I have been waiting since early spring to write this post. I was hoping to have it ready by my birthday, but like so many other things, that simply didn't happen. (One of my key areas of opportunity and focused area of character work is time management...)

One day in early March or April, I discovered that my birthday, September 10th, is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Day.

I found that extremely ironic.

Some of you reading this know that for most of my life, especially between the ages of 25 and 34, I struggled daily with the urge to kill myself.

I did not really want to share this publicly until I knew I had a really firm "yes" within myself to live. For years, it was a daily battle to say "no" but that's not a very strong choice. The strongest choice is to say "yes" to life, and that is very, very, very hard, especially if you've spent many years in pain, and have comforted yourself with the option to kill yourself. 

Suicide then becomes a friend with your house key. The thought can come in at anytime, and is actually a welcome guest.

My story of suicide has many chapters, and involves many people who are still living and would rather not be mentioned in my story, so right now, I will spare you the details. However, I will say that I grew up in rural poverty, where, for many people in my life, suicide was the only perceived way of escape.

When I was 18, a woman who I randomly met at the gym somehow knew that was something that I was struggling with. She had struggled with the same thing, and had made a choice to live, many years prior.

She declared a Bible verse over me: Ps. 118.17, "...I will not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord."

I just remembered that last spring...

I decided to live, even though life was ugly...

Life became better, but several years later, some really hard things happened in my life, and I became very depressed again, and entertained the option of suicide. That was a tipping point...I gave it back a key, so to speak.

On my 25th birthday, I looked at a bottle of pills, and decided it was time. But then I did a bizarre thing. I called a friend. He told me to wait just 20 minutes. To this day, I have no idea how, in Chicago rush hour traffic, he made it to my apartment so quickly, but he did, and I'm still here...

I got through that, but I secretly entertained the option over the years, especially in my early 30's when more very hard things happened, and my chronic physical pain started to increase.

So here's the point where it kind of broke off for good. A man and woman in my life  who have truly been surrogate parents to me, (you are probably reading this, and you know who you are!), took me to dinner. I confided in them that I was secretly contemplating suicide almost daily. They are unflappable. They simply exchanged glances, and my "Mom", said that if I did it, she'd kill my "skinny little a**."

Somewhere in the Bible, it says that laughter is like good medicine. I swear I started to laugh so hard that any suicidal tendency I had ever had broke off me in that moment, but there was more! My Father added to a story. He launched into telling me that when he and my mom were first married, he had jokingly threatened his new bride that if she dared die before he did, he would have her laid out in a red bikini. (She had one and he really liked it...). He proceeded to tell me that if I took my own life, he would do the same to me. (And since I knew he'd be the one preaching my funeral, he would not hesitate to carry out his threat...)

That idea was so funny and horrifying to me, and I swear I laughed so hard...I took back the key. Every time Suicide would knock on my door, I would remember that story, and would start laughing so hard, and tell it to go away!

I realize that sounds utterly bizarre, but whatever. It worked for me. This past year, I have also realized that saying no is not a strong enough choice...I actually need to say yes to living fully.

I know that is going to involve opening myself to experiencing pain instead of hardening myself to it and giving myself the option to escape it. And in that choice, I will also be making the choice to fully love myself...a choice I never knew until recently was actually an option. Now I know it's what everything hinges upon...

So I've said "yes" to living, and I hope my sharing this helps someone else establish their "yes"...

 

Changing My Mind

So I'm learning about declarations.

I know some of you who love me dearly will hand-palm your foreheads. Yes, you have been trying to teach me about the power of my words for...idk...like YEARS...

Well, it's FINALLY sinking in.

If you're unfamiliar, with declarations, you can check out this website. Steve and Wendy taught at my school a few times this past year, my Revival Group Pastor interned for them, as did a woman I'm doing some work for this summer. Their work is largely based on changing your life by changing your words.

Now I know others of you who know me and read this are going to be uncomfortable with that statement, but bear with me. Words are powerful, everyone knows that. Most of us also realize that the way we speak directly influences how we think, and how we think influences how we act, and how we act determines our destiny.

I ran around for a very long time, trying to find out God's will for me. Thanks to many wise people in my life, I was given very practical advice. (Having trustworthy, wise friends is essential to living life well...that's a story for another day...)

