Out of the Mouths of Babes

I came downstairs last night in tears after putting Tariku to bed.  As a parent, you get a few, precious moments with your children when they are feeling particularly tender and open about what's going on in their hearts.  I had snuggled down under the covers with him to say prayers and go through our night time routine. He asked me if I would tell him a story about myself when I was little.  Instead, I asked him if he wanted to hear a story about him when he was little.  We have very few of those, as we adopted Tariku from Ethiopia when he was 4 1/2.  In fact, the earliest story I know about him that wouldn't be painful for him to hear is of the day we first laid eyes on each other.  So I told him the story of a mommy and daddy who flew across the ocean to meet a precious little boy and how nervous they were.  I told him how the little boy jumped up and down when he saw us; how he came to us with open arms and kissed our faces.  I told him how he went over and got a chair for me when I was sitting on the ground and insisted I sit on it. I told him about how sweet it was that he picked flowers out of the ground and brought them to me that first day.  I told him how we were scared that maybe he wouldn't like us or want to come with us, and how overjoyed we were that he loved us right away.  

He was holding my hand and stroking it with his fingers the whole time I was telling him the story.  When I finished, he said "I'm so glad you are my mommy" in a tender, quiet voice that made my eyes fill up.  And then it all came flooding out of him.  

"Mommy, sometimes I cry for all the kids in Africa who don't have mommies or daddies.  Sometimes... about right now... I want to be a grown up so I can go to Africa and adopt as many kids as I can.  But it's hard to adopt kids, right, mom?  There are special papers you have to have and you have to go to court. Mommy, will you help me go to the court and sign all the papers to adopt the kids?  ...Mommy, what if all the kids get adopted? How will I be able to adopt then? Will there still be kids who need families?  I think there will. ...Maybe I can be President of Africa someday. Can I be President?  If I can be President of Africa then maybe I can make sure all the kids have medicine they need and clean water to drink.  Do you think I can do that, mommy?"

That's just a snapshot of the 25 minutes we spent talking together.  Much of it was too precious and intimate to put on a blog.  We both had tears running down our cheeks as we laid there with our arms wrapped around each other tightly, whispering the deepest longings of our hearts.  An 8 year old and a 39 year old... completely bound together by Love, glimpsing each other's desires, hurts and dreams...tears falling over the injustice in this world and the ache to do something about it.  

And I told him, not just with my mouth, but with all of the energy of my heart, "Yes, son. You can adopt kids.  You can help these kids. And you don't have to wait until you are an adult."  And immediately, I was smacked in the face with the reality of the challenges my son faces.  I had just come out of an IEP meeting with his teachers earlier in the week where we had talked about all the learning challenges he faces due to his severe starvation during the formative years of the brain as well as the head trauma he suffered. Our hope is that he can read some day... that his brain will start to function in such a way that the pieces will fall together for him to make the necessary connections.  

  

But, here is the reality - he IS making the truly necessary connections.  He is making the connections that matter.  His connection to compassion and to the very heartbeat of God is real and thriving and it WILL change the world.  It already has.  And THAT connection to compassion and love will take him places most of us adults would never dare go.  I look at my son and I see years of sadness, struggle, abuse and pain turned into fuel for love and justice and compassion.  I see how his precious heart has healed and is continuing to heal. I see in him a genuine and authentic desire to believe that he can, should, and will make a difference for suffering children in Africa.  And I see that no matter what challenges he might have on paper, God's plans for my son are real and big and bold, as they are for all of our children.    

It would serve us well to start looking past the challenges our children are faced with and truly SEE them for who they really are.  That child who lashes out at you, that child who pushes your every button, that child who retreats in fear and anxiety, that child who suffers with disabilities, that child who just can't make friends for some reason, that child who struggles with unhealthy responses, that child who doesn't seem to be attaching to you, that child who by every standard of this world seems less than the others around them... SEE them for who they really are.  See them for who they can become.  See in them the gifts that are there.  

As I was laying there next to T last night, dealing with an ocean of emotions, it struck me: This is the very thing God does for us.  He looks past my perceived hindrances.  He looks past my struggles with fear and doubt.  He sees past all my insufficiency.  And as my heart dares to whisper the question "Do you think I can?", his eyes light up and the corners of his mouth turn up and he leans in and whispers back - "Of course you can".  He looks at all our junk and baggage and says "So what?  Are you really going to let that stop you?".   He's made all of us for great things... He has put love and desire and passion in our hearts for the very things that move his own.  Tariku, at age 8 is paying attention to those things.  I truly believe he sees the potential of what he can do more than he sees any impossibility. What if we adults lived more like that?  What if we began to breathe that sort of attitude and life into our children?  

Somebody once said that we can only give what we have.  That leaves a very important question out there for me, as a parent.  How do I give the belief to my children that they have been given power to not only dream, but to act on those dreams if I don't believe it for myself?  I think I need to say this again because I can hear the virtual crickets from here. :)

How do we give the belief to our children that they have been given power to not only dream, but to act on those dreams if we don't believe it for ourselves?

At some point, our kids will begin to see the sham of us living shallow, fearful, unfulfilled lives while telling them they can do anything and that they have been set apart for a special purpose, and they will stop believing us.  

This beautiful, important encounter with my son last night caused me to stop and catch my breath.  At age 39 I've wanted to ask the same question of God that Tariku was asking of me... "Do you think I can?"  But I've been afraid to ask it because I have been certain of the answer and it's terrifying to me.  But it's time to stop being terrified and start being sure of the fact that "The One who calls us is faithful and HE WILL DO IT".  The outcome isn't on me, but the obedience to dream, to try, to dare, to risk is.  My 8 year old is ready and willing.  It's time his mama jumped on board.  

