Amy Storms

A Book and a Blessing

amystorms — Tue, 15 May 2012 19:08:06 +0000

First, a book! Congratulations to Leigh Ann for winning a copy of Tracey Bianchi’s book, Mom Connection: Creating Vibrant Relationships in the Midst of Motherhood, published by MOPS. “In this witty, encouraging book, Tracey Bianchi shows us how to cultivate deeper friendships that challenge us to grow, create healthy, life-giving rhythms for our families, and connect and give back to the wider world beyond our doors.” Yay, Leigh Ann! Hope you enjoy the book!

And secondly, a blessing! A few years back, I came across this excerpt by Mary Jean Irion. It’s “a mother’s reflection as she combed her seven-year-old daughter’s hair after a bath,” and I completely love it. Hope it blesses you!

Comb and dry, comb and dry. “Soon I won’t be able to do this any more,” you say to yourself, knowing that the little straight bob must inevitably yield to grown-up coiffures and ugly curlers. What will she be like at fourteen? Where will her hair be blowing then? And sixteen and eighteen—you suppose boys will love to watch her hair blow as you do now. And some of them will feel it on their faces, and one of them will marry her, and her hair will be perfect under the veil, and there will be her hair spread out on his pillow…oh, you hate him a little and wonder where he is at this moment and whether he’ll be good to her….They will grow old together…the gold-brown hair will be gray, and you will be gone, and then she will be gone…this very hair that now your fingers smooth…All the tears of the world swim for a second in your eyes as you snatch the plug out of the socket suddenly and gather her into your arms, burying your face in the warm hairs as if you could seal this moment against all time.

Mother’s Day Confessions and a GIVEAWAY!

amystorms — Sun, 13 May 2012 07:39:33 +0000

“…she may well perish with the shame of having such a mother.”
–Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice

Oh, moms. We try, don’t we? I’ve never met a mother who didn’t try—who didn’t want the best for her kids.

But.

Try as we may, we aren’t perfect. Every year on this blog, in honor of Mother’s Day, we share our shortcomings. Mother’s Day Confessions are a lighthearted look at our motherhood mess-ups. No pretense or pretending here! Confess with me, and then, let’s celebrate our day by resting in God’s grace. He is always enough, even when we aren’t! (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Mother’s Day Confessions — 2012

One evening, I stood in the hall between my kids’ bedrooms and complimented Nathan on his clean room. “It’s so clean, I could do cartwheels in there!” Then, with a look at the girls’ room, I added, “…But this room is much less conducive to cartwheels.” The girls burst into tears, I apologized profusely, and everyone went to bed feeling terrible.
I didn’t pay attention to a change in Molly’s ballet schedule, and I dropped her off at the studio an hour late. She called in tears. “I don’t know what happened but this isn’t my class and these aren’t my friends so can you please come GET ME?!”
I don’t tuck my kids in bed anymore. In fact, most often, they come tell me good night…because I’m already in bed.
My most frequent answer to Nathan’s homeschooling questions this year was, “No idea. Google it.”
One night, I missed a three-inch step off my friend’s front porch. I flung my arms out, trying to regain my balance in the slow-motion fall. In the process, I punched Molly in the nose and glasses. Then I grabbed her by the shirt collar, and nearly pulled her down with me. I more than doubly outweigh her, and yet, I apparently expected her to catch me.
Driving home, I saw an old wooden rocking chair on the side of the road. After trying for ten minutes to get it into our little car, I made Nathan carry it all the way to our house. Through our entire neighborhood. While his friends rode circles around him on their bikes, and he blushed with embarrassment.
Speaking of that rocking chair, you may remember this story about a confrontation with our HOA. Now, here’s the rest of the story. After a tender moment in prayer for our enemies, as Nathan headed back outside to play, I offered this Christlike advice: “…and if she ever talks to you like that again, just say, ‘Lady, who peed in your Cheerios?’”
“You’re probably the only mom who makes every devotion be about sex, Mom.” (Hey, YOU read James 1:15 and tell me that isn’t a sex ed class waiting to happen.)
“Mom, can we PLEASE wash my sheets? These STILL have blood on them from when I got that bloody nose, like, a LONG time ago.”
Anne: “How do fish have babies?” Me: “The mom fish lays eggs, and the dad fish squirts man juice on ‘em.”

