On June 12, 2013, I spent 1 hour 45 minutes drafting a blog post I wanted to publish for Father’s Day in honor of my dad, known to many of you as Mr. Femling. I had a plan in mind, a vision of what I wanted to do for my dad. But there came a time, even after all the effort I put into writing that draft, that I felt overwhelmed. This was too big of a task for one person to take on. Emotions and uncertainty stirred up in me as I got further into the post. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to complete the post, publish it, and execute my plan, but I just wasn’t sure. So I dropped it.

The blog post has been sitting in my draft archives for a year, but it hasn’t escaped my mind.

One month ago, I approached my husband and shared what I wanted to do for my dad. I considered the possibility of dedicating a chunk of time for it on the blog in June, maybe even make it a series. But the way I had it all planned out in my mind felt too big, required far too much planning, and the outcome wasn’t guaranteed. While my husband appreciated my thoughtfulness, he assured me that repairing this piece of history wasn’t my responsibility, so after much thought, I decided once again to drop the concept.

But the blog post still hasn’t escaped my mind.

I still feel compelled to act.

So let’s get right to it!

Father’s Day is in two days.

My dad has a rare lung disease and recently had a heart attack. He’s not felt well since.

My dad has been retired for eight years, but I think most people would agree that the end of his career as a public school band director was less than ideal. I won’t attempt to explain, but quite honestly, it was a challenging time for my dad and our family. We tried to help my dad process and manage an unexpected ending to his lifelong career as band director, but by the time he officially retired, we were also two years in to the worst of my sister’s battle with addiction and mental illness.

All of this to say that I believe my dad was not given a proper retirement celebration. None of us had an opportunity to celebrate and honor my dad’s awesome career!

Another thing I regret is that I never got to see him direct his last concert. Under normal circumstances, performing and attending his last concert would have been a big deal.

It’s been eight years since my dad’s retirement, so you’d think I would have gotten over this by now. But it’s always bothered me that he never got the celebration and acknowledgement he deserved for all the years he put in as a band director.

I’ve feared that my dad will pass away someday having NEVER heard first hand the awesome ways he touched peoples’ lives through his role as band director. I’ve feared that my dad will pass away someday with sadness remaining in his heart about the way his career ended. I’ve feared that there will never be true closure for my dad or our family. I’ve feared that I will regret having never done anything about it, that I’ll carry this burden to my own death bed, wishing I would’ve done something to honor and celebrate my dad’s career.

With that in mind, my dad deserves one gift and it’s long overdue.

So today, I’m taking action.

Today, I honor and celebrate my dad!

Today, I turn pain into peace, regrets into closure, make wrongs right.

Today, let’s open our hearts and celebrate a man who passionately pursued his career. Let’s recognize a man who showed up at work, with honor, every single day. Let’s give praise to a man who went above and beyond, a man who communicated without hesitation the integrity and excellence he expected from his students. Let’s let him know his passion was worth the pursuit.

Today, I’m throwing a belated retirement party for my dad! It’s happening right here, right now, in this place, on this space, right here on this blog.

Yes, it’s unconventional. Yes, some will most certainly think it’s odd.

Yes, it’s spontaneous and NOT the way I usually do things. I don’t know the outcome and I don’t know if word of this virtual retirement party will spread like I want it to.

But I’m taking the risk anyway – for my dad.

I can’t change the past, but I can change how I respond to it.

Today, I fight for justice, do what’s right for the sake of another human being who happens to be my dad.

So here’s how this is going to work!

1) Please share this blog post on your Facebook page so as many people can read the post and participate as possible. If you know my dad and/or live(d) in one of the three cities where he taught, take special note. I need you to spread the word. Simple word of mouth will work, but you’ll have to share the name and URL of my website, Divine In The Daily at www.amybethpederson.com. Thank you in advance for your help. The more we get this post out, the more well wishes my dad will receive and the more fun memories he’ll be able to relive.

2) Please leave your messages and well wishes for my dad right here on the blog! Write what you would’ve written in a greeting card if you would’ve been invited to a retirement party for my dad. Be brave. Be bold. Be positive and encouraging, loving and kind. Share memories you have about my dad when he was your colleague, your band director, or your childrens’ band director. There are two ways to leave messages for my dad on the blog. (Scroll down a little further and you’ll find the comments below this post.) You can leave a message in the Facebook comments section of my blog. If you leave a message using that method, my dad will be able to see your picture and respond to you directly. If you don’t have a Facebook account and/or prefer to be more anonymous, you can also leave a wish for my dad in the regular comments section!

