Random Thoughts of Amy Potts

...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 t...

I love the dandelion. It's one of my favorite flowers. Yes, I refer to the dandelion as a flower. It's soft, vibrant yellow bloom tells me when spring has officially arrived in the mid-west. I love dandelions!  I also love roses. Roses are delicate and beautiful and from what I understand, quite a task to grow successfully. I've not had the patience to try. Still, I love roses! Dandelions are soft to touch. Roses have thorns that can prick your fingers. Dandelions grow plentiful with little effort. Roses are expensive and take a lot of effort.  I do love green manicured lawns. I have to admit the appearance of a well manicured lawn surrounding the house in the suburbs is attractive. But, would someone tell me who decided that this would be the standard by which we all should live?  Who decided that something as colorful as a dandelion is a weed?  When I was a little girl, I was very proud of the dandelion and violet bouquets that I made for my mom...

… it’s unfamiliar until you’ve experienced it. No two people react the same. In fact with each loss a person’s reaction is as different as the relationship they are grieving. I was a little girl when my Aunt Lillie died, a teenager when my dad died and a 34 year old woman when my first husband, Bob, died. And all the pets in between that died all required a time to grieve. Believe it or not, I’ve quite a sensitive soul. I think at the core, we all are. When someone close to you loses a loved one, it’s hard to know what to say or if you should say anything at all.  For me, the people who have listened to me tell the same story for the hundredth time and smile just the same, are my life savers. I mean that quite literally, actually. Over time I’ve tried to condition my mind to loss. I think if I can find a way to redirect my thoughts I’ll be ok. Reality, though, forces me to be open and feel what I feel in the private presence of a trusted friend. However grief hits you, I pray you’v...

 “Wiz-z-z-z-z ploop”, was the sound I heard as I neared the water’s edge. A man stood several feet from where I was walking with my dog, casting his fishing line into the water. The water was gently splashing against the rocks moments after a group of rowers passed by in their kayaks and I could hear their faint voices bouncing on the wake as it came rolling in. I wondered, as I watched them, if I will ever get over the fear of deep water. Since I was a little girl, I have had a fear of being in water that is over my head. Because I am only five feet and a couple of inches tall, most water (aside from the bathtub) is over my head. I need to know for certain that at any point, I can put my feet down and feel the ground beneath.   Floating on the water would be relaxing if I could get over the fear that I would simply tip over and drown. I have faith, I really do. But the very human part of me often wrestles with fear. (Adobe Stock Image) T here are many fears that I have o...

“I’m going inside now”.  These are the words, as a child, that I said when my parents called me in for dinner or the end of the day bedtime routine.  Sometimes I said these words simply because I was mad at my playmate.  I was tired of being called dumb, ugly or any of the harsh words that are often spoken in child’s play.  I thought that if I went inside, I would not be bothered and would maybe find some reassurance in the shelter of my home.  What I didn’t often plan on was the disturbance of any one of my six brothers.  So if I wanted to go inside and not be bothered, I would go a little farther and head upstairs to “my room”.  I was the only girl and my room was all my own.  It was there that I could think about anything, I could play with dolls and draw pictures.  I think my first drawing was of an egg plant.  I fell in love with this vegetable/fruit because of it’s brilliant color.  The picture I drew was magnificent bu...

Kauffman Center view from Broadway Street A typical Sunday morning for me these days is usually spent on the rocky trails in my favorite park. I love to hike and pray and think and dream. Because we can't attend church in person these days, I have been attending "worship service" in nature. I like to stop and stand still to listen to the birds singing and the distant conversations of other hikers carrying on the wind. Is God speaking to me through it all? Sometimes I think so. Other times I think he stands still over it all just to listen. The harmony of the birds with the sound of the wind through the trees must be quite pleasing to the one Kauffman Center view from Wyandotte Street who created it all. This week I decided to do something different. I wanted a different view of life. I packed up my camera and headed into the city; Kansas City. I admire architecture and there is plenty of beautiful pieces of art in our City. I spent the majority of my time ...

