For six or seven weeks, her husband had been working like a dog. Eat, sleep, work was his way of life. And it wasn’t going to end for another two weeks, at least.

She’d been watching the kids and working herself, and she hadn’t forgotten for a second – this was the month she was going to take care of herself.

So she needed to get out. She was desperate to get away, alone, by herself.  This was the day, the one night to treat herself to her favorite things.

Two dear ones had given her gift cards from her favorite store, White House Black Market, for Christmas. They knew her well enough to skip all the other stores and go straight to the one she loved.

But for her, this accepting of truth, this accepting of self hadn’t been so easy, so obvious. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she decided she’d deny her own identity, she’d try to be someone else. She’d scoured the malls in search of the perfect orange carpet dress, only to find herself back there, at home base. Still, she didn’t learn. Months later, she thought other stores would fit the bill for family pictures, well, let’s just say, better. She bought and returned handfuls of clothes from everywhere else but there, only to find herself back there, at the place she loves.

Gift cards to her one and only favorite store were the perfect opportunity. She was just becoming settled in this who she is and who she wants to be. She was ready to turn the page. For no longer did she want to pretend, no longer did she want to search and yearn to be something she wasn’t. She just wanted to go, move beyond the things that held her back, and just be who she was created to be.

So she walked right in to that White House Black Market store. She pulled everything and anything that spoke to her that night – dressy black tunics, gray and tan jeans embellished just right, a silky floral white blouse with long flowing sleeves, dresses and tanks, sweaters, and black and white patterned bustiers.

As she tried on the clothes, she thought for a moment it was all too much, it wasn’t going to work this time. She wanted to run, take it all off, leave empty handed. Because she felt a little fat. She was 5 pounds over her ideal weight, after all. And who did she think she was? A mom of three, works part-time and blogs? Why would she need any of these fancy clothes anyway? Adolescent memories flooded back in. “Why are you wearing tights with dress shorts in the middle of winter?” She wanted to leave.

But she stayed. Because she knew better.

She’d felt like an odd ball all the way through. She’s the one who wore dressy flats when everyone else wore tennis shoes. She’s the one who dressed up when everyone else came in jeans in sweatshirts. She’s the one who stayed in her “church clothes” and didn’t think twice until someone mentioned it to her, while everyone else changed the second they got home.

It took her years and years and years to realize – she wasn’t the elusive “everyone else.”

The messy, beautiful truth of it was that she always knew who she was. God placed that deep in her core. She wanted to deny it, deny the beautiful work he’d set in her from the beginning. Truth was, something in her wanted to deny just about everything He created her to be.

But the time had come. There, in that dressing room, she decided – I’m not running away from who I am. I’m breaking free from the lies I’ve believed so long. I’m good enough, I’m not too much. I’m settling in to who I am, once and for all.

So she gathered up all those black and white things that didn’t work, and hung them back up in that dressing room.

She looked at what was left after all the trying and denying.

She’d found one shirt that was right. In fact, it was just right.

The black jeans were right, too. She’d second guessed herself, had to come out of the closet, look in the mirror again, and stand before another’s affirmations to realize they were, truly, just right.

And the blue jeans, it was just a matter of size. 8 Regular, too long. 10 Short, too big. She just needed the one that would fit her like a glove, 8 Short. Only, they didn’t have 8 Short. She accepted the clerk’s offer to call, the perfect fit found at a nearby store.

So she bought the shirt and the black jeans, thanked the soul kindly and made her way to the second White House Black Market.

It seemed silly, this tending to self, this driving miles for the sake of a pair of blue jeans that fit just so. But she did it anyway, because she needed this tending for her soul.

The blue jeans were waiting. They fit just right.

She’d allowed herself to look once more when she came in. Why not, she thought? Money remained on the cards, and this was the only place it was going to be spent. She’d found a gem of a shirt, one she hadn’t seen at the other store. Black with a big white flower to one side. Medium was too big, Small was just right. The woman with the accent smiled and agreed boldly.

She bought the blue jeans that fit like a glove and the black shirt with the big white flower. $14 remained on the cards. Perfect for spring, when things are made new, she thought.

This place, this White House Black Market, where who she was, who she is, and who she wants to be all come together just so? It’s helped her realize – it’s okay to be you. It’s okay to step into your identity, the truth of who you are. It’s okay, it’s truly okay.