Laying Down Our Weapons of Self Destruction

I'm quite sure I would be appalled if I truly knew how many crazy things I have given my kids permission to do while I was under the influence of my phone. You know how it goes... you are beat from a day of work, laundry, grocery shopping, bill paying, schlepping your kids from one place to another, and you reach for your phone or laptop to just disengage from life for one sweet second via social media. But it is never one sweet second. The kids come in halfway through whatever video you have been sucked into watching and all you hear come out of their mouths is some sort of sound that seems to have an inflection at the end, which tells your brain they are asking you a question, to which you mumble "sure" to them without raising an eyebrow so you can keep on concentrating on your video.  A few minutes later you slowly register that there is hysterical screaming and total chaos coming from the kitchen and you march in and ask "what in the world is going on in here?" only to be told by your children that they are "just trying to get ice cream to eat at 5:30p.m. like I said they could".  Wait.  What?  

But it really just gets worse.  My phone is always on me - literally.  It's an attachment to my body.  Whenever there's a lull in whatever might be going on in my world, I reach for it habitually.  Just a quick scroll through Instagram or email or FaceBook or Pinterest or Tumblr or... or...or...  What in the world am I looking for there???  And that, my friends, is a very hard, very worthy question.  Am I looking for proof of how great my life is compared to everyone else's?  Am I looking for approval from people?  Am I just trying to fill myself with noise so that I don't have to get quiet with myself?  In all the reaching for, the swiping, the scrolling, the "liking", the posting... what am I really doing it all for?  To stay connected with other people?  That's what we tell ourselves.  But I'm becoming more convinced there's something deeper going on there, at least for me there is. 

Comparison is indeed the thief of joy.  There is just no doubt about it. Scrolling through other people's "internet" lives can give us the feeling that we are not measuring up... that we are somehow lacking because our lives don't look like someone else's.  It even takes us to the point of being unable to rejoice with others when things are going well for them, because we are too busy thinking about all the ways our lives don't look like theirs and how we wish what happened to Suzy down the street or Fred across the country would just happen to us.  There have been days I've walked away from my FaceBook feed wondering what in the world I'm doing with my life because everyone else seems so... together.  And so technology that can be used in a healthy manner for connecting with people at some level, becomes a breeding ground for discontentment. It makes us wonder if we are doing enough... it makes us wonder if we have enough... it makes us question if we are enough.

But perhaps the bigger, deeper question I need to be asking is what I am modeling for my children.  We have these beautiful little people around us all the time.  They are watching us.  They are emulating us.  I didn't grow up with technology like this.  I have never had modeled for me what a healthy balance of it looks like.  But I don't have to have it modeled to know that I am addicted to it. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to take a look around and see that we have become connected to our technology (and all the praise or criticism that comes with it) and disconnected from the people right in front of us, or next door to us. What is this teaching my children?  How will they learn to interact in the world in a healthy way if their mommy doesn't know herself?

This isn't meant to start a debate about the wonders or evils of technology. It's meant as a confession.  As a wife, I am sorry that the glow of my phone or my iPad or my computer takes away from face to face time with the love of my life. As a mom, my heart aches that my kids may sometimes get the feeling I'm too "busy" with whatever device is within reach to stop and really see them - to really hear them.  As a friend, I long to have more face to face coffees or phone conversations instead of text exchanges.  I long to be fully present.

One of my closest friends in the world received the news over the weekend that her baby brother took his life.  She is eulogizing him the day after Valentine's Day.  I just can't imagine.  I was thinking about all this stuff the few days prior to her telling me this horrific news, and all week long I have not been able to shake this thought: Life is short.  None of us are guaranteed our next breath or a next interaction with those we love.  If ever there was a time and a need to be fully present with those around us, the time is now.  

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day... it's the day we show our love.  So this week, my family laid down our weapons.

 
We now have a "Be All Here" bowl.  Starting at 5:00p.m. every day, no electronics are allowed until the next afternoon.  It's only been a few days, but there have been more games played together as a family, more conversations and more snuggles than there have been in a long time.  The kids are ecstatic.  They willingly toss their iPod Touches in the bowl.  It only goes to prove the point... we hunger for real live connection, real live touch, real live words being spoken to us, real live eyes looking into our own.  

We will ask the same of people who enter our home as our guests. This bowl is a communal bowl where we collectively will choose each other over anything else.  I cannot tell you the number of times we have had people in our home and I look around and most of us are on our phones (myself included).  It's like we've forgotten how to actually BE with the people in front of our faces.  Love is presence.  Caring for each other and truly seeing each other looks like laying aside any distractions.  People matter.  They matter more than anything happening on the internet - not just sometimes, but always.

As I think of my precious friend Lindsey today and the daunting task that lies ahead of her on Saturday, I choose love.  I choose presence.  I choose people.  God, give us grace to do it more.

Breaking Free

Somebody once said that loving other people well starts with loving ourselves.  I'm pretty sure most of my life has been spent trying to love others while hating myself, if I'm being honest. Much of that self hatred has revealed itself through my abuse of food - on both ends of the spectrum.  My sophomore year of high school I started starving myself.  I was friends with a girl who was starving herself and made it a point not to ever eat more than her.

Then in college I started putting on weight until I was healthy by the time of my wedding.  

But by a few years into my marriage I started putting on pounds.

And I have qualified as obese for the past ten years. 

Imagine my embarrassment walking through Ethiopia for the past three years incredibly overweight as I held the hands of people who were literally starving.  I felt like a fraud.

The embarrassment of putting on the weight in the first place has been a source of really deep shame for me. I have felt like people must look at me and wonder how I could let myself get so out of control. It has made me not even be able to really look people in the eye because I'm just so ashamed of who I am. 

