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

On Saturday afternoon, I found my 8-year-old playing with my iPhone. I got a little irritated when I discovered she was fooling around with the alarms. She’d set one to ON, so I turned it OFF. I scrolled through the alarms and when I thought they were all turned off, I took the phone and put it back in my purse.

I woke up at 3:15 a.m. Sunday morning to the alarm going off on my phone.

I literally jumped out of bed. My heart was beating fast and hard. I couldn’t tell where the ring was coming from, so I stumbled in a racing sort of way around the room searching for the phone.

You see, in that moment waking from deep sleep, I didn’t remember my daughter had been fooling around with the alarms. I thought the phone was ringing, and I thought it was my sister calling to say she was in labor.

I finally found my phone and realized it wasn’t my sister calling, but one of those pesty alarms that got by me somehow.

And then I got to thinking, perhaps it was God that woke me this night.

In the middle of the night, woken by an alarm, the one thing that sat in my subconscious sleep-state was my sister. Her life has been the backdrop, the dramatic and always unfolding sub-plot to my life for the past 9 1/2 years. She’s pregnant with her second, due to deliver in five days. And I can’t help but think the story’s still being written.

In the pitch black room, in the dark of the night, in my barely awake state, my heart still racing, the reason I’d been woken was as clear as day.

It’s time to write, Amy. It’s time to write.

WRITE!

I’ve been thinking about those words I wrote about my sister’s journey in 2004-2010. 201 pages, single spaced. 94,271 words. 402,099 characters. And that’s not all. There’s more content in a separate document, more content I’ve published on this blog, a whole host of things that have gone undocumented since I last wrote in October 2010.

Looking back, it seems miraculous I was able to write all that. Surely a coping mechanism, surely the best way for me to process the traumatic events, surely therapeutic. Surely and only written by the grace of God.

I always knew those words were book worthy. But the “book” didn’t have an ending. And to be honest, the thought of reliving those events and getting them in any sort of manuscript form has been overwhelming on all fronts.

But God says….

It’s time to write. The story is still being written.

So I need to write. This week, whether I have time or not, whether it’s convenient or not, I need to open up the document and begin again, on page 202.

Because things have happened, because things are going to happen, because the end of the story has yet to be written.

The scary, the ugly, the completely unknown, the beautiful parts in-between are still unfolding. I’ve recently realized – what if this chapter is the turning point? Do I really want to miss His hand? Would I really want to let the details be forgotten, go untold? My answer has been a reluctant no – the writing of the story is a double living it out. It’s lived in real life, and then it’s lived again on the screen. Sometimes that’s painful and not so pretty. And let’s be real – it’s also a lot of work – and might ultimately serve no purpose except my own release.

But He woke me to say…

It’s time to write. The story is still being written.

Sometimes beautiful, definitely mysterious, and at times utterly confusing, this is just a tidbit of the chapter immediately prior to second baby’s arrival.

I sat at the table in TGI Friday’s, waiting. Tiffany and Stewart were about to arrive. We’d watched my niece, Raegan, for the past day so she’d have experienced sleeping away from her mom when the baby arrives. I looked out the window and there they were. I’d never met Stewart before. They just started dating and I knew very little about this man that came into the life of my 7 1/2-months-pregnant sister. But in an instant, my heart knew everything it needed to know when I looked out the window and caught a glimpse of him opening the door for her.

As the night progressed, my instincts told me – this man is good at his core. He has the potential to be an incredible Godly husband someday. And I felt a possible laying of God’s hands all over this set of circumstances. Because it was SO untimely, SO unlikely, SO seemingly impossible on all levels.

You see, Stewart has a significant history of his own.* His story, much like my sister’s. Stewart has overcome. He’s found healing, grace and forgiveness, yet still finds himself “failing forward” in battle with the enemy. But in my heart of hearts, I’m choosing to believe Stewart is fundamentally a good man who CAN overcome once and for all through the power and strength of Jesus, our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

I’m choosing to let God lead. Because He’s writing the story. He’s writing every word.