3) If you feel strongly about maintaining confidentiality, but would still like to send my dad a message, please feel free to email me your letters at amybpederson@hotmail.com and I will be sure to forward all messages to my dad.

4) I would LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to get some pictures from my dad’s years teaching band. If you have a picture of my dad (and you?!) at any point during his band directing years and are willing to give me permission to use it, I would love a digital copy to include on the blog. I realize my dad retired before digital photography became popular, so simply take a photograph of the photograph, and send it to me via email. All photographs can be emailed to amybpederson@hotmail.com. *If you email me a photograph, I assume you also give me permission to share it publicly within the body of this blog post! I am looking for oldies, but goodies! Please send as many photographs as you’d like! This could be great fun for my dad. Marching band, pep band, concerts, solo and ensemble contests, jazz bands, staff or department parties, whatever!

5) If you have any other creative ideas for making this even more fun, please feel free to send me a message with your idea(s) at amybpederson@hotmail.com. Want to make a cake and send it to my dad? Great idea. Want to bring dinner to my parents or send a gift card so they can go out to eat? Great idea. Want to send balloons and flowers? Great idea. Want to dig up some old VHS footage of concerts and transfer it to DVD so we can have it to view for a lifetime? Great! Have connections and know the person who has footage of the last concert my dad directed? AWESOME. WE WANT A COPY. Please share.

6) Return to the site throughout the week. I will leave this post at the top of my homepage for at least one week, so it will be easy to find. If all goes well, people will be posting new messages for my dad throughout the week. And I’ll be adding fun photographs you won’t want to miss! So come, mingle, peruse, share memories and enjoy the fun!

So that’s about it! As I type this, I admit, I’m more than a little nervous. There are no guaranteed outcomes. But I believe, whether five people respond or 50 respond, they have something to say that will bring my dad joy, peace and freedom.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you in advance for the kind words you’re about to leave for my dad. Because he deserves to hear how awesome he was, how awesome he is.

May this post be filled with words of encouragement, of blessing, of thanks and gratitude for a man whose career as band director was amazing, incredible and remarkable.

And before I leave this space to y’all, I’ll start us off on the right note! Our son started band lessons this week, and guess what he decided to play? Trumpet.

Amy (Mr. Femling’s daughter)

THANKS FOR THE SUBMITTED PHOTOS!

The Marvelous Mirage rock band, together after 42 years! Photo taken October 6, 2013. Submitted by Tiffany Femling.

Photographs of the 1988-89 school year! Submitted by Joel Kosman

That last night in Haiti, I sat on the edge of a bed in a Port-au-Prince hotel room facing my roommate, Georgeann. I’d just met this woman one week prior, but I’d learned enough of her to know she was authentic and completely trustworthy. So in that moment, both of us bare-footed and ready for bed, with all the noise and clamor of Port-au-Prince in the background, I shared the secret of my heart.

There are things I’ve experienced here in Haiti that I’ve never come close to experiencing back home.

Yep. These are the things that have been weighing on my heart. These are the things that have been pressing on my soul since I returned from Haiti, nearly two months ago now. These are the things that call to me, speak to me, dare me to find the soonest opportunity to return to that beautiful country. These are the things I long for when I know in my heart I’m missing Haiti.

How was it possible for me to develop such a deep and rich love for a country I visited only one week?

How is it possible that an adoptive mom’s story really is true, that she’s never heard of anyone going to Haiti just once?

And the question I’ve asked myself time and time again since I returned – why would God have brought me to a place I loved so much, a place that sat so perfectly with my soul, only to take me away again?

It takes me a second to realize the obvious – my family and friends are here in the United States. Of course I desire, of course God desires for me to return to my country, to live, love, nurture and serve those He’s placed in my path. Here.

My life is here.

My life. is here.

My life is beautiful, blessed and rich beyond measure.

But my heart still speaks. That deepest place calls out, longs to linger in the beautiful match Haiti was for my soul.