I'll never forget being in Ethiopia with my sweet, petite friend, Abbey, and a random stranger came up to us on the street and ask me why I was so big while she was so small. He asked me if I ate different food than her even though we lived in the same country... he couldn't understand.  I laughed it off, while wanting to absolutely die on the inside. He hit a nerve because he asked me the question I had been so afraid to ask myself - WHY?  I haven't wanted to think about the deeper things that have made me get so out of control.  I haven't wanted to admit that food is where I go for comfort. It's where I go to hide.  I haven't wanted to admit that I have thrived on the instant gratification that comes from eating whatever whenever.  I haven't wanted to admit that on my best day, I am a complete glutton, covering up my pain and insecurity with food. 

My issues with my weight and with food have robbed me.  I live in a beautiful state where the mountains beckon for a hike or a bike ride, but I don't go because I become exhausted too quickly from being out of shape and overweight.  My kids want to go to the park or do something active outside but I make up a lame excuse because what mom wants to say to their kid "Mommy's too fat to play outside with you"? 

But most notably, as my body has gotten bigger, who I am on the inside has shrunk - I have allowed myself to disappear in many ways. It has been brutal mentally to be smothered by my weight.  I battle thoughts daily of "Well, I couldn't possibly do that - look at me."  I feel like I will catch glimpses sometimes of the person God has created me to be on the inside and I think "just maybe I can actually BE that person", but it's never long before doubt and insecurity take over any glimmer of hope.  I literally hide behind people in pictures - doing my best to only let my face show - my smile really just masks my insecurity.

If someone tags me in a picture on FaceBook that shows more than just my face, I delete it.  I don't want to be seen.  It's just so heart-breaking.   

I have been on so many diets only to watch any pound lost come back.  Failure after failure after failure.  The sense of failure and despair every time has honestly been too much to bear, and has caused me to settle into the mentality that this is just how it is for me - I'll always be bound by this. 

This past year or so has been a process of internal transformation and realization for me about the good and beauty that exists in me.  I was brought to the lowest place of my life so that God could help me realize who I really am as His beloved, and how He longs for me to dream again and fully embrace who He's created me to be.  I have spent hours and hours in counseling and have done the brutal, beautiful work of unpacking lies I've believed about myself and ultimately, discovering that I have had a bogus view of God all my life, which has made me feel so much less than.  There is some sort of stark raving mad idea being spread around that we should live our lives with our heads hanging all the time because of how bad we are and how much we fail.  And so we stay small and ashamed instead of living in the reality that "God is a wild man who is knocked out by who we are".  As I started to realize what this means for my life, things started changing inside of me and I began to hope.  As I have gotten "healthy" emotionally and spiritually, I have begun to realize that Maryann Williamson was oh so very right when she said:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is
that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our
darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be
brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not
to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the
world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people
won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the
glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in
all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give
other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our
own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I have feared the power and the beauty of who God has created me to be.  I have been unable to embrace it and have hidden myself away in excess pounds so that I wouldn't have to be courageous enough to be myself.  Who I was on the outside was a reflection of the sickness inside of me.  It wasn't until I took this past year to look inward and figure out just what it was I trying to hide from that I finally found some peace. Nobody likes to take the time to deal with the muck inside of us, but it's so very necessary; otherwise, we just stay sick.  Being on a journey of loving, valuing and embracing who I am caused me immediate discomfort with my food struggle, because I realized I really could be healthy.

In September, I decided I was done being a prisoner to food.  Physical health was the next logical step on my path to living free.  And it was terrifying, people!  But the possibility that I could be free, caused me to take a step of faith and just beg God to help me do it this time.  I was tired of shrinking back and saying no to life.  Inwardly, I was being made new, and it was time to reflect that outwardly by the grace of God.

Four and a half months ago, when I decided I was going to try to break free from this food addiction, I only told a hand full of people because I was scared to death this would just be "one more thing" I tried and failed miserably at.  At age 38, I weighed 215 pounds and was wearing a size 18W. (How's that for vulnerability?!)  I had 80 pounds to lose to get to a healthy weight. 80 POUNDS. It might as well have been 500, it seemed so out of reach.  It's practically a whole person! 

Before I go on, please hear me - it does not matter one iota what you look like or how much or little you weigh.  What matters is that you are free and fully alive.  I am sure that somewhere out there are women who are 215 pounds and free as a bird.  Good for them!!  That is not my story.  For me, my abuse of food has taken away my joy and fullness of life.  For you, it might be something else.  The important thing here is that we break free from whatever prison we might find ourselves in.  I have said for years and years that this is just how my life is and that I don't have any power to change it.  I call bull.  That's a helpless, victim mentality that is ultimately rooted in fear.  And I have found that when we let God's perfect love drive out fear, there is suddenly hope.

In the past four and a half months I have lost over half the weight I need to lose and have gone down 4 sizes.  I just wish I could convey the power of it all.  Food has lost its hold on me. God's grace has been absolutely overwhelming to me on this journey.  I am humbled and in awe.  But most importantly, I am free.  Even though I have more weight to lose to be healthy according to my doctor, if I never lost another pound I'd still feel free.  It's not about a number on the scale - my quality of life is better, my energy is better, and I find myself dreaming again about my life. 