A family of four once lived there.  Mother, father and two children both boys.  Every day for several years the father went to work in the fields by summer, and at the local grain elevator by winter.  He was hard working.  Steel hands, they called him because his hands were so hard and calloused from his work.  When he came home at night he made sure there was always plenty; plenty of wood for the fireplace, plenty of food on the table to eat, plenty of love for his wife and children.  He did his best.  Mom stayed home and cared for the basic needs of the family.  She cooked, mended the torn knees in active little boys trousers, and made sure there was enough time to read stories and always did everything with love. As time went on the boys grew to be men and moved away from the family farm.  They came home often, bringing laughter and laundry for their mom because she had the magic touch.  Eventually their visits became few...

Several years ago a speaker filled in for our Pastor on Palm Sunday. The first thing he said was, "your Pastor said I didn't have to talk about Palm Sunday but I'm going to anyway". He lifted his hand and glibly stated, "here's my palm, happy Palm Sunday".  He then began his sermon, of which I remember not. I was offended and couldn't really listen after that. I stayed for the entire service because I was part of the worship music team.  The particular denomination I was in at the time didn't formally recognize the season of Lent like some do. For example, there wasn't an emphasis to give a sacrifice during the 40 days leading up to Easter and the Resurrection. You know, like giving up something that you really enjoyed for 40 days. I have always had friends and family that did observe the practice of giving something up during this time. Admittedly, to me it seemed more ritualistic than heartfelt sometimes. But I had a friend who was in reco...

At Seventeen Janis Ian "To those of us who know the pain  of valentines that never came.   And those whose names were never called  when choosing sides at basketball.   It was long ago and far away,  the world was younger than today.   And dreams were all they gave for free  to ugly duckling girls like me."   Several years ago on a road trip back home, I listened to a compilation CD that had this song on it. Either I had never heard the song before or I had never really listened to the words.  But I found myself lost in the lyrics.  Because I was driving back to the place where I grew up, suddenly these words came to life.  This is exactly how I felt at seventeen!  I felt ugly, awkward and most of all I felt insignificant.  I don't think this is uncommon in teenage girls, but when you are that girl it feels horrible.   We are entering into the Lenten season and my mind is taken to the...

Once while talking about the annual opportunity to honor fathers, a friend suggested that we could celebrate because we have pets.  Let me set the record straight by saying that Mike did not father our dog and cat. Mike also is not my father and therefore not only do we have a normal relationship, but we also have no reason to make a fuss about Father's Day at our house.   Mike does have a father and we honor him each year by spending time with the family; reminiscing and laughing about days gone by.  Most of which I wasn't around for but I enjoy hearing the stories just the same.  Mike's dad has been a hardworking man and his care for his children has been a labor of love, dedication and commitment.  Because of this I have a husband who is equally dedicated and committed to his relationship with me.  If I can celebrate one thing this Father's day, it is that.  My husband's father. But I think there is more to celebrate. Some wake u...

A few years back I gave a little boy, who was turning five years old, five one dollar bills.  I did this because I thought he would see five bills as being a lot of money.  Instead he looked at the meager one dollar bills and said, “These are ones, I can’t buy anything with one dollar”.  He tossed them on the table in disgust and opened the next card from his uncle. In that card was a five-dollar bill.  The young boy said, “now this I can do something with”.  To him the single bill stamped with $5 on it, was of more value than the separate bills that I gave him because he couldn’t see past the value of the $1 marking.  Eventually he scooped them all up and announced, “Look at how much I have!”  Holding all of the bills in his tiny hand finally made him realize just how much he really had.    I don’t know about you, but sometimes I view people in the same way.  When their lives seem to be in a million pieces, I have trouble seeing...

There is just something that keeps calling me back. Maybe it's a fear that the good memories will fade with time unless I trace over and again the path to all I have become. Driving familiar roads making note of the things that remain; only older, warn and broken down. Grieving, in a small way, the things that are no longer there; houses, grocery stores, barns. Time seems the robber of memories. But what we do remember must be met with the reality that someone remembers those things differently, if at all. We remember events, people and places according to the the effect that they had on our lives. Perhaps we remember them as obstacles in our path while someone remembers them as the challenge they needed to push them to achieve more. However we remember those things, they are etched in our minds somewhere. Whether we choose to remember or not, they can creep to the front of our mind. Most would not know about a little town in Iowa called Clarion. But when I hear mention of th...