Perhaps you understand if you’ve been to Haiti.

So I believe. God will have me return.

I believe God is already preparing a way.

I believe He knows exactly where I’ll go next, exactly where He’ll have me next.

And I’ll be open, beyond ready when it’s time to go. Because I know, He will call.

It’ll be specific. And it’ll be with people and for purposes far greater than myself.

Because I simply can’t afford what Haiti needs. Nor can I afford what Haiti has to offer.

So I lend myself as an offering, before He calls. I’m willing to go, it’s my desire, no doubt.

But in the quiet God tames me. He says wait. Hold up. I’m working. Wait. Not yet. Let My plan unfold. I will show you the way.

So I wait.

Patiently.

Very patiently.

I ponder and pray over every clue, wondering if this is what He’d have me do.

And I ponder all the reasons I dared to utter that sentence in the Port-au-Prince hotel room…

There are things I’ve experienced here in Haiti that I’ve never come close to experiencing back home.

I keep these things close, tucked away in the recesses of my heart. For God bestowed on me these most precious gifts, and I’ll treasure them as such until He calls me to return to that beautiful, soul-stirring place called Haiti.

That beautiful place where mamas aren’t afraid to tell truths about the depths of their pain, and they aren’t afraid to share the source of their joy either.

That beautiful place where girls showed me what it looks like to have a servant heart. That beautiful place where I learned what it really means to receive.

That beautiful place where kids from extreme poverty say “I love my life.”

That beautiful place where dreamers dream and believe ALL things are possible, with God, through Christ – even when ALL signs suggest otherwise.

That beautiful place where words mean something. Yes, that beautiful place where words are powerful, limitless, LIFE GIVING.

That beautiful place where simplicity wins, integrity shines, and dignity is always of the utmost importance.

That beautiful place where creativity is fostered, not forced.

That beautiful place where leaders rise among sleeping giants. That beautiful place where great leaders of a country literally stand before you. And you can feel it, this rising up of of a nation as they fulfill their call.

That beautiful place where hearts just like yours affirm, make you feel known, completely understood, tell you you’re beautiful, we love you just the way you are.

That beautiful, beautiful place where humble hearts reign. And you’ve never experienced humility like that ever, ever before. And you finally know, THAT’S what true humility looks like. Yes, that’s a beautiful place.

That beautiful place where joy is unspeakable. And pain is never, ever far away.

That beautiful place where faith crosses every border.

That beautiful place where human souls sing, triumph, keep pressing forward…even if, even though…

That beautiful place where eyes can’t help but notice the poverty, the destitution, the lack of everything, everywhere. That beautiful place where I couldn’t help but notice the wealth, the riches, the abundance in everyone, everywhere.

Yes. Those are the things about Haiti that I can’t quite replicate here, back at home. Those are the things that have been hard to explain. Those are the things that have lingered in my heart. Those are the things that call me, beckon me to return.

Is it possible for a heart to be 100% engaged in one place and 100% engaged in another? So be it. Let it be mine.

If, for any reason, these words have spoken to the deepest part of you, whether you’ve been to Haiti or not, please let me know via comment, Facebook message, or email. Whatever God has in store for me and Haiti, I’m most certainly going to need travel partners. I’m believing He might have one or more of you join me in the future. Who’s it going to be?

Some food for thought this Friday afternoon.

Blessings on your journey, wherever it may lead you.

Amy

**If you’d like to read about my journey to Haiti in February 2014, click on this link and read to the bottom where you’ll find links to every post I wrote about Haiti. It’s an honor to invite anyone and everyone into this life changing story.

When you’ve been deceived, it’s crucial you find your way back to truth.

So I sat in bed with nothing but my laptop, my Bible and a pen, ready to receive revelation about this I’m too much, not enough business.

Little did I know, revelation was about to kick in because of the words on that pen.

20 months ago, I stood in line at the Women of Faith conference in Iowa, waiting to meet Ann Voskamp, my favorite blogger. They counted us off; there was time for 35 of us to meet Ann. I was 31st in line. There were only two or three people in front of me when the security guard told us it was time to shut down the line. The conference was about to resume. Those of us remaining in line wouldn’t be able to meet Ann.