It would have been easier and far less embarrassing for me not to address this issue at all on my blog.  But, I believe in the power of sharing our stories.  I believe in vulnerability and letting people into our struggle.  I share it because my friend shared her struggle and then her victory with me - she made me hope and then take action for myself.  I share it because Maryann is right when she says "As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”  I share it with you because I have always been that person who watches other people lose weight and get healthy - it has never been for me. But here's the deal - freedom IS for me.  It's for all of us.  It doesn't matter if it's weight issues, crushing anxiety, relational problems, guilt, shame or feelings that you're not enough - you CAN be free.  You are worth getting free.  Your loved ones deserve you finding freedom.  You are not an observer of your own life - you get to choose how to respond to circumstances, problems and addictions.  You are worthy of health and freedom. And there's a God who believes that about you too.  And He WILL help you. 

Psalm 10:17 says "You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you
encourage them, and you listen to their cry." 

So, be bold and brave, friends.  This life is too short to stay small and imprisoned.  You have so much to offer the world.  When we let our light shine, we do, indeed give others the permission to do the same.  So, shine!  And may your own freedom inspire the freedom of others.

love,
the free me

**How I did it isn't the point of this post, but for any of you who share this struggle with me, you can go HERE to learn more about what has worked for me.  Of course, feel free to ask me any questions you like.  Basically, cellular cleansing, switching to all clean eating, and a ton of grace is how I've gotten free.

Who Are We Really?

I was scrolling through my FaceBook feed the other day, when this little gem of a note popped up. Jaslyn is the daughter of some precious friends of ours and is nine years old.  Yes, I said nine years old! What she was able to give words to, most adults would struggle to even vaguely identify, which is why I guess my eyes filled up as I read it.

As I've witnessed time and time again with my own kiddos... we have something to learn from children.  Or somethings... like a bazillion somethings.  So, let's tune in and listen up because Jaslyn has something to say to us.  

Let me back up just a bit, first.  I was at a retreat in September on a mountain ranch and some friends asked us to begin thinking about who we really were.  They asked us to start to write an identity statement.  Uh...riiiight.  Just one sec while I go ahead and get nauseaus just thinking about it.  Most of us looked at each other with blank stares and then went into panic mode.  We adults decided the only mature thing to do was to run for the hills until we realized "Shoot.  We are IN the hills!"  

What is this marked discomfort we feel about our identities?  I have been thinking about it and I feel like we get deeply uncomfortable when confronted with who we really are, because deep down we believe who we are is what we do.  And what we do so very often is fail and disappoint and let people down and never measure up and... and...and...the list could go on forever. We never "do" enough, which we translate into meaning WE are never enough.  And this core belief that many of us carry through our lives, keeps us from being who we really are. Because who we really are, is loved.  Period.  It all starts there for us.  So when we fail to allow ourselves to recognize that one, oh so important truth, we begin the long, arduous journey of proving, comparing and ultimately destroying ourselves.

But look at Jaslyn - this kid gets what so many of us grown ups do not.  Was there even one thing she wrote that had anything to do with what she "did" other than "giving presents, love and gentleness?" This precious nine year old girls knows that who she is is not defined by what she does.  Side note here: she "gives gentleness"??!!  Are you kidding me?  AHHH! The beauty of that one statement alone!  And I bet you anything that she is gentle with herself too.  When was the last time you were gentle with yourself? When was the last time that you gave yourself some grace?  I think at some level, even if she doesn't recognize it, Jaslyn knows that to be gentle with others, she must first be gentle and kind with herself.  Yeah.  Let's just sit on that one for a month and see how our lives change.  

Take a look at the verbs she uses to describe herself.  She: 

LOVES.

FEELS.

NEEDS.

FEARS.

WANTS.

Didn't she nail all the main elements of human nature with just those words??  She began with such poignant, beautiful adjectives to describe herself, then she ventured into what and who she loves.  I just find that so remarkable.  Before all the rest, she starts with love.  

And the first thing she feels? LOVED.  O, that "loved" would be our first thought about ourselves!

And what she needs?  People. 

People help point us towards who we truly are.  I bet you anything that without my friends Sean and Kathy (Jaslyn's parents) loving her, encouraging her and constantly affirming her character and gifts, that Jaslyn wouldn't have this understanding  of who she is.  We need people around us who breathe life and truth and love into us, so that we know who we truly are.  (Blog post on this topic forthcoming!)

Back to September... I begrudgingly started writing down who I am.  I've only made it through about five sentences so far.  The first three are probably the most important.  "I am Amy Savage.  My name literally means "beloved" and that is what I am. I could stop right there and that would be enough, but because I am beloved, I am also more."  I realized as I started to write out who I am, that God will never speak to us about our identity by who we are NOT.  He only affirms and calls out who we ARE.  Anytime, we hear voices that tell us who we aren't, we need to slap those mothers upside the head and kindly escort them out of the building.

There were a few women there that day in September who stood up on tables and with confident voices, powerfully spoke out their identity statement (some of them had taken years to compose).  I'll never forget as long as I live the sacredness of those moments.  Women who believed with everything in them that the beautiful things they were speaking about themselves were true and right.  They had discovered the beauty of living from the fullness of who they were.  

So many times we squelch who we really are in the name of humility.  But the most humble, beautiful thing we can do for ourselves and for the world around us is to be who we were created to be.  

So, who were you created to be?  Ask God to show you.  He will.  Let's not keep buying the lie that we are what we do - that just keeps us small and bound up.  I want to live freely and with great joy and gratefulness for who I am.  I want some day soon to stand up on a table unencumbered,  and belt out in my loudest voice the beauty of who I am. 

Thank you, Jaslyn, for reminding me just how powerful  and lovely it is to know who we are and live out of that space.  May you be blessed, dear girl, to live fully and with great joy, in the reality of who God has created you to be.  You are one incredible girl. Somehow, I don't think you'll forget it. And that is just awesome. 

