Dear 2018

Dear 2018,

In reflecting on you today, I’ve had a bit of a hard time figuring out how to describe you. On the surface, you were pretty quiet. You definitely had some big moments. But mostly, I think I’d say you were steady, and quiet. Yes, I think that’s it. A steady, quiet growth. The kind of growth you see in a child. Where you put them to bed, night after night, not really noticing the seemingly slow and subtle changes, until you look back at a picture from the year before and realize how vastly they had changed and grown. That’s what this year has been for me. Quiet, slow and subtle growth, growth that is actually a much larger leap overall than it appears to be at first glance.

2018 brought me a fairly peaceful year for the most part. Lots of good things, and a few bad things that turned out to be good things.

We had 3 beach trips. 3!!! That in and of itself makes for a pretty good year. One was a surprise whirlwind one nighter, that I was sure was going to cause me more stress than relaxation, but it turned out to be just the refreshment I needed to start off this year. That trip also brought us to Kate’s first car. Which we ended up losing a few months later to a giant tree, along with Jeff’s car. Ahhh the great car debacle of 2018. That was a doozy.

So incredibly stressful, and just when I thought it was over, Emily’s car went kaput and we were right back to a car dealership buying car #3 in a 6 week period. I was having a hard time seeing the good God intended in that whole situation. I literally had no idea how we were going to make having these new car payments work. But God, as He always does, made provisions and we haven’t struggled at all to make those payments. Not too long after all that, my car engine suddenly decided to go into catastrophic engine failure. All I could think was, “You have got to be kidding me right now.” But no, it was no joke. My car was TOAST. And after a humorous after the fact but not so humorous during the fact attempt at towing the car ourselves to the dealership about 60 miles away in an attempt to save a few hundred bucks..(we will NEVER do that again!) we find out that it is 100% covered by the warranty, up to 120,000 miles. Y’all, we were somewhere around 119,700. So while it did not feel like God was in that at the time, He most definitely was. If we had gone just a few hundred more miles, I would have been out of luck and not been able to get a dime to get a new engine or replace that car.

Then there was the rainbow prism car they gave me as a loaner while my car was being repaired. It was hilarious….and a bit embarrassing. But my Dad said he believed that the rainbow paint was intentional. Partly because God has a sense of humor, and partly an intentional reminder that He always keeps His promises to work every single thing for our good.

And that is exactly what He did.

Jeff and the girls ended up with much better and more dependable cars, and I ended up with a new engine, which means I basically got a new car, on the inside anyway. So even though it seemed like all those things were bad, God used them for our good.

This year also took us back to our favorite place, Disney World. I started planning in April, and we went in December. Disney, when my kids were little, was so fun and magical, but I am here to tell you that Disney with grown up kids is STILL so fun and magical. And a lot less stressful, ha. I mean they can walk and feed themselves, and I no longer have to lug a bag full of stuff all over the parks. It’s literally so easy now! Our trip was short this year but SO much fun.

It is and always will be a special place for us.

This was also the year that I decided to get a bit more serious about the weight I had gained. I started trying to do better food wise around April, and then in September we kicked it up a notch and switched to the Keto diet. I’m not gonna lie, the first few weeks of that transition were rough. I had quite the carb addiction and literally felt like the diet was sucking every ounce of joy from my life. I was overwhelmed and slightly confused as to how to make it work and literally wanted to cry every day for two weeks straight. Then I kind of settled in and figured it out and ended up really loving it. Now, we are not super strict, meaning we have a cheat meal every couple of weeks. And if there’s a special occasion or if there’s just something we really want, we have it. Because we are foodies and food does bring a lot of joy to our lives, and I’m not about to outlaw the occasional joyful treat in the name of some strict diet rule. I will mostly stick to the plan, but there will be times that I will just eat what I want because ‘let me live my life and live it to the fullest!

We did really well, and both lost over 20 pounds.

Starting the week of Disney, we shut the diet down temporarily because, Hello! Disney food!

I will NOT deny myself the joy of Mickey Waffles and Dole Whip floats. And then there were ALL the Christmas celebrations. And like I said, these are the times that we allow ourselves the freedom to eat that dessert, or that bread or those potatoes, and that Big Mac and fries… (yep, I totally did that) and enjoy it to the fullest. And I may have gained 3 pounds, but it was 100% worth the joy that little 3 week diet vacation gave me.

But starting next week, we will go back to the keto, because we like it, and we feel so much better when we follow it, and I have a few more pounds to go to reach my goal. I believe in making healthy choices to lose weight, but I also believe in allowing yourself a little freedom every now and then so that you don’t become a slave to the diet. I don’t want to be a slave to the unhealthy food or to the diet, so following it for the most part but still allowing the occasion wiggle room works for us.

