From Sunset to Sunset

As I pulled into my driveway Monday evening, I heard a old, familiar voice start to rattle. 

After I turned the gas off and the radio down, I knew I was in for a battle. 

To give in?

To not give in?

Temptation tore at my innermost being, for what seemed to be forever.

And for five minutes, I refused to get out of my car. 

I placed my hands on the steering wheel, gritted my teeth, and closed my eyes.

"No, God please, No."

If you've ever dealt with any sort of addiction, you know the force that can suddenly, without warning, show up, and pull you in.  

Somedays, the force is nonexistent, and the voice is quiet. 

Other days, it seems to pound over me like a never ending hail storm. 

Lately, I've been asking myself if I am missing something...

Like, maybe it's that my faith isn't strong enough? or maybe it's that Jesus is just a little slow with me? 

Sitting in the driveway, I wanted to give in. 

So, so bad.
But I didn't. 

Rather than thanking God for getting me through the moment, I became more and more disappointed with myself.
Disappointed that I still struggle and disappointed that my faith isn't stronger.

While I was sitting in my living room later in the evening,  I looked out the window, just in time to catch the sunset. 

Instantly, I was reminded of a summer night last year. 

I remember walking to the harbor with my family, when I caught one of the most gorgeous sunsets I had seen in awhile.  I just stood there,  looking off into the lake, and feeling more at peace then I had in a long time. 

Despite all the questions I had in my mind, all the heartache I still bore, all the dreams still unfulfilled, I couldn't help but be in absolute awe of God's faithfulness.

For a sunset, I was completely at peace with the unseen. 

It was as if God was reminding me, from one sunset to the next, how He is still on my side.

Despite the mistakes I've made.  

The people I've hurt. 

The times I gave into fear. 

The times I trusted in myself, more than Him.

It was as if He was telling me, "Stop. Just stop."

That evening,  I decided to give myself a break. 

I stopped toiling and stewing over why I still struggle with temptation. 

I forgave myself for the wrongs I've done. 

I threw off the burdens I was carrying.  

For the rest of last night, I didn't try to fix myself, or my faith. 

I only rested. 

Maybe, like me,  you still struggle?

Maybe, like me, you feel like your faith is lacking? 

Maybe, like me, you don't know how to just stop, and rest? 

And maybe, just maybe, it's also time for you to  forgive yourself, take the load off your shoulders, of perfectionism, of control, of inadequacy, and of self-sufficiency.

Maybe, it's time for you to stop, rest, and just let yourself  be a child of the Almighty. 

Completely loved. 
Totally forgiven. 
Fully accepted. 

Don't Just Call Me Beautiful

The other night, I found myself in downtown Nashville, on Broadway.

As I sat on the window sill at one of the bars, I started people watching. 

I watched bachelor parties play pool, bachelorette parties dance, guys hit on girls, and girls flirt with guys. 

I watched people who had a little bit too much to drink, to those who ordered water. 

I also observed my stunningly gorgeous friend get hit on by almost every guy in the bar. 

It didn't take long until I was wishing I was anyone else but me, and anywhere else but there. 

I felt invisible. 

I felt undesirable. 

The conversation running through my head was as followed, "You've gained weight, so, you aren't beautiful anymore……Your outfit makes you look fat…You are ugly."

That night, it was as if I had retreated back to old, but familiar years. 

However, instead of ordering 3 pizzas and 4 hamburgers, I ordered nothing. 

Instead, I wrote in my iphone notes, "God, I just feel so ugly, so, so ugly."

As I held the phone in my hands, I heard myself say,"Don't call me beautiful."

It wasn't with a degrading, insulting, or self-defeating voice. 

Rather, it was a voice of confidence, grace and assurance. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me talented. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me honest. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me real. 

You see, on Saturday night, I realized that the thing I have desired and strived for most in my life, is the very thing that has taken away everything that makes me, me.

While I have been obsessed with my wrinkles,  recovery, and being a, "good" Christian, I have hidden the parts of me that don't always fit into a nice, put together, Sunday-morning box. 

I love Jesus, but I don't always love myself. 

And somedays are worse than others. 

Just before I wrote this, my sister-in-law called me, and told me how my niece had won a Library contest for her drawing on a book mark. It was her talent, her gifting, that was noticed, not her beauty. 

Like everyone else, I have told both my nieces they are beautiful, over, and over, and over, in hopes that they never go down the road I went down. 

However, the only way they will not be tempted to question their worth and appearance, is if they can appreciate their unique skills, personality, and gifts. 

Hear me out when I say that calling someone beautiful is not bad.

That was not the intention of writing this. 

There is just so much more to a person than their looks. 

If all you call someone is beautiful, they will enter into a race that they will never be able to win. 

Don't call me beautiful. 

