Saturday, May 26, 2012

Three stitches. Four words.

Last Saturday, just as I was ready to settle into the couch for a movie, my baby, and some pizza (a rare Saturday night!), I decided to light a candle. You know. To make the air smell good. My multi-tasking ways got the best of me and I tried to take the lid off the candle at grab the lighter at the same time. The lid, stuck, gave way just as the rest of the candle crushed into the granite -- with only my birdie finger to catch the falling giant shards of glass. Immediately, I knew the cut on my finger was more than just a butterfly bandage fix. Yet, I still dumped out a whole box of Band-Aids looking for the right size, all the while the white dishrag I was holding on the cut started to turn a nice polka-dot red. Maggie, just two-years-old, kept looking at me, "OK Mamma? OK?" After a few minutes I called my back-up helper, my father-in-law. He was at my house faster than Jimmy Johns, ready to watch Maggie, and I was on my way to the ER. While I sat there on the hospital bed waiting to get stitched up I saw -- through the fabric curtain -- a gurney come through the ER doors. All I could see where the feet on the gurney. The shoes were those of a cute, hip teen girl. But, she was in distress -- right deep down into her soul. "Why did you do this?" asked the ER nurse. "I hate my life," said the girl with the cute shoes. And, I believed her. There was no question in her voice that she utterly hated her life, and that she had done something horrible to prove it. I wanted to fling the curtain between us open and shout, "It will get better! Just have hope! It always gets better if you just try. Don't give up!" I have thought about that girl all week, and wished there had been something I could do for her. The pain of what each of us were in the ER for couldn't compare to one another. My three little stitches. Her four haunting words.

Friday, May 18, 2012


Someone once told me that the best gift a daughter can give her mother on Mother’s Day is a heartfelt letter filled with all of the reasons why she loves her. The advice was to put specific memories of her into a letter, and include lessons she had taught you – and not hold back one tiny bit. Somehow though, the Saturday before Mother’s Day, I typically find myself scrambling to put an amazing gift together for her – complete with a pretty bag with tons of colorful tissue paper coming out the top. Just a card? That doesn’t seem nearly enough for all she has done for me. So, I usually buy her something I would like for myself always hopeful she will open it and say, “Oh! Amy! This is just perfect! I have been wanting this very thing!” Truth is, my mom has never been a lover of things. Instead, she is a lover of kind, sincere words – and cards on Mother’s Day. So this Mother’s Day, I will do my best to tell her, in my most sincere effort, how much I loved her then and love her now.

Being her daughter is a joy, and having her as my mother is a gift.

God knew I needed her the day I was born, as I lay in her arms, looked up at her face and heard her familiar voice. He knew I needed her on my first day of school, wearing my deep pink corduroy jump suit, setting off to independence. He knew I needed her on all those days of doctor appointments, surgeries, hospital stays, and solutions. God knew I needed her when I moved away to college and missed my everything -- everyday. He knew I needed her enthusiasm when I called home and told her all about how much I was loving college, just like she did. He knew I needed her when I found love, and shared with her why I wanted to marry. God knew I needed her when Hayden was born and I found motherhood, and then again with Emma. He knew I needed her to be excited for me when I said we wanted another one, and he knew I needed her when Maggie arrived. God knew that I needed my mom. From the very beginning. Just like she needed her mother, and before her, my Grandma needed hers. And so it goes, and so it is. Still. As time began, and as time moves forward, daughters need their mothers -- and mothers need their daughters. Still.

Friday, May 11, 2012

shedding the thin skin

I have been completely sucked into the work of finding an agent for my book, "White Bees." The process is daunting, and part of me wants to put the book I have spent the better part of a year writing, in my nightstand, safe and sound. If I don't share the struggles I have been through that are written in the 80,000 words of my book with agents --  then they can't reject my book, my inner thoughts, one of my greatest accomplishments. Right? No wonder so many people get to this stage of the writing process and decide to give up. But, I made a promise to myself a year ago to complete this goal -- all the way. Not to stop when the writing was done, but to keep going until my goal of getting "White Bees" published became a reality. With the editing process done (thank you Katie Carter!) I will shed my thin skin, and starting June 1st gear up for sending out queries. Wish me lots of luck! I am going to need it.