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Saturday, October 15, 2011

You're Beautiful, It's True

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 was listening. Maybe she wanted the entire universe to hear her proclaim how beautiful she is.  How wonderfully freeing it is to have that moment when you realize that you are beautiful.  So many of us look to define beauty by the models we see in magazines. We want their skin tone, hair styles and body shape.  We want people to notice us when we walk into a room because of our beauty.  My confession is that I want Tina Turner’s long beautiful legs and wild hair.  While at any given moment my hair can be untamable, my legs no matter how hard I try will never be long and shapely.  Shapely they are; I do have thighs and knees after all.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not”.  Is this not so true?  I believe that resting inside each of us is a beauty that is waiting to be released.  It’s a beauty that only you possess.  It’s the smile you give a stranger.  It’s the warm hello you offer to a coworker in passing.  It’s the acts of kindness that you perform even when you feel anything but kind.  Deep inside you there is something very beautiful. 

When you begin to realize that which makes you beautiful, below the surface you have already begun singing, “I’m beautiful, I'm beautiful, I'm beautiful, it’s true”.  Reach deep and sing it with all you've got because you really and truly are beautiful.  

Thank you for stopping by.  If you found this encouraging please take time to comment and by all means share it with a friend.

Amy Lynn Michael

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

There Must Be More

“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 remember, perhaps I was four.
I would look out the window
There must be more

Angry voices at night, broken glass on the floor
I look to the skies
There must be more

Tears falling like rain behind this closed door
I wrap up in a blanket
There must be more

Can I at least get rewarded for completing my chore
I wash my hands
There must be more

Maybe if I’m successful with a great test score
What if I miss the mark
There must be more

Who really gives a shit what they think anymore
I will make the most of  my life
There must be more 
There must be more


I was 14 or 15 when I wrote this poem.  Each time I asked this question then and each time I ask it now, I am convinced that there really is more. 

May every child one day know the hope that many of us have found because there really and truly is more.

Thank you for stopping by,

Amy Lynn Michael
crackedpotts@gmail.com

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