This year also brought us our sweet Great-nephew Max. To say that I, his favorite Auntie Amy (yes Auntie Marla, it’s my blog so I can say that and get away with it.😜) anyway, to say that I was smitten, would be a vast understatement. This kid is all kinds of cute y’all. 😍

He was born with Tetralogy of Fallot, a congenital heart defect. He had open heart surgery almost 3 weeks ago, to repair the heart defects and correct the blood flow to his lungs, and he handled it like a champ. The rest of us, well… we were kind of a big ole mess, but Max breezed right through it like the sweet, strong, brave warrior that he is. His parents and grandparents were an example of strength and faith in the most scary of situations, and I couldn’t be prouder of the way they’ve walked through it. And we are all so very thankful for a successful surgery and for how quickly he is healing. Fun fact: His mom requested that people send letters to Max, so that she could show him all their well wishes when he got older. And Auntie Amy over here may have gone a little overboard and sent messages to a CRAPLOAD of celebrities on Instagram asking nicely if they might be kind enough to send Max a card, and Auntie Amy just may have apparently sent one too many and got herself temporarily blocked from sending messages on Instagram. Oops. What can I say? 🤷🏻‍♀️ His Auntie Amy really loves him and is willing to go to great lengths to try and get him some cool letters. Even if it means she gets temporarily kicked off of Instagram. Lol. Sorry kid, apparently my Instagram letter campaign was not a success. Auntie Amy tried. I did bring him a Mickey Mouse back from Disney though.

The surgery went great, and Max is back to his sweet, laughing, smiling self, and we are forever grateful for God’s hand in that.

And speaking of healing, I feel like we’ve done a lot of that this year. Some say year two is the magic number when it comes to healing from infidelity. Though I would say that year two was definitely a turning point, year three for me has been the most significant from a healing aspect. My heart has been calmer. My mind less anxious. The triggers nearly non existent. Nearly. Not completely. They’re still there. But they rarely take me by surprise anymore. The power they once had to literally bring me to my knees and reduce me to a breathless puddle of gut wrenching pain and tears, now barely strong enough to make me need to catch my breath. I have made huge strides in my ability to see the triggers for what they are:

-Painful memories that are no longer a part of my current reality.

-Facts that I can not change but CAN choose what to do with.

-Attacks on my heart, my mind and my spirit with the intention to keep me from living in the goodness of this present moment and to keep me from the greatness of what’s still to come.

The triggers use to come and they would pull me so forcefully into their disorienting spirals of pain, and I would be stuck there, against my will, and I would have to fight SO, SO hard to find my way out of their clutches.

But now, the triggers are mostly weak, and distant. I’m no longer an easy target for their attacks. The cracks in me have been filled up with so much of His goodness. So much grace. Forgiveness. Redemption. So many blessings, that the triggers can barely squeeze through them anymore. And even when they do, they don’t last long, because all that goodness I’ve soaked in outshines any bad thoughts they bring. And I refuse to make the space for it, that darkness. There’s just no room for it here, in this new life. I made the space for it at first. I had to. It was necessary, that brokenness. There was a time for it, and I had to accept it in and process it. Without the pain there’s no healing. Without the disaster, there’s no miracle. Without the mistakes, there’s no redemption. So there’s a space and a time for the darkness, but that space and time is LIMITED. There comes a time when we have to choose to change our perspective. To see God’s goodness as bigger than that all encompassing painful thing that we’ve gone through. There’s no magic moment that I can pinpoint that this happened for me. I think there was always a part of me that believed that God would somehow make something good out of this mess. But there were many, many moments where the pain of it all felt bigger than any good I could ever imagine coming from it. And it’s taken time to walk through that, and work through all the doubts and fears. You just have to continually choose to live in the good.

This year brought us quite a few new couples, fresh on the heels of the disastrous unmaking of their own marriages. Finding themselves stumbling blindly down this dark path we’ve walked. Each story different, but so much the same. SO MUCH HEARTACHE. And oh how my heart aches for them. Knowing so well the pain they are feeling. Remembering the freshness of it.

And so I reach back, and extend a hand in the darkness. A flicker of light to show them that they aren’t hopelessly lost. An ear to listen, and a voice to whisper, “you won’t walk through this alone.” I am not thankful for having endured the pain of infidelity, but I am thankful for the gift of being able to use that experience to help someone else walk through it, and find their way to the other side of it, and my heart is ALL kinds of in it. You will find no greater champion for your marriage, or for yourself than me and Jeff Gordy. You can get through this, you can be better in spite of it, you can be better because of it, and we are HERE FOR IT. All of it. It brings us no greater joy than to see the people that have been put in our path walking in redemption.

Not every marriage survives. And that’s ok. That just means there are other plans for your life and I can guarantee you that those plans are good. And if this is the case for you I am your biggest cheerleader and can’t wait to see what surprises God has in store for you. You are going to be ok, and great things will happen in your life and I am HERE FOR IT.

