Beginnings.

I can still remember what it felt like fourteen years ago.

My parents were cleaning the bathroom together. Dad was sitting near the tub and Mom was leaning up against the bathroom sink, both talking with quiet voices that even my ten-year-old mind would know meant serious business. I approached carefully, and when they heard me walk in, they both turned and focused their attention on me. "We have something to tell you, and it's going to be hard, but we're all in this together." I remember the heartbreak that my little heart felt as my parents explained that we'd be moving to Nashville that summer, leaving our little Texas town behind. Through sniffles, I remember telling them that I'd be alright, and then I left the room to call my best friend to have a good cry through it.

The first year in Nashville was the hardest. As the new kid in school and being as shy as I was, I didn't make any solid friends. I struggled with living in a town as big as White House and having 250 kids in my class as opposed to 40. It was an adjustment that took, honestly, a couple of years for me to get used to.

Fourteen years later, and I cannot imagine what life would've been like if I'd never moved to the big city. The end of a road trip is always exhilarating as we reach I24 and get to gaze at the Nashville skyline. Home. The skyline itself fills me with a sense of relief, knowing that my trip is almost complete and I'm back where I belong.

Belong for now.

Five years ago I made a decision to venture out of the nest and see what life is like on my own. I explored Virginia, making the choice to go to Liberty University and live in Fredericksburg with a dear friend I met on Tumblr on the long weekends. My first trip out to Lynchburg and Fredericksburg left me with excitement. I can remember walking in downtown Fredericksburg and thinking, "I'm going to be here. I don't know when I'm going to live here, but I'm going to live here." So as things fell through not once, but twice, in moving to Virginia, I never lost that sense of belonging there. A handful or two of trips out there, and it always felt like a dream. A dream that I was waiting patiently to become a reality. Until recently.

A few weeks ago I made the trip to Virginia to surprise Lauren for her birthday. I knew, just driving down Germanna Highway on the way into Fredericksburg, that my time was coming. It no longer felt like a dream world. It no longer held a sense of hopeful belonging, but more of a sense of arrival. I felt like I'd finally found my timing had come. A few days later at dinner with Matt, that feeling was confirmed. And I can't explain it as anything other than a quiet, still calm that filled my innermost being. 

So with that being said, here's my big announcement. I will be moving to Virginia in September. 

While this is an extremely exciting and exhilarating moment for me, it's also terrifying and unnerving. For a lady who has always lived at home with her parents, the thought of venturing ten hours away leaves me with a rock in my stomach. But the thought of doing something new, something I've never done before and waited so patiently for... It's almost more excitement than I can handle. 

The nerves and the sadness of leaving my people has been the hardest emotion I've dealt with. I've made so many new relationships within just the last month, not to mention the relationships I've had for years upon years, and the thought of leaving them behind hurts my heart like no other. The other night I went to a Sounds game with Bentley, and as I was walking through Bicentennial Mall and looking at the Capitol, I had a wave of emotion, from excitement to anxiety, from sadness to joy, sweep over me all in one motion. Walking down the street with the Mall on one side and the Farmer's Market on the other, I realized just how much I was going to miss this city. The city I dreaded moving to fourteen years ago has become my safe place, and with new adventures waiting for me, it's time to move out of my comfort zone and see what God has waiting for me. 

So, here's to new beginnings. Life is big and beautiful. 

Scrambled, Please.

Four years ago, 20 year old Amelia went through one of the hardest breakups of her life. When you date someone for four years, and you're not a "for fun" dater, you expect that relationship to be your last relationship. At least, that's what four-years-ago Amelia thought. That breakup shook me, not just because it was unexpected, but because I lost a future that I had been planning on having, a future that seemed brighter to me than any of the stars in the sky. My first response to having my heart ripped from my chest was to go to my youth pastor's house, who had always told me, "Our door is always open to you." So as I sat crying on my youth pastor's couch for the next two hours, his wife asked me a question that honestly had me questioning her sanity (love you, Johnna!).

"How do you like your eggs?"

Pause, rewind, play. Did you just ask me, "How do you like your eggs?" Yes, you did indeed just ask me what might be the most random question anyone has asked me before. Since I didn't know how to answer her question, she continued and explained what she meant by asking how I prefer my breakfast. 

In the movie Runaway Bride, Maggie (Julia Roberts) bolts from marriage after marriage before she can ever transition from bride to wife. Reporter-love-interest, Ike (Richard Gere) interviews all of the men Maggie has dashed from, and all of the men tell Ike that Maggie liked her eggs the way each of them liked their's. First scrambled, next fried, last poached. After Ike confronts Maggie about how she likes her eggs, it turned out Maggie had no idea how she preferred her eggs all along. She had just adapted herself to however her love interest was. 

