The journey became official on July 4, 1988. I was 12 years old, going into 7th grade. I cracked open my hot pink diary with an ice cream cone on top and began writing. It was an innocent act, for sure. But to me, it’s proof of my purpose.

I’m convinced. Or perhaps God’s convinced me quietly, time and time again.

Writing isn’t my hobby. It’s my calling.

I just haven’t gotten paid for it yet.

One diary turned into two, then three. Diaries turned into notebook journals. Notebook journals turned into store-bought journals. Teenage-angst journals turned into gratitude journals, love journals and pregnancy journals. Store-bought journals sufficed, yet again, post baby one and two. Then there was the seven-year computerized, therapeutic journal you’ve heard about if you’ve lingered long in this space from the beginning. Yes, all of this led to baby three and my blog launch in July 2012.

July is clearly my month of birth.

The past 3 1/2 years have been marked with tremendous personal and spiritual growth. My inner life is deep and incredibly rich. To know me well is to know that I’m much quieter on the outside than I am on the inside. 368 blog posts have been published and made public. 65 posts sit unpublished in my blog’s draft box. A leather, store-bought journal stamped with “A Penny For Your Thoughts” is nearly filled with notes and dreams of great big things, thoughts and truths I needed to speak out loud.

Some of you have listened.

Some of you have heard.

Some of you have loved my dreams.

Some of you have held them close.

Some of you have quietly affirmed.

Some of you have stood by me.

Some of you have pressed, asked and challenged.

Some of you simply don’t know.

Some of you I’ve been too afraid to tell.

Two of you called me an author last week – even though I didn’t believe it, even though I don’t believe it. “I’m not an author until I’m published.”

I’m a writer.

I own that.

But here’s the thing, friends.

I didn’t set out to become a professional blogger.

I wanted to become a writer.

I dreamed of becoming an author.

All those diaries and journals dating back to 1988? They’re proof that God was working something in me from the beginning, that He had a plan greater than my own, a plan to draw me and others closer to Him through words, through the Spirit moving in and through the everyday fabric of our lives.

The birth of my first baby marked the birth of the dream. In 2003, the dream began taking shape.

I wanted to write books.

I wanted to become an author.

I wanted to move people, to relate to people, to connect with people, to change people, to draw people closer to God and the purpose He has for their lives….in quiet and personal ways, through the written word.

I wanted to write words that make a difference, a lasting difference.

After my baby was born, I was shocked. Motherhood wasn’t anything like I expected. Heck, it still isn’t today. Motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, the hardest thing I’ll ever do. I needed to know I wasn’t alone in this mothering gig. I found solace and solidarity in the pages of real-life books on motherhood. Those books were unlike anything I’d ever read before. They opened my eyes. They helped me feel understood. They helped me realize I wasn’t alone. They changed me from the inside out.

Those books inspired me.

I wanted to move people like that. I wanted people to know they weren’t alone. I wanted to use my life exactly like that…to inspire and change people through the written, printed word.

So I began dreaming. I wrote the dreams out loud.

First dreams of authoring books appeared in my journals in 2003.

In November of 2006, I spoke my dream out loud to an established author and speaker who’s still alive and kicking today.

In March of 2007, I wrote a simple goal – to author one book on mothering. I defined the long-term vision. (It’s still the same vision I have today, only today’s vision is broader.) I brainstormed 19 book titles. No kidding. I even met with a local author for tips and researched domain names. (See, I was supposed to start blogging way back in 2007 when it was hip and new and the up-and-coming thing to do.)

The dream never went away. It just shifted.

In January of 2010, I started a blog, but never wrote a post.

In July of 2012, after being so exasperated with all the dreaming and writing in my head, I launched this blog. At that point, I’d been called to write publicly for nine years and hadn’t taken a LICK of real action. God is SO patient with us, friends, SO grace-filled. But he will gently remind you of His plan a million times if you don’t listen. After all, He’s a relentlessly loving God, too.

In October of 2014, I was presented with the opportunity to spend 20 minutes with a highly published and highly regarded author at a writing conference. From here on out, let’s refer to her as “Mama Bear.” When I approached Mama Bear, all I intended to do was thank her for her incredible leadership of our generation. All I wanted to do was tell her that I greatly respect and admire her, that when I “grow up,” I’d love to lead, love and write like she does. I told her all of those things. But she invited me in for more. I had no idea what was about to unfold. Add another dear writer friend and 20 minutes of conversation later, we found ourselves revealing our greatest writing dreams to Mama Bear. I told her about the book I wanted to write. I told her about the other book I wanted to write. She told me which book to write first and left me with “You’re more ready for this than you know.”

I met with a literary agent that afternoon. She told me she wanted to see my book proposal. She told me “go do it.” She gave me her business card and even hand-wrote a note on it, telling me what to write in the subject line when I sent in the book proposal.

Those words have echoed in my mind for 13 months now…

“You’re more ready for this than you know.”

“Go do it.”

But I haven’t written a book proposal yet.

I haven’t believed I’m ready for this. I haven’t believed I’m ready for this at all. I haven’t believed I’m good enough. I haven’t believed I have a big-enough platform or a loud-enough voice or beautiful-enough words. I haven’t believed I’m connected enough, that I’m Christian enough or secular enough, that I’m courageous enough to write any book proposal. I haven’t believed I’m strong enough to withstand rejections and criticisms that are part and parcel of any published author’s real life.

I haven’t believed in God’s dreams for me.

I haven’t believed in the plans He began setting out so clearly in 1988 with that hot pink ice cream cone diary.

I’ve started doubting my words.

I’ve started doubting my purpose.

