BREAKIN' THE LAW!!!!

Because right now I have my Halloween glow in the dark shirt on as I'm surrounded by Christmas decoration boxes.

Tee hee.

I Heart

Sometimes

I like to be sad.

Sometimes I like to lament.

I like to wallow.

Sometimes I like the taste of tears on my face.

I like the shudders of agony.

Sometimes I embrace the darkness.

Because I knows its name.


Sometimes I hear the hearts of the broken.

I always cry with them.

Sometimes I give them a piece of my heart.

I hear the words they refuse to say.



I'm not a depressed soul.

I just tend to love on the broken.

I sing their songs because I know the words.



Sometimes I'm overwhelmed.




Because in those very moments I find my Joy.

Have You Read. . .

The Shack by Wm. Paul Young?

If so, what did you think?

Mommy Dread

I hate that mommy dread. 

Maybe I'm the only one who gets it--but sometimes I get this overwhelming feeling of, "What if _______________ happens to my kids?" 

I hate it. 

I hate it. 

I hate it.

I try not to panic, but we've all seen the worst case scenarios.  

And that can make it even worse sometimes. 

Ugh.

Stupid fear.

Love.

Is not a competition.

I Can't Fix It

And I'm a fixer.

I can't fix it.

And it hurts my feelings.  :(

XOXXO

So, I can only offer my ears and my heart.  I have a lot of room and a lot of love to share.

I might not have great words, but I've got a lot of love to share.

I just want to love on her, on him, on them, on the rest.

I can't fix it for you, but I can at least be there to help you put it back together again.

I May or May Not. . .

. . . have on a Halloween shirt while simultaneously dancing in the kitchen listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack.

. . . be absolutely giddy with excitement that two weeks from today I will be putting up all of my decorations.

. . . take down all of my decorations from the attic in two Saturdays.

. . . decorate my car for Christmas at Trunk or Treat and break all of my husband's rules about not putting the tree up before Halloween because it confuses the trick-or-treaters.

. . . feel the need to hurry up and complete the wallpaper removal from my kitchen because I want it pretty in time for the holiday season.

. . . be slightly obsessive about this holiday season.

Always Classy, Never Trashy

You might be trashy if:

1. You wear those plaid pjs out in public.  For real.  Keep your pjs in the house.  Only exceptions include:  major hospital emergency situation which doesn't allow for wardrobe change, embarrassing your teenagers at school for previously embarrassing you, or walking to and from your house to the paper box in the morning.

If you must wear your pjs out of the house, at least compromise and wear sweats (and even that is pushing it) so that we think you're going to and from the gym or something which sweats would be acceptable attire.

2.  You snort/clear your throat excessively (you know, the sinus cleansing snoorrrrrttttttts) which make us all instantly search for hand sanitizer.  Clear your sinuses out at home/restroom and carry kleenex instead of sniff sniff snooooorrrrrrrtttttttttttttt.   We are all understanding of cold/flu/allergy season.  No problem. Just please don't be "that guy who snorts in class/Target/Harris Teeter."  So trashy.

3.  Don't be all loud in public facilities with your gang of girls/guys.  No one thinks you're funny when you're making food creations or yelling, "Go (insert local high school mascot)!!!!" in the middle of Taco Bell.  If we wanted to cheer for your team you would have seen us at the game.  And you didn't.  So let me eat my mexican pizza in peace.

4.  You fail to check for a courtesy flush.  Rude.

5.  You let your kids run WILD in the store, parking lot, or general public.  I mean, screaming, jumping on chairs, running up and down aisles--control your children while I resist the urge to control them myself.

Also, it's getting cooler.  Baby might need something more than a diaper and that crud on his face to keep him warm.

6.  College girls--it's time to put the skank summer clothes up.  Adding UGGs to your mini skirt doesn't make you any warmer.

7.  Hipsters, you just look like you need a shower.  Several showers to wash off the dirty and the dismissive attitude off your face.  No one is impressed by you and your lack of desire to make an impression (even though we all know that's the impression you want to make?)

8.  Rebel Yells.

Questionable Exceptions:  NASCAR events, tractor pulls, and Charlie Daniels' concerts.

Love and smooches,
A.

Crush

My soul has been weary.

Heavy.

Tired.

Sick.

Broken.