So, I sat on the couch in my youth pastor's house, and I pondered that question. How did I like my eggs? Who am I really, without the security blanket of the relationship and a "figured out" future laying over my head? And when I finally came to the answer (which honestly took me a couple of years), I found out I had no idea who Amelia really was. I had for so long changed who I was, my favorite color, my hobbies, what television shows I liked, how I responded to feelings, to match who I was with. 

After taking a hard look at my surroundings, I realized that I didn't just do that with that relationship. I'd conformed to be like who I was hanging out with. It reflected in my attitude, in my dress, in my language, in my heart. 

For example, I have a friend who is a fashionista. Every time we go out and do anything, she's dressed to impress. She's up with the latest styles and she looks like she's stepped out of a magazine every time she steps out of the house. When we first started hanging out, I started to change my dress. I looked at what she wore and I tried to imitate it, making sure I had just the right jewelry and just the right shoes, and that my make up was done just right. It wasn't until she went off to school and I started to dress differently did I realize that I'd changed to make myself into who she was. 

Another example, there was a man I was interested in. This man had been through quite a bit in his life, and he felt damaged and that I was "too good" to be with him. He felt that I was innocent and since I hadn't seen or done the things he had, he wasn't worthy to be with me. So, I began to unload my secrets and the dirty parts of me, so that he would realize that I wasn't just a child.

When it boils down to it, I think we all have a tendency to try to change who we are to conform to someone that we consider worthy of being like. However, we need to reverse our thinking and come to the conclusion that God has made us the way we are for a specific reason. Psalm 139:14 tells us, 

"I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

Since he has made us each, individually, according to His purpose, and He has made is wonderful, why do we try to conform who we are to match what we see in our peers? We see the highlight reel of our friend's life rather than the "behind-the scenes" and think that what they have is better than us. Beloved, God has made you special. 

So in the last few months, I've learned how to be me by realizing some things about myself.

I don't like wearing make up, so I don't.

Dresses are fun, but I prefer blue jeans and cowboy boots.

I shouldn't have to reveal my secrets for a man to love me.

I like working out, but I also enjoy pizza.

I'm emotional, and I shouldn't have to hide that part of me.

And...

I like my eggs scrambled.

Park Your Heart

When I was about ten years old, I had a very vivid dream. In my dream, I was standing between a mountain and the sea. If I stood looking one way, I was facing clear, blue water and rolling waves. If I turned my back to the sea, I was looking up at a mountain range, jagged peaks and dropping cliffs. I remember waking up from the dream and being in awe that a place existed, though I wasn't completely sure it really did. I'd never heard of a place with both mountains and ocean so close in proximity. The beauty of it left even that ten year old girl amazed at God's creation.

Wednesday while we were in Haiti, we went up the mountain to visit a church/school. After crossing a rickety bridge (which I basically ran across because it freaked me out) and walking through a small cluster of houses, we made it to the top of the mountain. And if I hadn't been so out of breath from walking up the mountain, I would have broken down in tears at the beauty and the majesty of my Creator.

There, right in front of me, was the exact spot I had dreamt about almost fifteen years ago. I was standing with my back to the mountains and I was looking out over the sea. Unfortunately in those pictures, I couldn't get a good view of the mountains, but the spot where I'm standing in the first one was the exact, I mean the EXACT, spot I was standing in my dream. All I could do was stare and praise and admire how incredible our God really is. Words cannot describe the overwhelming sense of peace I felt at that moment, and the quiet, still voice that reminded me that He is over all and in all. 

This week in Haiti was unlike my last visit in so many ways. Think of a vase. If that vase falls off the table and breaks in half where it's still possible to piece it back together, you piece it back together. You mend it until it looks the way it was before. But even if you've glued this vase back together, it's still prone to breaking again if it falls off the table, and chances are it'll break easier and in the same places, plus more. My heart, that vase, broke in so many different places. We got the chance to spend more time with the children in Grand Goave, and their happiness and their smiles and their energy was toxic. One certain boy stole all of our hearts and made it so hard to leave.

I got the chance to really talk and bond with some of the translators this year. Last year, I was very standoffish and nervous about language barriers. This year, I opened myself up to what God wanted from me, and I jumped in and made connections. Making those connections made leaving Grand Goave so difficult, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. Really getting to know those guys and the culture along with it made me fall more in love with Haiti than I was before.