And for the marriages that have and are pushing through, that have or are in the process of recommitting to each other, seeing you guys walk this out and find your way through the darkness and slowly but surely finding your joy again… IT FILLS MY HEART UP.

To know that we had even a tiny part of God’s redemption plan for you, it’s humbling and healing and I am just so, so grateful to be part of it.

For those of you that may have stumbled across this, and maybe you’re in a situation where you are considering cheating. Maybe you’re just ever so slightly entertaining the idea. I have one word of advice. Don’t. Just don’t. Save yourself the lifetime of regret. The lifetime of hurt. Save your spouse a lifetime of carrying the scars. Save your children from having to carry those memories and that pain. That’s the best advice I could ever give anyone. Just don’t do it.

While I am thankful and blessed to help you guys out, I’d much, much prefer that you never find yourselves in need of our help.

The last few days of each year have been a little anxious for me over these last few years. It’s just part of the effects of the PTSD, I guess. Because I would think back to the end of 2014, and how I did not see the pain and heartache waiting for me that next year. I didn’t see the utter destruction that was already in the making, that would take shape just a few short weeks ahead. I’d hear that little voice that says, “you didn’t see that coming… what else might be waiting just around the bend? What unexpected destruction lies in your path?”

I started having those thoughts again a couple of days ago. But I fought back by remembering all the good things and the blessings. The gratefulness that our family still gets to go on vacations and spend holidays together as a whole family. I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude in all of those moments. The moments that we are together as a family. The moments that almost ceased to exist and never were again. I do not take for granted the miracle of those moments. The miracle of redemption. The gift that we get to share our story and bring hope and help clear a path for others that are lost in their brokenness.

In the face of anxiety, I WILL NOT forget God’s promises to work everything for our good. EVERYTHING. And I will remind myself how He has never, ever broken that promise to me. I will remember that HE IS GOOD.

And so I will have hope for a new year, and that no matter what it brings, He goes before me, He makes a way for me, and He makes all things good.

So 2018, this is where I say thank you. You had your challenges, and you weren’t always the easiest,but you’re the first year since 2015 that I can truly say really wasn’t all that hard. You brought lots of good things, good experiences, and good people into our lives. You proved that God is still in the details, and that He is still working ALL things for our good.

So here’s to you, and here’s to all the great things to come in 2019.

And finally, thank you all for continuing to read my posts. I know I wrote a lot less this year, even though I said last year I was going to write more. Oops. 🤷🏻‍♀️

And even though I haven’t touched that book I said I was going to write in months. Oops again. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I think I just had a lot more healing and growing to do before I was truly ready for that, and I think I’ve done a lot of that this year. So maybe I’ll get back to that soon. If a book is meant to be, and God wants it in the hands of people, He will work all that out in His timing, so that the specific people it’s meant for will have it EXACTLY when they need it. And if that never happens, I’ll continue to share my story here, and in my everyday life and with the people that God puts in our path. I’m not saying I’m setting the book on a shelf, but I think I’ve needed to take the time to heal a little more before I can really fully tell our story in that format. I believe I’m a lot closer to that now, and that I’ll pick it back up when God prompts me that the time is right.

We are truly thankful for all of you, for your encouragement, your love, and your support. I pray you all have a new year full of blessings and adventure and that no matter what this new year brings, that you’ll look for the goodness. That you’ll “be the tree” if an unexpected storm comes your way. And that you’ll find the joy and the miracle of redemption, in whatever form that takes.

❤️

Amy Thurston Gordy

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Feels like freedom

Oh September. I try to ignore you. I really, really do.

And I was doing a pretty good job of it.

I mean, it’s usually around mid August, when the heaviness starts setting in. When I remember the date looming ahead, September 10th. The day life as I knew it irrevocably changed forever.

But this year, August was nearly over and I realized that I really hadn’t thought about it. That’s when it suddenly struck me how well we are doing. How far we’ve come. How far I’VE come.

How quiet the hum just underneath the surface has gotten. That hum used to be such a roar, I could barely focus on anything else. The thoughts and the pain, they not only ran through a never ending loop in my mind, but they seemed to course through my veins, seeping into every part of my existence. I learned to push it back, to try and drown it out so that I could function in a halfway normal manner for all outward appearances. But it was still SO loud for what seemed like so long.

I’m not sure exactly when it got so much quieter. I can’t really pin point it. I think it was so slow, so gradual, I just didn’t notice it. I mean, I did notice. I knew there had been healing. I knew it got easier. But I hadn’t really noticed the stark distance between where we were and where we are. I hadn’t really noticed the gradual lessening of the hum.

Most of the time, it’s nothing more than a faint whisper now. Echoes of the past. I don’t suppose it ever completely leaves you.

But to know it won’t always be so loud, so painfully loud, well, it feels…kind of like freedom.

