Day Fourteen

(Technically it is still the same day if I haven't gone to bed yet.)

Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.  Matthew 10:26


I never had a policy; I have just tried to do my very best each and every day. -- Abraham Lincoln


The right to do something does not mean that doing it is right.  -- William Safire


Right or wrong? Good or bad? Mistake or lesson? Is denying always positive, at times can it be more harmful? I feel like this devotion today will be more about questions than exact answers. And that's okay. It's definitely alright with me. I've been feeling pretty free spirited for a big chunk of time now, very settled into who I am. Genuinely happy. I've been discovering how I feel, love and relate to God individually and uniquely. Just He and I. If a relationship is personal, shouldn't it be different for everyone?
I'm a comfortable in my own skin at 28 and it has been a battle. A battle God gave me the victory over. I love who I am. But at times I do wonder have I found a beautiful love of God that is freeing and about love and faith and accepting my flaws; or have I just learned to listen solely to myself? I love my mistakes. Please don't take this lightly, not when coming from a hyper-perfectionist who every day overcomes this personality trait a little more.
What I'm saying is that I do believe that God permits some things for His children that may be what they want or ask for, but it is not always profitable for them. So I don't look at my mistakes as bad things as much as beautiful lessons. At times, they have been heartbreaking, painful -- pick yourself up and put back together the pieces kind of effects. But I love them deeply, because they've taught me special things. How to appreciate where I am now. What I do and do not want in my life. How to respect and love myself more. 
I just, I rebel a lot from rules and legalism somewhere deep inside. Feels like stuck or trapped. I believe in the Word of God. I believe in conviction and discipline from the Holy Spirit. But it has taken a lot of steps in my walk to realize -- I do my best, I love, and I trust God. Sometimes, I make decisions I shouldn't, somedays I feel more flawed than others. But guilt and shame are not from Him. And He knows, He knows, He knows -- I'm human. He made me. He loves me the same every day. So I feel free to walk in this uniquely made, uniquely thinking person that is me and accept that love. I am who I am. I love God more than anything, but He takes care of the rest. He makes up for what I lack. He knows who I am. He didn't make a drone. He made someone mentored and discipled, a free-thinker with free will. He loves me the way I am.
Is good or bad different depending on the person? Right or wrong -- a fine line? Could what is a lesson to someone else, be a mistake to another because they're not the same? They aren't at the same places in their lives, in their thinking. Is trying to share where you are now in your life, things you're glad you experienced in your life, that may be considered a mistake, pulling that person down? Because maybe they haven't been there yet, they haven't learned that -- maybe it won't integrate like a puzzle piece snapping into place in their big picture.
Recently God has been showing me a new way to let him love me through people. Do I sometimes get in the way of that because I don't believe I'm worth it somewhere in the whispers of my being? Where do the lines go? And is it too much to ask for a blank sheet of paper or to write on your lines sideways or upside down? May He always speak from His spirit to mine, a little more loudly than all the other chatter that surrounds me.
I like myself the way I am. But I never want to stop growing. Must there be an uncomfortable somewhere to push us to the next level? Sometimes it's okay to end the night in questions without reprimanding yourself. Just be. Just float. Let Christ carry you across the waters.

Day Thirteen

If you think you don't like someone, try walking a mile in their shoes. If after a mile you still don't like them ... Well, at least you're a mile away and you have their shoes. - NC, Positive Share