I’ve let the enemy creep in and try to kill, steal and destroy all the plans God ever laid out for my life.

I can’t do it anymore, friends.

It’s coming to a stop today, whether I like it or not.

I’m not playing this game of tug of war anymore.

A plan and a purpose has been playing out in my life since 1988. In case you didn’t realize, it’s the end of 2015, friends. I’m almost 40 years old. God’s been calling me to this since I was 12 years old.

Will I listen?

Or will I not listen?

Will I deny the story He’s written, the story He’s writing today?

I never set out to become a professional blogger.

I dreamed of becoming a published author of books.

When I left my 14 1/2 year career as a speech-language pathologist in December 2014 to pursue writing and photography, one of my writing goals was to publish a blog post 2-3 times per week. I’ve met and kept that goal all year.

Today, I’m making a new goal and I’m making it public to keep myself accountable. Effective immediately and until further notice, I will be publishing blog posts at a frequency of 1-2 times per week maximum. With the exception of my upcoming Africa series (which I’ll write as much as I feel called to write), you can expect me to be writing on the blog with LESS frequency.

Why all the detail, you ask?

Why make this public?

Because I’m tired of the fight. I’m tired of the internal battle. I’m tired of keeping this all inside.

I started writing in diaries and journals when I was 12.

I began dreaming of writing books when I was 26.

I began blogging when I was 36.

I’m still dreaming of writing books and 2016 will mark my 40th birthday.

I’m not getting any younger, friends.

I believe God’s still calling me, still purposed me to author books. If I don’t write those books, nobody will. With that in mind, I am forcing myself, behaving myself out of this place of disbelief and inaction. I am taking the next leap of faith and I’m making it public for the purpose of internal and external accountability.

I have one, great-big book I feel I need to write.

And who knew, I have a children’s book series dreamed up as well. One’s drafted. The second is drafted in my mind. I need to sit down and write it all out ASAP – before it escapes me. As in, it needs to get on the screen within the next week or two or the heart of it will disappear into writer’s oblivion. I’m convinced the children’s series is more than two books. I just don’t have inspiration for books three plus, yet.

There are books beyond that…on calling, friendship, marriage, mission and maybe even motherhood (the original dream). All potential. All possibility. All completely unknown at this point.

I didn’t set out to become a professional blogger. This blog is not the end all be all.

I set out to become a published author of books.

God’s been calling. It’s been persistent. I can’t work my way out of the feeling that I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m delusional. Maybe I’m a dreamer. Maybe.

Worst case? Call me crazy, delusional, a dreamer. At least I tried.

If my daughter wanted to become a doctor, I’d tell her to try, I’d tell her to go for it, I’d tell her to do what she feels called to do. Why is it so different for writers? Why do we continue to dream in the quiet? Why do we say we’re working on “projects” when in reality we’re writing books? Why does it have to be so mysterious? If my daughter wanted to become a doctor, I can guarantee she’d have no problem publicly proclaiming she was applying to med school.

So there you go. I’m reducing my blogging time with hopes of freeing up time to work on my first book proposal. At this moment in time, I don’t know which book is first. And yes, you might call me crazy. My intention is to pursue traditional publication. (Sigh. Deep breath. We’ll work through this whichever way it goes.)

I’ll be honest. This may be slow. This may be a no go. I know this is NOT an easy road. But I have to try. There’s no more denying it. This is the next right thing to do. This is the next thing God’s calling me to do.

So if you ask me what I’m doing now, how I’m spending my time, what it’s like to be a stay-at-home mom who blogs? Yeah. Stay-at-home moms don’t sit around eating bon bons all day, that’s for sure. (Random ode and props to the bravest of the brave.) I’m not really identifying as a SAHM, anyway. I’m identifying as wife, mom, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, sister-in-law, niece, cousin, aunt, friend, work-at-home photographer and writer who dreams of becoming an author.

Our timelines rarely coincide with God’s.

We want life to go faster. Or slower.

We wish this would happen. Or that.

We want to press forward. Quicker.

We wish we could go back in time. And do it again.

We dream of better days, longer days, days fuller, days lighter.

We dream, scheme and believe BIG, bold things.

We think maybe, someday.

Maybe.

We have a hunch. Yeah, a hunch. If only, God. If God.

We want to believe those nudges are true. We want to believe it’s the Spirit speaking to our hearts, not earthly, fleshly, egotistical desires.

We just want confirmation that all this living and breathing and dreaming is real. That this life of ours is worth something more, more than mere existence.

We don’t want to simply survive.

We want to thrive.

We want to believe in a God who can do anything. A bigger-than-life God. A God who does things totally unexpected. A God who shows up in places and times least expected. A God who wants to surprise us with His glory, His goodness, His richness, His fullness, His plan for our lives here on planet Earth.

We want to know there’s more. That we’re part of a grander plan. A greater story.

So when DropBox was simply too slow, when I had to go into church to upload a load of high resolution photographs from an all-church service day, when I “randomly” commented on the Africa photos in the corner of the pastor’s office that June 1st, 2015, then consequently got invited to join a mission trip to Africa, I was shocked.

I thought the dude was crazy. Me? Go on a mission trip to Africa in the fall? Ummm….No?! Not going to happen that quick. Not now. You might work like that, but not me! You don’t know me. I’m a planner. I’m a preparer. I like to do and know things in advance. There’s no way I’d make such a big decision in such a short timeframe. There’s no way I could ever find the money that fast, get child care that fast, get the a-okay from my husband that fast, get a blessing from our parents that fast. You know. There’s no way it’s going to happen that fast for me. Okay?