Maybe not freedom in the sense that it has no bearing on you anymore. It certainly still affects the present sometimes. But sometimes maybe freedom isn’t necessarily a release from something, as much as it is learning to live your best life in spite of something. Learning to make the most of the changes it brought. Learning to live through it, and launch from it.

Maybe freedom is actually acceptance. Maybe, freedom is merely growth.

Maybe, freedom is simply gained not by trying to forget, or pretend as though that bad thing never happened, but maybe it’s in the ability….no, the insistence of moving forward in search of the good.

It definitely shaped the person I am today. In good ways and bad. It tore me down. Stripped me of almost everything I believed to be real. Shattered my heart.

It broke me.

EVERY SINGLE part of me.

But I survived it.

WE survived it.

I put myself back together. Although the pieces didn’t fit quite the same anymore. There were cracks. So many cracks. But if you allow it, God can fill those cracks with goodness. The cracks are still there, and you can still see the seams of every single one.

I’ll never be the same.

But eventually you won’t see the emptiness through the cracks anymore. Just the goodness shining through.

And sometimes, there’s goodness that was already hidden underneath the cracks. Gifts and talents and wisdom that’s always been there, but has been locked away, waiting for the outer layers to be torn away so it can rise to the surface.

I had to choose that. I had to choose to either dwell in those empty broken places, or let Him both draw out what was hidden away beneath them or fill them in with something I was missing. And if today, you are the one that is broken, at some point you will have to choose too.

Not all at once. But little by little, after you’ve spent some time exploring those broken pieces of yourself, and taking the time to grieve the parts you lost, you will have to decide if you want to dwell there, in that dark broken place, or if you want to look for the goodness to come. You have to choose to allow God to fill that space in, even when you’re not sure how it could possibly be filled. No, it won’t happen quickly, or all of a sudden. But your time will come. Your deafening hum will get quieter. You’ll suddenly realize that it isn’t so hard anymore.

That life can be good again.

Broken is hard. Shattered is painful. Being torn down is nothing less than completely devastating.

But being torn down is sometimes the only way to be built into your full potential. Being shattered is sometimes the only way to release the things hidden away inside of you.

And sometimes, broken is beautiful.

Because sometimes, broken is the only true way to wholeness.

Sometimes the broken you is the only way to the best you.

I woke up a few days ago, finally feeling the heavy pull of September. Feeling the pull of darker days; echoes of that awful September day three years ago, and the excruciating days that followed it, calling out to me. Drawing me back like some giant magnet into a dark hole. That hum that I had just recently realized was so quiet, threatening to get loud again. The images, the memories, trying to force their way in.

There’s no peace for you, they say.

You don’t get to be a normal couple, they say.

You’ll always be broken, they say.

And the worst one….

I can ruin you again, they say.

But I fight not to listen. Not to let the lies settle in to my spirit. I fight back with the truths that I’ve hidden away there.

It’s not easy. Because those whispers feel like loud, unavoidable truth sometimes.

Sometimes it feels like those dreams you have where you try to scream but you can’t get the sound out, or you try to fight but you’re frozen and can’t move.

So you have to dig deep, and let God’s truths you’ve hidden away in your heart speak for you until you find your strength and your voice again.

Because God says that He heals the broken-hearted, and He binds up our wounds.

Because God says no weapon formed against us shall prosper.

Because God says He gives us a new heart.

Because God says He makes a way for us in the wilderness.

Because God says He will make all our paths straight.

Because God says He is for us.

Because God says He knows the plans He has for us, and they are always, always good.

Because God says what He has joined together, let no one tear apart.

Because God says we are more than conquerors.

Because He says He makes all things new.

Because He says He will give us a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Because God says let the redeemed of the Lord say so.

And I SAY so.

I am redeemed.

WE ARE REDEEMED.

So take that, September. Take your darkness. Take your sadness. Take your bad memories. Take your anxiety. Take your deafening hum.

You had your day. And that day has passed.

You tore us down, but He built us up.

You took away everything we had and everything we were, but He replaced it with something far better.

You won the battle on that dark September day, but Jesus, grace, and love,

Love won the war.

Matthew 7:25

The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.

❤️

Amy Thurston Gordy

Hope lives here

I’m stalling. I’ve been stalling for weeks, and I know it. I sit down and think about picking it up. I know I should. But nothing comes. Then I tell myself all the other things that need to get done. The clutter picked up. The piles of laundry. The dishes in the sink. 

No. I can do that later. I need to write something. Stop stalling. Stop making excuses.2 hours. I can spare 2 hours. 

Ok. Here I go. 

But still. Nothing. Not so much as the first word is popping into my head. 

I’ve got nothing. 

Then I hear it. The thought in the back of my head. ….“That’s not true. You’ve got stuff. You just don’t want to write about it.” 