I have a pair of a dragon shoes. A sixth-grader from Connecticut left them in her cabin, when I worked for NC. I decided to conveniently forget to tell her when we went to lunch after cleaning up the room where she'd lived for a week. They are my favorite shoes. They're a size seven and a half or so and I wear a six, but I love them. Khaki with no shoestrings and dragons embroidered on the sides. I've written a poem about them. I where them daily, without socks. Even in the snow this winter. I love these shoes. They have an interesting story, they remind me of the "time of my life" I had working in New England. And of taking that first big leap into independence.
There is a girl I met back in November. She is beautiful and brave. She is working to make positive decisions. She is changing her life for the better. She is heading out on a new adventure. She is walking out of her comfort zone and back into the world. I get to see her every other Thursday. It is a blessing to us both, I think. Definitely, for me. This Thursday may have been the last time I will ever get to see her. During our last meeting she told me how much she liked my shoes. Then as we were joking around she said, Can I steal them? I told her it was fine as long as she didn't kick me or anything to get them. Like if she just said, Give me your shoes, I'm stealing them. That'd be okay.
This Thursday I was looking at the shoes of the other girls around me. Velcro straps in white or black. Uniform. I couldn't quit looking. God was speaking to me. I wanted a pair. I didn't know if it would be weird, but I wanted to ask the lady over the program if I could have some, even if I had to pay for them. I know it would seem strange, but I just wanted to be able to look down at them every day. To look down and remember to pray for my friends there. To look down and remind myself daily what they were facing. To look down at these shoes, so that I could be with them in some way even while I wasn't there.
Later, I was sitting next to my friend that will be leaving soon. I had forgotten the letter I promised her and encouraged her to write the P.O. Box. I asked her what size shoe she wore. And quickly while no one was looking I asked her to try on my dragon shoes. They fit her perfectly.
When she writes the P.O. Box I will send them to her in her new life. I hope she will be able to look down at them and know that something that was very special to me is now hers. I hope she will be able to look down at them and know I am praying for her. I hope she looks down and remembers where I was and knows that she can walk in the Freedom I am walking in now.
I wear my dragon shoes every day. Really soon, I will mail them to a friend so that she can walk in them. They aren't new. I didn't even pay for them. And I'm pretty sure the 6th grader from CT will never realize how her shoes, that she never even called the camp to find, are impacting someone's life who really needs them. Life-changing shoes.
When my friend walks out of the doors of where she is and into Freedom, she will be doing so on the day that marks my Freedom. 6 years. I pray much healing and a life free of bondage for her. She deserves it more than she knows. Very soon I hope she can know how very special she is and walk in the Truth and Identity given to her by a God that loves her so much.
Every day I put on scruffy shoes with dragons on the side, hopefully soon I'll be trading them for black shoes with velcro straps. Such divine timing, such Grace in Him speaking and in a willingness to listen. When is the last time you tried on someone else's shoes? Could it change your life?

Day Twelve

... You're not just a wave, you're part of the ocean ... -- Tuesdays With Morrie


There are neither Jews nor Greeks, slaves nor free people, males nor females. You are all the same in Christ Jesus. -- Galations 3:28


I am no longer in the world; and yet they themselves are in the world, and I come to You. Holy Father, keep them in Your name, the name which You have given Me, that they may be one even as We are.
 -- John 17:11


I love all of Mitch Albom's books. I have to admit that I saw Tuesday's With Morrie, the movie, before I read the book. Jack Lemmon was amazing as Morrie. I watched it really late one night, on a day when I needed it the most and felt such a connection.  The whole movie is amazing (watch it if you haven't seen it or go buy the book!), but I really love when Mitch asks Morrie to tell his girlfriend Janine the story about the "little wave."
You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean. 
I've been to two baseball games this week and this truth seems a little more evident at such a sporting event. So many people cheering towards the same thing. Likewise, in giving applause or a standing ovation at a play, musical. Experiencing a concert with others. 
I am reminded of seeing Gone With The Wind at the Alabama Theater one Summer. I'd seen the movie so many times I could quote it in its entirety. But something about experiencing it on a large screen and with so many people, it truly came alive. We all laughed at parts I didn't laugh at when watching it alone. Gasped when Scarlet appears in that famous red dress. 
There is this power in being part of something bigger than just ourselves, peace even. This connection we share through common experiences. Through being on this earth together. And you aren't just a little wave, you are part of the ocean. Here this today, You are never alone. 
Community, such a beautiful thing.





Summary for the movie in case you haven't seen it 

Day Eleven

My cousin Hadley is spending the night tonight and I have asked her to be a guest contributer to the 365 Devotions in 365 Days. She graciously accepted the invitation. There have been many times in my life where she has brought joy, inspired and helped me through creative block. They're are many things we can learn from truly listening to kiddos.
Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:2-

Please share with me in reading her words.

Out of the mouth of babes ...

Hello, my name is Hadley. 


Since this devotion is about God, thats who we are going to talk about!
Have you ever wondered how your life was going to end? Since I am a kid I always 
thought that vampires or ghosts were going to hurt me, but now that I've learned so much about God I know that there is no such thing! Silly me! Sometimes I'm scared that something is going to happen today, but nothing ever does. 
     
My favorite verse out of the bible is John 3:16.


For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whoever believed in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. 
                                                                                  John 3:16
What is your favorite verse?
Can you wait to go to heaven? If you do die this is the good part about it -- you get to go to heaven!
Take this advice from me now (even though I'm a child ) whenever you're in a bad situation either it's a bad storm or grown-up problems always trust in God!


Thank you very much!

