It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is ROOTS. 

Ready. Set. GO!

I’m closer to 40 than 30, but I’m still a people pleaser. I don’t just want you to like me. I want you to understand me. I want you to know the real me. I want you to know what makes me tick. I want you to know who I am.

Nearly impossible, I know.

Who really knows all of me but God anyway?

Recently, a comment on my personal Facebook page made me realize I care way too much what you think of me. It bothers me when I am misperceived, thought of as something I am not. It sticks in my mind, lingers. I hate how it lingers. What you say, how you respond to me can get to me. If I know deep in my heart that you don’t get me, that you don’t understand what it is I am trying to say, then I am frustrated. And those thoughts linger. You don’t know me. You don’t get me. How can I make you understand?

My husband says I care too much, it matters little what others think. He tells me to back off that Facebook page a bit. I say I can’t. Maybe I’m like an addict, looking for a high, but for one reason or another, come away feeling worse half of the time. I need to cut it off cold turkey.

Always second guessing on that personal page…Did I post too many pictures? Am I complaining too much? Too goodie two shoes? Talking too much about my kids? Sharing information that should be kept private, secure? Too vague, too detailed? Too shallow, too deep? Do you like the photo I posted of you? Are you offended because I didn’t mention you in that post, or because I did mention you in that post? Do you feel left out, should I feel left out? Did I offend you? Should I even be talking about this on Facebook? Do you want to hear about my vacation? Can I post more or is less better?

The thing I must do is go back to my roots. Give up this personal Facbeook page for a bit and get back to my roots. My authentic self, God, and who He created me to be. I’m me, and I can’t keep worrying about what you think. It is just getting to me. And I want to be me.

I am who I am. I need to know that is ok, even if you don’t understand.

Because the truth is this…the only one I have to please is God, by being me.

Starting today, I will be taking a 47 day break from posting on my personal Facebook page. In honor of my first born, my second born, and my last born. I will be an authentic role model.

Stop.

May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. Psalm 19:14

Amy

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is WELCOME. 

Ready. Set. GO!

My daughter dances. We’re at a new studio, so I’m still getting acclimated. Each week I meet and greet the few people I know, and find my secret place to watch through the windows. All in that secret space – my daughter’s class, the class across the way with middle school girls, and the class across the other way with high school dancers. The high school girls move me. The sassy song playing repeatedly, dancers in the dark, twirling and swirling, down on the floor, arms up, down, and all around. These girls are awesome, and I want to dance like them.

When I was a girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. In my adult years, I’ve daydreamed of being a back-up dancer for a singer. Fierce and powerful, without hesitating a single step. I want to be like that. Maybe it’s a mixture of beautiful ballerina and fierce backup dancer that I want to be?

These girls dancing. I watch them every week. The little ones behind me, the big ones in front of me.

This week, the high school girls came out in the hall, out of the normal routine. Alone with their phones for a bit, then talking.

My baby on the floor took one of their water bottles and started playing. They gathered around, in fact, hovered around. A girl I noticed had been quiet prior was now close by the baby. She told me she nannied for four children this past summer. Quiet girl with much behind those eyes, I had identified earlier as maybe being like myself, and now this love for the baby so evident, bright and shining. Then all the girls, loving on the baby. Just as they were. Just as I was. Just as the baby was. All quietly giggling, watching, admiring this baby, those sweet toes, those precious little hands pushing on the bottle making snapping and crackling noises and baby smiling up at the girls. I felt so welcome among these girls 20 years younger than me. Minimal words necessary. We were one. There is hope in this generation, camaraderie. Welcome.

Stop.

They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion; they will rejoice in the bounty of the Lord — the grain, the new wine and the olive oil, the young of the flocks and herds. They will be like a well-watered garden, and they will sorrow no more. Then young women will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. I will satisfy the priests with abundance, and my people will be filled with my bounty,” declares the Lord.  Jeremiah 31: 12-14

Amy

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last two hours of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is GRASP. 