I didn’t get the opportunity to greet Ann that day, but I learned something important from her, something really important. She showed me a bit of Jesus. Before she left, she looked at each one of us in line, cupped her hands in gratitude, and graciously and lovingly waved good-bye. She noticed we were there. She hadn’t forgotten us, even in the hurry, even when she was being pulled in another direction. I saw her heart, and I saw His heart for me.

After Ann left, the woman who accompanied her gave us a pen. While I could’ve chosen to view that pen as a consolation prize and thrown it in the junk drawer, I’ve treasured it for 20 months. Printed on it, One Thousand Gifts and the verse Ephesians 5:20.

It wasn’t until this Good Friday that I sat on my bed, with my laptop, Bible AND pen in hand, and read Ephesians 5:20.

As I read more of Ephesians 5, it dawned on me. This is the book, this is the chapter I’ve been living this Holy Week. This is the battle I’ve been fighting. This is the truth I’ve been trying to believe, live.

On Monday, in the first post of this series, Too Much, I stated the following…

“If we bring these lies into the light, we’ll expose them for what they are – flat out lies, false beliefs we’ve held about ourselves for way too long, for no good reason. And truth is? We’ve got to release these lies. Or the enemy will keep us right where he wants us. Flat on the ground, no good for anything, and certainly not up to fulfilling the awesome plans God has in store for us.”

And on Good Friday, there with my Bible and pen in hand, I read this…

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth, and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: “Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.  Ephesians 5:8-17

The fruitless deeds of darkness…I’m too much, not enough. I exposed and explored those lies all week. It felt good to let it all out, and my decision to do so was intentional, purposeful. Because I’m desperate for you to know you’re not alone, desperate to rid myself of the lies and live in the light.

But putting all those lies out there with no response, no resolution, no hope, no promise, have left me, for the most part, feeling shameful, empty, purposeless. I’m pretty sure that’s right where the enemy wants each and every one of us – stuck in the den of lies.

So it’s time to live in the truth of Ephesians. It’s time to wake up, rise from the dead, live wise, make the most of every opportunity, and understand the Lord’s will. Because I want to live in the light, not in the darkness.

I proceeded to review truths that came to mind throughout Holy Week…

For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.  Romans 3:23-24

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  2 Corinthians 12:9

For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace.  Romans 6:5

Perhaps it’s true. We aren’t enough, we are too much – if we live without Him.

Perhaps it’s grace I haven’t understood. What is this grace anyway?

Perhaps in all these feelings of inadequacy, I need to believe, more fully, the truths about grace.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.  Ephesians 2:8-10

Grace. It’s key to the freedom, peace and joy we’re all seeking.

And faith? It’s about our believing – in Him. It’s about us trusting – He has us in the palm of His hand – even when this great big world seems like it’s falling apart.

So how do we live as children of light?

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Romans 12:12

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.  Romans 12: 21

And we must not forget to put on the armor of God. Because this believing everything about us is too much, not enough? It’s proof we’re in battle. The enemy’s plotting and scheming, struggling to find his way in to our souls, into our everyday lives.

Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  Ephesians 6:13-17

And remember, before Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit on the cross, He uttered these last words…

“It is finished.”  John 19:30

So live in the truth.

It. is. finished.

He paid the price for me. He paid the price for you. It’s His gift, for us.

So live, knowing it’s not your good works that save you, but faith. 

Live, knowing it’s not about your performance. It’s about your growing understanding of grace, God’s free and unmerited favor.

Live, knowing you’re ENOUGH, with Him.

Wake up sleeper, rise from the dead.

You’re ENOUGH, with Him.

Amy

*This is the final post in a 4-part Holy Week series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough.” If you missed the first three posts, check them out at the following links…

Part 1: Too Much

Part 2: The Real-Life Implications of this Too Much, Not Enough Business

Part 3: When It’s Good Friday and You Just Know You’re Not Enough

It’s hard to live up to the world’s elusive standards.

We wonder if anything about us is enough.

We wonder if we’ll ever be good enough, strong enough, tough enough, sensitive enough, or smart enough to bear the weight of the world.