Day Ten

Teachers have always been very important to me. Even since I was a little girl. In kindergarten, Mrs. Friday would carry me when my juvenile arthritis made it too hard to walk. In elementary school, they saw what was special in me, saw where I needed to go and made sure that I got there. Mrs. Amos rocked me in the principal's office through that tough year. In the 5th grade, when I decided on the day of the spelling be to study with some boys and eventually announced to them I would win that afternoon. I did. In front of the whole school and during that standing ovation, I remember Mrs. Moore's face -- smiling, beaming, and she was clapping. I remember Mrs. Housh and Mrs. Shannon encouraging me, leading me to where I needed to be in the future, so that I wouldn't fall between the cracks of average and getting by. At WJC, in Jr. High, I learned more than I ever did in high school. A team. A family. I had the same teachers there for three years. Eleven years after graduating I still found myself, discussing writing and having tea with my favorite English teacher. She was there through the "dark and bright red" and she still reads my work. The blessings have continued to flow through high school, Montevallo and now UAB. Teachers that have taught me much more than words on a page. Friends that have encouraged me from stepping stone to stepping stone, never letting me forget to dream or rushing to support my "project of the week." Teachers that have become like family. Some who were here for a season, but I can look back and map out that tapestry of people that was put into place just for me and for this time. 

I value teachers in great ways. Teachers in school, mentors and people who have discipled me. I have learned to walk on my own while appreciating that seed of self worth, of knowledge, or creativity they have planted in me. In turn, I am able to sow it in others. 

These are people that have seen my differences and loved them. At times, they loved the things about me until I could love them for myself. Until I could own the things I wasn't quite able to see in the mirror. The quirks, talents and differences that make me, Amanda. I included a clip below of a movie I really love. I love the honesty in this seen, the beauty of it. I think if I ever taught in the school system, in a classroom I would love to be a lot like Mrs. Dodger. Here she is talking to Phoebe about all things that make her different from the "awful normals," and how these are things she will come to appreciate in herself. What makes you different? What are some quirks specific to you? Relish in them, swim in them, immerse yourself. You're beautiful. Accept yourself for who you are. Give to someone that which only you have been put on this earth to give. Teach.

Day Nine

God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today.  Have you used one to say "thank you?" -- William A. Ward

I know that the Lord will maintain the cause
of the afflicted, and the right of the poor.
Surely the righteous shall give thanks unto thy name:
the upright shall dwell in thy presence.

-- Ps. 140:12-13


Gratitude is the sign of noble souls. -- Aesop


I try to live my life in thankfulness. 
Gratitude. 
I used to sit with my field group at the end of our time together in the morning, when I taught at Nature's Classroom. Everyday I would ask them the same questions. I would get each one of them to tell me three things they were grateful for, three things they learned that day, and three things they liked about themselves. Learning didn't necessarily mean the educational things I taught them. It could also be things they learned about a classmate or themselves. They could always find something they were grateful for. The most difficult question for them to answer was the three things they liked about themselves. (The generation coming up definitely needs to be loved on in positive ways.)
At times my friends and I would do this when hanging out together. After moving home, if I was having a trying or down sort of day ... Even if I was just nervous about something, I would think -- If a 5th or 6th grader can answer these questions; I should walk a bit in what I have been teaching. So I would answer them for myself. I remember actually taking a notebook to a restaurant when my friend Stacy and I were having particularly stressful days. We wrote down our answers together. 
It's crazy how much we have to be thankful for. Circumstances might be horrible, but there is never a day I can't look around or inside myself and find things to be grateful for. It's interesting how often we look at our lives an event at a time. That next thing we might be looking forward to or even that thing we're not looking forward to blocking the stuff that a good in our lives. Sometimes, it takes someone outside of us, a different perspective to help us look at our lives a little differently.
A great friend of mine did that for me yesterday. It wasn't that I was down as much as I was look at my life as mundane. She said let me get this straight ... And then she listed off the things she had heard me say were happening or were on my list of options for the near future. It sounded exciting. Adventurous. Dreams be accomplished. Blessing being showered over my life. I rested in gratitude -- for her and for the amazing life I have. From the moment I wake up in the morning until I rest my head on the pillow at night (or in the wee hours of the next day) -- I get to risk, live and breathe deeply. God has been good to me. And I will be thankful all the days of my life.
So, today you have some questions to answer. 3 things you're grateful for, 3 things you learned today and 3 things you like about yourself (Yes, you have to answer that one). Elementary school students, jr. high school students they always come up with plenty to be thankful for -- let's see if we can follow their lead. 