Ready. Set. GO!

I admit, I’ve been having some body image issues lately. My baby is nine months, and I’ve been stuck five pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight for four months.

Last Sunday, getting ready for church, I was possibly at my worst. I stood in the closet, looking for what to wear. I put on a pear of my bigger pants. Even those didn’t fit. This is the problem I’ve had for months. Nothing fits except the leggings. Capri leggings in the summer, and now long leggings for the colder weather. None of the regular pants fit and it is making me crazy. Some say, “oh, just get some different pants,” or “don’t worry, you’ll fit into them soon enough.” But it has really been getting me down that NONE of the pants fit in my closet, and I don’t want to buy all new pants!

So this pair of pants, one of the bigger pair, was my best bet. I put them on and the fat rolled off the side just as I hated with every other pair. I wish I could just be ok with it and wear them that way. But I feel fat and uncomfortable with that fat rolling off the side.

Then I wonder if a shirt will help cover it up. That didn’t help at all. In fact, the shirt highlights the fat even more.

Maybe a double layer will help. The plain sweater, camoflauge it all? Nope. That didn’t do it either. The fat still shows through even with the double layer. I am feeling worse and worse as every layer goes on.

Then I strip it all off and put on the flowy dress with the flowy vest and leggings. And it all feels covered, and nobody can see all of the dilemma I faced in that closet, the tears, the agony, the fight within myself.

I look over at that dress I wore one year ago when I was pregnant. Oh so pretty. Bought that regular dress so I could “wear it after,” but it still doesn’t fit, and that makes me just want to be pregnant all my life so I don’t have to worry about feeling fat anymore.

And then I hear crying from the room next door to that closet. Little baby. I enter, and there is baby standing up in her crib, and I grasp at the beauty I birthed from this body. This body, what I call fat, birthed this being. And enters another being I birthed, my son. From within this fat, came him too. And they are beautiful. And they love. And they are so much more than my fat, my feelings of inadequacy in my own body. And it all makes more sense, and it all puts it in a new light. And I grasp for the truth God speaks to my heart…I feel fat, but I am blessed. And God says I am beautiful.

Stop.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 1 Peter 3:3-4

Amy

It is a privilege to introduce you to Christopher, who is in my opinion, the best swimming instructor I’ve met!

My children recently completed another round of swimming lessons at Foss Swim School. Having grown up in a household with two master public school teachers, owning a private practice as a speech-language pathologist, and defaulting to perfectionistic personality traits, I’ve discovered that I have high expectations of my childrens’ teachers. Most of the time, a dose of reality and a little grace helps me remember these are just people doing their best, but once in a while a teacher comes along that rocks my world and exceeds every expectation I have.

So it took about two minutes of observing Christopher with my son the first day of swimming lessons to realize he was going to be the best swimming instructor my children have had (seven years of lessons for two children, instructors too many to count)! I started watching closely and realized that whether he knows it or not, Christopher has swim instruction down to a science. The beauty is that his methods are not robotic in any way. Christopher’s instruction is so natural, so clearly reflects who he is, that he couldn’t possibly instruct differently if he tried!

I decided to write down everything Christopher did so I could see exactly what it was I valued so much about his instruction.

I captured the essence of Christopher’s excellence over the course of eight swimming lessons, which resulted in the following 25 observations…

• Quickly learns the name of each child in the group.
• Uses an authoritative vocal quality to obtain and maintain control of children during class.
• Observable energy and enthusiasm for swimming.
• Spends time teaching each stroke prior to letting the children try it.
• Demonstrates each stroke prior to having the children try, reminds the children to “watch me” before demonstrating.
• Sometimes asks children to attempt the stroke outside of the pool prior to entrance into the water.

