Random Thoughts of Amy Potts

Recently I had to be away from home on business for two full weeks.  This meant being away from my husband.  With each day that I was gone I became more aware of how much I enjoy having Mike in my everyday life and I just plain missed his presence.  I do love technology and although I haven’t yet mastered Skype, we talked on the phone as often as we could and sent text messages.  Mike writes a love note for me most every day and while I was away that didn’t stop.  In fact he still wrote them with pen on paper.  He then photographed and e-mailed them to me so that I would be able to read them at the end of my work day just like I do when I’m at home.  That was an amazing thing but still I missed his smile, his eyes and his touch.  These are things that cannot be substituted. Love is blind they say.  “They” also say that my affections for my husband and this incredible desire to share every day with him will pass with time.  It seems that there are those who would believe that because w

It has been nearly two full months since I have written a blog post.  In fact I have barely written anything at all with the exception of notes to myself reminding me what I need to accomplish on any given day.  I have been busy with work and with life just like everybody else.  That never stopped me from writing before, so why now?  In October I lost one of my dearest friends to cancer.  She was not just any friend.  She was the friend who helped me find a way to climb out of the deep dark pit I was in after having lost my first husband to the same disease.  Lynn watched me spiral in and out of emotional ruins, never losing sight of the person I was beneath it all.  She believed in God, she believed in me and sometimes she believed in God “for” me. Even though I had known for nearly a year that the day may come when she would no longer be with us, somehow I wanted to believe different.  I wanted to cling to the heart to heart conversations, the laughter and her “I Love Lucy” impers

While making a quick stop at the grocery store one evening, I remained in the car while my husband went in to pick up what we needed.  The windows on the vehicle we were driving are slightly tinted and I had the window opened an inch or so.  As my thoughts began to wander I began to hear someone singing in the car next to me.  The young woman was singing along with James Blunt, “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful it’s true”.  With each line she sang eventually I no longer heard the accompaniment of the radio, but I heard her voice and her voice alone.  She had gone from singing “you’re beautiful” to singing at the top of her voice, “I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, it’s true”.  I chuckled that night because I doubt that she knew of her audience.  Every once in awhile when we stop at the store I remember this moment and laugh all over again to myself. This week as I was thinking of this, I began to think of it in a different way.  Perhaps she did know I wa

“She walked out of the house slamming the door in rage.   Behind her the glass shattered and fell from the window of a door that had been opened and closed many times before.   Rage was the only emotion she knew how to express because she had great teachers in her parents.   The sad part is that she was only 10 years old.” And so the story goes in many homes. Children learn from their first teachers how to respond to life’s circumstances.   Fortunately and unfortunately those first teachers are their parents.   Nearly every day I read an article in our paper about how another child has been hurt, abused and sometimes left to die.   Why?   I can ask this question all day every day and never know the answer.   I dedicate this post to those of us who have battled through our past to find a better way for ourselves.   May we be mindful of the innocence of children and may we; even those without our own, be willing to care for the needs of a child. There Must Be More As early as I can r

“Mom, I have been dating someone who I am crazy about and I am going to marry him.” Mom said, “I sure hope he’s not an atheist or [worse] a democrat!”   And so this is how my beloved Mike would be introduced to my family.   Each time I introduce Mike to someone now I am tempted to say, “I would like to introduce you to my democratic, atheistic, husband whose name really doesn’t matter to a closed minded, conservative, hypocritical Christian, such as your self because you can’t look past the differences.” There would be several things wrong with that.   First of all, it was a run-on sentence with punctuation errors enough to get me arrested by the editing police. Secondly, I don’t believe that everyone views people of different political and religious beliefs as the enemy.   I enjoyed coffee and conversation with Mike’s sister this week and at one point she asked, “does your mom know you’re a democrat?”   She does and she’s not happy about it.   She IS however happy that I got a chance

Today as I was thinking about the people in my life, one person in particular came to mind.   The more I thought about her, the more I began to think that I should tell her how much she is appreciated. The battle in my mind ensued. There was a little voice that said, “ah, she knows she is appreciated, she has a million friends and colleagues that affirm her every day”.   That little voice continued with reasons why my words of encouragement would really be insignificant. I would take time to list all of those reasons for you if I thought it would somehow validate my case.   After a rather lengthy battle I tossed my thoughts to the wind as if to say, “screw it, it really doesn’t matter much”.   I decided to go grab a sandwich at one of my favorite little Kansas City stops and when I returned home I headed outside with the animals and a good book. I no sooner got set up for comfort outside when the thought returned.   It wasn’t like it was this great spiritual awakening or anything.