Day Eight

But Christ has shown me that what I once thought was valuable is worthless. Nothing is as wonderful as knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. I have given up everything else and count it all as garbage. All I want is Christ. -- Phil. 3:7-8



Sacrifice, which is the passion of great souls, has never been the law of societies. -- Henri Frederic Amiel


I say, if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life.   --- Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes



I'm getting ready to give up a lot of things. Actually, I started today. It has been a long time in coming. I've been sick and on antibiotics for the last six months or so. My body is run down and it isn't very happy with me. Waking up sick everyday, is making me a bit irritable and down. So today I started a new diet -- not to lose wait but to get all of the garbage out of my body. No sugars, no caffeine, no wheat, etc. Lots of water and some herbs that get the yuck that the antibiotics did to me out of my body.
My fear, a bit, is the irritability and rebellion from my body when I take away all it's favorite things. Sugar and caffeine at the same time? I'd keep clear of me for a little bit. 
It's funny how when you give things up, you're body craves these things in great ways. And they're not even good for us. It's interesting how it happens when we take chances and do this in our spiritual lives - when we look inside. Sometimes we'd rather grab on to what is unhealthy for us than to let go and embrace the new ... the unfamiliar, even though it will free us up and bring great blessings. The sugars and caffeines of life being more comforting.
 What can you do that is healthy for yourself this week? That helps you celebrate yourself this week? Are there things you need to cut out or give up? A little less work, a little more grass stains and climbing trees? Are there people in your life that are more toxic than beneficial? Are you missing out on great and interesting paths because of fear? Are you holding on too tightly to the past because once before you let go and the cravings for the comfortable got too bad? 
How can we best support each other as we seek to let go? Let's hydrate one another with love! (Diet, uncaffeinated, and clear love)

Day Seven

... lord said to him, Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord. Matthew 25:21


This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which enters the Presence behind the veil. Hebrews 6:19


Those who love deeply never grow old. -- Anon. 


This morning I got up early and went to the 8 AM service, at a church that I've been visiting on and off with my mom for the past 3 or 4 years. I got there a little late and I slipped in towards the back, in the shadow and shade of being underneath the balcony. The choir was singing one of my favorite songs, and I came in right at the end. I began clapping to the next song and looked over behind me to the couple of rows set off behind the pews in the center section.
She wasn't there. It wasn't the first time I'd been back to that church since her death, but it was the first time since I sat back where I used to a lot, back where I could see her. Close to Mrs. Bobbie's seat.
Mrs. Bobbie. I remember once sitting with my mom during a church service. I was trying to pay attention to the pastor and I kept hearing this noise. I wasn't quite sure what it was or why it was going on during the service. I remember thinking, Can't someone make that stop? I'm trying to concentrate.
When I looked back and found the source of the noise, in the very back of the church. I saw her. It was her portable breathing machine. I definitely changed my mind about wanting the noise to stop. I felt a little disappointed in myself, but mostly I learned a lot from her. I learned a lot from God, through this woman I didn't know, and who hadn't ever spoken a word to me.
She was dressed up, in a time when most of us wore blue jeans to church. She was worshipping. I thought what a beautiful picture she made, with her Bible on her lap. I thought, she, with every reason to stay home and watch the service on TV, was there and in God's presence. I thought about myself and my love for sleeping in or the excuses I sometimes make, not to spend time with God. About how much she loved Him.
It turned out my mom's friend was her Sunday School teacher and I found out how to send her a card. I wrote and shared with her how much her presence every week inspired me. How blessed I was in sharing in worship with her. I came to know her in little ways after that. I was introduced to her, her beauty and grace -- her humor. She may have been in her seventies, but her spirit was lively, funny and sassy. The noise of the machine she carried, came to comfort me. She brought me joy.
Later, when I moved back up North for a few months another lady in the church shared my story with her and this past summer when she eventually was forced to be homebound, gave her my number in case she needed company. I can't imagine how tough it must have been for her, to not be able to make it to church on Sunday. In that suit, the jacket I remember to be pink. She was beautiful.
A few weeks ago, my mom called to tell me that Mrs. Bobbie had passed away. It affected me more than I thought that it would. She was such a blessing in my life, such a classy example of true love for God in nothing other than action ... than her mere presence ... than that noise that caused me to turn around that day.
Today I turned around and she wasn't there. There was silence in the back two rows and wanted no one sitting in her seat. I remember her husband had been an usher -- Was that him sitting where I used to glance back and see her? I couldn't be sure. What I do know? I know that now she isn't breathing with a machine, she is breathing in the company of her Savior that she wanted to be near so much. She can lift her hands high, dance and sing without struggling. Her love for Him was felt deeply, her love for others glowed through her, and I will be so happy to someday sit next to her at the foot of the thrown when we will all worship without hindrances.
Well, done Mrs Bobbie, beautiful and faithful -- I know you are being blessed by the joy of your lord. And may we all keep breathing in the sweet, sweet fragrance of His mercy, grace and love.