 

• Incorporates proper etiquette, “remember guys, girls go first!”
• Allows children to try first and corrects only when necessary.
• Determines very quickly which parent goes with each child, and is not afraid to engage parents during class with on-the-spot feedback specific to their child.
• Effortlessly blends gestures with verbal instruction. For example, demonstrates a stroke while verbalizing “breathe tuck fly, breathe tuck fly, breathe tuck fly.” Gestures for one child to start swimming while he verbalizes to another child already swimming “kick, kick, kick, breathe tuck fly.”
• Effortlessly blends physical prompts with verbal instruction. For example, while verbalizing “straight leg,” “stomach up” he provides physical assistance to help the children achieve proper form.
• Keeps a quick pace and flow during class, naming students to indicate it’s their turn. “Ashlyn GO, Corey GO, Savannah GO” and points the direction they are to go.
• Provide targets for the children. For example, he holds his hand up to indicate where children should kick, how far they should reach their arms up.
• Not afraid to physically assist children into proper position for each stroke. If necessary, he gets them into proper position and moves them through a few strokes in slow motion; this is a practice I have very rarely seen swim instructors use.

• Provides children with verbal praise, high fives, encouragement, and detailed feedback. For example, “That was a really hard arm movement and a really tough kick, great try!”
• Keeps a close eye on all children in the class, even when engaging one-on-one with a child. Notices when children are off task and redirects immediately.
• Uses repetition to enhance learning. For example, “1 2 3 and down, 1 2 3 breath and down.”
• Integrates age appropriate metaphors to teach strokes. For example, refers to pizza and pushing cell phone buttons when cueing proper hand position.
• Introduces physical props (e.g., noodle) only when necessary, if children are unable to master a skill on their own.

• Indicates to the children how much time remains of the lesson, or how many laps to completion. For example, “four minutes left” or “last time.”
• Assigns and demonstrates homework.
• Greets and touches base with parents after each lesson.
• Acknowledges siblings.
• Makes a final contact with each student before leaving, smiles and jokes as appropriate.
• Demonstrates a fondness for each child and makes each one feel special.

After my son’s first lesson with Christopher, I went into the hallway and noticed a wall of swim instructors’ photographs and bios. Christopher was in the center, highlighted as one of the Fab Five. “This group goes above and beyond the call of duty.” Doesn’t that describe Christopher perfectly?

It is with love that I introduce you to my college sweetheart and husband of 14 years, Seth.

In a room full of people, Seth tells me I am the most beautiful.

He tells me I look beautiful even when I don’t feel beautiful.

He says to our kids “Don’t you have the most beautiful mama?”

Seth offers manicures and pedicures, but being low maintenance with hair and nails, I never take him up on the offer.

At least once a year, he gives me a complete outfit from my favorite store, always more than I feel is necessary.

When our baby was days old and I was in severe pain from nursing and the kids had taken every last drop of my energy, Seth took my hand and danced with me in the hallway.

When I’m crying in fatigue or frustration, or ranting and raving because something didn’t go as expected, he listens and invites me closer.

And when I reach my end, need a break, when I need filling up, when I’m not so beautiful on the inside anymore – Seth gives me the gift of freedom to do what I need to do to become beautiful again.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law gave me money for my birthday, the only request to use it for something that makes me happy. I knew just what I wanted – to attend a Women of Faith conference where my favorite blogger Ann Voskamp was scheduled to speak. I really needed a weekend away by myself.

I found a floor level ticket on Craigslist. Cyndi promised via phone “you won’t be disappointed” with the seat. Seth, although leery of Craigslist scams, gave me permission to purchase the ticket.

So three days ago, Seth got up, packed the car, loaded three kids, and was off to his parents’ house.

And so began my weekend. The gift. From Seth: The gift of freedom to attend the conference and do whatever it was that helped me feel all was right with the world again.

The gift of being lost in time…laundry, finances, phone calls, putting toys back in their place, organizing files, email, getting ready for the day without kids at my feet. Five hours.

