Wednesday, April 2, 2014


I started this post back in October, right after I relocated to Ft Myers. I never finished it because, well, It was too hard. My heart was hurting and I wasn't ready to finish it. I recently revisited it and feel like its worth finishing. And sharing.

I'm in a new place. 

Its not how I'd planned it. Or what I wanted. 

Yet its where I find myself; in a new place.
A new country.
A new town.
A new car (previously enjoyed by some other nice folks for a while).
A new wardrobe. (If you'd seen what I was wearing in Haiti, you'd know this was necessary. It'd been a while since the closet had been restocked).
A new residence and new roommates.
A new job description.
A new route home.
A new routine.
A new season.
A new view.
This isn't a comfortable 'new' for me, but, sometimes new is necessary.
I sit here at the office, looking out the French doors that lead into the parking lot. It's a quiet area that doesn't get a lot of traffic. Across the parking lot, another small building is home to a few other offices. Atop that structure is a light gray roof which slants upward towards the clouds. Above the roof, the sky, which is itself a light grey hue of sunless blue. It's hard to distinguish the sky from the top of the building. 

There's a crispness in the air. Some would call is comfortable. I call it cool. I'm not complaining. It just means I need to start wearing more layers. Perhaps tomorrow, I'll adorn myself with boots and a scarf. Once I've done that, cool becomes cozy. I can deal with that.
On the corner of my desk is a vase of flowers; yellow daisies, purple mums, and orange lilies. I bought them for myself; sometimes a girl just needs flowers. The bright fall colors are beautiful and a stark contrast to faded hues of the outside.
In between my desk and the door there is a small table placed against a wall. On the table are a few decorations; a candle, a silk flower, and a plaque, spelling out the word "Faith" in large letters. Every time I look in the direction of the door, towards the greyness, my eyes catch a glimpse of the brightness of my flowers, and then before they can reach the grey, they stumble onto faith.

This isn't lost on me.
Its faith that makes the unbearable, bearable. Its faith that reminds me I am loved. That I am loved by family and friends and I am loved even more by God; God, who loves me so much that he is concerned with all the intricacies of what makes up the whole of me. It is this same God who assures me that the plans he has for me are plans for my benefit and not for my undoing. His plans are full of goodness and his intentions are for me to live a life full of hope.
So much of life is a contrast of the hard and the easy, the good and the bad, the colorful and the dull. Hope helps us transcend the challenges and celebrate the beautiful.  And somewhere in between the bright and shiny and the dreary and difficult, is faith. That doesn't mean that I have to like everything about this season. It certainly doesn't mean I'm going to understand all of the whys. But what I can do is to continue to filter everything through eyes of hope. And as difficult and stormy days approach, I'll try my best to cast my gaze towards faith, believing that God is working all things for my benefit and knowing that if I keep my heart turned towards Him, there will be sun.

And as each day passes, I'll deal with the difficult and hang onto the hope of brighter days.

And if I have to, I'll continue to buy myself flowers.


Rob Thompson said...

Love it amy. It's nice to read your words.

Barbara Rose said...

Beautiful, Amy. Thank you for sharing....and for being my office buddy :-)