Gah. Couldn’t I have just folded the laundry and let myself off the hook instead of smacking myself in the face with the truth? Nooo. That would be too easy. Easier than dealing with my truth.

So here it is. 
I’ve got stuff. Some things I deal with. But it’s really just the same stuff. You’ve heard it all before. Fears. Insecurities. Issues with trust. Control. You know, the regulars. 

And so in trying to write this post, my thought process went a little like this, (basically, ALL over the place) : 
-“Does this part of it, the inability to fully trust, ever truly lessen significantly or do you always think you’re doing better just to have it sneak up and slap you in the face again forever?”
-“Do I even have anything else to say? Or more importantly, do I have anything NEW to say?”
-“Hellooo God, are you gonna tell me what to write about or just leave me hanging here?”
-“Maybe I thought this was my calling, but maybe it just isn’t.”
-“Is anybody even reading these posts anymore?”
-“Is the laundry EVER completely done?”
-“Do you really want to keep telling everyone in the entire universe what goes on in your life and in your mind?”
-“Do you even want to tell this story anymore or just tuck it away and hope it becomes such a distant buried memory that you can nearly completely forget it?” 
Yep. I’ll admit it. I got issues. 
(Am I the only one hearing that Julia Michael’s song “I got issues” in my head now? 😂)

Fear. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Mostly it’s fear. Of so many things. 

Of being betrayed again. Of betraying myself by not seeing it before it’s too late. Of being so afraid of that happening that I sabotage the happiness of now. Of not having security. Of not knowing what comes next. Of not being enough. Of not losing the extra weight I’ve picked up. Of my blood pressure getting any higher. Of failing as a mom. Of writing a book. 

Of NOT writing a book. 

I sit for a minute. I hear Him say “Hope is the anchor.” Hmm. Maybe that wasn’t Him, I tell myself, maybe I just pulled that out of my mind because it’s the subject of the most recent series of sermons at my church. 
But one word stands out. THE. He didn’t say “Hope is an anchor”, or “Hope is my anchor.” I heard “Hope is THE anchor.” 

Ok. Alright then God. I’ll see where that leads me. 

Yes. Hope is my anchor. Hope has always been my anchor. Hasn’t it? I’m all about some hope right? The belief that no matter what, everything’s going to be ok. 

Yes. Sure. Hope is my anchor… I think?

And that’s when the little light comes on and shines itself directly all up into the dark little corners of my heart and says, “hey. See this stuff? Yeah. It’s still there. Maybe you want to think about dealing with that?”

Uh oh. 
IS hope my anchor? Is it what I cling to? Is it what I believe in? Is it what I’m living my life by? 

Or has something else taken it’s place?

Several times over the past few weeks, I’ve felt uneasy for reasons I literally don’t even know. 
You’d think by now I’d know the difference. The difference between an uneasiness that’s prompted by God to alert you of something you need to deal with or avoid or a danger ahead, and an uneasiness that’s not from God, and just a distraction to keep you stuck or drag you down. 

And I kind of do. I know the difference. But that’s where my fear kicks in and tries to make me second guess by throwing all the what if’s at me. “What if this is real? What if you ignore this feeling and you miss something?”

The fear of missing something, of not catching that something has gone wrong in time to fix it before it’s completely broken, it’s like a magnet that pulls me in. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m just stuck there. 

Trying to move forward, trying to let go of it, to break free of its hold on me. But the gravity, the crushing weight of that magnetic pull always pulling me back. 

Or is it? Is the fear holding me? Or maybe, just maybe, am I holding fear? 

I didn’t ask for the thing that brought this fear into my mind, my heart, my life. I didn’t invite it in. It’s a natural byproduct of what I’ve been through. And it didn’t just creep in. It crashed into and enveloped me in a fierce crushing wave, and instead of leaving when the storm subsided, it settled itself right in my heart and made itself at home.

But my life is good now.
I don’t wake up every morning anymore with visions of what Jeff did and questions of what life looks like for all of us when I divorce him. I don’t spend my days sick to my stomach at the thought of what they did. I don’t cry myself to sleep or wake up gasping for air because I feel as if I’m literally drowning. I don’t go lie in a sobbing heap on my bathroom floor because a crushing wave of sadness hits me out of nowhere as I’m chopping vegetables in my kitchen. 

That is not my life today. 
My life is full and good and all kinds of lovely. 

I wake up every morning with a man that treasures me. A man who gives me no real reason to ever doubt or question his devotion to me. Yet, I do. 

I continually question it, because I have a fear of being blindsided. Because I have fear of being deceived. Because I once lived a life believing it was one thing, when the reality of that life was not at all what I perceived and believed it to be. But I don’t live in that life now. I live with a man who hasn’t forgotten what it was like to lose me. A good and decent man. A man who doesn’t want to live that life, the life in which he betrayed me, and God, and himself, ever again.