Okay, your turn! Leave your confessions in the comments, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of Mom Connection: Creating Vibrant Relationship in the Midst of Motherhood, by Tracey Bianchi, new from MOPS! I’ll do a random drawing at noon on Tuesday, May 15, when I’ll post more about the book. Good luck, and Happy Mother’s Day!

Enjoy the Medal

amystorms — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 07:00:29 +0000

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9, ESV)

When I was in ninth grade, my biology teacher made us create something for the annual “Invention Convention.” Other students—the ones who were good at biology and everything else—actually invented things. They spent weeks researching and constructing clever things that ran on little motors or batteries that they wired themselves.

I spent approximately ten minutes on my invention, the night before it was due. I cut ten ovals inside ten squares of clear Contact paper, stuck them in a little box, and called them “Neat Nails.” The idea was, stick the plastic squares over your fingers, leaving your nails uncovered through the oval holes, and then polish your fingernails without getting any on your fingers. Neat Nails!

Would you believe, Neat Nails actually went to Oklahoma’s State Invention Convention…and won third place? I even got a medal. Hilarious, really, because truly, no one deserved a science award less than I.

I shouldn’t have won, and I felt bad for it. What about the kids with motors and batteries and actual, you know, inventions? My medal wasn’t fair to them. In fact, to this day, when I paint my nails and get polish on my fingers, I remember Neat Nails and feel guilty. I must be the only soul who can recall a thing about the Oklahoma Invention Convention from over two decades ago, but I still can’t forget how undeserving I was.

In a way, God’s grace is like that third place medal. Unearned, and totally undeserved. Grace is “unmerited favor,” the scholars say. Quite simply, it’s a gift from God.

This week, I’ve been overwhelmed by own lack—my failures and sins as a wife, mom, and woman of God. God’s grace is enough—more than enough!—to make up for my shortcomings…but I have to accept the gift. I have to quit trying to earn favor and manipulate outcomes in my own strength. God offers me the medal of His grace, and He wants me to accept it.

And even more, He wants me to enjoy it. After all, when I give my children a gift, don’t I want them to enjoy it, rather than feel guilty for having it? God says, “Child, you have won My favor—not because of your goodness, but because of Mine. Accept My gift! Rest in it. And enough with your fear-filled guilt and shame. I want you to enjoy the medal.”

For more on this topic, read Shame and Grace by Lewis Smedes.

Lessons from a Basset Hound: #19 Days Like This

amystorms — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 07:00:51 +0000

“Oh, no, Belle! Get inside before the birds attack you!”

My new suet birdfeeder—the one I’d hung so happily because it promised to save me the mess of sweeping birdseed off the back patio—had melted in the 100-degree temperature. It dripped, quite disgustingly, all over the unsuspecting basset hound napping just beneath it.

I’m not sure why it never occurred to me that suet plus sunshine equals liquid fat. It was rather like David in Psalm 23. I anointed my dog’s head with oil. And birdseed.

Some days are like that. One minute, you’re snoozing in the sunshine, and the next, you’re covered in fat, waiting for birds to peck your face.

Such days shouldn’t come as a surprise, though. Jesus himself promised they’d come. “In this world, you will have trouble,” he told his disciples. “But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Days like this will come…but take heart! Or take courage, be of good cheer, be courageous, other versions say. In Greek, “take heart” is “tharseite,” which means, “be bolstered within.” It’s the same word that Jesus used when he took a late night stroll across the lake, and his friends took him for a ghost. “Be bolstered within!” he said. “It is I. Don’t be afraid.” (Matthew 14:27, Mark 6:50)

Lord, how comforting that you tie the command to “be bolstered within” directly to Yourself! I can take heart, because You have overcome. I can have courage, because it is You. Thank You that, on days like this, I can be bolstered within, because You are in me. Amen.

