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 How many of us want to break free from old, out-of-date, worn-out images of ourselves?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.

Weary, weary moms. This is for you. You’re worn, you’re torn. You’re running on empty. You give your all, and it’s the best you can do.

The kids demand your everything. You jump through hoops, bend this way and that, and drive your mini van like a mad man. Where’s the next place, what’s the next thing, why can’t we do that too?

Run here, do this, be this, respond to this, make sure you don’t forget this, and oh yes, your kid’s misbehaving in the moment you weren’t there, so take care of that too.

Forever you’ll be on the balance beam of mom and woman, but remember, you’re not just mom.

Time for you is precious, so steal a moment when you can.

Sit. Pause. Take a deep breath. Be present, and soak in the moment. Wherever it is.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

Amy

The pressure cooker of life wears me down some days, no doubt it wears on others too.

Pressure cooker, defined by Merriam-Webster:

1. an airtight utensil for quick cooking or preserving of foods by means of high-temperature steam under pressure

2. a situation or environment that is fraught with emotional or social pressures

Pressure so great that a prominent pastor’s son ended his life.

Pressure so great that wee ones were and are ripped from wombs.

Pressure so great that innocent spectators and participants were terrorized with pressure cooker bombs at a marathon.

And there’s a baby named Charlotte who has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) Type I. She’s dying. Charlotte’s mama dances with her in the living room to “Blessed Be Your Name” as she holds dear to precious moments that remain.

The grief feels unbearable for Aden’s mama. Her sweet boy passed just weeks ago to cancer, and she and the rest of the family are on a cruise to help relieve the pain, but tears stream in quiet on the ship deck. The pain from loss overwhelms Caribbean beauty, and she sits paralyzed, just her and God in this place of sorrow.

And down your street, men and women fight. Husbands and wives sleeping in different rooms, and they can’t figure out how to fix this. They don’t remember the love, the promise that brought them to the alter years ago. The pressure is building and it needs to be released. Somehow. Now.

On top of all this comes the rain, the sleet, and the snow. We’re hearty here in Minnesota, but when it’s April 18th and it’s been cloudy for weeks and the temperature hasn’t risen above 40-something except for maybe a day, everyone feels the pressure. So when the 1-4 inch snow predicted turned to a major snowstorm in the middle of my work day yesterday, I just about lost it. It had been raining and sleeting all morning as I made my way from house to house for therapy. The sleet turned to snow before my 12:30 visit, so when I returned to my car an hour later, it was covered with a thick layer of snow. And the scraper was nowhere to be found, so my wipers sufficed. Cold snow fell in on the driver’s side arm rest and onto my pants as I pushed the automatic window button, the bare minimum necessary to remove snow from the side windows just enough so I could see. As if denying the snow’s presence was going to make it go away.

The roads were snow packed, the only thing filling baseball fields was snow, and I felt like I was trapped in a snow globe with no hope of ever getting out.

Even the snow packed trees were hard to see as beautiful because I kept thinking it’s April 18th, and we’re supposed to be wearing flip flops and shorts and playing outside on the playground today. For when life’s served you too much pressure, and there’s never an opening for release, finding beauty, finding something to be grateful for is like finding a needle in a haystack.

And when I got home, the task of clearing the driveway from inches of snow loomed.

The school had called notifying us of a school delay and my husband stayed late to avoid the traffic, so after the girls went to bed, my son volunteered to help me shovel.

I shoveled one strip all the way down the driveway, and to be honest, I wasn’t up to the task. But my son, he was pressing on, and I didn’t have to beg or plea, so I thought it best for me to be an example.

After a while, I told him “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too long, it’s too cold.” “Who cares,” he said, and kept shoveling. After that, I was determined to finish that driveway, to be an example whether I liked it or not.

The cold pressed in even greater. The snow was heavy, and it felt like each shovel-full was 20 pounds. And in my grumbling, my complaining to myself, I thought of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, how her book and her blog and through nearly three years of reading, her message of gratitude, of eucharisteo, has been pressing in on me. So I gave thanks for my son who was still shoveling and not complaining one bit, for a flurry of snowflakes illuminated by the street light.