To be honest, I didn’t think the pastor’s initial invitation to go to Africa was all that serious. I really, desperately wanted to go to Africa in my heart of hearts. Of course, I was interested. As in, yes please? But now wasn’t the time. More like a couple years from now, or give me at least a year to get this thing worked out somehow? But five or six months from now?! Really? Serious? Is this for real?

I got myself quiet.

And I got thinking about God’s timelines. How maybe we have it all wrong. How maybe I’ve had it all wrong. How maybe my timeline is SO off and SO wrong and SO not God’s. How he’s surprised me before; maybe He’s surprising me again. How I dreamed of traveling to Africa – not to sightsee, but to serve – for longer than I can remember. My Africa dream is so old, I don’t even remember when I started dreaming it. The dream’s just been there. Always. Forever. Then I remembered being invited to Africa by a different party, with a different nonprofit, in May 2014. And how I said NO, I’m already traveling to the Dominican with Compassion. Then I remembered the 2023 trip we visioned to Africa for our 25th anniversary. And I remembered the SINGLE reference to “Africa” on my blog’s Meet Amy page. I thought it was dreamy, but left it there on purpose, without any detail, without any knowing of what that “Africa” might look like. I left it in for hope’s sake. I left it in for the believing in someday, somehow, maybe when I’m much older and wiser and there’s something grand for me to accomplish there.

Is this all mystical-hogwash coincidence, or is this God working His plan?

I began to believe.

I also began to doubt.

I dismissed and diminished the pastor’s invitation to go on the Africa mission trip. I wanted to believe it could be possible. But I didn’t believe it could actually happen.

Reality set in.

I started blogging in July 2012.

Haiti in February 2014.

Expensive new camera in September 2014.

I stopped working as a speech-language therapist in December 2014.

Dominican Republic in January 2015.

Eye cancer diagnosis in January 2015.

Photography business launch in spring and summer 2015.

And now a mission trip to AFRICA in the fall of 2015?

How much more could I ask of my husband?

In my head, I knew it would be much better to discuss this in a year or two. That would be much better timing.

But in my heart, in my spirit, in my soul, I had a hunch this wasn’t about my timing, but more about God’s.

So I left myself open to the slight possibility of going to Africa in the fall of 2015.

I received the initial invitation on June 1, 2015.

By June 17th, I had a solid and highly justified hunch the trip was NOT going to happen this time.

By July 7th, I’d given my answer in writing. NO.

On July 20th, God performed a BIG miracle.

I ignored that miracle until August 2nd, to be exact. I hadn’t been sure what to do with that miracle, but God knew EXACTLY what to do with it. He took it into His own hands. Clearly, I wasn’t moving this Africa deal forward with enough vigor. He was going to make this happen whether I liked it or not.

And that August 2nd, it was beautiful really. I’ll always remember the way she looked at me with tears in her eyes. (You know who you are, sweet friend.) The moment she knew in her heart of hearts that I was going to Africa.

And in the oddest series of events that occurred over the next 2-3 weeks, I’ll always remember the moment that same friend told me she wouldn’t be going to Africa. With the same tears in her eyes.

But I’d said, I’d written…

This wasn’t about getting anyone’s approval anymore. This Africa deal was between me and God, and God had made that abundantly clear.

By Saturday, August 29th, I said YES to Africa.

Things were definitely still in the air. Things were definitely NOT 100% clear. The near three-month journey from June 1st to August 29th had been rough, rocky and incredibly spiritually challenging.

But…

BUT….

I said YES to Africa.

Because God was in on this from day one.

There was no denying it.

I couldn’t shake this feeling I was supposed to go NOW. To Africa. In the fall of 2015. On this particular trip. For such a time as this.

I’d given an absolute NO on July 7th.

God performed a series of straight up miracles.

And by August 29th, I said YES.

How could I deny what He’d done?

How could I deny His plans, His timelines?

This wasn’t about me. This wasn’t about my timelines or my pretty little plans or my best case scenario anymore. This was all about God. His Spirit nudging me again and again and again. His clearing the way. His making a way, whether any of us liked it or not. His desiring for me TO GO. To Africa. Now. As in. NOW.

Friends and family, I want to acknowledge that my retelling of this incredibly life-changing story has been incredibly vague. Much more vague than anything I’d normally share in this space. But this journey has been incredibly personal. This journey will become part of my life story, my lifelong testimony. I’ve documented it in a couple unpublished blog posts, and I’ve tucked away the details in my heart. I won’t forget. Someday, I’ll tell and it’ll make perfect sense and feel good and right in the context of a long-lived life. For now, the story will stay between me, two people who know all the details, and a few others who know some pieces. Some things are meant to stay sacred secret, between us and God.

But this, THIS, is all you need to know.

I planned, wanted, and desired to go to Africa for my whole life, as long as I can remember.

I said NO to Africa twice.

God performed miracles.

And then I said YES.

Which means I’m going to Africa. On a mission trip. Soon!

I’m going to dive straight into details, because no surprise, I’m already running long on words.

• I’m traveling with a team of 10 to Kenya, Africa.
• We’ll be gone for 10 days, end of November into early December 2015.
• All my travel mates are from Minnesota. 5 females. 5 males.
• We’ve already met twice as a group.
• Random awesome fact: My first cousin once removed is going on the trip and we had NO IDEA until we arrived at the first meeting and saw each other there! Who knew?! (Okay, so I’m not 100% on the blood relationship. Our parents are first cousins. So what does that make us?)
• We’re traveling with a nonprofit called Love For Kenya.
• Love For Kenya is one of our church’s 10 global mission partners, so our church’s mission funds will be covering a portion of our trip.
• We’ll be staying in huts.