I went for a run in my favorite park a while back and all around me was life. The trees were well on the way to their summer fullness. Wildflowers were blooming everywhere and the creek seemed to be whispering, “how great thou art”. I was surrounded by that which brought me to a faith in God; His very creation. Left to grow how they will, were trees; some were bending toward the sun competing with the towering oak and cotton wood trees for light. Underneath it all was a blanket of leaves and fallen branches. And beneath all of that was more life than I will ever know. After running half of a mile down a steep hillside trail, I was struck with the realization that what goes down, must come back up. I stopped for a few minutes to rest and to listen. Then looking back up the hill that I had just come down, I realized that I was not going to climb that hill as quickly as I came down. There were cyclists and skateboarders buzzing through the park, up and down the hills. I was ...

Last fall I was selected as one of 13 guest columnists for the Kansas City Star, Faith Walk section.  Thought I would share it with my followers.   Thank you for stopping by! Amy GRATITUDE ' GROWS INTO RENEWED FAITH by Amy L. Potts I walked into a counselor's office about 10 years ago wanting her to tell me something wise, comforting; ultimately wanting her to tell me what to do.  I had lost my husband to cancer and my best friend shortly after that.  I was in the pit of depression and I needed help finding the faith in God that I once knew and trusted.  I say in Lynn's office waiting for her to give me a special formula to rejuvenate my faith. In one session I was determined to find out all I needed to know to move on. That's what I wanted to happen. After several months of questioning and trying to make sense of it all, I began questioning God and Lynn. I wanted her to give me answers because she was present, physically present, and ...

The other day on my way home from work I noticed a bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west.  I was thinking that I needed to hurry home to let the dog out before the storm.  She is afraid of storms and at the first rumble of thunder she runs for cover under the bed.  But as I turned the last corner toward home, I noticed how dramatically beautiful the clouds were.  Still thinking about the dog I headed on up the street toward home.  Suddenly I realized that I would never see that same cloud formation again.  I needed to stop and snap that picture.  I didn’t have my “real camera” with me, but I did have my phone and the 8 megapixel camera takes decent pictures.  So I turned my car around and found the perfect place to take that picture.  I’m glad I did because only seconds later, the hole where the sun was peeking through was gone.  If I had not stopped, I would have missed it altogether.  I have had many opportunities o...

You come in the dark of the night or by day.  Damned by some, loved by others Gently you make your way to us.  Sometimes there is only a hint of your presence.  Sometimes you are altogether unseen.  The sun lights up the morning sky and erases any sign that you were near.  Where you are not expected, there is an unusual calm and the world seems to stop as we try to figure out what to do.  You are an unexpected and perhaps unwelcomed guest.  You make newspaper headlines. The media world is ablaze with pictures of the havoc that followed your visit.  There are  others who publish pictures of your beauty. If you were to come just one at a time, you would be unnoticed by most.  Flake upon shimmering flake you fall from the sky.  You join with the wind to make us stop, wait and listen.  One little flake is not like any other that falls from the sky.  When you join forces, you hold so much p...

I imagine a woman on Valentine’s Day in 1964 giving birth to her sixth child with the sudden realization that it was a girl.  This was more than she could handle after having five boys.  She was confused, she was worried and postpartum depression set in and it was strong.  She gave birth to a little girl and in the midst of confusion, chaos and depression she gave her a name that means “beloved”. When I was a little girl I thought that the name Amy was a little girl’s name.  I couldn’t imagine growing up with that name.  It bothered me so much that I cried to my dad explaining that I would be made fun of with this name.  It was some time later that we were sitting outside, as we often did in our little rural town, and we watched a woman ride by on her horse.  My dad said, “Do you see that grown-up woman? Her name is Amy”.  My dad knew two things about me; I loved horses and I was still scared about growing up with this name.  Was h...