But in all honesty, those moments of gratitude turned to anger because I was still shoveling heavy loads of snow, and there was still half of the driveway to shovel, and it was still. April 18th. In the allowing myself to experience that anger, I thought of messages on anger I heard earlier that day on faith radio, how when we’re angry our “personhood,” our sense of security is threatened. And another message I heard last week about turning our anger not towards others but FOR others, so justice can be served for all the right reasons.

And I realized, I am angry. My sense of security has been threatened, my “personhood” has been threatened. So I started throwing snow in the name of justice. I threw snow for the tiny souls that never got to breathe a breath. I threw snow for little Charlotte who’s going to pass to heaven while still an infant, for Charlotte’s mom who will grieve the death of her precious daughter before she knows it. I threw snow for the little boy whose beautiful life was cut short because evil prevailed through a bomb. And I asked God why? WHY?

In those moments of anger and throwing snow for justice and asking God why, these verses came to mind…

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from Godand not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.  2 Corinthians 4:7-11

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Matthew 11:28-30

So I stopped and I stood still near the end of the driveway. The wind picked up, the snow blew cold on my cheeks, and I heard His still small voice “Feel my presence, even in the cold. Even in the cold.”

Amy

It had been a long day at work and I was on my way home, driving on the open road. The sunlight was coming through the trees just like it does in the movies, and David Crowder Band’s “How He Loves Us” was playing loud on the radio. They wrote a song from their hearts, then, there. My heart received it here, now.

I clicked on the post, just like every day, nearly three years now. Ann Voskamp, the one who has been my lifeline, the one who directs me to true north. This time, what I needed from Ann, from God, was hidden. A click within her post brought me back five months to a post I needed that day, words about God’s call. She writes the song of my heart, then, there. My heart receives it daily, here, now.

Jeremy Camp’s “Overcome” played on my iPod as I ran the track overcome by such truth, and a few minutes of complete understanding washed over me. He wrote it one day, then, there. My heart was desperate for those words, here, now.

God knew I needed the words of an ordinary woman, one that’s so human and feels a little flawed and is in need of divine direction. He brought me a humble, loving, kind one who is Simply Striving, Nikki. Her blog, a welcoming and faith-filled place, and this week, not once, but twice, the words I needed. She shared her heart, then, there. My heart needed to know it’s not alone, here, now.

These ordinary and extraordinary human beings? Courage led them to share their heart through the mediums of song and word. And I can’t help but think this is the story of my life.

It’s been one year this week since I decided to move forward, follow what I believe was a nine year call to write. Because messages and thoughts came in, and I couldn’t get them to go away. They came again and again, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things I wanted to share, the things I had to say. The song was in my heart, and I began composing sentences and paragraphs in my mind. And at that point? I knew those words could no longer be stuck HERE. in my brain. NO. Those words needed to be shared. That was the call. That was God’s call. I have something to say that you need to hear. Here. In this place. On this blog.

And although maybe more posts that not this year have been more about my growth, my development, my movement towards Him, my perception of our current reality, I want YOU to know this place is for YOU. This is not just my hobby, this place has something to do with my calling. I share words from my heart, here, for YOU.

Hopes that YOU will no longer feel alone. Hopes that I speak truth, to YOU. Hopes that YOU come to this place and find rest and peace. Hopes that YOU can find depth, something greater, something better. Hopes that I speak straight to YOUR heart.

Here.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.  John 10:14

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 (#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 HERE.

 

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 (#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 AFTER.

 

 

My natural inclination is to walk rather than run. I walk fast, I walk hard, I walk long.

But since October, I’ve been running, more than ever. And I get it. I understand why a runner runs.

For when I run, I’m running from something, through something, for something, to something. There’s power and there’s healing in running. One foot in front of the next, hard against the road, I’m propelled by something greater. Nothing can stop me. And after a run like that, all I want is to do it again.

That dream of mine, to run a marathon? It’s no longer so far fetched. Because now I understand the power of the race.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Hebrews 12:1

Amy