Right. Yes. Advice.

The Bible says to be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so you may be able to understand what God's good, pleasing and perfect will actually is, (Romans 12:2). Wonderful...so how do we renew our minds?

...you guessed it! By changing our words. Brilliant.

(...it's in my bio on this blog...my mind is a transitional neighborhood. I've invited you, the reader, to be part of that process...fun, huh?!)

My job of late has been changing the way I speak about myself and my circumstances. Things have not been easy for me during school. Going after your dreams isn't supposed to be easy, and often, when you're going in the right direction, there is a LOT of resistance-- take rip tides for example. If you go with the flow, you'll probably die. Best swim against the tide, I think.

...but I digress...sort of. I'm definitely swimming against the tide in regard to changing my words about myself. I'm on a negativity fast. No. Negative. Words. (...funny, they really aren't necessary...)

I'm learning to declare the truth about myself and about my circumstances. The website has more details, but I'm definitely declaring truth over myself and my life. It's challenging, but very, very helpful and necessary.

If you're facing opposition in an area of your life, or just feel stuck, you can declare the truth, which is usually the opposite of the situation. For instance, if you've screwed up, instead of "I'm such and idiot," you can say things like, "Mistakes are permissible, and they help me grow." If you're feeling stuck, you can declare, "...there is always a solution!"

One of my favorite declarations was written my kids at my church. I've included it below, because hearing kids declare this is SO AWESOME. It so makes me wish I had believed these things about myself when I was a child. Read them. Can you imagine?!?

"I am powerful, and what I believe changes the world! So today I declare:
God is in a good mood.
He loves me all the time.
Nothing can separate me from His love.
Jesus' blood paid for everything.
I will tell nations of what He has done.
I am important.
How He made me is amazing.
I was designed for worship.
My mouth establishes praise to silence the enemy.
Everywhere I go becomes a perfect health zone.
And...with God
Nothing is impossible!"

So here's to changing our minds...

I'm sitting in Starbucks, trying to be inspired.

My favorite coffee house just had a power outage, so I'm in Starbucks.

Starbucks is fine in Chicago when it's summer and you can sit outside and people-watch, or in New York, where you need your coffee on the way to wherever, and need it in a timely manner. It's also worth planning your cross-country drive around Starbucks, (i.e. civilization): flashback to me in a casino in West Wendover, Nevada, having stayed the night in the $40-per-night-circa-1985-televisionless hotel room, just for the Starbucks in the lobby...that's a story for another day...

Starbucks is fine when you're in a hurry or want to blend in, or when you are driving across Wyoming and are desperate for civilization...and it's probably fine in a foreign country...it's rather like an embassy of sorts.

But in Redding, the coffee culture is very different. Nowhere will you receive a well-crafted cup of coffee in under 5 minutes, except maybe at Brew. Most certainly not at Starbucks. (...believe me, the first time I had to  wait for my almond milk cafe au lait, I nearly tore my hair out. I quickly learned-- from vowing never to go back there again-- only to experience the same phenomenon at the next establishment, and the next...and the next, that the pace of life is different here.

It's very slow. And don't even get me started on the driving. No. I'm on a negativity fast. It's only an observation. I am not allowed to rant.

So yes. It's slow. But it's also amaze-balls.

In Redding, though it takes no less than 5 minutes, sometimes 10, I can order single-origin-organic-fair-trade-waterprocessed-decaf-hemp-milk-flat-whites without anyone batting an eye, or saying "...I'm sorry, what milk?"

I also now have a favorite coffee house. It is new, and it has quickly become the see-and-be-seen place, but not as much as the other, older, see-and-be-seen place, where most of my favorite musicians work. (listen here) Or more specifically, are employed; the other day, one of my other favorite singer/songwriters came in to my primary favorite coffee house to work...like write undisturbed, while I tried my best to my best "NBD, your-song-just-changed-my- life" face, and not pee my pants. (listen to that song here).

Anyway, I'm sitting here trying to be inspired, and maybe I am. I am definitely happy, and my favorite place will be open tomorrow, although, if it's 108F for a third day in a row, the power may go out again, and I may have to seek refuge at Starbucks again. We'll see...