“Why does grace hurt so much?”   That question is forever etched in my mind.   I have a friend who over time has helped me to know the answer to this question.   The first time she asked this question I knew very well why it hurt, but couldn’t give words to my pain.   I have been around Christian circles long enough to know that meaning of grace to be “unmerited favor”, so I know it isn’t really something that we can or need to earn.   But people aren’t so kind sometimes and so I could write a whole blog on examples of grace gone bad. (another day) It had been four years since the death of my first husband and I had crawled in to a deep dark emotional hole.   The deeper I dug, the more I was convinced that I would never love or be loved again.   Over many conversations, Diet Coke’s and coffee, Lynn and I would talk about grace, love, God and the fact that I really was worthy of it all.   Because I knew Lynn ’s background, I knew that I could trust in what she was telling me.   But mo

One of the most significant life lessons I have learned was learned in piano lessons.  A couple weeks ago Mike asked if I would teach him how to play the piano.  Because he does play guitar and drums, not at the same time, I know that he has an ear for music and that rhythm is nearly second nature for him.  This is a good foundation for a beginning piano student.  First of all it is good because he can hear when things are going bad, and he knows that playing notes without any sense of meter is just playing notes.  But when you sit down to a piano the first time and you see 88 keys it is overwhelming.  How can a person possibly know when to use which key?  Middle C.  We start with middle C and everything above it and below it begins to make sense, slowly make sense.  If you’ve ever sat down to play and started on the wrong note, you understand how being one key off can quickly humble you.  So you take your hands off the keys and you refocus and go back to the middle to find your founda

I am from bean fields and corn and from Iowa from a house that was large and full. I am from hollyhocks whose flowers were made into dolls I am from a town whose boundaries  seemed endless though so small. I am from dreaming and imagining;  from playmates, pets and playgrounds I am from conversations with Pat and Rose,  with Carol Johns  and Mrs. Delambert; Gertrude was her name. From piano lessons and the prairie song I am from black cherry soda at the baseball park in summer I am from a small school whose teachers taught more  than academics;  about life and caring and fun. I am from the wrong side of town  where I was often looked down upon; from hand sewn clothes and hand-me-downs. I am from homemade bread and milk fresh from the cow Because it was cheaper than the store brands. From garden grown vegetables and oatmeal with currents I am from homemade stew. I am from a small school where everybody knew my name; where teach

Being 19 or 20 and still single is hard.  The awkwardness of dating and dead end relationships is frustrating at best. That and watching your friends get married leaving you in the dust of wishes and dreams, is a cruel reality.  You wish for that special someone to come along and you dream of family and dinner at the table each night.  I remember those days. Then one day it happens.  We find the person we dreamed of being married to, or maybe we settled for someone who had at least one of the traits we hoped to find.  No matter the case our lives seemed to have been made complete according to the unwritten rules of society.  Man + woman = happily ever after. Right?  Away we go to every event, every family gathering with our spouse.  Somehow in our wedded bliss we forget about the ones who until the day we found Prince Charming, celebrated our joys and held us in our sadness; those who believed in us when we doubted ourselves.  Maybe it’s not intentional, but to the one left behind it h