Stewart brought a smile to my sister’s face that I don’t remember seeing since 1998.

And He smiled. Well done, good and faithful servant. 

Stewart got my sister laughing in a way I hadn’t heard for years. I didn’t even remember she could laugh like that until I heard it.

And He laughed. Well done, good and faithful servant.

There’s no making up smiles, and there’s no making up laughter either. It’s genuine, or it’s not. When you’ve come from the depths of hell on earth, you recognize real joy when you see it, real joy when you hear it. 

There’s no guarantee for any of us except the promise of heaven. It’s the living between now and then that’s packed-full of possibility.

Stewart’s come on the scene at the most unlikely of times. It doesn’t make sense. It’s hard to believe there could be anything good to come of this relationship. And truth be told, pain has already popped its ugly head.

But I’m believing that there’s something to this, there’s a reason and purpose for these developments. Because anyone who’s able to make my sister smile in a way I haven’t seen in years, and laugh in a way I didn’t even remember was possible – has done something very special in my book. They’ve given me a glimpse of hope.

Even if for one day. One day of hoping, one day of believing, one day of seeing the possible.

For ALL things are possible – in Him.

So I believe.

I believe God is working in my sister.

And I believe God’s working in Stewart as well.

As far as human hearts can tell, their lives lie in the unknown. But a God who’s bigger, greater, stronger – a God who sent his Son to save us from ourselves – is in control.

My planful, controlled, always analyzing spirit wants to know why. Why complicate an already complicated situation, God? Why bring them together when they clearly need to focus on themselves right now, God? Why not later, God, when they’re both healed and whole and wholly yours?

And He says in the quiet…

Don’t ask. You don’t need to know now. The story will unfold. It will take its course. I AM working. Lean not on your own understanding, but Mine. Keep your visions, your dreams, your hopes alive. Tuck them away for safe keeping. And trust in Me.

But in the meantime…

It’s time to write. The story is still being written.

Amy

*Stewart granted me permission to share his story in hopes that it will help even one, but for the protection of my sister and because I’d like to leave room for Stewart to share his testimony on this blog someday, I choose to keep the details private for now.

If you’d like to read more about my sister’s story, click here.

It was a productive day, but truth be told, it was too much.

I sent the baby to daycare so I could get work done for the private practice. Work was piling up – reports, insurance billing, patient billing, finances, a license to renew, paper and envelopes to buy, and data forms to print. I got a lot done while she was away, and my work plate feels a lot lighter than it did this morning.

But tonight was a little frantic.

The kids were loud. 11-year-old was hyper, baby was whiny, and 8-year-old kept singing a song over and over and over again until it became annoying to not only me, but everyone in the household.

I barely whipped together a dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Kids were asking for seconds of milk and sandwiches before I even got baby served. And baby ripped her sandwich into pieces, stacking them on top of the tipped over bowl of tomato soup, then put her sippy cup on top and started laughing. There wasn’t a moment, nor enough for me to eat, so I ate later in peace.

Daddy came home. He gave me the look, not once, but twice. This house was loud, and the kids were jazzed. It’s been negative degrees for days, and there’s no getting out. We’re all a little stir crazy to say the least.

I accidentally left a bag of stocking stuffers on the counter, and of course, the kids found it. I quizzed them about what they saw an hour later, and between the two of them, they saw everything except one item. So tonight, after delivering the 8-year-old to gymnastics, I drove to Target, returned everything and started all over again.

I thought the boys planned to bake the Christmas cookies while we were gone at gymnastics, but came home to discover they’d worked out and lounged instead. Let’s just say my grace was lacking when it was 8:20 p.m. on a school night and dad was just starting to bake cookies with the two oldest. I made it clear – “go ahead, but I’ve got to get moving along with all the other stuff I have to get done tonight.”