As she pulled the items out of the bags, she noticed it all – the attention to detail, the simple classic design, the sparkles, bold patterns and clean lines, the black and white and even the gray grace she needs more of in-between, the comfort, the familiarity, the way all the pieces go together and make perfect sense. It reminded her of who she was, who she is, and who she wants to be. The 11-year-old girl, the 15-year-old adolescent, the making her way 23-year-old, and the 37-year-old woman all came together. And she knew, it was good.

Amy

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  Psalm 139:14

Who am I?

It’s a question that begs to be asked at the beginning of every new year.

For me, the simplest answer has been this. I strive to do my best, always. I prefer work over play. I notice and tend to every detail. My intuition’s stealth, my insight’s off the charts. I’m responsible, other-oriented, and in my heart, I want to do what’s right.

As I scanned through our CD of family photographs from this fall, trying to find the best picture of myself for the blog, Twitter, and Facebook, I realized something.

My best traits are also my worst traits. Isn’t that the case for most of us?

For five years in a row, we’ve had professional family photographs taken in the fall. The first three years, no problem! I orchestrated coordinating wardrobes for every member of the family without a hitch. You’d never know looking at the photographs, but the past two years, there have definitely been hitches.

You see, the past two years, I’ve been becoming more and more clear about who I am. But this who I am revelation has been colliding with who I was. And as odd as it seems, it hasn’t been easier to live out this new who I am, it’s been harder.

That’s exactly what I realized as I looked through those pictures and couldn’t find a single one I felt completely represented who I am.

Because part of me is still desperately trying to be the old Amy, the who I was. The who I was sort of works, you know? Well, for everyone else, it works. But for me? Not so much anymore.

Let me give you a real life example. I’m warning you in advance, I’m fully aware this is a first world problem, a superficial real-life example. But this example is the reason I’m writing this post in the first place. So here goes…

In the fall of 2012, I had a vision for our family photo shoot. I wanted it to be colorful, playful, casual. I wanted the photos to have a hispter feel, even though we’re totally NOT a hipster family. So I started with the kids. Their outfits were easy. Bright yellow for the baby, pink and green for the 2nd grader, blue plaid for the 4th grader.

Then I started searching for me. Not so easy. You see, I don’t wear much color. And the hipster look or anything close? Totally not me at all. I’ve tried. It just doesn’t work. But I thought I’d try again. This time, it would work. But it didn’t. I’m pretty sure I tried on clothes from every women’s store in the mall, searching for the perfect colorful, cool hipster outfit. Nothing worked, folks. Nothing worked. Between me and hubs, we declined everything I brought home. It just didn’t work. The look, the style just wasn’t me. (Let me just point out, in the meantime, hubs got his whole outfit lined up in no time flat.)

When I’d given up all hope, I reluctantly walked through the doors of my favorite store, White House Black Market. I’d never looked there once in all my searching, because of the obvious – it’s all black and white and totally NOT hipster. I was almost in tears when the clerk approached. I explained the situation and left with the first outfit I tried on. Neutral beige and white, but a whole-lotta style and bling on the ears and neck, totally Amy all around. I promised myself – next year I’m going to dress myself first and I’m heading straight for my favorite store.

As I prepared for our photo shoot in the fall of 2013, I started off on the right foot. I went straight to my favorite store. I was going to set the tone, and determined it was going to include beautiful hues of green and magenta White House Black Market was featuring in stores.

My good intentions went out the door fast. I came home sporting a solid green dress with sparkly green earrings and bracelet, which hubs very politely told me was probably one of the most boring, ugly things he’d ever seen me wear (ok, not his exact words, he wasn’t mean about it at all, but you get the idea.) Keep in mind, I’d already exhausted the store and picked my favorite for the pictures, but I went back a second time, this time returning with a long, luxurious off-white flyaway sweater and patterned green, white and black shirt underneath. Hubs was having a hard time understanding my vision. After desperately trying to coordinate three kids’ outfits to mine with no success, we determined my outfit had to go – again. So I returned it, realizing I was in for a long search – AGAIN. Long story short, I found a shirt from a store I frequented in my high school and college years – it was solid, neutral, with a bit of bling. Hubs indicated I needed a really big, bright pink necklace and big pink earrings. I politely declined the big pink necklace, made a trip to a hipster store, and opted for pink earrings and bracelet the clerk suggested before I’d barely looked myself.

So there I was. Neutral army green shirt with jeans I already owned, a bit of bling. Pretty. But safe. OK. were the words as I looked through the photographs of myself. NOT totally Amy. NOT exactly who I am.

Neutral army green – because it’s always easier to play it safe.