Day Six

Secrets. When I was in recovery, I remember hearing this phrase a lot: "Secrets make us sick." I believe this about toxic, destructive and unhealthy secrets. Keeping them inside of us, makes them special in a weird way -- something to grasp on to, when what we really need to do is share or to let go.

It's funny how they lie to us too. Those secrets. They make us feel ashamed, guilty or alone. There is such beauty in sharing and realizing how often we aren't strange, damaged or alone. We find that there is connection, comfort and peace, when giving voice to these things we have been keeping inside.

Boundaries are something I learned to set and love as I became more and more healthy. I learned a lot about myself and how to do what I needed to do for me -- where to put those boundaries, as a result of several painful experiences. Privacy is something I'm relishing a lot recently, while remaining fairly open.

Honest and raw is the way we find beauty in one another, respecting our own stories and those of others, and finding with amazement that unveiling secrets can connect us in ways we have never before been able to see so clearly.

(At midnight, on Saturdays, PostSecret.com posts their Sunday secrets. Sometimes I stay up just to read them. Such lovely courage. Check it out.)

Day Five

Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. - Job


When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.” - Ps. 94:19


God is bigger than the boogeyman, He's bigger than Godzilla and the monsters on TV, Oh, God is bigger than the boogeyman, and He's watching over you and me. - VeggieTales


Earlier in the week, I went into a gas station (Not BP) to buy some sodas for my friend Jamie and myself. Well, sodas and a really dry Moon Pie. When I went up to the front to pay, I slid my card through the credit card machine and looked up at the man behind the cash register. Are you wonderful? He asked, his voice thickly accented -- a smile on his face. Am I wonderful? What could have been interpreted as a slip-up in this man's English became a pretty beautiful question. In a brief moment, I felt the peace in my heart and the contentment in my life. Things weren't perfect. Sure I'd been sick, I need a job ... But I was absolutely wonderful. Yes. I told him. I'm wonderful. Thank you. Have a great day. I went back to my car feeling blessed in a significant way.
Worry. I've always been a big worrier, since I was a little girl. Such a silly kid, with a lot of intensity and big, adult things on my mind. I've gotten better about it. As I've experienced certain things in my life, I've learned to let go some. Realized, some things they just don't matter. Life is short. Moments are to be lived to the full. But there are those things that still hover underneath the surface. The things that might be at the back of my mind, but there still there. No matter how often I try to push them down.
What I do know for sure is that the bigger the things are I seem to worry about, the more God uses them. The more my life is having impact. In great ways He uses these things I'm worrying about to teach me amazing things. And He always takes care of it, no matter how much time I spend worrying about it or how little time. So I seek to let go. I turn things around. I ask to carry His yoke, because it is much lighter than mine. He doesn't mind trading even though He might get the yuckier deal. 
I try not to waste my moments on things I can't control. It isn't easy and it has taken me a long time to get to where I am now, even. In the grand scheme of things, I am loved by the creator of the universe, I get to spend time with people I love, I get to help people and I laugh a lot. Everything else will work itself out. Not always easily. Sometimes with incredibly great pain. But He is faithful. Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. 
I guess asking to see the view from His eyes is always a beautiful thing. Normally, I ask even, to just have him shine a flashlight to the next tiptoe - I'll trust Him the rest of the way. We weren't meant for worry. We just weren't. Though, at times we let it swallow us. One of my favorite questions I like to ask -- What's the last moment you worried about, before realizing it wasn't worth worry at all? Well, that and, What is the best thing that happened to you today? And my new favorite -- Are you wonderful? Well, aren't you?

Day Four

"And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints." Ephesians 6:18


"To be a christian without prayer, is no more possible than to be alive without breathing." -- Martin Luther King, Jr.