The measuring stick’s out. And we know, we just know we don’t measure up. There’s no way, no way we can meet those standards. We fall short, judge ourselves against the biggest, the baddest, the brightest on the playing field. We work hard to become better, attain whatever it is we believe will make us whole, worthy, acceptable. It’s hard work, and sometimes it’s even exciting, fulfilling and exhilarating work. But even in all that, even after we’ve done our best, worked our hardest, there’s still a part of us that feels we could’ve done better, we could’ve done more, we weren’t quite good enough. We ask the inevitable question, is it enough to just be myself? Or will I constantly have to be better, go further, longer, harder to meet the standards of this world?

Yes, that’s the space I want to address today.

The space that whispers quietly, but persistently – You’re not enough. You didn’t do enough. You just don’t measure up. You’re not good enough. Nothing. about you. is. enough. It‘s all a bunch of lies. That’s right. A bunch of lies.

Those ugly words? They leave you in a constant state of defeat. And that’s never a good place to be.

So let’s go there. Let’s unpack those dirty old lies – I’m not enough, you’re not enough.

And I’m starting with me. Yep, that’s right. I’m about to toss all those lies out, right into the trash pile. The enemy of my soul wants me to be stuck in a place of defeat, of never being enough, and I’m tired of it. He will not win this battle. So I’m tossing his lies out the door. Right now.

Let me be clear. These are lies.

This is how I feel about those lies. And this is what I’m going to do with those lies.

You’re not enough.

Kicking it in the trash pile.

You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. Just keep working harder and harder and harder. Don’t stop. Never stop. You’ll never be good enough. Never. Keep working until you’re dry to the bone, until every drop’s dried. Do it. Do it. You’ll never live up to the standard of good. Never. But you better keep trying because that’s what good girls do. They work hard and they always do good. Just be quiet. Say less. Be more. Do more. Work harder. Keep striving. Never stop. You’re not good enough, so keep working, keep working, keep working.

Enough. Kicking it to the trash pile.

All those roles you play? You’re most definitely NOT good enough in any of them.

Garbage toss.

Epic mom failure? Yep. Not always the mom you thought you’d be? Yep. Try harder. Never fail. Be hard on yourself, that’s what you have to do when you’re a mom. Never a break for the weary mom. Keep working mom. You’re never enough. Kids made a mistake? It’s your fault. You didn’t say enough, do enough, try hard enough, watch closely enough or pray hard enough to make the kids behave well enough. Kids had a victory? Good job! But keep working! A mom’s work is never done. No rest for the weary. Keep trying because you’ll never know when they’ll fall. You’ll never know when your best won’t be nearly enough. So never let down. Never give in. And keep your guard up. Because being a mom’s the biggest job of your life and there’s always something lurking around the corner. Don’t mess up because if they’re not enough, you’re not enough.

All those expectations, all that pressure? Tossing it out.

Epic friend failure? Yep. Totally not a good enough friend. Wasn’t there for her child’s hospital stay, had no idea how her marriage crumbled, didn’t know she was getting divorced until it was nearly complete, had no idea how this or that happened and now you feel like an idiot for asking because so much time’s passed, let the ball drop on those get togethers, let months and years pass without contact? Epic failures. Epic, epic failures. So not a good enough friend. The elusive bar you’ve set for adult friendship? Completely unattainable.

Toss the guilt. Toss those expectations, again. Toss the bar that marks good enough, not good enough.

And that house. Oh my. Never good enough. Always too dirty. You won’t ever be able to get it clean, or keep it clean. But you’d better keep working. Because you know, if you keep working, you might just be able to make it happen. There might come a time when you’ve cleaned well enough that everyone will finally say YES! That’s good enough! Great job! You finally did it! The house is clean once and for all! Excellent work! Thank you so much for keeping this house clean enough! So keep working. It’s always dirty, there’s always more laundry, the kitchen counter’s always a disaster in the making. It’s never. good. enough. You’ve never. done. enough. So keep doing. Keep moving. Keep cleaning every second you can.

Toss it. Out the door. Go. Now.

All those dreams you hope for? All those plans you have for your future? Let me tell you…you’re not good enough. You’re not smart enough or clever enough, and you’re most definitely not funny enough. You’re not nearly as eloquent, and not nearly as put together as she is. You’d never be able to motivate like that, connect like that, write like that, or speak your mind like that. You’re not Christian enough for them, and you’re too Christian for them. And you can’t keep up with any of them. So just drop it and get it out of your mind. Those not enoughs? Maybe they’re true. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

So ugly. Oh so ugly. Such horrible lies. Toss them like the wind. Toss them.