While we’re in Kenya, we’ll be working largely with orphans and widows. We’ll also be doing other ministry, outreach and service projects in the community as we feel called and led through listening prayer. Community ministry might look “as small as” providing encouragement, washing feet, feeding people and giving people clothing, or “as big as” building a home, providing mosquito nets and life-saving medications for a couple hundred people, showing the “Jesus film” to a thousand, and exploring uncharted valleys in an effort to reach people who have never been reached before. We’ll also be heading into the slums one day. It’s hard to say what God has in store. But these details, these possibilities, we know for sure.

The trip is structured, but leaves plenty of room for God to work His plan.

For those of you who are safety minded, our trip will be led by Pastor Randy who’s led 90 mission trips. This will be his 17th mission trip to Kenya. Crazy cool, right? We’ll be 13-16 hours from areas that would be considered unsafe, and will have access to mobile phones. We’ll be together as a group at all times. And local Kenyan friends and partners will be journeying with us once we arrive in Africa.

I’m breathing deep. Sighing. Wondering how this could be true that I’m telling you I’m going to Africa. Now. For such a time as this.

One more important thing…

I will be blogging this trip, just as I did in Haiti and the Dominican Republic. We haven’t discussed details yet as far as what that will look like and when, but I’ll definitely let you know. One way or another, you will be hearing all about this journey to Africa.

And I’m hoping, praying and planning on piloting a photography project I’ve been visioning and dreaming of since January. I’ve already talked to Pastor Randy, our trip leader, about this and he thinks it’s feasible within the structure of our trip.

Keep in mind, I said YES to Africa on August 29th. So we’ve only had 18 days to discuss details.

Speaking of this whole timeline – being invited June 1st, saying NO July 7th, saying YES August 29th, sharing with you all today, and leaving at the end of November – I could use a little help.

You see, I wasn’t planning on Africa.

We weren’t planning on Africa.

I didn’t know God had this in store for me…NOW.

I didn’t know He had this in mind for me…NOW.

I thought my Africa dreams were possibly far fetched, likely for later in life when things will be far more settled. For our 25th wedding anniversary? Yes. For an awesome 65th birthday when I join 10 wise writers and photographers on some awesome writing-photography adventure? Sounds amazing. But right now? Not so much. Didn’t plan that.

Our timelines rarely coincide with God’s.

So back to needing a little help.

Here’s what I could use…

A prayer team

If you’re willing to serve on a prayer team for my trip to Kenya, please leave me a message somewhere, anywhere, along with your email address. I would love some warriors to pray for travels, safety, health and God’s mission to be accomplished while we’re there.

Financial support

When I originally published this post on September 16, 2015, I made a humble request. I needed an additional $550 to fully fund my mission trip to Africa. Thanks to the generous gifts of family, friends and blog readers, the trip is now fully funded! I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you. (Updated 11/23/15)

Likers & Lovers, Readers & General Supporters 

I need some lovin’ on this, friends. I need some support. Will you encourage me, love me, support me, read the posts I write, lift me up in your thoughts and prayers? Will you encourage me in my photography journey so I’m ready to pilot the project I’ve been dreaming of? Will you be hopeful and expectant? Will you believe there’s a reason God’s sending me to Africa now instead of waiting until my 25th anniversary or 65th birthday? Will you set aside doubt, worry and disbelief for the sake of encouragement? Will you believe in this journey, this mission? Will you will believe with me and for me? I would so greatly appreciate it.

Thank you, friends. Thank you.

I stayed up until 1:10 a.m. writing this and I’m in for a long day ahead. After the kids left for school this morning, the doorbell rang. It was our 4-year-old neighbor boy. When I opened the door, he looked me in the eye and whispered “Your butterfly is going to fly away now.” It was truly the most miraculous thing ever to me. I ran to grab my camera. The caterpillar my daughter put in a bucket weeks ago and had been keeping on our porch had just broken from its chrysalis. It was on a fern next to the bucket. Our sweet neighbor boy notified me just in time. We watched its first moments free, its first flight. It was amazing. Miraculous. God’s confirmation for me this morning. Fly, dear one. Fly.

All photo credits (except the butterfly) to Love for Kenya.

 

 

 

This post serves as the landing page for my trip to Kenya, Africa, with the nonprofit organization, Love for Kenya, in 2015. All the posts I write about the trip will be listed and linked here, at the bottom of this blog post. You’ll also find this Kenya graphic displayed on the right sidebar of my blog homepage. Click on the graphic anytime, and you’ll be brought right back here where you’ll find all the blog posts in one place!

 

To read other posts in the series about my trip to Africa, click on the title below:

Africa. When STAY RIGHT BY ME is All God Asks.

One More Day and We’ll Be On Our Way

The Sweet Song of Shangilia Orphanage

God’s Good, Good Work

Home. A Blessing and Dream Come True.

Less Productivity. More Connectivity. The Lesson I Had to Learn in Africa.

On Earth, As It Is In Heaven

Good Love and Good Bye

Messy. Slummy. Safari Beautiful.

Africa. The Untold Stories.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”  Ecclesiastes 3:11 

God knows our hearts intimately.

He created us, made us, fashioned us fine.

He knows what makes us tick, knows what makes us cry.

He knows all of us, every part of us, the beautiful, upside down, inside out bits of us.

When we step out in faith, He reveals His purpose, His best, His grand design for our lives on earth and into eternity, too.

This, I learned on one trip to Haiti, one trip to the Dominican Republic, and one Ginny Owens acoustic house show.

When you know, you just know – this moment is a gift from God, this opportunity is a gift from God, this place and this time is a gift from the only One who could give it.

So when we received confirmation that Ginny and two band members would, indeed, be spending the night at our home, I knew it was a gift. Sent from heaven alone.

