I’d found myself there on that couch a couple hours prior. The two oldest were still at school, the barely-a-baby-anymore was napping. There was an hour, at best, before the noise would drown out the quiet again. So I plopped myself on the couch with my laptop. The screen was blank. Time stood still. I looked up, around, pondered many things. Deep questions about the meaning of life surfaced in those moments of quiet. What is the purpose of my life? How can I strip away the excess, the clutter, the unnecessary? How do I go about freeing space and time to make room for the filling of my soul? Why have I been given all this while others live in pieced-together mud, metal and sticks? My eyes were open as wide as they’d been, and I knew, it’s possible to live fully alive, receive without question every beautiful thing under the big, bright sun.

Two hours later, sunlight streamed in on that same spot. The 11-year-old tween played Minecraft to my left, the 8-year-old had gone to play with a friend, which left me and barely-a-baby-anymore with nothing to do but listen to her favorite song, “Mahna Mahna,” on my iPhone.

I sat her in my lap sideways so I could see her still-baby face. Sun came through the window behind her. Her hair glistened, glowed. Snot ran down her button nose and I could see every fuzzy baby hair on her face.

I looked down. Her baby feet were right at my hands. I grabbed them one at a time, one for each hand. She didn’t seem to notice, she didn’t seem to mind. I kissed those still-baby toes, breathed in the unforgettable fragrance of baby feet that’d been in socks all day. A tiny chip of pink nail polish on her big toe reminded me she’s not going to be this little for long. A mama of three knows truth the third time around.

I watched her push the buttons, she’d found a new song. Away went the phone, hidden forever behind my back.

I lifted her in one little swoop and laid her on my legs. Her whole baby body still fit comfortably between my knees and my waist. She bent at the hips, lifted her legs like an infant-baby, and there at my hands were her feet. I grabbed those feet, used them to cover my face, and peered through to the sliver of her baby face that remained. My eye met hers. I broke her feet open wide and we played peek-a-boo many times ’round. A mama of three knows peek-a-boo feet is for babies, babies alone.

We giggled and wiggled in joy and delight. I had triple my fair share of kissing baby toes in the sunlight.

I knew this game would only last so long. So I turned her again, cradled her tight like a baby, tickled up her belly, all the way to her neck. She giggled. I rocked her in tight. It was a beautiful dance, this tickling, giggling, rocking, tightening all close.

Before I released her baby body, I cradled her tight, rocked her like I did 12-15-18-24 months ago. And I saw the baby, the toddler, the big girl. I saw myself, my husband, I saw the woman she’ll be. I took it all in, this holding tight, cradling my barely-a-baby-anymore girl. Because a mama of three knows, it won’t be long before that baby body’ll turn big – the lifting, carrying, cradling will be all but a memory captured in the recesses of her heart.

Six hours later, I find myself on that same spot on the couch, alone. The questions, the ponderings about life remain. The light no longer shines in. The night is dark and the wind howls in the polar vortex of the outdoors. But this mama of three knows – kissing baby toes in the sunlight was a gift, a moment received by her soul, given to be shared, so ALL would know – life is fleeting, grab the moment, every moment, the purpose of your life is here, now.

Amy

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

The peace and joy caught me by surprise. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday too, for a grand total of four days of more peace and joy than I’ve experienced in a long time.

It’s not like I was giddy, off the wall for four days. There were certainly troubles and stress to be had. Most likely, nobody even noticed the peace and joy but me. But I’m telling you, when it’s rare for you to admit with all honesty that ONE day’s been a good day, then it’s a real rarity for FOUR IN A ROW to be good days.

And then I got to thinking. There has to be something to this peace and joy.

What’s the “magic formula” for good days? Giving and Receiving.

I started to write all the things that happened over the course of four days and realized, I’ve been on the receiving end of all of these events but one. I’ve spent a lifetime giving and doing, but I’ve NOT been receiving. Well, at least not very well. I’ve been so bound and determined to do what’s right for everyone else and in everyone’s else’s eyes, that I’ve never opened myself enough to fully receive the gifts God wants to bestow upon me.

Let me share what four days of peace and joy looks like. If you’re anything like me, you need to know this NOW.