God Is Always Good and We Are Always Loved

It was a year ago today that I laid flat on my stomach on the operating table and had my cancer removed from my upper back. I had no idea what the next year would hold for me, or for that matter, what the following few weeks would hold. Would the phone call be to say that they had gotten it all in surgery, or would it be that we didn't catch it early enough and it had spread to my lymph nodes?

You don't ever forget defining moments like that - the ones that bring into crystal clear focus just how much we are not in control. I thought of my children, my husband, my dreams for our lives and I thought of all the people who had been on that same table thinking those very same thoughts. We all think we are invincible, with nothing but time on our hands to do with as we please. Really, our lives are barely just a breath.

The phone call with the results came one agonizing week later. The nurse said the labs showed they got it all. No need for chemo or radiation - only doctor visits for the rest of my life. And just like that - I had my life handed right back to me.

I remember all the questions and the "what if's" from the time of diagnosis to the time of prognosis. There was just so much we did not know.

Here I sit one year later, and you know the funny thing? There is still just so much I don't know. While my health issues may be cleared up, there's a lot in my life that's not. I have a lot of questions about things that have happened as well as things that haven't happened yet.

My husband has frequently talked about learning to live in the question or the mystery. For a long time, I just chalked that kind of talk up to his philosophy degree. :) I didn't live in the question! Pftt... I was living my plan! Haha... don't you just love the illusion of control?!

But now I've come to realize that one of the most beautiful and freeing things about my faith in God is that I don't know very much at all. I have few answers, but the ones I do have keep me steady on my journey into the unknown. There was a time when not knowing where I was going next or not having an answer for issues of faith would have been totally unacceptable to me. Now, I find that there's no other place I'd rather be living than in the question. How boring would life be if I had all the answers ahead of time and felt like I knew all of God there was to know?

This life is an adventure, not a checklist. These days I'm leaning into all the question marks and am actually excited about them. The question marks are what teach more about just how much God loves us and just how much we can trust him.

I am thankful for my cancer scare. It jolted me back to reality and caused me to get really clear about the things that are important to me and how I spend my time. I often think about what my life would be like if the news I got after surgery was different. And you know what? I really do believe that while my voice may have been a bit more fragile, it still would have spoken the words "God is always good. And we are always loved." I'm so grateful today for a God who has been to all the dark places and knows how to travel them with us. We are just never, ever alone.

What I Learned Over Dinner With a Former Muslim Extremist

I consider myself to be an open person. I love diversity.  People from other cultures intrigue me and I have found all my interactions with people different than me to be beautiful and engaging.

That said, I did not expect to be sharing a meal with a former Muslim extremist who had terrorist ties this past Thursday evening.  Life has a way of surprising you.

Just some brief background here.  I don't talk much about the fact that I am co-owner of a company that works in leadership development.  But every year, my colleagues and I attend a leadership forum where people share creative ideas about how they are implementing different leadership practices in the corporate, private, educational, government and non-profit sectors.

This past week I sat in on a session that was led by Hanif Qadir, said former Muslim extremist.  

He told a bit of his story to start off the session.  He is a Muslim, born and raised in London.  Shortly after the war in Afghanistan began, he was recruited by a radical Muslim extremist group to come to Pakistan and Afghanistan and join in the fight against the enemy- namely, Americans.

Along with many others, he was upset about all of the killing of innocent people (new statistics that I researched personally show that 116,000 civilians have died in Afghanistan alone) - he wanted to help stop it.  On the streets of London he was approached by someone who played on his empathy towards his people who were dying and convinced him the only way to help was to go to the Middle East and join in the fight.  They twisted the words and context of the Koran, using his deep faith in Islam to persuade him that what they were doing was the only way.  It wasn't until later that a Muslim in Afghanistan urged him to see how the radical group he was working with was only causing more death and violence.  Indeed, his compassion for people's pain had been played upon and used to radicalize him and his faith.  He wanted out.  He was bold enough to go the extremists and tell them he wanted to leave and refused further participation.  In all reality they should have killed him, but he somehow managed to talk his way out and went back to London.

It was then that he realized what danger the Muslim youth on the streets of London were in.  Upon his return to England, Hanif and his brothers put all their resources and energy into reaching out to the vulnerable Muslim youth in London.  Many of them were being approached and told the same things that he had been told - that violence was the only way.  They were being radicalized.  With a Muslim population of well over 2 million people in London, Hanif realized what was at stake if the wrong people got a hold of the Muslim youth - many of whom were already involved in gang violence.  Hanif and his brothers founded The Active Change Foundation, a youth center, where they host discussions and workshops that encourage the kids to think for themselves and be able to identify radicalization tactics and see another way.  He started a youth leadership program, which gets kids off the streets and focuses on developing them in positive ways so that they can be voices for peace and change.  He is viewed by government officials as a leading counter terrorism expert, as he has the unique advantage of knowing the tactics extremist groups employ.

The work he does is dangerous.  There are many Muslims who don't support what he is doing.  He receives much hostility from within his own community.  His family has been attacked and threatened to the point that when Hanif goes out of town, a female police officer comes and stays with his family to protect them.  And yet, he believes enough in the importance of his work to press on despite this. You can watch Hanif explain his work and tell some of his story HERE.

So, that's a little background on Hanif.  Fast forward to Thursday night.

Thursday evening we had a dinner event that everyone from the conference attended.  I was sitting with my coworkers when I looked over in the corner of the room and noticed Hanif and Samuil (the 16 year old he had brought with him who is a part of the leadership program) sitting at the end of a large table by themselves.  (Side note: while they were at the end of the table together, there were actually quite a few other people at the table - conference attendees from Saudi Arabia, China and Nigeria.  What is it with Americans being afraid to bridge the international/cultural gap???!!!! It was literally a table of foreigners eating by themselves while we Americans went along our merry way.  Ugh.  Anyway, I digress.)