The Porch Light Is Always On...

Today was the last day of my first year at ministry school.

I could write pages about the miracles that led me here, the unexpected difficulties and challenges, the wealth added to my heart from the hearts of new friends, but that will be for another day.

Today, I am writing so that I can look back and remember one of the most personally meaningful things I have ever heard.

This afternoon, as our school's overseer finished his final remarks, he said this:

"By the time I was fifteen, I started not coming home at night. Sometimes a week would go by, where I wouldn't come home.

But I had a mother who loved me, and she always left the porch light on for me. It was a sign that I was always welcome.

And when I would finally come home, she would wrap her arms around me, and no matter what I'd done, she's tell me she loved me.

I want to say to you, when you leave here, should you ever lose your way, the porch light will always be on for you. This House will always be ready, with open arms, to welcome you. This is your home."

Well, then.

So much for weekly updates...

So much to process.

In the past few weeks, so much of what I've learned this year has come into question. Our school does not have "final exams;" however, as Life would have it, as a class, and individually, we have endured a series of tests.

Before I expound further, please know that this blog is my creative expression and the place where I share my process. I spent most of my life trying to be the "good girl" trying to be perfect, in a culture where love and acceptance was something to be earned, where "you just don't talk about those things."

In that culture, many around me were hurt, molested, addicted, bored, depressed, anxious, and full of fear. So I intend to be a culture changer, and if that means letting people in on my process, while I try to figure out a better way to live than what I've just described, so be it.
 

It is your choice to read what I write. I hope you will read, and if what I write causes you to think new thoughts, wonderful! If you disagree with what I write, that's ok. Just stop reading.

Right. So. Moving on...

One of the core values our school is based on is that God is good. Regardless of were you are on the map of knowing God, please know that is what I believe, because that is how He has revealed Himself to me by all the amazing miracles I've experienced, that's simply what we know, and it's how God reveals Himself in [***gasp***] the Bible, (...to Moses...in Exodus 33:19-34:9...and then again, all over scripture...).

So I'll be real. Two weeks ago, one of my classmates died. We prayed for her, she made a turn around, was about to be released from the hospital and then she died.

One of my classmates miscarried. Another woman connected to our school lost her baby when it was almost full-term...literally a few weeks before it was due. Another woman we prayed for with stage-4 cancer died.

And another...it's a long story, but he's making some really bad choices, and those choices are affecting a large part of our student body.

All this is really tough, especially when we see people healed of cancer and everything else you can think of,  every week in the Healing Rooms here at Bethel. Especially when other babies we've prayed for were healed, at the same time others passed away.

Is it God's will to heal some and not others?

No WAY! God is good. All. The. Time.

He is not wrathful and vengeful...He is loving, merciful and kind. But He is also fierce and jealous...as any Lover or Parent would be. If you commit a crime against Love...well, that is just not a good idea.

I will never develop a theology opposite to what I read about God in the Bible. If it says by His stripes, I'm healed, then I'm healed. If the Bible says I'm to lay hands on the sick and they will recover, then I'm going to lay hands on and pray for the sick until they recover.

People laid hands on me. They prayed for me. And guess what?

 I recovered.

Did it happen the moment they prayed for me?

Once. And even then, it was a 2 or 3 day process.

I'm walking in the fullness of the answers to prayers people prayed for me when I was a child. I'm walking in answered prayers people prayed when I was teenager in a very dark place. I'm dancing and thriving in a new body that is a miracle, with a mind and heart that are daily being restored.

And you know what? The people who prayed those prayers...some of them will never know about all the amazing things God has done for me years later, as a result of their prayers.

And I'm not going to keep quiet about it. [This is a fun song about that.]

As I let the Light in, I have no choice but to shine... :-)

Wilder-bu 2015, Part 2

If you missed part 1, this may not make much sense. And this is really long, so you might want to grab a snack...

Please read Part 1...you'll want this to make sense. (If you're reading this via email, you can go to my Facebook page and explore the "Notes" section.)

So yes. We stayed in Neverland. We called the lost boys and girls home to the Father...

Crossing over...