Call me lovely. 

Call me sensitive. 

Call me deep. 

Call me different. 

Call me relentless. 

But please, don't just call me beautiful. 

Good Friday and The Iceberg

Looking back on my life, I realize that I  have had more appointments with counselors than dates.

For awhile, I was seeing a new counselor every month, in hopes that one of them would stick. I don't remember any of their names, just random things that happened during our sessions. 

For example, one counselor told me to close my eyes, and imagine I was a color and shape. 

Out of an attempt to make the session as short as possible because I had to use the bathroom, I quickly picked out a black blob. 

This was probably due to the mascara that made it's way onto the surface of my eyeball.

And so for the next hour, he psychoanalyzed the black blob I spoke of, not realizing that I wasn't taking the exercise seriously. 

And then there was the counselor with the iceberg picture. 

On our first visit, she pointed to a picture of a iceberg that was hanging on her wall.

This picture shows not only the tip that is above water, but  also the part that is underneath.

"This," she said as she pointed to the part that is underwater, "This is what we need to deal with"

She saw past my smile, my good-girl attitude, and my many masks.

I was a onion, with multiple layers that needed shedding, a lot of shedding. 

Today as I was writing in my journal, I had a thought randomly come to me, "Believe in the behind the scenes."

After I watched my pen write those words, I thought about the iceberg, but in a different way. 

On the surface, it seems as if many of my dreams have not come true yet.  I won't bore you with those because if you have read any of my other blogs, you know those dreams circulate around a relationship and music. 

It's not that nothing has happened, its  just that not enough has happened (in my mind).

On the surface, it seems as if my desires are near impossible.

On the surface, it feels sometimes as if God doesn't see and doesn't care. 

Even Jesus, God's own Son, cried out on the cross, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?" Mark 15:34.

On the surface, God wasn't anywhere to be found. 

On the surface, the Disciple's faith seemed to be lost.  

And then three days later….

"He has risen." Mark 16:6

As I go into Easter weekend, I remember to not be fooled by appearances. 

I remember to not be swayed by how things may seem to be. 

God's silence doesn't reflect His absence. 

It may take 3 days, 3000 hours, or 30 years. 

In fact, it may take us getting to Heaven before we understand.

Regardless of how long it takes, we are called to believe in the behind the scenes. 

Because behind the scenes, God is working. 

Because behind the scenes, God is up to something. 

Because behind the scenes, God is still God. 

The Day I Skipped Starbucks

Something happened this past weekend, something that has never happened before. 

I skipped Starbucks. 

My parents were visiting Nashville for my birthday, and my mom asked me to go thru the Starbucks drive thru. 

For the first time in my life, I passed on coffee. 

It wasn't that I wasn't thirsty,  it was because I was throwing a pity-party tantrum. 

I was in a funk all day, and could not pull myself out of it. 

It all started with discouragement. 

It was the,  "What if's?" and the, "Why's?"

Why…

am I not married?

Why…

am I still so far behind everyone else financially?

Why….

do I think my dream of songwriting can happen? 

Why…

do I still struggle with faith? 

What if…

I never get married? 

What if…

I never have a job that supports me financially?

What if…

The music doesn't happen?

After these questions buzzed around in my head, I went down a dark spiral of doubt. 

Right now, I am neither in the valley, nor on the mountaintop.

Right now, I am in the middle. 

I am at the part of my dream where my faith is tested. 

I am at the part where everything in me wants to turn around, and get back on dry land. 

I am at the part where it physically hurts my heart, and soul to keep holding on to hope. 

I think our culture tends to focus a lot on the beginning and the end. The starting point, and the finish line. 

When we cross the finish line, crowds chant and cheer, and we are given a shiny medal. 

However, during the middle of a race, we receive gatorade and water. Our muscles tells us to stop, and turn around. The mile markers remind us how far we still have yet to go. 

The middle part is not fun. 

I don't need another cup of gatorade. 

I need a shot of courage, and a bucket of faith. 

Later on in the evening of my pity party day, my dad asked me if I was ok. My discouragement was visible with my silence and dead stare. 

I nodded my head because if I were to answer, I would have sobbed.

It's easier not to talk when you aren't ok. 

Later that night, I was able to pull myself out of it, perhaps that was due to the margarita I had at dinner.  

I apologized to my parents for my attitude that day. 

My circumstance show me that I am jobless, childless, husbandless, and a fool to believe I can make it in songwriting. 

Reality tells me to go back  to school for my Masters in Counseling.

Reality tells me to find, "normal".

Reality tells me to stop. 

Faith tells me to keep going, despite what my circumstances look like. 

Faith tells me to continue believing for a publishing deal. 

Faith tells me to believe in the impossible. 

Sometimes God doesn't open the doors all the way.