I left my coworkers and walked over to their table, asking if I could join them.  They warmly said yes.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous.  After all, what does a white, Christian woman say to a male, former Muslim Extremist???

We just talked - turns out we are both human beings. :)  He told me more about his work and the challenges that he faces.  He talked about their successes.  He talked about his family and his faith.  We talked about how our past shapes our future course.  We had much the same conversation that you or I would have had if we had sat down together over a meal.

I learned that we shared similar passions.  Both of us care about the younger generations.  Both of us want to ensure they grow up empowered to make good choices, which will ultimately help them change the world.  Both of our hearts are compassionate towards those who suffer.  Both of us are energized when unlikely sources unite to make a difference together.

I learned that I was holding views of Muslims in general that were wrong, as much as I didn't want to think I was.  There is fear in the unknown, and truth be told I haven't known many Muslims.  In America especially, the media shapes our opinions of Muslims - and not for the better. We are subtly and not so subtly taught to think that most Muslims are violent extremists and that is simply not true.

I learned that there is power in humility. As I sat there listening to Hanif and Samuil share I felt compelled to ask for their forgiveness.  So I did.  I told them that I was a Christian and that I realized many American Christians especially, have been perpetuating hate and judgment towards Muslims.  I told them that I didn't think Jesus was proud of that at all and that I believe He wants us all to have love for each other.  I'm quite sure that surprised him a good bit as he looked down at the table and said it wasn't necessary to apologize.  But I told him it was necessary.  It was necessary for me, anyway.

I learned that we've both experienced and propagated the worst of our respective religions.  He pursued violence as the only way and I pursued judgment, which in the end is a form of violence itself.  Just like him, I have had people twist and take out of context the words of the God I love until in the end, He looked nothing like who He really was.  I was sucked in and acted accordingly, under the thumb of a God I had to please and whom I could never do enough for.  While the damage Hanif inflicted may have had a physically violent bent, the damage I inflicted on people was hate and rejection.

I learned that until we set our fear and our differences aside, nothing will ever change in this world.  We have more in common with each other than we ever imagined.  The fact that I could find more similar shared experiences and feelings with a former Muslim extremist than I could differences is proof of that.  It took courage on both our parts. It took courage for Hanif to be drilled by Homeland Security on his way into the US to speak to us about the power of caring for others.  It took courage for him to stand before a room full of Americans committed to leading well, not knowing what they might be thinking about the things he was sharing.  And it took courage for me to walk across the room and spend an hour or so in conversation with someone I never dreamed I'd spend one second with.

I'm obviously still processing all of this in my head and I'm sure I will have more insights as time goes on, but I'm left with the thought that the world would be a different place if we all displayed more courage and humility... if we let down our walls that make us feel so secure and at times, superior.  What would the world look like if black and white, Muslim and Christian, Democrat and Republican could just let our guards down and see each other for who God has made us to be?  What would it look like to approach our differences with humility, rather than pride?  I think we'd find deep friendships and meaningful interactions with our fellow human beings who are different than us.

We allow our differences to define us.  Perhaps it's time we allow our commonalities to have a turn.

Building Something Good

"I believe that suffering is part of the narrative, and that nothing really good gets built when everything's easy. I believe that loss and emptiness and confusion often give way to new fullness and wisdom." - Shauna Niequist

Well, now. If I were the shout "amen" type, I'd be shouting right now- probably loudly and repeatedly. I've been in a season where nothing has been easy lately. In fact, I have written and then promptly deleted four blog posts on here because it was too hard to convey what was going on in my heart and mind. I mean come on, I don't even really know what's going on in there half the time! So, I'm giving this a fifth go and we shall see if it sticks.

Back to the wise Ms. Shauna... I read those words of hers on a day when I felt like loss and emptiness and confusion were just giving way to more loss and emptiness and confusion. Because let's face it- we have those days too. Days when even though we want to believe that the hard stuff brings something good in the end, it sure doesn't seem like it is in the moment. But her words struck a chord in me.

The past few years have been downright HARD - in every area, really - especially recently. You can start to feel like you're alone in the struggle - that everyone else's life is easy peasy (whatever the heck peasy means). Then there are those few trusted friends whose eyes you can look into and just know that it hasn't been easy peasy for them either. I think if we just took the time to look a little deeper into each other's eyes more often, we'd find that our common ground is our struggle.

I was at the grocery store a few weeks ago checking out and a worn looking elderly gentleman got in line behind me in his little electric cart. I glanced over at him and smiled to which he replied with "Well, darlin, do you ever have a smile on you! You could light up a room!" Little did he know that moments before I flashed him that smile I was fighting back tears as I slid my check card through the machine. I thanked him and looked at him - I mean, REALLY looked at him. And you could see signs of the struggle written in his eyes and all over his face. What I wanted to really say was "Me too", not "thank you". As I pushed my groceries away with my kids in tow, I heard him say something to the cashier about how he was going to split his small purchase between two credit cards and how he hoped they'd work. Struggle. From the surface we can all seem so different, but it's the common occurrence of struggle at its core that connects us.

I'm grateful for those people who are willing to share their hard and gritty with the world. Because inevitably, they get to the other side of the hard and they tell you how something really good was built through the really hard. And you sigh with relief that it really does happen - that you do become stronger through your weakness, that you learn things you otherwise would never have learned that are going to serve you well in the future, and that you ultimately heal and move forward. So thank you, gritty sharers. The world needs more of you.