"I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries."
-- Anna Akhmatova


Prayer. I haven't been spending as much time talking to God as I should lately. But I have been talking a lot about listening.
I have this thing sometimes where I shut down if I feel like I'm not being listened to, if someone's watching TV, staring at the computer screen, or texting when I'm sharing something with them; and I think it has to do with the way I feel most loved. Maybe it's about being understood. If I feel that I'm not being listened to, it's almost as if I fighting against some sort of wall -- sometimes it's easier to trust a piece of paper and pour out my words in writing.
Do you ever go through times when you just don't feel like talking? Not on the phone. Not in a group. Not to God.
It isn't that you don't want to -- it's just you're exhausted by life, there's too much noise from the technology around you, too many things we reach out for, hoping for distraction. Yesterday, I looked up at the top of the hill behind our house. The one with my neon green adirondack chair sitting on it. I thought maybe that would be a good place for God to sit. I like to do that sometimes -- to literally look at or face a chair when I'm talking to God. To speak out loud. To have a conversation. But today that adirondack chair seems too far away.
God taught me some great things today, whispering soul to soul. But where is my voice? I like to just talk to God throughout the day. Sometimes I ask for a surprise. I just need one, like a little kid in a toy shop. Doesn't have to be much -- something to laugh at, a special song on the radio, or a call from a friend I haven't heard from in awhile. He shows up. Sometimes I just like to be grateful. Sometimes I like to ask Him about things -- tell Him how beautiful the sunset is. Mostly I ask Him to hold me close to His heart, so that I can hear His heartbeat above all else. But quality one-on-one time? I haven't given much.
If the power of God depended solely on what I said to Him, I think I would have lost the power that comes from prayer long ago.
But I miss Him ... I miss talking to Him so much, that I have to take moments where I just sit and listen. And I think He's waiting, He's waiting for some quality time with His favorite girl. I think He trusts that it won't ever be too long until I get my words out. Most of the time, it's me who worries. There have been periods that I have really just had to take out a piece of paper, find a place alone, and begin -- "Dear Papa ..."
But my voice-box is turned off right now. Short prayers here and there. Thankfulness in a moment. But no chair-to-chair, no meeting between friends, and no sitting at His feet. I am so glad that He listens to my heart. I am so glad He answers even when He has to strain to hear. But it seems strange to me, that if I'm so worried about who is or isn't listening, why can't I go to the one who always has His complete attention on me? ... When I'm ready to speak.
He understands.

Day Three

I'm a long way off, true, and you may never lay eyes on me, but believe me, I'm on your side. -- Col. 2, The Message


My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. -- Co. 2:2-3


I get mail; therefore I am. -- Scott Adams


I love to go and get the mail. The child-like spirit inside of me jumps up and down, anticipates the mail-carrier like waiting for Santa. If it is 1 PM and I am at home, you know where you'll find me? Walking to the mailbox. I love to get mail. (And by mail, I mean real mail. Letters. Not bills or junk mail.) I love to send mail and packages to people. It lifts my spirit.
I miss the art form found in writing letters. Beautiful language. The intimacy that comes with it. That special feeling with knowing someone sat down and took the time to write out a card or compose a letter on your behalf. Today, when I realized what time it was and that I could go to the mailbox, I thought briefly about a letter I wrote six months ago. It was to someone I didn't know. May not even meet in this lifetime, but to someone who was blessing my life without even knowing me. I wanted to encourage her spirit. To speak to the things that I saw inside of her.
The purpose of this letter was to write, send and encourage -- not to receive. There have been times I have definitely wished to hear back from her, but have tried to take my "self" out of the equation. When I remembered that I sent it in November, I felt happy to think of how long it had been since I'd thought of finding a reply in the mailbox. Smiled to myself. What if it were to surprise me today? Then I let go of it.
Recently I have begun writing to some new friends I have made. Friend that are very special to my heart. These are letters that I know encourage greatly and bring a smile to the faces of the recipients. In turn, I don't think they realize how much the letters they write back bless and encourage me. These are friendships deepened by trust and encouraging words.
I sat down on the front porch this afternoon going through the mail, thinking. And as I came upstairs to look at some verses, I remained in this thoughtfulness. We all have a mailbox inside of us, don't we? Things that we send and things we receive. Stop for a moment and picture what yours might look like. Are there flowers planted around the edge? Is it protected by a small fence or encircled by rocks? What color is it? Is there a lot of room or is the mailbox more like a P.O. Box small, slender? Things get smashed in, not always a lot of room. How often is the flag up? Ready for the things to be sent out?
I try sometimes to review the words I have sent out to others with my voice. Less often than I should, I imagine that I am not just saying the words that I have put out, but that I am the one hearing them. That they are effecting me as I receive them.
Do these words hurt or do they help? Do they lift up or do they bring down? Are they encouraging or do they pierce? What am I sending out to others? And how am I opening and taking in the things that are delivered to me through them? Am I doing what is best for myself? Am I taking in what enriches and leaving behind what I know I cannot trust in or apply?
It is always my wish to encourage, though sometimes I fail. Humanity. Sometimes I hurt those that I care about the most. But still I wake up praying for the words that someone needs to hear that day. Still I try to always thank or compliment a waiter, a cashier, that fast food worker handing me my meal through the drive-through window. I ask to see inside, to see the hurt someone might be carrying, and even if only in a simple way -- seek to give to them a hug, with my words.
Letters. They're special. They're keepsakes. And at times they're give through spoken words, through actions. Think about your mailbox today -- the one outside of your house or the one inside of you. Any polishing that needs to be done? More sending out, more joy in receiving? May we all find purpose in encouraging the hearts of others. Take a moment today to strengthen that special connection you have to others. Receive the thoughtfulness of the letters being sent to you by God.