...and after three chilly nights, we went to a Wednesday evening service preached by the ineffably gifted (...and fashionable), Judah Smith, who had decided to change his message on the plane down to that service...to the story of Joshua crossing the Jordan River, into the Promised Land!


 Amazing. That night, due to some awesome and brave communication by our leader to the head of the place where we were staying,  earlier in the day, (...and prayers for an upgrade...), we were upgraded into the retreat center. Still nothing fancy, but we had WALLS and central heat and separate bathrooms and living quarters for boys and girls!

...out of the wilderness, we crossed into our own little promised land!




Ok, so honestly, I have had a very, very, very hard time writing my account of my mission trip, for so many reasons. Please hear my heart.

Can I please be real with y'all for a minute?

I feel really weird saying I went on a ministry trip, and that I'm in ministry school.

Ok. There. I said it.

[More on why in another post...]

Another reason is that sometimes, harnessing my thoughts and putting them into words is like herding kittens and teaching them to "sit" and "stay". Or trying to potty train crocodiles. That thought just came to mind...

ahem...Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Ok. So. Another reason is that I have a lot of friends whom I love a lot. Not all my friends share the same views and values, and not every one of them understands the choice I've made to come to BSSM. Most have been really hurt by organized religion, and namely the church. You know what? So have I. Over and over and over and over.

Some still adhere to very religious mindsets, and that's ok. I love them, too. My heart is that every one of my work friends, soul sisters and brothers, blood relatives and BFFs, casual acquaintances, (...and favorite baristas...), would know they are loved, have a unique destiny, and are fiercely loved by their Father. (The One in Heaven, Who is as close as the other side of your last breath...)

...and that they are loved by me.

Now get this: I have definitely raised some eyebrows because I will never identify myself as a "Christian."  I refuse to be identified with a group of people who look nothing like the One with Whom they claim to be associated.

I have also been ferociously persecuted and ostracized by religious communities (and people) for loving and embracing Holy Spirit, and for being a [GASP!]...woman pursuing "ministry."

[...more on all these thoughts in another post...]

There are some things that happened on this trip that were deeply personal to me, and I'm going to do my best to describe them in a way everyone can understand, without having anyone misunderstand my heart...or worse, be hurt by my words. So please, if you have any questions or need clarification on any point, (on anything I've written thus far...), please message me, and we'll discuss.

So yes. We loved people. And God, in His gentle and sometimes sneaky way, blessed and healed my heart as only He could.

A lot of the people I encountered on this trip shared some of my same experiences, and it was amazing to be able to be on the other side of things and show them that there is hope!

Some explanation is probably in order...

As a child, I was raised in some fairly legalistic "Christian" denominations. I was raised with the understanding that I was a terrible sinner, and that God chose certain people to be saved. I was raised to believe that women were worth less (...did you get that...worthless...) than men, and that was all backed up by Scripture, which is of course the Word of God, and therefore, inerrant and the basis of all Truth and Wisdom.

This led to me running from, but at the same time, trying to be perfect and please, an angry God. I knew God was real, (I had a whole host of medical issues as a child and flat-lined more than once, and encountered God...if you're curious, perhaps I'll share more an that...), but I thought He hated me, and had scripture to prove I was "worth less". I was terribly conflicted.

One of the fiercest points of contention was that of dance. I knew I was born to dance. I remember asking Jesus for ballet lessons as a kid (...sitting on a hay bale, brushing my pet my cow, named Lucibelle...), then walking in the house, and my mother telling me she and my dad had enrolled me in ballet lessons as my Christmas present.

 But dancing was not allowed in our religious community. If I invited friends over, and we put music on in my room, I would start to dance and they would sit on my bed and stare at me, desperately trying to get me to stop. (...this same scene played out when I lived across the street from a major "Christian" college...I was friends with some students, and we'd have secret dance parties to TobyMac in the dormitory kitchen [cough cough...Houghton Hall...cough cough])

Ok, so let's fast-forward through all the years of feeling conflicted, suicidal, and scared of God.

I then met some lovely people who were not religious and who loved Jesus very much. They introduced me to love without control and a God who was most definitely not in a box.

[Haha! Fitting. It's Easter weekend. Jesus didn't stay dead..in the box. He's definitely an out-of-the-box kinda God!]