I have wrestled with You until You crushed me in Your embrace.

Thank You for loving insignificant me.

Psalm 3:3

But you are a shield around me, O LORD; 

       you bestow glory on me and lift up my head.

Thank goodness.  

Desperate.

I cannot take much more of this.

My heart is so tired of crying.

Literally, I feel like everything around me is just doom and gloom these days.

These past few weeks have been complete and total crap.

Seriously.

My dear friend, Jill, passed away.  Lost a long battle with ALS.  Sucks.

Major bouts with anxiety.  Major.  Sucks.

My aunt had a cancer scare.  Scary.  Sucks.  

My school and the events of the past week.  Sucks.

Heartaches for a lot of people around me--for various reasons.

And NOW I find out that a fellow teacher from my previous job was killed today in a freak accident--leaving behind her husband, newborn, and her eight year old (whom I taught).

Really?  Really?????  When will it stop????

I cannot cannot cannot take much more.

I've completely dropped my yoke.

Please, please, please make it stop.

Come quickly, Jesus.

We're desperate for you.

I Hear It Calling My Name

Soon. 

Steam from the Mug.

I cannot begin to tell you how much I NEEEEEEEED this Fall Break.

I didn't realize how beat I was--mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally.

I didn't realize that every time I had logged into my work email this past week I had gotten a knot in my stomach.

I didn't realize that every single FB update from students would plummet my soul so much.

I didn't realize that I would mentally check out at several points during the week to just survive.

This week I'm going to be selfish.  I'm going to love on the people I love the most.  I'm going to take care of myself.  I'm going to drink and savor a lot of coffee and hot tea and sit and ponder and wallow and smile and laugh and enjoy life for a little while.

I'm going to sit and read the Word and journal in my kitchen in the mornings because I don't have to rush out the door to the world.  I can enjoy that moment of sunlight in my kitchen when the sun hits the stained glass and my blue Mason jar--when the room is yellow with Love.

I'm going to read decor magazines, prepare for the MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR (I can start decorating 3 weeks from today!!!!  If I ever needed a little Christmas it is right this very minute!!!), take naps, invite people over, and just be the person I am.

I'm going to be a girl.  I'm going to be a wife.  I'm going to be a mommy.  I'm going to be a friend.  I'm going to be a servant.  

I'm going to breathe.

Sweet Release

This past week has been the most extreme in regards to my spiritual life and my opinions on worship and the church (as a community of believers).  A week ago today I was in Waco and crying tears of repentance and joy.  I had forgotten or just sinned and had allowed my pride to get the best of me for the better part of my 31 years of life.

I knew going into the conference that I was more broken than I had ever been.  These past few months have been an emotional roller coaster--completing my degree, Jill's battle with ALS, struggles at work, family issues, Molly's struggles with school, struggles at church (relax everything's fine please don't jump to crazy conclusions), emotional struggles, struggles with students, anxiety, pride--you name it, I thought I had dealt with it all.

I was trying so desperately to be all things to all people, in essence to be their Jesus, that somewhere along the way I forgot that I'm not a god or their savior.

Duh.

A week ago Thursday I was listening to Francis Chan expose his personal struggles with pride--and his image of the angels praising God in Heaven and his pride wanting to distract those angels and the believers and turning the attention on himself.  How disgusting that is, and yet we ALL are that way.

Enter first sobbing session of the event.

I was so upset with myself, upset with the church (as a community of believers--not my church), upset with how we conduct worship these days--worship of ourselves and these idols that control our lives.

I felt so ashamed, so sad, so broken, so much agony.  I spent the majority of that weekend in self-reflection on myself as a musician and worship leader, my job and how best to teach my students, my pride and how it affects me, and my heart for the broken.

My heart breaks for the broken.  I kept hearing whispers of that word--broken.  That I needed to help the broken.  That I would be there for the broken.  That I would share joy with the broken.  I referenced this on my blog Sunday morning.

I stood with my hands high and tears streaming down my face and I knew that I had to do one thing:

I would communicate the love of Jesus through song.  

I sobbed at the end of Louie Giglio's talk--crying about how my heart was so heavy with everything and how I had just about had enough--and I wanted to do whatever it took to serve Him.  That I would lay it all on the line--I would put aside all my fears, insecurities, my pride--I just wanted to serve.   I wanted to communicate that love, that joy, that assurance, through song.  