God knows whose writing and singing heart matches mine most closely. Ann Voskamp. Sara Groves. And Ginny Owens. So He sent one, the only one I needed now. Ginny Owens. To perform in our home, to be present, to give me a taste of heaven.

When everyone cleared the concert, she asked how she could help. A beautiful servant heart, indeed.

She loves washing dishes, so we stood side by side. She washed. I dried. It was simple, really. Whole. Lovely. Pure.

The concert was amazing. But this washing dishes together was the greatest gift, the quietest, most heavenly gift.

Depth of conversation came the next morn around the breakfast table. But this washing dishes together was one human heart plus one human heart doing life together.

Wash. Dry.

Wash. Dry.

Wash. Dry.

We chatted. Milk spilled and puddled around Ginny’s boots and I checked her dress for milk spots. Band members, Dave and Andrew, ate late night pizza at our kitchen table. I brought the kids to bed and came back down again.

Ginny and I washed and dried everything but the awkward glass beverage containers, then called it a night.

It was slow.

Good.

Simple.

Rich.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received.

God says…I know you. I know both of you. I brought you together for such a time as this.

This washing and drying, this living side by side, this being God’s beautiful, holy creations complementing one another? This is a taste of heaven. Taste. Believe. Receive the gift. For it is given most kindly, most affectionately, most intimately.

Eternity.

It’s set in our hearts.

He speaks when the time is right, reminds us of the beauty before us.

Know.

No one can fathom the goodness.

You might have noticed I’ve been extra quiet on the blog the past two weeks. That’s because we hosted Christian singer/songwriter, Ginny Owens, for an acoustic house show three days ago!

From day one, the house show was in God’s hands. I sensed God was at work, that He wanted to do something through this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, that I needed to simply surrender to His plan. This was a true act of faith for me. But very early on and all throughout the journey, I experienced a spiritual battle of doubt and fear. Faith won. I knew it would. I knew it must.

I journaled my way through the experience of hosting the Ginny Owens acoustic house show. Today, I’m letting you in on my two-month journey of doubt, fear and God’s provision.

May 13, 2015

When I opened Twitter late this morning, a tweet from Ginny Owens popped up in the center of my feed. In-between Ginny’s performances at big Christian music festivals, she and her band were going to be performing intimate acoustic house shows. Ginny was in search of hosts. The thought of hosting Ginny Owens for a concert in my own home sounded AMAZING and I figured there was nothing to lose, so I took 60 minutes to complete the online application and an additional 15 minutes to send photographs of our home. I was convinced this was a pipe dream. I thought there was NO WAY we would EVER be selected to host a Ginny Owens house show. But after I sent the application and photos, I prayed anyway, asking God to make a way for our application to be accepted if this was His will and plan.

May 14, 2015

I received an email from the House Show Agency stating they would love to have a show at our house pending management’s final approval. I was completely shocked. In awe. I had no idea that this pipe dream would become reality. The House Show Agency proposed two potential concert dates, which meant this thing was for real and I’d need to share the news with my husband to see if we could confirm! But there was just one small problem…because I thought it was a total pipe dream, I never told my husband I applied. So when I called him that afternoon, I had to tell him that I had applied AND that we had been accepted and invited to host! My husband was surprised, but thankfully open to hosting the concert at our house with one caveat. He was going to be gone on a three-day business trip leading right up to the concert, so I’d be taking on all the concert preparations by myself. The tweet came through my feed randomly. I applied on a whim. I prayed after I sent the application. I couldn’t deny that God was at work and wanted this to happen, so I sent an email to the House Show Agency stating YES, we are interested. Let’s do this!

June 12, 2015

I didn’t hear back from the House Show Agency for quite a while. So much so that I began to doubt, to fear that maybe we hadn’t been selected after all, that maybe someone better, with a bigger house, more well suited to host had been chosen instead. So much so that I’d resigned myself to the show not being at our house, that it was meant to be, that God wanted to show me another glimpse of the awesome things He could do, but it simply wasn’t happening this time. Just as I’d surrendered, just as I’d doubted the house show wasn’t happening, I received an email asking if I was still saving the date we’d discussed a month prior!

I responded with seven questions, feared and doubted that our house wasn’t big enough to host a small band and 50-person house show. I asked my husband, counted out seats and imagined a bunch of folding chairs spread across our kitchen and living room. My husband assured me fearlessly and nonchalantly, “I don’t think you need to worry, we can make it work!”

June 19, 2015

The House Show Agency responded to all seven of my questions. They wanted to know if “we’re good to move forward” and “get this [concert] locked in.”

I was still in shock, I think. And I was fearing and doubting big time. Would tickets sell? Was our house really big enough?

I sent a friend a Facebook message. I shared all the insecurities I’d been feeling about life and myself, how there’s this very big event we could host at our house, but I’m just REALLY not sure. Maybe someone else would be well suited to host? Maybe I’m supposed to suggest another location? She affirmed me. Prayed for me. Reminded me that I applied and we were accepted. Told me I should leave the rest up to God. After reading her message, I knew we needed to move forward with the concert.

In addition to the message to my friend, I contacted a young Christian singer/songwriter, Jessica Joy, and asked if she happened to be available the night of the house show. She’d come to my mind so many times I felt prompted to involve her. She had the night of the house show wide open and was willing to open the concert pending management’s approval.

June 23, 2015

This afternoon, I signed a contract which means we’ll be hosting the Ginny Owens acoustic house show in less than three weeks! I also sent an email with a special request for Jessica Joy to open the concert (with Ginny and management’s approval, of course). By late afternoon, Ginny’s management sent me a ticket link to share with family and friends.