Softly she climbs up the stairs hoping to escape the glares Another day another fight she slips away in to the night Years go by she runs a race trying to forget that place She carries all her guilt and shame and thinks that God forgot her name She cries for her freedom Out of the blue he came to her rescue lifted her up from her shame He knew her name he felt her pain he held each tear that she cried he cried for her freedom Painfully he walked that road carrying my heavy load And on that day he saw my face He knew my shame would need His grace He cried for my freedom Along with the celebration of our Nation's independence, I'm celebrating another kind of freedom today.  To those who have been hurt and abused and have found freedom, I celebrate with you.  To those who are still waiting in line for that moment, I pray for you and hope that you will find your freedom soon. Blessings this day, Amy Lynn

Courtship or dating if you prefer is at best an awkward time of getting to know a person who may become your life companion.  Communication is vital during this time and especially if you are dating from a distance as Mike and I did.  We talked on the phone for nearly four hours one evening, we found reason to have unlimited text message plans and we sent a lot of e-mail.  Communication to the max!  We needed this because we had both been in lengthy relationships prior.  One day I received an e-mail that for a second derailed this love story.  Mike was describing his social life when I read, or rather thought I read, "tonight I'm going to tour the strip bar malls of Overland Park". STRIP BAR malls?!  He is going to a strip bar mall?!!  I was horrified.  What had I gotten myself into?  I thought I had better re-read that sentence just to make sure what I had read before I dumped the chump.  I am so glad I did!  Because what he had written was strip mall bars. Strip. Mall.

Time Will Tell Amy Lynn Michael Out of the shadows into the light A battle each day for my soul I will fight One step forward two steps back Some things will fall between the cracks I will press on with Christ by my side Humbly I’ll walk relinquish my pride Only striving to finish this day Tomorrow’s not here won’t wish it away I can’t walk back and fix what’s behind The path before me is where I will find Trials and pain, joy in the race Shame washed away shattered by grace I don’t understand why God chose me To fight this battle where others can see There must be a reason for a heart laid bare Before the skeptics and those unaware I wish I could know how my life will end I can’t see down the road around the bend Only God knows the time and the hour When in my life He will release His power I only know in my human frailty That God will be strongest when I bow my knee I will fight this fight I will fight it well And one day I will win, only time will tell. I found this poem

These days when I hear someone say, “God told me…” I have a tendency to cringe; and most of the time it is noticeable.   I have however, managed in some situations to be respectful of the person delivering the divine revelation.   It’s not that I don’t believe people still hear the voice of God as they did in Moses’ days.   I just think that more often than not our opinion is burning hotter than the bush that Moses encountered.   In an effort to be taken seriously we think it necessary to preface our words with, God told me.   Somehow this little phrase will make everything ok if the person on the receiving end doesn’t like what we have said, or is hurt by it.   Have you ever been the person on the receiving end of a “divine revelation”?   I have been both blessed by this and hurt.   I have been blessed when someone called because while they were reading scripture or praying, I was on their mind and they prayed for me.   They called to share the verse that they were reading when I was

Clown White makeup A painted smile Cover your misery Just for awhile Spotlight turns It's all your show Fear inside Nobody will know They laugh as your carry on your routine Night after night same old scene The crowd is now gone as they dim the last light You turn away and walk into the night Wash your face take a bow Look in the mirror, dear. Who are you now? It's a weird little poem that won't win any awards but it describes the person I was several years ago.  I came to place in life realizing that keeping up an image is so much more work than just being who I am. Are you ready to wash your face?  When you are I pray that there will be those who believe in you close at hand.  I don't even have to know your name to know that your "image" is not near as beautiful as what lies beneath. Thanks for stopping by.... Amy Lynn

...an earthquake across the ocean takes the lives of many ...I read about a car accident that took the life of a young man ...a stranger is diagnosed with cancer ...I see a man holding a sign that says "will work for food" ...the person who drives me crazy is hurting ...a woman is selling her body on a street corner ...I read about the casualties of war ...the front page of the paper is filled with images  of death and destruction from storms ...I read about the senseless murder of a child  whose face and name I never  knew But I do care.  I care because I know that if it were... ...my country shaken ...my life taken in an accident ...me diagnosed with a terminal illness ...me holding the sign for food ...me hurting ...me selling my body ...me fighting for my country ...my home destroyed by storms ...my child murdered that someone, somewhere, who doesn't even know my name would pray for me and hold out hope for me. It hurts deeply to care sometimes because it takes