Jeans I already owned – because it’s always best to live predictably.

A bit of bling – because just right is always better than too much, not enough.

The revelation was clear in that moment.

I’m tired of playing it safe. I’m tired of being predictable. I’m tired of doing everything so-called “right.” I’m tired of trying to be any little bit or a whole lot of someone I’m not. I’m tired of feeling like I’m too much, not enough. And let me be clear, I don’t want a bigger than life kind of life.

I want a simpler, smaller, more focused life. I want to discover riches found only in the deep. I want to know in my heart that my life is completely authentic. I want to become more of who He created me to be. I want to be who I am.

So this month, whether I believe you’ll like it or not, whether focusing on myself is the Christian thing to do or not (yes, I’ve debated that exhaustively prior to publishing this post), I’m going to focus on me, what I need to do to become more of who I am. I’ll blog right through it, and hope my journey will spark something new inside of you.

Next month’s going to be a whole-lotta other-centered, and I can’t wait to share that journey with you. But for now, I need a moment to step back and focus on me. Just me.

Amy

Five days have passed since I met sweet Patty. She emerged from the back like an angel, and words won’t adequately describe the way she made me feel that day. But try I must, to put this experience in words, because as I circled the mall after meeting Patty, I felt with all certainty you must hear how she moved me from a black hole of uncertain obsession to the bright light of certain authenticity.

The origins of this story bring me back in time. A special event turned dark in a moment. I felt beautiful, ready, prepared, at my best. I had planned for that day. With a glance and a handful of words, he made this intuitive soul feel little, squelched, like nothing, like I had a dull, invisible cloak all around. In that moment, I was silently shocked, taken aback. I felt so beautiful, just right, yet he so quickly managed to steal every bit of that away from me. And I knew my intuition was right. He thought little of me and for some dumb reason I cared.

So when I discovered our family had an awesome opportunity to join my husband at the Kids’ Choice Awards this weekend (yes, we’re leaving tomorrow!), I was certain this once in a lifetime opportunity would require a once in a lifetime dress! I knew I would want to feel beautiful, completely comfortable, with no regrets and no doubts about the way I experienced this very special event.

Unfortunately, in all my desiring for good, memories brought me straight back to that moment when I felt beautiful and he made me feel like nothing. Only this time, I had grown, matured. Never again would I allow someone to make me feel that way. Never again would I experience that kind of rejection. Never again would I allow someone to project so much negativity straight to my face. This time, I was going to feel beautiful for myself and for my husband who loves me with all abandon.

So the search was on! I toured malls, strip malls, and stand alone stores on a mission to find the just-right dress. Fun, hip, and a little outside my box were the words to describe this elusive dress. Orange (for the Nickelodeon orange carpet) it had to be, or blue or green maybe, but nothing fit the bill for me.

After all the searching and in my first moment of desperation, I entered my favorite store, White House Black Market on a whim. I knew there was no orange, and no blue and no green. But there was lavender they said, and lavender a complement to orange! Two wonderful souls sensed my desperation and brought me straight to the dress I needed. Fun and a little playful, it was beautiful, it really was. The dress fit me perfectly, and I did feel beautiful in that moment. It seemed just right! I brought it home and tried it on again, and my husband said it was wholly Amy. All I needed was jewelry, and I was set for the awards!

But as each day passed, I tried that dress on again and once more. Something was not quite right. Yes, it was perfectly Amy, and yes, it was a dress I’d normally buy. In fact, it was beautiful! But I knew how I wanted to feel, and the feeling wasn’t quite right.

So I tried that last stand alone store, the discount one this time. I found two dresses, both fun and hip and a little outside my box, just what I proclaimed to want. I bought them both, leaving my husband to guide. Maybe he and I would find these better? Maybe these were the solution to the lavender dress that wasn’t quite right? But the striped one was too “hipster,” and the cool hip one with navy and orange was thin and way too short, like a near 40-year-old trying to fit into a 20-year-old’s dress. Although I wanted so badly for one of these to work, it was clear they were headed for return.

You wonder where’s Patty in all this? What does Patty have to do with all this craziness? Hold on, she emerges as my earth angel in a few moments.

In my obsessive nonsense over finding the perfect dress, I just knew there was a solution. So five days ago, I set my sights on the Mall of America for one last chance (yes I have a determined, at times obsessive spirit when I set my mind to something!).

