Never Forget, You Idiots

Are you stubborn like me?

Dear Friends,

I’m so glad you are here. For those of you who are paid subscribers, thank you! I hope my posts encourage you. Most of my writings are vulnerable and extremely personal. While I don’t mind sharing my heart, it’s important that those who read it are invested in me and my children’s lives, hence the paywall. Everyone is welcome to be a paid subscriber, and if you are not, I invite you to do so below. If you have read my writings and they encourage you, your subscription allows me to continue to write and podcast and share God’s glory revealed stories.….so thank you! However you show up here, I’m thankful for you! I look forward to walking this journey with you.

Love and hugs. Amy xo

“You must recognize that the Lord your God is not giving you this good land because you are good, for you are not—you are a stubborn people.” Deuteronomy 9:6

Sometimes these posts are my prayers…

…and lately there have been a lot of them. Words seem to just pour out of me. I’m not sure why… you can blame perimenopause - because I do - but the words just come. I’ve always loved to write. It brings me so much peace. My therapist says I like to live in a storybook and I suppose that is 100% accurate. I see stories everywhere, all the time. Stories and words haunt me- and sometimes drive me.

My parents were early risers.

Like very early - 5 am people. Sometimes earlier. They were seize the day types. Get up and get going. If I’m honest with myself I get that from them. I was always an early riser too, although sometimes I wonder if that was by nature or by nurture, but I digress. Regardless, I was the first one to fall asleep at slumber parties and the first one to wake up in the mornings…and always the one to get her hand dipped in water or her bra frozen. So that was fun.

I escaped my very productive parent’s demands by books.

While I was an early riser, I did not possess the same energy levels my parents did. By six am most Saturdays, my dad was out in the yard blowing the leaves and mowing the lawn {we never had a lot of neighbors} and my mom was cleaning or organizing or cooking or something. They were always doing something. But me? I was reading. I would be all snuggly under my comforter with my book. I would lay there until my dad would figure out I was awake, pound on my door and make me get up and help outside.

My parents up early killing it in life.

It drove my dad nuts I wasn’t more productive. Oh Dad.

I finally caught up with him. The irony is I do the same with my kids now, for years I was a slave driver with my kids. Get up, do this, move here, finish that. After my life fell apart, I didn’t have it in me anymore and I swung the other way. Stayed in bed, read a whole library of books…escaped. Things kinda went to pot around me as I cocooned and healed… but now I have tried to create a balance. I still love to hide and read but I really love to “do” too, and finding the inner balance to do both well has been hard - but satisfying- for me. I’m getting there. Since we are talking about books, Comer’s Garden City has been game changer for me, I have started to incorporate a “Sabbath”, and that has helped me weigh my need to do with my need to relax. So yes, I’m working on it.

I struggle with judgement sometimes, you guys.