Jesus also loved women. And dancing. And parties, and compassion, and left-out people, and children. And the Bible says He's the exact representation of the Father, Whom the Bible describes as One who is only capable of giving good gifts.

Ok. Awesome.

So back to my trip.

Since I was a very little girl, (ok...young...I was never really "little"), I have dreamed of living in California. When I would play with my sisters, I would play "college" with them, and we'd be living on-campus at a school in California, and our fridge would be stocked with things California people ate, like sushi, and tofu and beansprouts and hummus...

As a teenager, I wanted to apply to three schools: Pepperdine, USC and UCLA. I was strictly forbidden.

And last week, I was literally SENT to all. Three. Campuses.

[...happy dance...]

dancing is ok...

 

My trip was filled with meeting mostly college students who were curious about being loved by this God. Many had been raised as I had, in religious homes and communities, and were curious about this God who loved them and calls them "friend" and "beloved,"...so I got to tell them about that God.

And I also got to show them that He likes dancing...even in church and church-related events!

I also met a bunch of amaze-balls artists and industry people in LA who LOVE Jesus, but are kind of in the same boat...they know they are definitely NOT the "in-the-box" sort, and some have trouble really realizing they could be loved by a God who is often perceived as angry, stern, distant and...urgh...linear.

 So we were able to re-assure them that as artists, they are very close to His heartbeat, because He is Creator, so when we create, we act like Him! And further, we reflect His nature in the world around us and show others what He is like!

[...and I was a guest in a DTLA loft. I have a (locked) Pinterest board dedicated to DTLA lofts. Dream. Come. True.]

We were also able to spend part of a day with the wonder-full Doug Addison. He's where it's at, people...such a huge heart of LOVE, and incredibly wise! (His wife and his team are awesome, too!!!)

He taught us for several hours about dream interpretation and tattoo reading, and then led us on an adventure on Venice Beach, interpreting people's tattoos and dreams. We got to bring so much hope, joy, peace and love to people...it was SO amazing!!! (For those of you wondering, I did not interpret any tattoos on the man wearing a metallic thong and a live boa constrictor.)

And we did some paddle boarding. In Malibu. On a private beach. And I actually participated, even though it required being wet, and sharing my ocean with...fish. (The dolphins appeared after I left the water...I think they knew I would have flipped out if they decided to make an appearance whilst I was out there on my board...so polite of them...)

We closed our trip by ministering to the couple who had been overseeing our part of the campground during or Wilder-bu saga. They were familiar with Bethel and it was such an honor to speak life, encouragement, hope to them! They truly amazing people!

And my team. My everlasting Wilder-bu'15 family. Epic people. Each one of them is a planet-shaking world changer.

 (...and they are a forgiving lot.

 I made some less than powerful choices, when, after days of being an introvert surrounded by people 24/7, living outdoors, and being under-caffeinated and overstimulated, I gave every evil Disney queen a run for her money and chose to let some choice words fly, and curl up into a ball, blaring Jay-Z on my headphones.

They extended peace to me, and loved me back into the realm of the living. They rock.

And from them I learned, again, that I am loved even when I make less-than-stellar choices.)

Wilder-bu '15 Family (...minus Anders, the epic photographer)

Selah. Amen.

Malibu 2015, Part 1

Hey, Family!

Where to begin? This year has passed so quickly, and my life has changed so much! It's hard to believe that in six weeks, my first year of BSSM will come to a close, but it's not at all a closing, but the door to a new beginning.

So I'll start at the very beginning. Last winter, during the foulest part of the Chi-berian Polar Vortex, I was in a very low place. At that time, I made a list of things I thought impossible. Three things stood out on my list: attending a School of Creativity at Bethel Church in Redding, California; attending Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry (BSSM); and perhaps, once I finished the three-year BSSM program, moving to Malibu, or maybe Israel...(don't hate...in my mind, it was all impossible...)

Some of you know the story of last spring, the amazing help and support from wonderful friends that landed me a spot in the School of Creativity last April, in the Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry in September...and then, in October, a spot on a BSSM missions team traveling to Malibu in March. (...and a miraculous healing of my spine and chronic pain...if you want more details on any of the above, let me know!)

It has been a year of miracles, and the supernatural things show no signs of slowing down. Thank You, Jesus!