I got some laundry in the basket and started a load for the girls – they’re both almost out. Picked up clothes strewn on the floor from this morning, semi-nagged my husband to sign up to work concessions at the basketball tournament this weekend, prepared files for tomorrow’s day full of patients, canceled the babysitter for Thursday and found a neighbor to watch instead, responded to my mom’s voice message via text, cleaned the disgusting toilet because the nanny will be here early in the morning, addressed the overdue thank you notes from my son’s birthday party October 19th, and took a shower. All in 40 minutes.

After a cookie or two, the kids were in bed by 9:00. I managed to get in both of their rooms for apologies for a chaotic night, I love yous, and good-night hugs.

Hubs went to bed by 9:50. He’s not happy about turning 40 this week.

And now, it’s just me – alone, in the quiet.

Dishes are piled high in the sink. The counter is greasy and full of crumbles from cookies. I’m feeling not-so-full-of-grace for messes left everywhere. And the wheels are spinning.

This is my life.

This was my life, today.

Where’s Jesus in this?

Where’s Jesus in the mess?

Where’s Jesus in the chaos and confusion?

Where’s Jesus in the mail piled up high?

Where’s Jesus in a world that goes way too fast?

I can’t even think. I can’t keep up.

Is there a way to escape this rat race?

Am I doing it all wrong?

Is there an in-between place of quiet and rush, where I can live not bored, not isolated, but in peace?

Must I move to a deserted island, Lord, to find quiet?

And these dishes, Lord, they’ll still be here in the morning, and it’ll all start all over again. I’ll be going from dawn till dusk and beyond. And then the next day, it’ll all be the same.

My heart races a bit. Tears well in my eyes with the rapid typing of my fingers. Anxiety’s risen to the top from my too-full-day.

Take it slow, He says.

Lean on me.

You’re doing too much.

It’s not up to you.

Your world will never be perfect. Mine will. Mine is.

Step back. Take a breath.

Let yourself cry.

I’m here.

I AM.

Lean not on your own understanding, lean on Me.

Trust not in your ways, trust Mine.

Believe not in what the world says, Believe Me.

I came to save – you. That you might have life.

So live. Breathe. Dance. For me. Because you are free. In Me.

Amy

Gibby, right? Sweet and funny sidekick from iCarly? But think twice. He’s more than just Gibby. He’s Noah Munck.

I had the privilege of meeting Noah for a couple minutes at the Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards pre-party in March. Being the mom that I am, I of course explained that my kids love watching him on iCarly and we were sad the show had wrapped. Noah thanked me kindly, but made it clear he was looking forward to moving on with his acting career in movies and TV shows.

I’ve pulled this picture up on my computer screen more than once since March because as much as I enjoyed meeting Gibby, Noah got me thinking. How many of us want to break free from old, out-of-date, worn-out images of ourselves?

Maybe you’ve been the funny sidekick like Gibby, and you desperately want to be taken seriously for who you really are.

Maybe you’ve always felt like the fat girl, the fat boy, the one on the sidelines, insecure, not good enough.

Maybe you’ve been the quiet one, you feel small, you’re afraid to express your opinions, but long to break out of your shell.

Maybe you’re the good girl, the “perfect” one, doing what’s best, making the right decision in every circumstance, and you just can’t do it anymore.

Maybe you’re the sarcastic one, hiding your true feelings behind jokes that make others feel bad, looking for a laugh when you’re dying on the inside.

Maybe you’ve been addicted, looking for security and stability here, there, anywhere, and you haven’t found it yet, so you shop and you eat and you drink and you work, you wander and you roam, you’re aimless, and it’s getting you nowhere.

Maybe you’ve felt alone, nobody understands, you’ve been abandoned and abused, and you can’t shake the feeling that nobody notices or even cares.

I give you permission today. Break free. You’ve been you, and nothing is wasted on God’s clock, but it’s time to break out of your shell and become who He created you to be. You’re even more than you’ve been. You’re beautiful, you’re you. Perfectly unique, ready to bloom right where you are.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.  Jeremiah 1:5

Amy

Noah’s next project, Swindle, premiering on Nickelodeon August 24th! Best wishes to you Noah.