I'm through the raw, oozing, not sure what to do with myself part of the "hard" that has come my way lately. There were moments I wasn't sure I would ever pick myself up off the carpet, but here I am, sitting in a chair. :) It's easy to get lost in the emptiness and pain and wonder when the next "easy" stage is going to come. Or if it ever will. This morning I read something that resonated with me. It said "The next step will come, but you don't need to rush. Enjoy your life as it is - not as what it will be." And it reminded me that I'm building something good right now. Rather, God is building something good. It is hard, but it IS good. The struggle makes it good because it's fought for tooth and nail. Even though there's so much I don't understand, I catch glimpses of the goodness that's coming out of it, even now. And one day, maybe not as soon as I'd like, but one day - I will be the one to look someone else in the eyes and tell them that I got to the other side and that all the hard actually built something pretty darn beautiful. I will say "me too" and see them sigh with relief that they aren't alone in their struggle. Because none of us are, or at least we don't have to be.

Suffering is part of all our narratives, whether we will admit it or not. We are all born into the struggle, but we are meant to struggle through together. So, let down. Let someone in. Let someone take a long deep look in your eyes at what's going on with you. Don't walk the struggle out all alone. We were made to see something really good get built out of all the hard together.

And to that end, I'm going to hit "publish" and commit to not pressing delete this time. :)

When it all falls apart

“We live in a dark world. Rain falls. Storms come. Lightening strikes. Your life can shatter. The roof can fall in. You can be damaged. As long as you live, you will have something to lose - little pieces of yourself. The people you love, the life choices you cherish - there is always something at risk, something dear. Some cause for fear. We can choose to surrender to that fear and let it rule our lives, or we can surrender to God all of those things we love and fear to lose, and then love fearlessly - undaunted.”

-Christine Caine

You know how you wait for something specific to happen for literally years?  With each passing day you hope beyond hope that the dream inside of you just might actually come to fruition.  It’s so good and so big you almost don’t let yourself really believe it might come to be in real life.  And yet, you anticipate it… it gets so close you can taste it, until one day it finally happens.  That amazing thing you felt for sure was too good to really unfold – it actually does.  Your heart explodes with the goodness of it all.  You go all in.  You invest your heart, your love, your time, your very essence into what has materialized somehow.  This dream, this passion – this thing you know that you know that you know God instilled deep down in your heart… it blossoms.  It becomes more beautiful than you even imagined it.  Life feels fuller.  This dream is not a dream any longer – it’s real.  It’s pulsing.  Life is bursting forth.  It’s happening in front of your very eyes.  It’s a part of your story and you are a part of it.  Its beauty is woven into the very fabric of who you are.  You are transformed because of it.

You can see where it is headed.  You are alive with even more possibility.  You live your dream, confident of where you are going.  And then one day, without even a whisper of warning, it disappears.  It’s ripped out of your life so quickly you don’t even know what hit you.  And you’re left reeling, numb.  How could this have happened??

What in the world are we to do with disappointment??  Actually, I think disappointment is too light a word.  What do we do with a heartbreak so deep it threatens to swallow us whole?  What do we do when it seems like our dream dies?

Jessica Davis writes in the book For Love’s Sake: “What did I feel like?  I felt like everything I had ever worked for was ripped into shreds, distorted, and broken beyond repair.  Suddenly the journey that I was on seemed more like a mean joke from God than a precious gift.  I remember feeling so angry toward God one day.  Why would He give me something so beautiful, a dream to change the world, and then sit back as it was snatched away?”

Um, yeah.  What she said.  That’s exactly what I've been feeling this week. 

Through the tears and the hurt and heartache, here’s what I’ve come to… all of us human beings are frail creatures.  We hurt each other even when we don’t mean to.  We fail.  We may even cause someone else’s dreams to come crashing down. But NONE of this changes who God is and what His heart towards us is.  And at the end of the day, isn’t that what we need to know – that even on the most excruciating days, through completely unexpected disappointments, we are loved by the One who matters most? 

Isaiah 54:10 says “For even if the mountains walk away and the hills fall to pieces, My love won’t walk away from you, My covenant commitment of peace won’t fall apart.  The God who has compassion on you says so.”

I’m sure that many of you have things falling to absolute pieces in your lives right now.  People may have hurt you.  You may have had a dream implode before your very eyes.  Your health may be failing.  Your bank account may be empty.  Your marriage may not be what you long for it to be.  Your plans for having children may not be realized.  The list can go on and on. But God is there saying EVEN IF EVERYTHING FALLS TO PIECES, MY LOVE WON’T WALK AWAY FROM YOU.  And more than any dream, any passion, any desire I have – that love and peace God talks about in Isaiah 54 is what I want.  It’s worth sacrificing any desire or dream for.  Jessica goes on to write “When we give our lives to God, we lay down our rights.  We choose to exchange our dreams, hopes and promises for His.  The promises He gives us will NEVER disintegrate, but will remain.”

This morning I was reminded of Isaiah 63:9 which says “In all their affliction, He was afflicted, and the angel of His presence saved them.  In His love and mercy, He redeemed them.  He lifted them up and carried them all of the days of old.”  The beauty of this struck me so profoundly this morning.  In my affliction, in whatever affliction you may be going through right now, the God of the universe is afflicted too.  He hurts because you hurt.  He’s God - He doesn't have to hurt with us and for us, but He  does because He loves us just that much.  Yet, notice that He doesn't leave us there in our affliction.  In His LOVE and MERCY, He redeems us.  He redeems our situations, our disappointments, our dead dreams.  And if today, you literally can’t think about taking another step because you are so worn out and discouraged, guess what? You don’t have to.  He says HE WILL LIFT YOU UP AND CARRY YOU.  And what was it that saved them?  His presence.  Simply knowing God is WITH us even in the middle of daunting circumstances or unbearable heartbreak – that experience of Him being with us is what carries us moment by moment. 