So now for our trip. First off, thank you for all your prayers and support. Every moment of our trip was groundbreaking, heart-rending and fun! Know that your prayers encouragement and financial support have not only helped me put my first-year ministry training to use, but have sown into the spiritual climate in Hollywood, and has helped me touch and build relationship with ministries, churches and individuals serving in the entertainment industry.

We went in with a plan, and with awesome prophetic words spoken over our team, and from the first moment, so many things shifted, and doors we could not have imagined were opened to us.

Miracle number one is that I offered to drive my (new to me but definitely aged, much used and loved, and not-paid-off) Honda down to LA, with three passengers. My car started having issues in December, and I wasn't sure it could safely make the journey. Our team was one car short already, so I was hesitant to tell my leaders about the problems. (...in hindsight, not the wisest idea...but it worked out!)  A few days before the trip, it was discovered that someone in the missions department had accidentally rented us a minivan and there was extra money in our budget that would cover renting a second one! So not only did we not need another car, we had enough room to accommodate our entire team without any of the students having to drive our own cars!

A second miracle is that I found out we'd be staying at a Salvation Army "retreat center" in the hills of Calabasas (i.e. the Kardashian's neighborhood). I saw the pictures, and the place looked nice enough, but later received an email instructing us to bring our own bedding. I immediately knew we'd be staying in a campground. If any of you know me well, you're aware that my idea of the outdoors is an umbrella table at Starbucks, so you can only imagine my dismay...

 Refusing to be ruffled, I asked a very kind couple in my Revival Group at school if I could borrow a sleeping bag. They had several, with varying measures of warmth, and when I explained I sleep under a down comforter in 90-degree Chicago summers with 100% humidity and no air conditioning, they lent me the warmest one.

The day of my departure, I woke up at 3a.m., and picked up a few members of my team. We all departed at 5a.m. and arrived at our "retreat center" around 5p.m. You can imagine that without much sleep, and having driven quite some distance, we were ready for a nap! The center had a lovely pool, some nice looking cabins and a few lodges for meetings. The camp ground supervisors met us and said our accommodations were a bit more...remote. They proceeded to drive us up into the hills, to the wilderness campground.

Ok. At BSSM, we are taught to be honoring. But at this point, I had been crammed in a minivan with six other people, was going on four hours of disrupted sleep, and was informed that I'd be sleeping in a cabin made of window screens...not WALLS...window screens. And that there were two bathrooms and two showers (with a small hot water tank), for 17 people. And the kitchen area was not eat-in, so we'd be dining outside. Oh, and there were possibly black widow spiders and rattlesnakes. And a mountain lion...but that if we saw a mountain lion, "...just make yourself look as big as possible and make loud noises..."

Right.

Um...so...I wasn't feeling...or looking...very honoring, but we banded together and made the best of it. (Thank You, Jesus, for my wonderful team!) But there were no mirrors to get ready, we had very few electrical outlets, most of us hadn't slept much for days, and the nights in Malibu are around 35 degrees. Our leaders had not been told we'd be staying in these sorts of accommodations, so no one (but me!), was prepared for such extreme temperatures, AND during the day, we were gone from 9 in the morning to almost midnight, ministering mostly to people in the entertainment industry, in churches and universities in Malibu, Beverly Hills and Studio City. We certainly couldn't show up looking...and smelling... like we were staying in the woods!

[On another note: In the weeks leading up to my trip, I started seeing references to Peter Pan EVERYWHERE...art shows in local coffee houses, placards advertising a local school musical, the new movie remake. At the same time, I asked several people what we should be praying for in preparation for our trip, and what we should be praying for the people we'd be ministering to.

Repeatedly, I was told that people in LA are lonely, and operate as orphans: independent, self-sufficient, in survival mode and without a sense of belonging or being loved.

As the campground supervisors dropped us off in the wilderness, they told us they called that area "Neverland." And then I knew...it was prophetic! We needed to call and pray all the lost boys and girls home!]

Stay tuned for part 2, featuring Azuza Street, upgrades, The Giving Keys, Judah Smith, UCLA, Paddle Boarding in Malibu and Grammys in the living room!

Love and hugs,

Amie