Sunday morning we worshipped with a church in Grand Goave. While that was and always will be my most favorite part of being with the Haitians, it cannot compare to the experience I got to have Wednesday night. Our team had the opportunity to lead a service at the same church on how to be a Godly parent. Brandon and I had the opportunity to lead two worship songs, and we did "Open the Eyes of My Heart" and "Above All". The first one went great, and the Haitians sang along with us. When we got through the first chorus of "Above All", the translator took my microphone from me and started talking. Needless to say, I was extremely confused and just stared at him, knowing he would explain. He handed the mic back to me and said, "They will worship with you now." When I looked back out at the congregation, everyone, not just "the blancs", were standing and raising their hands and worshipping with us. I was overcome with so much emotion and so filled with the Spirit, and then I knew. This is how it's supposed to be. This is how we are supposed to be worshipping. Regardless of color, or language, or location, or culture... God is the SAME God in America that He is in Haiti, and we should ALL be worshipping with the same exhilaration that we witnessed in Haiti that night. I have no words, other than:

"After this, I looked, and there was a vast multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language, which no one could number, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were robed in white with palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:

Salvation belongs to our God,

who is seated on the throne,

and to the Lamb!"

-Revelation 7:9-10

The week is now over. I am now in the over-privileged comfort of my home. Standing in my room last night, the floodgates opened and I cried heavy tears to the fact that my room was the size of a normal house in Haiti. As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, tears began to fall knowing that I was not in Haiti any more, and I didn't have the beauty of waking up to the children at Heart 2 Heart singing and laughing. While I am home, my heart did not come home with me. 

98 more days until I'm connected with my heart once again. 

A Moment of Healing

Some of you may remember the gorgeous bouquet of purple roses and lilies I received from a (at the time) very special person a few months ago. They were, to me, the most beautiful arrangement I'd ever received, and the fact that my heart was so set on this one human being who delivered the beauties to me while I was at work made them that more special. A few days after receiving them, I sat at his kitchen table and told him about how I wanted to press the roses and frame them to hang in my bedroom. "That's a great idea," he said. "Then they'll hang in our bedroom one day." My heart was on Cloud Nine. I went straight to Google and spent my free time researching how I was going to preserve these special mementos and keep their colors bright. I did everything right! I dried them, I hung them upside down so that the leaves all stayed together. I found the biggest books I could and gently arranged the roses with their bright purple hues on paper. I was so excited about these memories that were going to be framed forever! While pulling a rose out of the vase, a leaf broke off and fell in my lap. Thinking it was quite ordinary, but would add to the beauty of the roses, I decided to dry and press them as well. No, they weren't as pretty, but they would be a nice addition to the frame. I closed the books, set them in the corner of my room, and waited...

One week later. Just one week from receiving the bouquet, and everything changed with four words. "This just isn't working." The man who just a week before was making promises for a future just as bright as those flowers was now throwing those same flowers on the ground and crushing them under his feet. I left that conversation, determined to keep my dignity in tact (I refused to shed a tear in front of him), and promptly hid those books that were sitting in the corner of my room, and I gave it to God. Confused, broken, but gave it to God nonetheless. 

Fast forward two months. I hadn't heard a single word from him, and I thought I was finally starting to feel better. While cleaning my room one day, I came across the books and thought, "You know, this is the test. If my heart drops to the pit of my stomach seeing the results, I'll know I just need more time." So carefully, I begin opening the books, and I was more than surprised by what I found. 

The once vivid and vibrant shades of purple were now a grotesque puke-green. None of the original brilliance was left. I was so confused! I'd done everything the websites said to do! I was so careful and meticulous about how I preserved the flowers! What went wrong!? 

I decided to check the leaves. I thought, "Surely, if the roses turned out this bad, the leaves have got to be hysterically worse." I didn't at all expect to find what I found. 

The leaves, the things I thought were dull and "normal", still held their emerald hues and maintained perfect condition. I was completely blown away. I sat there on my bed, books scattered over the sheets, leaves and roses in my lap, and that's when I heard it. Not so much as heard, but felt it in the core of my being. 

I felt God saying, "What you think is beautiful and what I think is beautiful do not always line up. Sometimes, what you think is beautiful is only beautiful for a short time, and then it's left to rot and decay. What I think is beautiful, the things that you often think are normal, are things that you don't expect. Just as those roses wouldn't have ever been beautiful without the leaves to provide their nutrients, your life that you consider mundane is the building blocks for the beautiful times."

I'm not sure if that makes sense to you guys, but I sat there laughing at the leaves and the roses in my lap. Just this one, unexpected moment, was the moment I needed for true healing.