Tonight, I personally invited five friends to the concert via Facebook message. I wanted to give them first dibs on a small group of discounted concert tickets available to us as hosts. Two were able to attend. Three already had plans for the night. My mind got to worrying. What if everyone’s busy? What if tickets don’t sell? What if Ginny’s team is disappointed in the number of people who show up for the show? What if our house doesn’t live up to expectations? What if I don’t live up to expectations?

June 24, 2015

I sent a message and ticket link to a larger group of 20 people I thought might be interested in the concert. Trickles came in…”Sounds amazing! But so sorry, I’m unable to attend. We have ___ that night.” I was so grateful for the responses, but my mind continued to race with fear and doubt. What if the tickets don’t sell? What if somebody else would have been a better host? Why am I not good at rallying troops for things like this? Peoples’ availability and interest is totally out of my hands, but for some reason, I still feel responsible for ticket sales.

June 25, 2015

Today, we received a “fully executed contract!”

June 26, 2015

We we received first details about the concert and word that Ginny would “love for Jessica Joy to be a part of the house show.” I shared the awesome update with Jessica Joy and the group of 20 on Facebook, and had one party indicate interest in three tickets almost immediately!

June 27, 2015

Only two weeks remain until the Ginny Owens concert at our house! I decided to go ahead and share the news on my personal Facebook page. The post went wild fairly quickly. Within an hour, we sold out of all 20 discounted tickets and were directing people to the regular-priced ticket link. I felt great relief knowing that with one simple Facebook post, a nice little crowd had developed for Ginny’s performance at our house. I viewed it as confirmation that God was in control, that He was going to take care of these tickets I was so worried about, that He was going to orchestrate the details and that I didn’t have to fear and doubt so much.

Behind all my fear was the fact that I didn’t want to disappoint Ginny, her management, or her band. I wanted to make our house show worth their while. I wanted them to feel like they’d made the right decision in choosing us to host.

My ticket sale fears subsided for the moment, but I still didn’t feel secure. My fears circled right back around to the size of our house. Maybe there won’t be enough room for everyone. Maybe our house isn’t big enough. Maybe I shouldn’t have applied.

I decided that I MUST let this fear go. I must TRUST that God opened these doors for a reason, that He wants us to host this show, and that He has awesome things planned for Ginny Owens, Jessica Joy and all the people who will be attending. I decided to view this as a feeding of the 5,000. Jesus took little and made much. He performed a miracle and will do it again. There will be enough space in our house for everyone who comes. I must trust this is true.

June 29, 2015

Jessica Joy shared the ticket link on Facebook and received a nice response. I shared the link on Twitter. And Ginny shared a Facebook post about the concert, too.

July 1, 2015

Today, I started to freak out a bit about ticket sales again. I’m continuing to feel the weight of responsibility to ensure “enough” ticket sales for the concert to be a success. Logically speaking, I understand that it’s NOT our responsibility to ensure sale of the general public tickets. But emotionally and psychologically, I still feel the weight. So today, I sent more Facebook messages…to a group of six women who expressed interest in the ticket link four days ago, to one of the pastors at our church, to my dad’s cousin and her daughter.

July 6, 2015

I disengaged from all things concert for the 4th of July weekend. Today, I put a second notice of the concert on my personal Facebook page. Someone contacted me yesterday to let me know they can no longer attend, so that made two $15 tickets up for grabs again. This was the second time I shared the concert news, so the post received the moderate response I expected. An encouraging comment, another wishing they could attend, and a couple handfuls of “likes.”

As the evening progressed, I became more and more encouraged. Three shares of my post. And one person who said he’d take the two discounted tickets and eight more at regular price. I received his notification when I was at Target purchasing a cart load of water, pop and coffee for the concert. I breathed another sigh of relief. This concert has NEVER been in my hands. It is God’s doing. He has a plan and will make it happen in His own timing.

July 7, 2015

When we stopped by a boys baseball game tonight, a friend surprised me by letting me know she’d purchased a concert ticket. She asked if she should share the ticket link with a friend who might really enjoy the concert. “Go for it! Of course,” I said. God’s lining up everyone who needs to be at the concert. Of this, I am sure.

July 8, 2015

I’m continuing to prepare for the concert as I’m able. With three kids home for summer, my husband at work all day and heading out for a three-day business trip, nearly all of my “free time” this week has been spent doing intermittent concert prep. We have most of the beverages. My mom is making four varieties of bars. I’ve borrowed trays and ice buckets from neighbors, two sets of folding chairs from neighbors and more to come from my mom and aunt. Lining up a coffee percolator, bar stools, guitar stands and a music stand. The carpets have been cleaned. I found a cute caddy at an antique store over the 4th I’m going to fill with old books, vintage vases and delicate flowers for decor. I’m not an antiquey kind of girl, but it seems I have fresh vision.

Despite the forward progression, I’m still feeling a bit stressed. The baby isn’t taking her nap today. Our oldest daughter had a fit about oiling her trumpet valves and taking a bath. And the oldest isn’t being super helpful. I feel like I’m spinning my wheels with house and cleaning prep, but I can only trust that God will make a way, that He will provide time for me to get this place ready for the concert. It’s now 75 hours until Ginny arrives with her crew.

July 9, 2015

This afternoon was a bit anxiety ridden. So much to do, and three kids to mother at the same time. Anxiety was setting in just thinking of all the to dos. And my husband was getting ready to leave for a three-day business trip – Thursday, Friday, Saturday leading up to the concert. If all goes perfectly with his flights, he’ll be home two hours before Ginny & the band arrive. But I got some stuff done. I kept progressing towards the goal of hosting this thing that was God’s from the beginning anyway!