Photo By James Crable

Day Two

Keep on loving each other ... Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:1-2


Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends. -- Shirley Maclaine


The color of truth is gray. -- Andre Gide


Snapshots. Candids. They capture a moment. They store our memories in color. They don't always come in the form of a photograph.
I was talking to a friend today about the different ways we can experience God. One of the ways that was mentioned is through people. Have you had those people that were just around for a snapshot? A moment? A season? God whispered through them. God grew you through them, but that was all it was meant to be ... a time to glue into the scrapbook of your life. The one that maps out who your are becoming, baby-step by baby-step.
When I was in the hospital the first time, I think I was 20. My OCD was off the charts because of a new medicine a doctor decide to try on me. The initial anxiety the pill created, heightened this disorder to extreme levels. I had a reaction to the pills -- suicidal thoughts. I found myself away from my family, in a lock-down unit, during a summer where I would have much rather been vacationing elsewhere. It's scary when those doors slam shut and you realize you're all alone. You're family can't be there. There are only strangers. Strangers you're not quite sure you can trust. Nurses and doctors that you're not quite sure are doing what is best for you. There were bars on the windows and lines for medication.
On my first night there, I was given a tour. On that tour, I was shown the patio -- breathable air, even if most of the time it was full of smoke and nicotine. Fresh enough. And out on this patio was a woman who I can never quite remember and a man called Gray. He stood up and greeted me, giving me a hug.
This was a man with an accent I believe all Southern girls dream of (Well, the ones like me that could quote every Scarlet O'Hara line in Gone With The Wind). The "Old South" -- a character in a book. A classic novel.
He reminded me of the Mad Hatter in cartoon form. At least, that is how I see him so many years away in this memory of mine. Shorter, with dark curly hair -- graying in spots. Fitting since that is how I felt, Alice having fallen down the rabbit hole. Drink this. Eat this. Shrink your spirit. Distort your views. Off with her head. Detached.
Later that night, I met Gray again. His beautifully cadenced Southern drawl, more shaken and fidgety. He'd knocked on my door. Afraid to see what/who was on the other side, I reluctantly opened it to find -
Someone new. He looked down at my shirt, Larry Boy. It was a VeggieTales T-Shirt. He said, I see that your shirt says Larry on it and there is a Larry that keeps calling my house and leaving messages for me on the answering machine. He says that I owe him money and I ask him to stop calling but he will never leave me alone. If you know this Larry can you please tell him to stop calling me? His voice was hurried and nervous. After he left, I shut the door a bit fearful.
Some of the other patients later told me that he had paranoid schizophrenia. This is why he was one way for a moment and another way in the next. During my time there I got to know him a bit better. He became sunshine for me in a place that held shadows. He was one of the ways God showed me that he had not left me alone.
Whenever I would pass Gray in the hallway or see him on the patio, he would smile at me. Something as simple as a smile. He would say to me, Amanda, out of all of us you're going to make it out of here. You're going to be okay. Or, You and I are going to write the next great classic novel -- either separately or together. You're going to make something of your life. You're going to be okay. He encouraged me.
Once, Gray and I and one other patient went on a walk during this recreational time we were given. He knew every plant, flower, and tree. Such a smart, kind man -- who occasionally acted a little strange. Yet, don't we all to some degree?
Eventually, it was time for Gray to go away. I believe he'd been in and out of an institution of some form for most of his life. We thought the people who were supposed to be loving and protecting him, they didn't want to do it anymore. His big fears became to much for them. He was supposed to be taken to see if he would be turned over to a state facility. I remember how afraid he was, how the men stayed up and drank coffee with him that night. How I had gone to bed, hoping things would turn out okay for a stranger that I hadn't known for very long, but who I had come to understand as a friend.
He'd brought me hope, the smiles he gave me reminded me this was not what I was meant for, and he was one of the breaths God took deeply and loudly when I was in that building to let me know He was with me. I was never alone. We never knew what happened to Gray. The nurse assured me he would be alright. And I hoped he would find peace. That we would write a classic novel -- together or separately.
I spent about two weeks in that hospital and Gray was not with me the whole time, just for a few moments. He was a snapshot in and of my life. Yet, I have never forgotten him. The way his simple kindness uplifted me in such a dark and confusing time. He blessed me. I experienced God through him.
There are so many people on that list for me -- strangers that turned out to be angels unaware. Who are your snapshot people? Who blessed you in a moment? Helped you grow and gave you what you needed and moved on? Who have you experienced God through?
Be thankful for them today. Their presence in your life was no accident. God reached out to you with their hands, with their words. Let us never be the same again. And may fear never keep us from making friends with the strangers God sends our way.