Sometimes He makes us embrace the Middle.

The Middle is where we find out just how strong we are. 

The Middle is where we learn to fly, or to stay on the ground. 

The Middle is where we hold on, or give up.

The Middle is where we find the hero within. 

If you are in the middle of your dream, keep going. 

Keep believing that there is a reason for your desires and dreams. 

Keep believing that you are made for so much more than this world says.

Keep believing that you can, and you will defy the odds.

Finding Your Voice

While I am not a huge Nashville TV show fan, I do enjoy the music.

Actually, my favorite songs are the ones that the character’s on the show, Gunnar and Scarlett perform.
If you have never listed to, “It’s Not Yours To Throw Away,”  or, “Lately,” do it. Do it now.
If you are like me, you will be sobbing on the floor, promising yourself that you will hold on to your dream, at all costs.

One day, I went online and to see who the writers were on one particular song from the tv show.  

I then contacted one of them, asking for a songwriting lesson.
To my surprise, this person agreed.

This person told me to bring three of my original songs, lyrics and all.
After I shared my story, I played my songs, nervously.

My voice was shaking, my fingers messed up the chords, but I got through.
After I set the guitar down, this person went on to tell me things I did well, and things I could improve on.
After the technical issues, they then told me their story.

This writer said that after they had received their first publishing deal, they wracked their brain over how to write for current Nashville, (trucks, beer, alcohols, girls, cowboys..” ) you get the idea.

And it worked.
They got cuts, and made a few bucks.

But then, after exhaustingly trying to figure out what a Nashville pop star and publisher wanted, they started writing for themselves.   

They stopped trying to look the part, and just be truthful to what they knew, be truthful to themselves.

When they stopped trying to be what they thought Nashville wanted, they flourished, and flew.

They told me to keep doing exactly what I am doing. They told me to sing my songs out at open mic nights, playing my guitar and the few chords I know.

Basically just reiterating what the people around me have been telling me for awhile.

After our session finished, as I was packing up, they said, “You have already found what many songwriters spend their whole lives trying to find…you have found your voice.”

The significance of this statement is profound.

After the first voice/songwriting lesson I had after I moved to Nashville, nearly 2 years ago, the teacher said, “I want you to find your voice."

I left the lesson crying, because I didn’t know how.  

It’s been a long couple years.  

I’ve messed up on stage, I’ve forgotten the words, and many times, I’ve wanted to run away, and out of Nashville.

I have a long way to go, a lot more mistakes to make, a lot more bridges to cross, and cliffs to jump off (symbolically speaking of course)

 However, this morning, I realized I am at least on my way.
Baby steps, and occasionally, a large leap.

Have you found your voice?  

In other words, have you found your truth?
Have you stripped off the layers, the masks, the shell, and found what makes you, you?
Have you slowed down, and looked into the deep places of your soul?

It’s not easy, and is actually frightening, when you are introduced to yourself.

You find things that you would rather not find.
You see places in your heart which are not very pretty.
You also find your raw talents, and gifting.

I recently saw a quote the other day which caught my eye.

Jim Kwik writes, “It an egg is broken by outside force, life ends. If broken by inside force, life begins.”

 You are so much more capable than you realize.

Perhaps you haven’t even found that thing that brings your soul to life, that thing which ignites the fire within, that thing which makes your feel closer to Heaven.
But you will.  
Oh, you will.
It may even surprise you how it happens.

If you could see the potential that is placed in you, you would truly be amazed.

Today, I was amazed.

 It’s time to find your voice.  

The Courage to Quit

I didn't plan on quitting my job this week. 

If you have spent any amount of time with me, you know that I am not a number person. 

And for the past year and a half, I have somehow managed to fit my right brain into a left brain job. 

Until today. 

Yesterday, I started training for a new position. This new position gave me a office, a office with a door I might add, and much more responsibility. 

8 hours a day, 40 hours a week, I would be staring at my computer screen, entering numbers, and looking at rates. 

Last night, after the only one day of training, I had a panic attack. 

In fact, I had the worst panic attack I have had in a long time. 

I knew something was wrong when I suddenly dropped the glass I was holding, and started shaking uncontrollably. 

I called my my mom, and my aunt, crying hysterically, while rocking back and forth on my bed. 

"Please, just talk to me. Tell my I'm going to be alright," I cried.

"Please, just tell me I am not going to die," I cried. 

If you have never had a panic attack, it feels like a million years of doom. It feels as if I am stuck in a groundhog-day of hopelessness, and intense fear. 

It feels like hell. 

I wasn't going to get this honest, but I believe that only through honesty, can we find healing. 

Not only did I have a panic attack last night, but I also retreated back to the demon of bulimia. 

It was the worst night I have had in a long time. 