I made my rounds at the Mall of America, and had nearly surrendered. I was going to keep the lavender dress, and I had actually come to terms with it. I was happy. I was content! It was a beautiful dress from my favorite store, and it was very much a dress I would normally buy. It wasn’t quite what I was hoping for at this particular event, but oh well! I’m a perfectionist, and I just needed to get over myself and my crazy idealistic mindset.

Just one week from the event and my last outing by myself, I knew this was my last chance. I stepped foot in the White House Black Market store one more time.

I don’t believe in magic, I don’t believe things make people happy, and I don’t believe at the end of life it will matter much what I wore, but I do believe clothes can make your best self shine, clothes can make you feel completely comfortable and beautiful in your own skin. And White House Black Market is the place that makes that happen for me. Just right, every time, like their clothes are designed for me. When my obsessive self has reached an end and I think there are no other options, I enter that door and White House Black Market pulls through.

And let me tell you, White House Black Market has the most wonderful employees I’ve met.

But Patty at this Mall of America store? She was the most special I’ve met. She emerged from the back of that White House Black Market like an angel sent for me.

Her quiet but sincere compliment about the purple shirt that was barely peeking out of my coat started it off just right. I told her “thanks, I’m not much of a purple person, but my mom bought it for me and I get compliments on it all the time!” Patty assured me it looked great, and asked how she could help.

I was quick to explain I already had this lavender dress here in the back, but it hadn’t felt quite right as I tried it on this week. Our eyes set almost simultaneously at the wall on the left where a white dress with flowers hung. I hadn’t seen it before and knew it might be the one! In fact, the only dress I had seen was the lavender one, so the whole world was at my fingertips at that moment. As Patty and I pulled dresses for the fitting room, she said quietly with all conviction, “we’re going to find you something.” As silly as it sounds, all this fuss about a dress, my heart was at ease.

Seven dresses hung in the dressing room plus the lavender one at home for comparison. A feast for my eyes, I knew one of these was going to work!

Patty let me be. She had impeccable timing. The white dress with flowers was first. It was perfect! Just what I was looking for – fun yet sophisticated, and classic Amy style. Patty brought in a shrug, and the lavender shoes were much better than the nude ones she “lost me” in.

That dress was the one, and we both knew it. She brought me out of the dressing room, all put together just right. Into the black space with mirrors all around, a couple of employees passed with sincere compliments abound.

But Patty, and here’s where words aren’t adequate…

Patty, she affirmed me like no other.

The way she looked at me in that open space with mirrors was something special. Her smile, her beautiful eyes, her sincere, warm presence in that moment brings tears to my eyes five days later. She said more, but all I remember was “You. Look. Stunning.” And she looked into my eyes with all the sincerity of her heart, and I felt it and my eyes welled with tears. It wasn’t so much I felt beautiful because Patty’s comments made me feel beautiful, but Patty helped me see and believe the truth about myself. I looked beautiful, I felt beautiful, I am beautiful, inside and out. My inside matched my outside, and I felt assurance in that.

And in that moment, I saw a reflection of myself in Patty. The necklace and belt she wore were in my closet at home, but it was more than that. Patty reflects the woman I want to be, the way I want to make others feel. She made me feel so sure, so confident about myself, and she was so authentic in her presence I can’t put words to it. I have no hesitancy in my heart that she meant what she was saying, and I felt it as well. Patty wasn’t about the sale in that moment, she was about affirming me as a human being, affirming me as I presented my best self, my most authentic self to the world in this dress.

A long and ridiculous search had led me back to this store, White House Black Market, an earthly place I can call my own. It had happened before in this store, but this time was something more. I found joy, peace, and assurance in who I am.

And the interesting thing was that even in our assurance we had found “the dress,” Patty didn’t stop me at that. She let me flounder as I continued to try on all the other dresses for size and style. The one that didn’t do anything for me, the one that was just ok, the one that was 100% Amy on the hanger but not right when I put it on, two that were beautiful but not quite right for the occasion, one that was sophisticated and fit like a glove but was best for a wedding, and the one that was sexy but totally not me. She let me try them all.

At the end? We returned to the white dress with flowers.

Patty reaffirmed me “that’s the one,” and with all my heart, I knew it to be true. It was. just right. So she brought it out, with the shoes and the shrug and I stood at the counter with no hesitancy.

Because this time, I felt an assurance that ran deeper than any man could squelch in just a moment. For my assurance rests in who I am. Woman, child of God created in the image of God, perfectly unique, Amy.

I feel beautiful. I am beautiful.

And so are you.

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense. You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.  Song of Songs 4:6-7

Amy