Sobbing that I was so ridiculously "cosmically insignificant" and yet He desired my praise.  He wanted to hear my song.  He created me to sing.  

All my life I believed this in my gut--that there was something more incredible about music than other forms of worship. 

And when we were asked over and over at the conference "why do we sing?" I could only say, "I sing because I breathe." I can't separate the two in my mind.  I don't know how to do anything else--I have to sing. 

Every speaker and every performer talked about lament.  

I felt it stirring, I felt a connection, and my heart was in such agony and I didn't know why. 

I thought it was all about me.  

I was so wrong.  So incredibly wrong. 

I thought God was fixing me.  

I had no clue He was preparing me (and my fellow students) for the most broken experience of our lives. 

We arrived back in Greenville on Saturday night, attended church on Sunday morning, and then the worst thing imaginable happened at my school.  I'm sure you've heard the news, seen the reports, heard the rumors.  

It's bad.  

It's really, really, really bad.  

President Perkins called me on Sunday afternoon and asked me to prepare music for the chapel on Monday morning.  He said, "Prepare whatever you would normally do for a funeral service."

I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me.  I immediately opened my Bible and searched for words of inspiration.  I read and read and reread all of my notes I had hastily scrawled in my journal over the weekend.  I prayed and listened to God.  I listened to worship music.  I called Mike and asked him to play--and then went to work my set list.  

But, instead of being scared, I was strong. 

Please do not misunderstand what I am saying here.  

I, little Amanda, was not strong.  Amanda was a ball of emotion. 

But, I have a God who walked with me through this week.  When it was time for me to lead worship, I did not have crazy heart flutters, upset stomach, or fear.  I had a message to share with people.  He spoke through me.  I barely remember any of it.  

That is not me.  If you know me well, you know I'm a teary emotional mess.  

But, for the first time in my life I was able to truly separate the emotions I was experiencing and was able to completely focus on the task at hand. 

To communicate the love of Jesus through song to my broken community. 

It's not about me.  Not one bit.  It never has been and it never will be. 

I prepared the best I could on my end--I spent countless moments in prayer, worship, and thanksgiving.  I cried a lot of tears, I begged Him for strength, and I felt like I was in a fog.  

But, for the first time ever, I am free. 

I'm ashamed it took something so incredibly tragic for me to come to this conclusion.  

But, my God makes beautiful things out of the dust. 

I will never be the same. 

To My Incredible Students

Hello Friends, 


This week has been horrible.  


I don't how to say it any better than that.  It has taken everything we've had within us to hold it together and to carry on.  I see it written all over your faces in class--the pain, the sadness, the agony, the shock, the horror, the anger, the brokenness.  


We are emotionally, physically, and spiritually spent.  


I have seen some of you at your absolute worst this week.  


And you have seen many of the staff members at their worst.  


But, you continue to humble me.  


You, dear students, when faced with a horrible situation have pressed on and clung to Christ like never before.  You have loved on one another and held your heads high.  You are walking through the fire and though there is evil all around, you continue to keep your eyes in the right place.  


I am immensely proud of you.  Many of you have joked about my excessive love for you--as well as my leaky eyes.  But know that when I shed tears for you these are tears of compassion, love, and proud mama tears.  You have been incredible this week and I pray that as you continue this journey you will fix your eyes upon the Lord.  

2 Corinthians 4:8:  We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair

I love you all. 

XOXXO

MACU Update

Here is a link to a fairly accurate news report from today.

Please, please, please keep MACU in your prayers. 

Our God is Greater

Our God is in control.

He walks with us.

He hears us.

He loves us.

He is bigger, better, and fully capable.

We will praise Him in the storm.

Broken

I do not have time to really pound out a long blog this morning on the events of the past weekend.

I keep coming back to this idea of being broken.

I walked into that conference more broken than I have been in a very, very long time.

I walked out of that conference even more shattered.

I journaled the entire time I was there--and I have snippets and nuggets of wisdom from some of the most incredible musicians and speakers.  My brain was working in overdrive and I couldn't contain myself.

Joy, elation, sadness, shame, guilt, hope, peace, security, insecurity, beautiful disaster.

But, most commonly broken.

I will not be able to put all of my pieces back together.

And. . . .strangely. . . .I'm ok with that.