July 10, 2015

We dropped our youngest off with my mom this morning. My parents are caring for her Friday through Sunday so we can prepare for and host the concert. While I love our “baby” heaps, she’s very busy, so it’s tremendously helpful to have her away for the event. As the day progressed, I realized there’s absolutely NO WAY we would have been able to host this concert had we NOT had child care for our youngest. Thank you mom and dad. And oh yeah…did I mention my mom made five varieties of bars for concert refreshments? A life saver, for sure.

Cleaning started strong. We made our way fast – me, our son and our oldest daughter. When our oldest daughter left for an overnight birthday party, time continued to tick super fast, but our progress seemed to slow. At 4 pm, I was feeling good about things. By 8 pm when my mother-in-law checked in via text, I was feeling just okay about where we stood with the to-do list. Now at 11:42 p.m., I feel fine. I have peace. We’re not nearly as far as I’d like to be at this point, but we’ll get things done. It will work out. My in-laws are coming mid-day tomorrow and will help us close the loop. For now, we’ve done ALL we could and had fun doing it!

Ticket sales seem to be going well. 54 hours ago, management reported 18 online ticket sales plus our 20 discounted tickets equaled 38 guests. But since then, there’s been additional sales reported to me, so I know we’ll be near sold out. It WILL be a full house.

Which brings me back to doubt, worry and fear #1, the fear I had from the beginning – that we won’t have enough room for a full house of 40-50 guests + Ginny and her two band members. Despite my fear and doubt, everything has gone like clockwork. All the doors have been wide open. And I’m continuing to remember that I prayed about this, that God’s given us an incredible opportunity to host, that He will make a way. So I am trusting He will part the seas, trusting that everyone will fit, be able to see and partake in this ministry of music.

July 14, 2015

It’s been three days since the Ginny Owens’ house show. It was amazing. Went off without a hitch. With the continued help of our kids, my in-laws, and my husband for the last two hours, we got all the cleaning and preparations completed on time. Jessica Joy’s opening performance was beautifully executed. Ginny Owens’ performance was absolutely amazing! We had a full house of approximately 45 guests. Everyone fit just fine and enjoyed themselves tremendously. And we had the great honor of special one-on-one time with Ginny and her band after the concert.

Doubt and fear worked overtime to steal my hope, peace and joy throughout this two-month journey. But God proved to be faithful and fully in control the whole way through.

Provision.

It’s a miracle.

Pure grace.

For me, you, and Ginny Owens too.

I was a gregarious gal.

I really was.

When we first met at my husband’s fraternity house in August 1994, I remember thinking he was the most handsome guy I’d ever met in my life. I’m not kidding. I remember it vividly.

My roommate and I were college freshmen. It was our first week at school. Classes hadn’t started yet and we had nothing to do. So we decided to walk fraternity row. Both small town girls, we browsed the place like it was a candy shop. House after house, delight after delight lined the long campus.

We were just taking a walk.

My husband likes to debate that fact. He claims we were trolling for guys.

I’ve always denied the trolling. But perhaps it was true just a little bit?

After all, our first meeting by the sand volleyball court outside Delta Tau Delta that day marked the beginning of a 2 1/2 year period of the most extreme extroversion I’ve experienced in my entire life.

I studied hard those years. Enough to land a 3.92 GPA in the end.

But I also lived wild and free.

Gregarious.

Extroverted.

Unhindered.

Fun.

Playful.

A par.ti.er.

I drank beer. Lots of it.

I stayed up late. Really late.

I hung with my boyfriend (now husband) and his brothers at the fraternity house ALL THE TIME. So much so that four gregarious girlfriends and I were unofficially coined “Delt Girls.” So much so that I was officially named the fraternity’s “Sweetheart” two years in.

I socialized like a maniac, danced like a mad woman, took plenty of jello shots, dressed in the most ridiculous party costumes, and did things my children don’t ever need to do.

Yes, I was unstoppable.

And that was just the fun, partying, social side of me. I’m pretty sure I was a go-getter all the way around those first 2 1/2 years of college.

I was on my way to a big, bold life. Nobody could stop me. Everything was grand. I was wild and free, smart and vivacious, witty and kind. I was the girl everyone could love. The girl people could laugh at and laugh with. Words flowed free in dorm rooms, cafeterias, classrooms, libraries, fraternity houses, dances, and hockey games. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t doubtful. I had a handful of really close friends, a lot of good friends and a TON of great acquaintances. Guys and gals liked me, and I’m 99% confident that most people (including myself) would have described me as “fun.”

I liked my new vibrant self. She was good. She was free. She was living more boldly than ever before. She was going places, that’s for sure. Yes, there was never a doubt, never a dull moment. She was going to graduate, go to grad school, get a great job as a speech therapist and live a marvelous life. She was going to be a professional, and a respected one at that. She was going to be a mom, and a good one at that. She was going to be a church-goer, too, and a faithful one at that. She was going to be wife, and an awesome one at that.

Yes, that was me the first 2 1/2 years of college. That was me the first 1 1/2 years I dated my husband. That was me most days leading up to our engagement.

But this story’s about to turn serious.

Nearly 21 years have passed since we first met at my husband’s fraternity house.

More than 20 years have passed since we started dating.

18 1/2 years have passed since we got engaged.

And today marks our 17th wedding anniversary. Congrats, babes. I love you so much. The story God is writing through our marriage is important, noteworthy, blessed and delightful. I am honored to call you husband and do life together, easier days and hard days alike. For better, for worse.

But 17 years into marriage, there’s one fear, one insecurity that’s plagued me this year more than any other.

I fear I’m not the extroverted woman my husband dated.