But before I start, let me point out that in order for this formula to work, there MUST be one who gives and another who receives. This giving and receiving is mutual, from the heart, not contrived but completely authentic, and ultimately beneficial to both parties.

So here goes…14 ways to give more generously and receive more freely in 2014.

1) Look someone in the eyes and ask “How are you doing?” Only this time, really mean it. Don’t move on until you have their real answer. If there are tears, so be it. You’ve done your work. You’ve actually asked them how they’re doing. And now you know. Be glad you asked, because they really needed you to ask. If you’re on the once in a year receiving end of this question, seize the opportunity. Let your guard down. Be real. Take a chance. Allow yourself to be heard.

2) Ask for help. Just straight out ask for help. Do you need support, prayer? Then ask for it. You might just be surprised at all the people who are willing to extend a hand. Accept their offerings as gifts.

3) Tell someone you’ve been praying for them, and really mean it. That means you actually need to start praying for someone, keep praying, and then pray some more. Do it in the quiet, don’t make a big announcement. After a while, when the time is just right, tell them. Tell them anything like “You’ve been on my prayer list since ____ and will continue to be to the end of my earthly days.” Catch them off guard, assure them, then go pray some more.

4) When times are tough, and when times aren’t even that tough, make a meal for someone. If you’re fortunate enough to be on the receiving end? Say yes. Just say yes. And thank you very much. Days later, when you notice the cake plate’s empty but one piece? Put that last piece on a plate and wash the cake pan. Your act of kindness won’t go unnoticed.

5) Offer to watch someone’s kids so they can get their hair cut. And if you’re presented with the opportunity? Seize the moment. Let them take your coat, get you a water, hang your purse, massage your head, style your hair when they’re all done – even if you’re not going anywhere.

6) When someone’s 18-minute drive takes them 1 hour and 18-minutes because of snow and ice, buy them coffee or tea, and have a donut waiting for an extra surprise. Greet them warmly when they arrive, make them feel as if you’d wait all day for them if needed.

7) When someone confides in you, listen. Listen hard. Listen for the things untold. Listen for ways you can help next. And then wait. Let them know, later, that you really heard them. Caught a glimpse of each other as you passed in the hallway? Don’t let the moment pass. Turn back. With just one sentence, without saying it outright, let them know – I heard you, I want you to succeed, I understand who you are, I’m still here for you. Do little things to root for another along the way.

8) Share your wisdom through whatever means necessary. And if you’re on the receiving end of this gift? Soak it in. Take it to heart. Then Go. Live it out. For real.

9) When someone’s moved you, impacted you so much that you can’t keep it inside anymore, tell them. Let them know they made a difference in your life, even if it’s a little uncomfortable. It might just mean the world to them.

10) Buy something for someone who has more needs than you can humanly satisfy. Then prepare yourself to Go. Meet them right where they are. Go beyond your borders, out of your comfort zone, just Go. 

11) Give generously and creatively to someone who has more than they ever need. Because they don’t need more things. They need to see and receive the love and generosity of the human heart. Let the little child buy you cookies with money from their piggy bank, let them use up all the play-doh to create you a plaque that says “best parents ever.”

12) When your God-sized dream comes up when you’re least expecting, in the most unlikely of conversations, and now you have to reveal a bit because there’s no other way out? Don’t run from the truth. Share it. Speak it. Get those dreams and desires out of your mind and out into the world. In speaking even just a bit of your truth, you might just discover there’s a reason that person’s been in your life all these years – they have a similar God-sized dream as you. And now, you’ve given someone the gift of confirmation, maybe this really is God’s plan for me?

13) Surprise your love with more than just a bit of bling. Wear it, receive it, know it’s a gift – for you.

14) Sing the song of your heart. Let your voice be heard. Don’t silence the artist inside of you. And when it’s time to watch, time to listen to another’s masterpiece, do it up big. Turn up the volume. Sit in the middle of the room. And let yourself be rescued.

Amy

One Word.

It’s all the rage right now.

And it’s not just for an elite few anymore. It’s for everyone.