Scripture for Days Like This (Click to download.)

Previous Lessons from a Basset Hound:

Bookshelf: Healing is a Choice

amystorms — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 07:00:04 +0000

Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for a feast of the Jews. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”

“Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked. (John 5:1-9)

Growing up, my least favorite two letters together were, without a doubt, P and E.

As in, P.E., as in Physical Education class. As in, “Time to awkwardly wear shorts under your skirts, girls, because we’re going to force you to kick a ball and climb a rope, and then we’ll tell you that it’s good for you!”

I hated P.E.

More than once (or more than 50 times), I lied to avoid P.E. I twisted my ankle, I felt the flu coming on, I forgot to wear shorts under my skirt and couldn’t possibly risk showing the boys my underpants…anything to get out of physical education. I knew the P.E. teachers were on to my tricks, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to exercise.

Similarly (sort of), I once heard a marriage counselor say that he can tell within just a few minutes of meeting a couple whether or not their marriage will improve—or even make it at all.

“It’s obvious from the very beginning,” he said, “if they intend to try or not.”

He’s like a P.E. teacher, leading husbands and wives to something that’s “good” for them. But all the tips, books, and Bible teaching in the world won’t help some marriages, because they just don’t want to try.

In John 5, Jesus met a man who hadn’t been able to walk for 38 years. Jesus asked one of his right-to-the-point questions.

“Do you want to get well?”

Do you want to stand on your own two feet, or are you honestly happier here by the pool? After all, this water is all you’ve known for 38 years….

Do you want to have a better marriage? Or are you honestly happier being right, and stubborn, and resentful? After all, a better marriage requires service, submission, and forgiveness….

Do you want to exercise in P.E. class? Or are you honestly happier lying about injury and illness? After all, exercise means kicking a ball, climbing a rope, and wearing shorts under your skirt….

Jesus knew that sometimes, we don’t want to get well. We are happier in our pain, addiction, or anger. After all, healing means stopping our lies, and changing our lives.

Healing is a Choice: Ten Decisions That Will Transform Your Life and Ten Lies That Can Prevent You From Making Them is for anyone who wants to get well. Stephen Arterburn first released Healing is a Choice in 2005, but it was recently revised, updated, and re-released by Thomas Nelson. Today’s version includes a full workbook, with application questions to facilitate healthy change. Throughout, Arterburn balances compassion with truth. He offers ten decisions for people who want to get well: the choice to feel your life, the choice to heal your future, the choice to forgive, the choice to persevere, and more—and his insights are all grounded in scripture.

From the book:

“The power to heal—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually—is in God’s hands. But the choice to be healed is yours.”

“I don’t know how long you have struggled, but I know this: it is time to pick up your mat and walk, or pick up your mat and cry, or pick up your mat and drive to a meeting, or pick up your mat and take your medicine, or pick up your mat and help someone else, or pick up your mat and utter a simple prayer of surrender to taking the path toward healing. It is time to pick up your life and experience all that God has for you.”

“This very second is the beginning of the future you choose. You can choose a future that is burdened by an unresolved past that clouds every day with sickness and confusion….Or you can choose to live to please God and not yourself. You can choose to live in His promises for healing rather than your history of brokenness. Your future is your choice.”

“Do you want to get well?” the Lord asked the man. Perhaps he asks us, too. Healing isn’t easy, but it is a choice. Ready to stop the lies and start the transformation? Ready for the healing that only God can give? Then don’t miss Stephen Arterburn’s Healing is a Choice.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers' BookSneeze program.

Hear the Birds: Tired and Irritable Thoughts on Psalm 23

amystorms — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 07:00:47 +0000

“All we can hear is the birds,” my son whispered one morning. He was six at the time, and we had just moved from a condo by the freeway to a townhouse that backed up to hills and open space. That first day in our new home, Nathan couldn’t hear the morning commute right outside his bedroom window, and the silence was almost spooky.

“All we can hear is the birds.”