And after the panic left, the fear subsided, and grace washed over me,  I knew I had to quit.

I didn't sleep much last night, because I knew what awaited me in the morning. 

Even as I drove to work this morning, I kept trying to convince myself of all the reasons I shouldn't quit. 

1.) It's a paycheck

2.) It's a paycheck

3.) It's a paycheck

It all came down to a paycheck.

I realized I was trusting in money, rather than my God.

After I told my boss I wasn't going to accept the position, I said my goodbyes to fellow co-workers/friends, and walked out of the office carrying the flowers that my friend had sent me last week. 

As I was driving down I-65 South, I braced myself for the tears. 

But, surprisingly, they didn't come. 

What came was a poem. 

Sometimes it takes more courage to quit, than stay. 

Nothing, no job, no amount of money, no person, is worth that amount of anxiety. 

Nothing is worth falling back into the hell of bulimia for. 

Where to go from here? 

I don't know. 

What I do know, is that everything will be ok. 

I know I have a God who cares for me, Who knows the exact amount of hairs I have on my over-bleached, over-processed blonde head. He knows my talents,  and He knows my desires. He knew I was going to quit even before I did. 

Right now, the question, isn't what am I going to do?

Right now, the question, is will I trust Him or not? 

"Brighter Days"

Put my two weeks in

At work today

Grabbed my flowers

Quickly walked away

Didn't turn around

Or look behind

No second guesses

If my choice was right

Let go and let in

A new kind of free

Time to take a chance

On my destiny

Sometimes quitting

Is the only way

And some goodbyes

Lead to brighter days

Leaving all you know

for whats beyond

Cause you can't stay

Where you don't belong

Not sure what to do

Or where I'll go

Leave it up to life

To give me a clue

Breathe out and in 

A new kind of free

 Take a chance

On my destiny

Sometimes quitting

Is the only way

Some goodbyes 

Lead to brighter days

The unknown screams

Like stormy clouds

But only after the rain

Can a rainbow be found

Monsters in the Closet

I never had nightmares as a child.

I wasn’t scared of the monsters in my closet, or alligators under my bed.
I wasn’t scared of anything.

Then I moved to Nashville…

And the nightmares started.

A funny thing is that these nightmares started shortly after I started singing out in public again.

Two years ago, a complete stranger saw hidden potential in me, encouraging me to take a step out of my comfort zone, and onto the stage.

Singing on stage, meant overcoming insecurities that had held me hostage for over 16 years.
Singing on stage, meant breaking free from the fear of criticism, and comparison.
Singing meant healing.

My dad told my mom, a long time ago, “I know Amy will be free when she is singing again.”

I have been held down by fear for the majority of my life.

From bulimia, to people pleasing.
From perfectionism, to comparison.

But that all changed when this stranger, turned biggest fan, kept pushing me.

With every note, I am gaining a new found confidence.
With every note, the enemy is a little less in control.
Consequently, with every note, the enemy fights stronger.
The enemy fights stronger, because he knows the threat my freedom brings.

Perhaps it is just coincidence, but I think the nightmares are an effort of the one who hates me, to keep me locked inside the hell I was living.

I think the one who hates me, would love nothing more than me to stop music, stop singing, and stop stepping on stage.
I think the one who hates me, wants nothing more for me to continue being afraid.
I think the one who hates me, knows what a threat I will be, and already am, for helping others break free of their fear.

Someone once told me that the enemy is like a toothless dog. His bark is loud, fierce, and scary, but when push comes to shove, he is worthless.

There is One, Who is stronger, bigger, and greater, helping me overcome.

My friend sent me a picture from a performance I did the other night. I saw the little girl in me, who once loved singing Disney songs in front of people. I saw the little girl in me, who didn’t care about her weight and size. I saw the little girl in me, who could care less about her awkward knees. I saw the little girl in me, who didn’t long to be perfect. I saw the little girl in me, loving life, and loving herself.

If nightmares mean I am doing something right, then let them continue.

We have all heard the quote, “Everything you want lies on the other side of fear,” countless times.

But oh, how it is so true.

Maybe like me, it will take you a lot of little steps to break free of your fear.

Maybe like me, you will put one toe in the water first, before you jump in.
What matters is that you start.

Your freedom isn’t just for you, it’s for others, some you don’t even know, and will never meet.

Your freedom can help others break free.
Your freedom can help others find hope, and healing.

Come nightmares, come panic attacks, come sleepless nights, come tears, whatever you do, do not stay hidden.

Do not stay locked inside a cell that you were never meant to be in.

Perhaps this is a motivational message just for me, a reminder to keep being brave, a reminder to keep going…

or maybe, it is for someone else, someone who needs to take a step of courage.

 “Everything you want is on the other side of fear” Jack Canfield