Why is it so hard for me to just trust in that? 

One word. Fear.
Fear of rejection. Fear of pain. Fear of not having control. Fear of regret. Fear of being made a fool of. Fear of loss. 

Well, maybe there is something else too. Self protection. Defense mechanisms. 

Those two things aren’t always bad. They can be helpful, and sometimes even necessary. But there’s a fine line. A line that is crossed when you begin to LIVE from it. 

Too often, I cross that line.

Too often I live from that self protection. 

Too often I live from those defense mechanisms.

And much, much too often, I live from fear. 

It’s taken me some time to really see that. It’s taken me even longer to face it.

Does the fear hold me, or is it me holding too tight to the fear? 

I think, it’s a little bit of both. It’s a codependency.

I’ve become codependent with the fear.

I battle it, yet I also tend to feed it. I fight it, but I also use it as a source of self preservation. 

That’s not the self I really want to preserve. So it’s time me and fear have a little chat.

Dear fear,

This relationship between you and I really isn’t working out for me. I would say that’s it’s not you, it’s me. But truthfully, we both have contributed to this toxic relationship. It’s time for us to part ways. You’re just taking up too much space here. You cause issues with my real relationships. You keep me from the things I’m supposed to do, and the person I’m meant to be. So, I’m gonna have to break up with you now. 

Sincerely,                                                                  Amy

What are you living your life from? Not on the surface, but really, really deep beneath it? What, truthfully, is your anchor? 

Is it fear? Is it insecurity? Is it doubt or pain or anger? 

Maybe you need to write a hypothetical Dear John letter today to whatever it is that’s holding you back. 

And that’s just the start. Overcoming whatever it is that holds you, or whatever you are holding on to isn’t solved by making this one declaration. It’s something we have to continually work at. It’s a process of waking up every morning with gratitude for where we are, and countering all the negative thoughts that bombard us with God’s truth. Learning how to lean into discernment instead of paranoia. Learning to live in the goodness of today, and not let the circumstances of the past overshadow it. 

Learning how to enjoy the “It is”, instead of constantly worrying over the “what if’s”
This is where I have to admit to you that all of that is easier said than done. This is also the part where Jeff looks at me and says “You need to read your own blog. There’s some really good and helpful stuff in there, maybe you should listen to yourself.” Ha! 
It’s not easy. It’s a spiritual battle. It’s something that I can write about pretty easily because I can clearly see it and identify it and come to terms with it in my head. The truth is in there, but the actual application of it in our lives is where most of us tend to get stuck, myself included. 
You can’t get unstuck by just acknowledging that you’re stuck. You can’t get unstuck by just thinking through why you’re stuck or even what you need to do to get unstuck. The only way to get unstuck is to actually move. You have to apply the right thoughts and then take that course of action. And then, we just have to be a little more aware and careful of the places we drop our anchors. 

I don’t think my anchor has been completely entrenched in fear. I know it hasn’t, because there is SO much hope in our story. And because we have so much goodness and I can see the progress we’ve made in our marriage and in our lives. The bottom wasn’t an easy place to start from, but despite the difficulties , there’s been a LOT of beauty and joy and happy days. 
I think we’ve been moving forward, sailing ahead, but my anchor just keeps getting caught on the rocks and debris. It doesn’t bring us to a screeching halt but it does a pretty good job of keeping us from getting to where we are going. 

So that brings me back to the whole writers block situation. I told myself it’s because maybe I just didn’t have anything to say. But the truth is that I just didn’t want to say it. And the reason behind that was fear. Fear of being misunderstood or of being judged or of my words just not being anything meaningful to anyone. And there’s the fear of sharing my deepest hidden thoughts with basically the entire WORLD. I am here to tell you, being vulnerable like that is not for the faint of heart. But mostly the fear of facing the things that hold me back. 
I haven’t been writing my book. I did for a while, and then, I just stopped. Mostly because I’ve reached the part that gets into the hardest and most painful days of my life.  I’ve worked so hard to not let it take center stage in my thoughts, so to have to go through the process of writing it out, basically reliving those moments, I just haven’t been able to find the strength to face that challenge yet. I know I could do it. I could recite the story and be capable of separating myself from the pain of it, but I also feel that it’s important that I be able to tell it from that place of heartache, as authentically as I can, because that’s what people will connect with. It’s important that anyone reading it that is going through something similar, or through any kind of heartache, is able to read it and know that they aren’t alone in that place. 

I just have to find a way to be able to write from the recollection of that pain, without being drawn back into it, if that makes sense. Really, when it comes down to it, the procrastination of writing that chapter comes from that same root of fear. I’ve been afraid to face it, and I’ve allowed the fear to convince me that going there and writing out that part of the story will drag me back to a place in my mind I don’t want to be. If I keep telling myself that, then the book never gets written, the story never leaves the pages of this blog, and maybe someone who needs it, who needs the hope of our story, and the hope of God’s goodness, never sees it. And then fear wins. 