Lately, though, our quiet house has been anything but. Our hectic pace and crammed calendars have me feeling tired and irritable. I notice it the most in my eyes: I rub them a lot because I’m tired, and I roll them a lot because I’m irritable.

For two weeks now, I’ve carried around a book about Sabbath, but I haven’t opened it yet. The irony of being too busy to read about rest! Tonight, though, we have nothing on our calendar. No church, no life group, no meetings. No ballet class, no “on-call” at the hospital. We’re not even going out to eat! We’re going to sit here, just the five of us, and look at each other right in our red, rolling eyes.

We’re going to listen for the birds.

Lord, You’re our shepherd. Make us lie down in green pastures. Lead us beside quiet waters. Restore our souls. Exchange our tired irritability with Your refreshed joy, until all we can hear is the birds. Amen.

GIVEAWAYS for your bookshelf: Always There – WINNERS ANNOUNCED :)

amystorms — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 14:39:24 +0000

Update! Congratulations to four commenters! According to Random Integer, copies of Always There will go to:

Gina Williams (4/9 at 8:38 PM)
Lisa Stewart (4/10 at 4:47 AM)
Lori Dees (4/10 at 1:44 PM)
Heather Ratliff (4/11 at 5:02 PM)

Hooray for you, ladies! Please email me your street address (amy@amystorms.com) and I’ll get your book to you! Happy reading!

See this book? Always There is a compilation of 52 short devotions for moms, published by Revell and MOPS International. I’m so excited to offer FOUR COPIES of it this week, to four of you fabulous readers! Always There reminds us that God is always with us, in our marriages and friendships, in our jobs, and even in the times when we feel overwhelmed. Always There includes fantastic writers like Ann Voskamp, Hayley DiMarco, Tracey Bianchi, my hilarious Joplin friend and hero Cindy Dagnan, and more.

And, can I tell you a fun little secret? Yours truly is one of those and more! It’s true! See? It says my name, right there on page 175.

I’ve looked at it about 300 times, just to be sure.

So, would you help me get the word out about Always There? Let all your mom-friends know, and order it here. Also, leave a comment for a chance to win one of these four copies. I’ll do a random drawing on Friday at noon PST. In your comment, why don’t you tell me the names and ages of your kids or grandkids? That way, I can pray for you and your “babies” to know that He is always there!

God is Terribly Unfair!

amystorms — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 18:25:07 +0000

“It is a terrible injustice,” asserts my beloved Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables, “to be falsely accused.” Oh, Anne, I agree! To be accused of a mistake that I didn’t make? Or of a character flaw that I don’t possess? Well. That, as Anne would say, is just about “the most tragical thing that has ever happened to me.”

I absolutely hate unfairness.

Especially when it comes to me.

Maybe that’s why it bothered me so much a few days ago when Andy apologized for something he didn’t do. Someone corrected Andy, and Andy even showed me an email proving that he was in the right, but he didn’t fight back. He just took it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Andy said. I disagreed, perhaps a little too strongly. I “encouraged” him to think it over and defend himself. Andy thought it over…and remained silent.

This terrible injustice has bugged me for two days. Finally, this morning, I told God on Andy. After all, if my husband wouldn’t listen to my advice, perhaps the Holy Spirit could intervene.

“God, make him bold enough to defend himself,” I prayed, but the words didn’t feel right coming out. They weren’t exactly the problem, somehow.

“Oh, no,” I said aloud, realizing God’s Spirit was about to nudge me instead of Andy.

“Why is this bugging me so much?” I asked the Lord. Instantly, He brought to mind Philippians 2:

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God,  did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,  but made himself nothing,  taking the very nature of a servant,  being made in human likeness.  And being found in appearance as a man,  he humbled himself  and became obedient to death—even death on a cross!  Therefore God exalted him to the highest place  and gave him the name that is above every name,  that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,  in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Philippians 2:3-11

“It’s bugging you,” God impressed on me, “because it’s pride.” The selfish ambition in me didn’t want Andy to let himself be treated unfairly. But Andy had the same attitude as Christ—the attitude that says, “It’s not about fair. It’s about others.” In humility, Christ laid aside His rightness. He emptied himself of His deity, and endured the terrible injustice of being falsely accused, and suffered the most tragical thing that has ever happened…all because He loved me. He did it because what I needed was more important to Him than what He deserved. The message of the cross—the message we’ll celebrate on Sunday—is this: God is terribly unfair.