Ben and I were talking last night and he said “Amy, can you think of one painful, difficult circumstance when something fell apart and God didn't replace it with something better?”  And you know what?  I couldn't. In my 38 years, there hasn't been one.  Because that’s the kind of God I know - the kind of God who makes things not just better, but brand spanking new.  And people, “brand new” or “better” usually doesn't come the way we might expect it to, or dare I say, in the timing we want it.  That’s the beautifully frustrating thing about God – He operates outside our realm of understanding. 

Sometimes the replacing He does of the broken things in our lives is simply with Himself.  And friends, He is enough.

 

We might be watching for an exact replacement of whatever we lost, but God in His infinite love for us, gives us what we need.  And often, it comes in the form of a deeper experience with Him.  If, according to Isaiah 63:9, it’s His presence that saves us and rescues us from our affliction, then that’s what I want more of.  I will lay down my dreams and my rights so that I can know Him deeper – because He is so, so worth it.

 

So, all this to say, friends… if you are suffering through loss or desires or dreams that are unfulfilled – know that God is with you in your suffering.  Also know, in all the wrestling and struggle that comes from that, God is taking you somewhere.  It’s not over.  It wasn't all pointless.  You didn't put your heart out there for nothing.  He hasn't abandoned you or your dreams. 

I will shed my tears and mourn my loss, but I will do it knowing that what is to come will be more beautiful than what was (or wasn't). 

“This land that was laid waste has become like the garden of Eden: the cities that were lying in ruins, desolate and destroyed, are now fortified and inhabited…I, the Lord, have rebuilt what was destroyed and replanted what was desolate.” – Ezekiel 36:35-36

Sometimes

"My life looks better on the Internet than it does in real life. Everyone’s life looks better on the internet than it does in real life. The Internet is partial truths—we get to decide what people see and what they don’t. That’s why it’s safer short term. And that’s why it’s much, much more dangerous long term.

Because community—the rich kind, the transforming kind, the valuable and difficult kind—doesn’t happen in partial truths and well-edited photo collections on Instagram. Community happens when we hear each other’s actual voices, when we enter one another’s actual homes, with actual messes, around actual tables telling stories that ramble on beyond 140 pithy characters."

Oh, heavens. I love/hate this. I love, love, love it because it reminds us where true community is found, and it isn't in the light of the computer screen you're looking at right now. I am guilty. Guilty of spending too much time looking at people's "partial-truth" internet lives while there is a whole world of living, breathing human beings out there hungry for companionship - myself included. Heck, I just have to look up and there are three little people sitting right across the table from me who call me mommy. So, I'd better be darn sure that they know beyond a shadow of a doubt that THEY are what's important - THEY are my priority. Not this hunk of metal that "connects" me to the outside world.

And I hate this quote because I think it is so very true of many of us. Our "internet lives" look better than our real lives. Ouch. It made me go back to my Instagram account, my Facebook page, and this blog and ask myself what image of my life I'm putting out there to the world. We fear putting our "real" lives out there because what in the world would people think?! It gets back to my last post on wanting a community of people who are willing to just be who they are regardless of what people think. But more importantly, actually BEING a community of people who are safe for people to show up in with all their beauty and all their junk and just be loved.

We are really, really good at the beauty part. The harder, imperfect stuff?? Not so much. Here's the deal. Life is really beautiful. Beauty deserves and demands to be shared because of the sheer joy and pleasure it brings us as human beings. I won't ever stop posting beautiful pictures and happy moments, because that is a part of my life and it's real. Beauty happens, people!

So does imperfect. And hard. And unexpected. And just as much as the beautiful deserves and demands to be shared, so do the not so beautiful things. Because they also are real life. The truth is, that when I see people get real and share their not so beautiful stuff, it makes me breathe a little easier and know I'm not alone.  So, in an effort to be honest and authentic in representing the REAL life of Amy Savage, I give you my beautiful and imperfect - because together, they are the real truth.

Because sometimes...

The Easter cake really does look this beautiful.

And sometimes...

You drop your daughter's birthday cake outside on the deck, then proceed to pick up the two biggest pieces  you can find and shove cute candles in it in hopes she won't notice. Right.

Sometimes...

 Your kids get all bloodied and bruised.

And sometimes...

They shine.  (Or whatever it is that Mr. T does).


Sometimes...

You surprise your husband with a custom made gift on Valentine's Day.

And sometimes...

Three weeks later it is lost in piles of laundry and unpacked bags from a trip you returned from forever ago.

Sometimes...

You really do get the cutest dog on the face of the planet.

And sometimes...

Your super cute dog manages to blow poop outside of his crate in the middle of the night.  

Sometimes...

On one of the hardest days of your life, you post an insanely beautiful photo of your drive down the road so no one will ever know how much pain you are in.

And sometimes...

Your girls really do love each other that much and their hair really is that red in the sunset. 

Sometimes...

You finally take that trip to Hawaii and you are forced to view the beach from your car with the window wipers on because it's pouring down rain and the waves are so big they could wash you away. 

And sometimes...

The rain disappears and you are able to take in the most amazing sunset while surfers head into the water to catch one more wave.  

Sometimes...

You dye an Easter egg that miraculously matches your dress.

And sometimes...

You stumble across an incredibly awkward 4th grade photo in which you could have hatched the egg your daughter so beautifully dyed.

Sometimes...

You can get so excited over a finished project that you forget...

It's the mess and process of renovating that meant the most.

Sometimes...

Life is heart-wrenching and confusing.

But sometimes...

It's just THAT good.

So, here's to being honest about all the broken and the beautiful.  Life certainly isn't perfect, but its imperfections are gifts too.  Let's not be afraid to show them.