Saturday was coming and the new Olive Garden had opened in Sioux City , Iowa a few weeks prior.  A group of ladies decided this would be a good day to have lunch and go shopping.  I’m not a fan of shopping, but I do enjoy sharing conversation and a meal with friends, so I accepted the invitation.  Being absolutely crazy for Italian cuisine, I was already aware that the Olive Garden’s offerings would not compare fully to the wonderful restaurants owned by any Caniglia family in Omaha .  But, none-the-less it was the best we had available to us in rural Iowa , so I would make the most of it.  I have two rules when I eat at a good Italian restaurant; creamy alfredo sauce on anything, bread and tiramisu. Um, make that three.  Italian food is rich, tasty and meant to be enjoyed to the point of exhaustion.  The pasta, bread and sauces are why we seek out these wonderful eateries, after all. The excitement of the day was building.  I didn’t eat my typical breakfast that day because I wante

“Those who say religion has nothing to do with politics do not know what religion is.”   Mahatma Gandhi When I think of Christians I want to think of a group of people who care for the needs of other people out of love and concern for their “brothers and sisters”.   I want to believe that if I fall down someone will be there to pick me up physically and spiritually.   I want to believe that the unconditional love modeled for those who identify themselves with Christ, would be offered to me no matter the circumstance.   I want to believe this, but frankly I’ve seen and experienced too much of the opposite. Each time an election year approaches I brace myself for dissention among the ranks.   There are expected ads pitting Democrats against Republicans, this community leader against the other one.   This is expected as candidates jockey for position and to get our votes.   The media battle is frustrating and the battle between politicians is certainly annoying at best.   But the dissen

Ask most people in the upper mid-west how they feel about winter and they will say they hate it.  When you ask them why they don't move south the response is usually because they enjoy the changing of the seasons.  In the north the changing of seasons can often be dramatic.  One day you are adjusting the air conditioning and the next the fireplace must be lit. One day you are wearing short sleeves and the next a sweatshirt.  In fact sometimes this can happen all in a days time.  Heater by morning and air conditioning by night.  That is how it is in the mid-west and that is what I love about it.  I love dramatic weather changes.  I love thunderstorms in summer and blizzards in winter.  I love a warm spring rain and I love the fragrance of autumn and the crunching of leaves under foot.  I love the change of seasons as they pertain to nature. There is only one season I don't really enjoy and that is the middle of summer when the heat and humidity are on.  As my husband puts it, we

"Sometimes I wanna go, where everybody knows my name".  Everyone remembers the theme song from the hit television series, "Cheers".  Right now you are probably at least humming this tune in your head, possibly singing it out loud.  Sometimes that is where I want to be. I want to be in the presence of my friends and family to laugh and to hear about their lives. On a hectic day when my job is overwhelming and I am mentally exhausted I need a refuge.  I need a place where maybe nobody knows my name.  I need to be alone.  On days like this I will often drive to my church to play the piano in a dark sanctuary where nobody but me hears my prayers.  I begin to play whatever comes to mind.  Most of the time it is music that just flows from within, to my hands on the keys.  It resonates from the strings what my pastor referred to once as, "piano prayers".  I had never really thought of it that way before.  But when I think about the emotions that are welling up

I had been a widow for nearly nine years and decided that I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life.  I had a lot of love to give and I wanted to share it with someone who not only needed it, but wanted it and would not take it for granted.  I spent a lot of time at a sanctuary on the edge of town that I called "Serenity Hills".  I would go there and walk with my dog and at some point lie down in the tall grass to listen to the wind.  It was there that I would imagine who my husband would be.  I often took my journal with me to write thoughts as they came to mind and I would pray.  One day while I was lying there I began to pray for my "husband".  I wasn't dating anybody and I didn't even know any single men at the time. But I wanted to be sure that I was ready and that when the time came that I would not throw what love I had inside to someone who wasn't deserving.  I wanted to know that what love I had left would not be taken for granted or