God, thank You for Your terrible injustice on my behalf. I’m saved because of it! Will you cleanse me of my pride? Wash away every last trace of selfish ambition, and let me have the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus—the attitude of a humble servant. Thank You for considering me ahead of Yourself. Thank You—thank You!—for the life that is mine in the Name above every name, the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

I Watched Him Run

amystorms — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 18:09:54 +0000

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14

When I was a little girl, my dad had Philippians 3:14 on a figurine on his office desk. It showed a runner, pressing on toward the goal. The runner was formed out of nails, and he ran toward two poles to mark the finish line. I remember flicking my finger on the sharp, twisted metal nails every time I was in his office. That plaque was there as far back as I can remember.

Philippians is one of my dad’s favorite Bible books. He can recite long portions of it from memory, and I’ve heard him preach on it many times. He often quoted Philippians 4:13 to me when I was afraid: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

Philippians is one of my favorite books, too. God has spoken to me through it time and time again. But I wonder…would I have been so interested in this little book, were it not for my dad? First, I loved Philippians because my dad loved it. And then, I loved it because it spoke to me.

My point is this: our personal “run for the prize” influences those around us. My dad didn’t memorize Philippians or keep a plaque of Philippians on his desk to teach me anything. He did it because God was speaking to him in his own faith journey. And yet, like a spectator in the grandstands, I watched him run. First, I watched my dad press on toward the goal, and then, I began to chase after the prize myself.

The question is, who is watching me run? My children, yes, and my husband. Maybe a friend or neighbor is watching my faith. Maybe I don’t even realize it, but my race is influencing theirs.

So, I’ll press on. I’ll press on so I can win the prize. I’ll press on because God has called me heavenward. And, I’ll press on because someone is watching me run.

Random Funny: TMI and a UTI

amystorms — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 07:00:56 +0000

A re-post from a couple years ago that I hope you’ll re-enjoy…

Warning: This post contains much more information than you care to know about Amy Storms. Seriously. You can read on, but…you’ve been warned.

I get urinary tract infections a lot. I had them often in childhood and they still recur a few times a year. I even had one on our honeymoon. It’s all part of the glamour that is my life.

During a particularly awful UTI a few years ago, kind-and-thoughtful Andy teased me about my every-five-minute trips to the potty. I tried to explain just how uncomfortable the infection is. But when I whined about how much it “burned,” he gave a disgusted shudder. (See? Too much information. Perhaps a little mystery is a good thing.) Andy poured me another glass of cranberry juice and called the doctor.

Soon enough, I sat alone in the waiting room. Bored, I pulled out my phone to text—and tease—Andy. I typed these words:

“My body BURNS for you.”

I know. I don’t really even know what that means. I’m blushing now as I type it again. But I also had a fever at the time. Let’s blame it on the fever.

Just then, a nurse came out and called my name. My thumbs hurried to finish the message as I followed her to the hallway scale. I pressed send, and thankfully—thank You, God!—my wise and careful phone double-checked: “Send to Alex?”

Alex?

ALEX?

Even with a fever, I knew that wasn’t right.

I had selected “Alex,” not “Andy,” in my contacts! Andy is my good husband, who would only roll his eyes at such a silly message. Alex was a high school boy in our church’s student ministry, who would be quite shocked (and very likely nauseous) to hear that my body BURNED for him.

“Send to Alex?”

I typed furiously and yelled aloud at the phone. “No. No! Don’t send to Alex! DON’T SEND TO ALEX!”

Message canceled. Crisis averted. The nurse told me to step up on the scale, and I sighed in relief.

And that is how I nearly went to prison, and how Andy nearly lost his job as a children’s pastor, and most importantly, how I learned to never, ever flirt-text with a fever.