The truth is, I can do it. I just have to choose to make it happen. To push through the hard to reach the good, and finish the work set before me. I have to anchor myself in hope. Hope that everything will be ok. Hope that even if at anytime it suddenly isn’t, God will find a way to work things for my good. 

Hope is the thing that holds you steadily in place, yet also the thing that when lifted up, puts the wind in your sails and drives you forward. 

Hope is THE anchor. 

The ONLY anchor.

Anything else is just an anvil pulling you down. 
Fear knocks on the door of all of our hearts everyday. Sometimes it’s just an annoying tap, and other times it beats so hard that it seems the door could cave in. May we all learn to answer that knock with this reply:
“This is not your home. Hope lives here, and there’s no room for anything else.”

💗

Amy Thurston Gordy

The Falling away

It’s the first official day of Fall. It’s still pretty hot here in Georgia, but you can feel it coming. You can feel it in the crispness of the cooler air early in the morning, and in the dusk that sets in just a little earlier at the end of every day. It used to be my favorite time of the year. It brought a cool breeze. It brought beautiful warm colors. It brought the ability to throw on cozy sweaters and jeans. It brought warm comfort foods and everything pumpkin. It brought bonfires and roasted marshmallows and Saturday night football viewing parties. Don’t get confused, I know y’all know I really don’t care about the football games. I’m just there for the snacks and the company, yeah, mostly the snacks. Ha. 

But I CAN tell you which team will win the game with at least 95% accuracy, based on my personally developed “super scientific uniform theory”. I kid you not. This is a real thing. Basically, I pick the winning team based on the uniform they are wearing. The colors, the fit, the presentation, I take it all into account, all the way from the helmet down to the shoes. Laugh if you want, Jeff certainly doubted my “super scientific theory” too. Until he saw how many times I was right! I guess that’s a little off subject. So I’ll get back to what I was saying. Y’all just let me know if you want me to choose a winner for ya. 😂

Fall still brings all of those things. But two years ago, Fall brought me something else. Something that would change life as I knew it forever. Well, in reality, that one Fall day didn’t alter the course of my life. The day Jeff first entertained the thought of becoming involved with her is the day that my life changed forever. My world was dismantled bit by bit with every thought, every text, every conversation, every meeting between the two of them over the course of that year. So that particular September day was not the one day my world was destroyed, it was just the day that I came to the full realization of it. 

Last year, I struggled a lot with it. The triggers were everywhere. The thoughts and memories sometimes overwhelming. Because that same crispness in the air that I used to love so much was the same crisp air that I ran out into to try and catch my breath on that awful day. Because those football games reminded me of the one he was getting ready to go watch when I saw those messages on his phone that were proof of his betrayal. 

This year, it doesn’t have as strong of an effect. I can’t say the anniversary of that day hasn’t affected me at all. I still had some level of anxiety about it. But it was more of an annoying quiet hum than the load roar that it used to be. 

Last year, I had wanted to plan something to mark the day. Something to try and give it new meaning, and new memories. This year, I didn’t feel as strongly about it. Earlier in the year I bought tickets to go to a Kari Jobe concert. When I saw the announcement for the concert, and saw that it was local and just happened to be on September 10th, I figured what better way to spend that evening than filling it with worship music? I figured that would be a good way to drown out any negative feelings that crept in that day. 

As it turned out, D-day came and went without leaving much of a footprint this year. September 10th fell on a Sunday. We got up and went to church as usual. We went to lunch together , just the two of us. Jeff was actually the one to bring it up. “So, today’s our happy anniversary I guess? Well, more of an unhappy anniversary? But happy because we survived. And because our lives are so much better now than they were.”

And that was the extent of our acknowledgment of the day. As it turned out, the concert, which I had actually forgotten about until that afternoon, was cancelled last minute because of Hurricane Irma’s impending arrival. So we stayed home, cozy on our sofa with bowls of chili and watched some tv. 

I guess my feelings kind of go back and forth on what this day should be. A part of me wants to fill it up with new things and new memories to give it new meaning. But another part wants to let it pass with no acknowledgment at all. To take its power away by making it just another day on the calendar. 

I think the reality will fall somewhere between the two. Because in reality, I’ll most likely never forget the date, so it will always be acknowledged in some way. But I never want it to be in a way that glorifies the ugliness of that day, or gives those memories the power to ruin my present day. Because September 10th, 2017, is not September 10th, 2015. And September 10th, 2018 and every September 10th after that won’t be either. That day is gone. It happened, and we can’t change it. And every year, though the date may be the same, our lives are not the same. So we will acknowledge it, but only with a sense of gratitude of the goodness that we live in now, and that we have put one more year in between us and that terrible time in our lives. 