One Word has found its way into mainstream culture. So much so that the Today show featured a segment on One Word last week. In the segment, Jon Gordon, co-author of One Word That Will Change Your Life, explained what One Word is and how to pick your word for the year (watch the clip here).

Didn’t watch the clip? Still don’t understand all the hype about One Word?

Alece Ronzino, founder of One Word 365, describes it best on the OneWord365 website: “Forget New Year’s Resolutions. Scrap that long list of goals you won’t remember three weeks from now anyway. Choose just one word. One word that sums up who you want to be or how you want to live. One word that you can focus on every day, all year long…if you let it, your one word will shape not only your year, but also you. It will become the compass that directs your decisions and guides your steps.”

One Word’s a big deal in the blogging community. I’ve been reading about everyone else’s One Word for 3 1/2 years now, but I’ve never chosen my own One Word.

I wasn’t going to choose One Word this year, either.

But then I got to thinking.

Maybe there’s something to this.

Maybe One Word is just what I need – to provide focus, clarity, direction – for me.

Maybe One Word will bring me closer to a place of peace with who I am.

So I scribbled as I drove.

Quiet. Still. Now. Be.Because I want to be present, live in the moment. I want to know peace.

Seek. Bold. Do. Free. Because I want to break free, step boldly into whatever I’m supposed to do next.

Love. Low. Meet. Grace. Because I want to bend low, freely extending love and grace to myself and others.

Focus. Voice. Know. Truth. Because God wants to lead me. I need to focus on His voice, know His truth.

And that left me with Go. Follow. Trust. 

I could choose any one of them, really. I need all three.

But I’m going to Trust. that I’ll pick the right word and He’ll have my back, no matter what. So I’m letting that one go.

Follow. It’s the word I think I should choose between the two that remain.

Follow. and Go.

But should.

I don’t want to live by should anymore.

Should’s been a burden. Should‘s kept me bound. Should‘s had its day.

So as much as I desperately want to Follow. and will Follow. what I really need to do is just Go.

Because I need to let Go.

Let Go. of pain from the past, let Go. of what should have been, let Go. of what should be.

I need to let Go. of perfectionistic ideals.

I need to let Go. of unrealistic expectations of myself and others. I need to let Go. of that once and for all.

It’s high time I let Go. of having an answer. Let Go. of the feeling I need to be the answer. Let Go. of being a rescuer.

It’s time I let Go. and let the Heavenly Father rescue me.

Let Go. of what was. Let Go. of you should, you could, you totally could. Go. when it’s time to Go.

Let Go. of words when they hurt, disappoint.

Let Go. when words don’t fill, heal, encourage the way I want them to, need them to.  

Let it Go. Let it all Go. Let Go.

Let Go. and Let God.

And then I need to Go.

Ya, I just need to Go.

Go. Get away.

Go. workout.

Go. get some time by myself.

Go. relax. Chill out. Take a metaphorical chill pill, girl.

Go. get some fresh air.

Go. garden some more.

Go. love like wild.

Go. love on the least of these. Go. get joy like I’ve never experienced before. Go. find where I want to Go. again.

Go. where I’ve been called. Go. where I’m being called.

Go. after that God-sized dream. Go. without doubting. Go. without second-guessing. Go. without wondering if I’m simply stuck in a never-ending daydream. Go. because what’s there to lose except my life?

Go. pursue that far-fetched thing. It might actually work.

Go. do that new thing.

Go. try that old thing again.

Go. tell them all the beautiful things they never knew about themselves.

Go. tell them what they really need to hear. Tell them you see them. Tell them you noticed. Tell them they’re loved. Tell them they’ve not been forgotten. Tell them they’ve been heard. Tell them they’re precious, worthy, irreplaceable. Tell them there’s a plan for their life. Ya, Go. Do that. And do it again.

Go. where little girls laugh. And big girls are free to laugh again. Go. Restore the little girl voice.

And don’t forget the vision. Go. Continue becoming the beautiful, old, wise woman.

Let Go. of plan A and plan B. Make room for God’s, plan C.

Go. where you’ve never gone before.

Go. like it matters.

Go. like it’s your life.

Just Go.

Go.

Amy

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