Lost in time so much I forgot to research how long it would take to get to the conference. The trip was 1 ½ hours longer than I thought! If things went perfectly, I would arrive a half hour before the event would start.

One hour into the drive, I hit road construction, driving 5-15 mph for at least 45 minutes.

The gift of accepting what was. It was ok if I arrived late.

The gift of freedom to run in and out of Jimmy John’s, kid-free.

The gift of a quiet drive by myself, the open fields, the windmills. The wind at my back.

The gift of free choice, flipping through radio stations, stopping at songs that spoke to my heart and soul. Jesus Take the Wheel by Carrie Underwood, I Can’t Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt, Amazing Grace by Chris Tomlin, too many to count.

Car says I have 20 miles of gas and sign says I have 15 miles to Des Moines. I’m not sure I can make it. I fill, just enough to get me there. Isn’t that the way it’s been?

The gift of time. I arrive at the hotel at 6:49, event starts at 7:00.

The gift of learning to trust my intuition, again. Cyndi was not a Craigslist scammer. The ticket was real!

The gift of accepting a table prepared for me. Opening the curtain to see a full arena, beautiful music overwhelming, down a long flight of stairs to the floor level, tears welling up in my eyes as I was led to my seat by one, two, three people, transferring my care along the way up to the 4^th row, front and center. My seat did not disappoint.

The gift of laughter. Ken Davis made me laugh so hard I cried. I can’t remember the last time I did that.

The gift of Sheila Walsh’s words “Can you imagine if every day you believed the God of the Universe loves you just the way you are?”

The gift of a beautiful voice in CeCe Winans.

The gift of a quiet room, a bed to myself.

The gift of putting my feet up.

The gift of pizza delivery to my hotel room.

And the next day…

The gift of Liz Curtis Higgs’ words “You are beautiful, right now, as you are, to this God.”

The gift of Christine Caine’s unflinching desire for us to proclaim “Today, I’m going to step into the purpose and power of God.”

The gift of finding myself reflected in a woman I had never heard of before today, Angie Smith. My fears, my dreams, all reflected in her on stage.

The gift of being seen. The original purpose of my journey, to see Ann Voskamp speak, now more than fulfilled, I walked as quickly as I could to the autograph area. I was 31^st in line of 35 allowed to photograph and autograph with Ann. My heart was racing, grateful I made it in time. I grabbed the attention of a stranger and arranged for a picture of me with this Ann whose blog has spoken to my soul for two years. Just 3-4 people from meeting Ann, we got word they were shutting down, “only two more.” Ann had to go. I saw the guard approach, I saw Ann’s panic, I saw her heart turn to us remaining in line, looking at each one of us, eyes full of disappointment she could not greet us then smiling in a resigned, apologetic sort of way, cupped her hands with gratitude uttering “thank you,” waved, and turned away with the guard. It took me a while to realize I had welled up with tears of disappointment; I was distracted with amazement and gratitude that those of us left in line were acknowledged so whole-heartedly. Though I did not get to meet Ann, my eyes were fully open in that moment to see deep into her heart. Moments later, Ann on stage, I realized the pull she must feel between her heart and current reality, her book One Thousand Gifts on the New York Times Best Sellers List a crazy number of weeks.

The gift of authenticity accepted in Selah’s Amy Perry. Her story and then song through tears, moving the audience to ovation.

The gift of feeling like I could be me.

And on the way home, I stop at Boondocks USA gas station with only 23 miles of gas remaining. And this time I fill up, and I am filled up.

And when I got home….

The gift of hearing God speak quietly to my heart as I walked in the door – now write it out, live it out. I did, and I will.

Thank you Seth, my dear love of my life, for giving me the gift of this weekend. This gift of freedom, of time, of renewal and refreshment, of remembering who I am and who I want to be, of drawing closer to God, so I can be the wife and mama I want to be.

Amy

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.   1 Corinthians 13: 4-7