again, and I’ll never get the chance again.

You knew what I didn’t – it’s an honor to play Mary.

Mary embodies traits that are core to Christianity, traits I strive to emulate as an adult living out my faith in a real way, every day.

Faith. In every circumstance.

Obedience. When I’m called.

Trust. That He is in control.

Strength. To face any trial thrown my way.

Hope. That His best waits for me.

So thank you for giving me that one opportunity to be Mary. I didn’t appreciate the honor then, but I do now.

With a heart full of gratitude,

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!