I fear I’m not the gregarious woman my husband became engaged to.

I fear that the woman my husband chose to propose to is NOT AT ALL the woman he’s married to 17 years later.

And as hard as it is to admit this…

I fear he’d marry “that girl” all over again, but wouldn’t necessarily marry “this girl” all over again.

Sigh…

Exhale.

The truth is, I was the MOST extroverted I’ve ever been in my entire life when we were dating. That extroversion was limited to a short window, a short burst of time. If I look over the course of my life, I know for a fact that my extreme extroversion during our dating years was an anomaly, really. And that fact scares me sometimes.

I am NOT the same woman my husband proposed to 18 1/2 years ago. I am not the same woman my husband married 17 years ago.

I’m back to my fully introverted self now.

I don’t drink beer. At all. In fact, I hate it.

I don’t party with the boys. Ever. (Although I still think men are way more chill than women.)

I don’t dance like a mad woman and I don’t do jello shots except the one time my sweet neighbor forced me to on a hot play day in her front yard. I don’t stay up really late unless I’m blogging, I’m not a social maniac at all, and I’d never use the word “fun” to describe myself anymore.

I’ve chosen to step out of the professional, American dream grind and am staying home when his preference would be for me to work full-time. I’m not nearly as confident in my mothering abilities as I would have guessed myself to be back when we were dating, and I’d much rather go to Haiti or Africa than Las Vegas or Los Angeles.

I’m a wolf. INFJ.

He’s a dolphin. ENFP.

We’re married. 17 years today.

But our personality types are night and day.

Did my husband, a dolphin, know he was marrying a wolf 17 years ago? Or did my extremely extroverted dating behavior lead him to believe he was marrying a dolphin?

Okay. I know this is getting a little out there for some of you. (Yes, real live people have assigned animals to each of the 16 Meyers-Briggs personality types so I’m not making this stuff up.) But hear me out.

17 years in, I’m starting to believe that real life CHANGE is quite possibly the greatest threat to marriage.

What happens when our spouse changes?

What happens when we change?

What happens when we barely resemble the people who stood on the altar and said “I do?”

What then?

Do we give up on marriage?

Do we trash it?

Ditch it?

Give up?

Give in?

Say forget about this, I’m out, this isn’t working anymore, let’s get a divorce?

How do we respond to change in marriage?

What happens when your spouse gains 20 pounds, 30 pounds, 40 pounds, 150 pounds?

What happens when your spouse loses 30 pounds, is suddenly obsessed with their weight and you aren’t so much at all?

What happens when kids rock your world?

What happens when you can’t get pregnant like you thought you could?

What happens when the adoption falls through? Or when she wants to do foster care and you don’t?

What happens when your spouse starts working long, late nights to get that promotion and you’re home alone with the kids day after day after day?

What happens when you have an empty nest?

What happens when one of you goes back to school?

What happens when you have significant financial setbacks?

What happens when your spouse makes a major career change?

What happens when one of you wants to lounge around in retirement and the other wants to volunteer, travel, work, and be with the grandkids all the time?

What happens when your spouse grows lots of nose hairs and chin hairs?

What happens when your spouse goes bald?

What happens when your spouse lies in bed all day depressed and withdrawn?

What happens when your kids go off the rails?

What happens when one of your children has a disability?

What happens when one of your children passes away?

What happens when your spouse’s faith is solid and yours has fizzled?

What happens when your spouse receives a cancer diagnosis?

What happens when your spouse is debilitated by dementia, Alzheimers, Parkinsons?

What happens when your spouse is confined to a wheelchair?

What happens when your spouse requires oxygen tanks to survive?

What happens when your spouse needs help going to the bathroom?

How will you respond? How will we respond?

Change in marriage is inevitable.

What makes or breaks our marriages is how we respond to change.

If you’re married long enough, there will come a time when you’ll realize you are NOT the same person you were when you got married. We are humans. We change. We evolve. We grow and develop over time. We become more of who we really are.

As I’ve been working through this fear, this fear that I’m not the same woman my husband married 17 years ago, this fear that he’d marry “that girl” but not “this girl,” I’ve decided that marriage requires an equal parts accepting, surrendering, fighting, trusting and believing.

Accept that you have changed.

Accept that your spouse has changed.

Surrender to your current reality.

Surrender to the ebb and flow.

Fight for your marriage. Fight to the ends of the earth. Until you can fight no more.

Trust it’s the right thing to do.

Believe you are worthy.

Believe your spouse is worthy.

Believe God brought you together for a reason.

Believe God has a plan for your marriage.

Believe you can make it.

Believe marriage is worth it.

Believe he’d marry you all over again.

Believe she’d marry you all over again.

Believe that “this girl” is just as lovely and beautiful, treasured and true as “that girl.”

Believe that “this guy” is just as handsome and witty, sporty and smart as “that guy.”

Believe you can do this.

Believe you are loved.

Believe that change is not only real, but okay.

Believe that long-lasting love is forged through change, challenges and the hardest stuff life has to offer.

Believe in 40th, 50th, and 60th wedding anniversaries.

Believe in wrinkly hand holding.

In the car ride on the way home from church, he played her “Good Stuff,” his favorite B52s song from days gone by. Days prior, she’d played him “Through All of It,” her favorite new song on Christian radio, the song she can’t stop listening to, the song that resonates with her soul most right now.

A dolphin song. A wolf song.

Somewhere along the way, they met in the middle with a frog and pig song. The Rainbow Connection resonated with both.

Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy. A frog and a pig.

Seth and Amy. A dolphin and a wolf.

Who knew.

They live. They laugh. They fight. They change. They come together, still. They come together, again. Time and time again. For love. Sweet love.