Day One

The first woman came from man, true -- but ever since then, every man comes from a woman. And since virtually everything comes from God anyway, let's quit going through these "who's first" routines.
-- 1 Corinthians 11, The Message


In oranges and women, courage is often mistaken for insanity. -- Iron Jawed Angels


Put yourself on the top of the list of strong women you admire. -- Kaye


I woke up crazy tired yesterday and thought of just having a little bit of Bible study in my room -- just God and me. Then I thought about how much I just needed to be in worship and in His presence. So I went to a new church I'd visited once before ... still searching for somewhere to fit spiritually. Other than sitting behind this older lady, which I was super excited about because I love senior citizens, I sort of just zoned in and out. I came back in to the pastor's voice when I needed what he had to say. But there is always something special about being in the presence of God. He is my first love and I smiled, glowed even, to the things He was whispering to me.
I flipped to the back of my Bible and began to look up the verses in the index under the heading of "woman." Already feeling a bit numb spiritually as of late, I wasn't really excited about what I saw.
For if a woman does not cover her head, she might as well have her hair cut off; but if it is a disgrace for a woman to have her hair cut off or her head shaved, then she should cover her head ... Judge for yourselves: Is it proper for a woman to pray to God with her head uncovered?" 1 Cor. 11: 6, 13
Many of the verses were similar, what women shouldn't do. Man is made for God's glory, woman made for man's glory. And then the list just stopped. I thought for sure a lot of them would get better in the New Testament but they didn't really. So I wrote down some things God was teaching me and then I thought, maybe things will be better in a different translation.
I worked really hard to find my footing and strength as a woman. It took many painful pieces to make me whole. I was raised, mentored and brought toward healing by strong women and I love them. I never again want to have to let go of my independence or strength for a man. Submissive to husband? Respectful. Obey, will be disappearing from my vows. But I love deeply and encourage wildly. I believe whole-heartedly in women leading. I understand the directions to women in the Bible in reference to the times when they were written. But what does God have to say for me now? How would He like for me to live as a strong woman? Where do I fit in this society?
I asked. He answered. How special I am to Him.
Then I thought of the women who were going to prepare Jesus' body after His death. In the Message translation it says these women were deep in wonder and full of joy after being told why Jesus was no longer in the tomb. Deep. Wonder. When He approached them they clung onto his feet (worship and adoration) and this is what they are told, You're holding on to me for dear life, don't be frightened like that. It made me think of how I never want to be totally dependent on anyone again, not a friend and not a man that I'm with. I always want to retain my wholeness, my independence. And here is Jesus who we are supposed to be dependent on, saying to these women don't be frightened enough to hold on to me for dear life. Don't cling to Him out of fear. Thank you Father, for loving my independence too.
Jesus came through a woman, who God deemed worthy. It was that same woman at the foot of the cross, when most of the men who followed Him were too afraid or had betrayed Him. There were women like Martha who provided for Him. Women who He respected enough, that they felt they could be vulnerable in front of Him. The woman with the blood disease that touched Him and was healed; She had been marked dirty. The woman at the well, who He looked in the eye and talked to -- not down to. Women that He protected like the woman who was to be stoned to death for adultery. Prostitutes He saw as worthy to be loved, despite any shame they might hold. Esther -- He used her life "at such a time as this." The children He told His disciples to allow to come to Him, that He used as an example of what Faith should look like -- birthed and raised by women.
Yesterday, I heard the pastor as he told the church that so often The Fall is blamed on Eve, but he said it was Adam that failed to protect her. I am in love with a God who is in love with me. He gave me the Truth of my identity, He loves my strength, and I will never cover my head.


*** I read this book once after a really bad heart break. At a time, when I was ashamed of compromising myself as a woman. Just thought I would share.