Then come all the random not good enoughs. Don’t wear high heels enough. Don’t wear sweat pants enough. Don’t wear your hair down enough. Don’t prepare homemade dinners for your family enough. Don’t buy or prepare organic food enough. Don’t worry about GMOs enough. Don’t watch your kids’ diet closely enough. Don’t chill enough. Don’t drink enough. Don’t come party with us enough. Don’t give enough. Don’t volunteer enough. Don’t keep up with the mail pile and finances, the photo albums and weeds in the garden well enough.

Blah. Ugh. What a weight. Toss ’em.

It’s enough to kill a person, isn’t it? This burden of not enough?

So you sit. You find yourself on the ground, lifeless, next to this trash pile of not enoughs. You know, there’s GOT to be a better way. You admit – I’ve had it. This. is enough.

You allow yourself a moment. To sit. And be with the trash. You call it what it is. Trash. Pure trash.

You realize – the enemy’s lies have held you captive for far too long.

You’re worth much more than this.

The trash leaves you empty, hollow, lifeless.

You must rest. And then you must go.

Get away from the trash piles and never come back.

And don’t you dare start a new pile wherever you go next.

Because you’re so enough.

You’re so enough, even when the world and all the evidence says you’re not.

So that weight of the world you’ve been trying to bear? It is not. yours. to bear.

Believe it.

Rest.

And know.

God is good. He sent Jesus to witness our burdens for Himself. He bore the weight of the cross, this Good Friday, so we could be rescued from everything about us that’s too much and not enough.

Good news is on its way, folks. Good news is on its way.

Amy

We’re working through a week-long series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough.” In Part 1 of this series, we talked about different ways we believe that everything about us is just Too Much. In Part 2, we went deeper into the real life implications of this too much, not enough business. In Part 4, we’ll explore why we truly are. enough. Hallelujah!!

Within hours of publishing the first post from this week-long series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough,” I knew this series wasn’t for everyone.

To some, the words I wrote in that first post read like a foreign language. They didn’t understand what I was trying to say. Late that night, approximately 12 hours after publication, I returned to the post, Too Much, and re-read my words. Maybe they did sound a little crazy. I made some edits to the post and it felt a little less crazy. Maybe getting a concept for a series on Sunday morning, writing and editing on Sunday night, and publishing by late Monday morning was just too quick.

When I returned to re-read and edit the post, Too Much, I wanted to type it all out, provide explanation so every one of my readers would understand the heart and logic behind the post. The things I typed here aren’t actually TRUE. They are LIES, false beliefs I’ve held about myself for way too long. I’m sharing them here so you understand the battle I’ve been facing, and I’m sharing them here so you don’t feel alone in all the ugly things you’ve thought and said about yourself. Please, understand.

But I didn’t type all those things. I made the edits I felt necessary, and left it at that. I instinctively knew – if you don’t get this post, you don’t get it. If you get it, you get it. There didn’t seem to be much middle ground on this one.

The next morning, I received a message from a reader. The reader shared that the post, Too Much, “pulled [her] out of a den of lies,” that my words “ministered to [her] in a very dark hour.” She gave thanks to Jesus, indicating He “loved me enough to allow me to read your love words and bring hope to me.”

As I read her words, I began crying instantly.

Because I believed the words I’d written were too much.

I believed the words I’d written were not enough.

I believed my writing wasn’t good enough.

I believed I hadn’t successfully explained this concept of “I’m Too Much, Not Enough” so ALL of my readers could understand.

But here’s the thing.

The words I’d written were enough.

In fact, those words were exactly what one soul needed to hear that day, that hour, that minute, that moment. Those words ministered to that reader in the way I envisioned from the very start. Because I didn’t start this blog to expose deep dark secrets, craziness, hopes, dreams and joy-filled revelations just for fun. I started this blog so you could know you’re not alone in your pain and struggle, so you’d know hope, so you’d know we’re all in this together.

The words were enough.

God provided a lifeline for both me and the reader, when we needed it most.

And that is more than enough.

Amy

*This is part two of a four-part series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough. To read part one, Too Much, click here.