When I think about it, it’s kind of fitting that this day happened in the Fall. 

We don’t necessarily think about it, because it can be so deceivingly beautiful, but in essence, Fall is a process of death. The vibrant green trees slowly fade to warm shades of yellow, orange, and red. They look so lovely on the outside, that we don’t often think about what might be happening on the inside. 

Slowly, the colorful leaves begin to loosen, and one by one, fall to the ground. There’s only a few at first, so we just walk through them, hearing them crunch under our feet but not really giving them much thought. But as the wind gets stronger, the dying leaves become weaker, and suddenly they are everywhere, covering the ground. Smothering the grass beneath them. 

Hiding the walkways and covering the paths that we could once see clearly. 

It is messy, this falling away. And once the leaves have all fallen, the trees look painfully bare. The falling away is followed by a season of emptiness. Or at least that’s the way it seems. But it is the Fall, the shedding of the old, that makes way for the new. It’s a painful process. There’s no getting around that. But it’s the only way to shed what no longer belongs. To get rid of the diseased leaves. To reset. So that when the Spring comes, and it always comes, there’s nothing hindering its growth. And what grows from those empty branches is fuller, and more beautiful than what it was before. So much stronger than it was before the falling away. 

The seasons of life can be painful. But there is beauty in all of it. Even in the falling away. Even in the dead of the barren winter. Because it’s making way for the beauty of Spring, and the fullness of Summer. Some years it brings varying levels of death and life. Sometimes the changes are small, and we come through it mostly unscathed, barely even noticing that the seasons changed, and other times, the changing of the seasons of our lives is so sudden and so devastating that we wonder if the winter will ever end. 

Don’t lose hope. Spring is coming. It always comes. And in the meantime, look for the beauty in the season you’re in. It’s there. It’s always there. 

When the spring comes, you’ll be stronger. You’ll be fuller. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Yes, there may be losses to mourn. You’ll certainly never be the same. You may bear the scars of the storms you weathered through the winter. But that will be what sets you apart. It will be your mark of the goodness of God. A symbol of how we can survive bad things. How the storms can wound us, but that those wounds can heal. A symbol of how all that we know can fall away, lost forever, but that something beautiful can grow in its place. 

❤️

Amy Thurston Gordy

Dear 2016

One year. One year ago today, just before midnight on New Years Eve I wrote my first blog, “Dear 2015”. 

For those of you that didn’t follow me in the beginning or haven’t read back through, it was about a small tree at High Falls State Park that had been battered by a recent torrential storm. 


High Falls was not a place I wanted to hear about or be reminded of. It was a place I spent a good bit of time in as a child, and had fond memories of. Memories of family picnics, playing on the rocks, walking the trails. Watching the majestic power of the waterfall that looked so much larger and higher from my childhood eyes. But those memories were not what came to mind when I heard or saw the words High Falls anymore, because now the only thing I thought of is that it was one of the meeting spots during Jeff’s affair. An out of the way, unlikely to be discovered, almost perfectly halfway point between our home and hers where they met to betray the people that loved them. 

But there was something about the photo of the tree that drew me in and spoke to me. Here is an excerpt from that very first post:
-My brother posted a video this week. It was of a single small tree, in the rushing flood waters of High Falls. Storm waters raging all around it, the tree is whipping around in every direction. Yet, it hangs on. Still standing though the world is in chaos around it, and its branches are bending and heavy with the force of the storm swirling around it.

In my mind I picture there are stones in the ground surrounding that little tree. I imagine its roots, weaved around those rocks, anchoring the tree in the ground so that no matter what comes, it is able to weather the storm. And when those flood waters clear, it stands firm. Resilient and strong.
Adam’s quote on that video was simply, “Be the tree.” The fact that the video was taken at High Falls is no small detail, and is not lost on me. Those of you that know the details of my story know that it’s on the list of places that trigger painful thoughts and anxiety for me. But I saw that video and I knew it was for me. 
I AM the tree.

2015 brought a storm of destruction that threatened everything I knew to be true about my life. But like that tree, my roots are wrapped around the Rock. And all of those stones that hold me in place, those stones are all of you. My unwavering, amazing and beautiful support system. Rooted in Christ, and surrounded by all the people He has placed in my life. And now that the storm has passed and the world becomes a little more peaceful and the flood waters recede, I will stand just as that tree does. My branches stronger from facing the resistance of adversity. All that water meant for my destruction, instead being used to create new growth, and causing my branches to bloom into something beautiful.
So goodbye 2015. You meant to destroy me, to steal my joy. You gave it your best shot. But you. do. not. win.
I’m looking forward to sunshine and happiness in 2016. May it bring us all a year filled with countless blessings and most of all, an abundance of joy.-

When I wrote that, I didn’t know I was writing it for a blog. I really didn’t know why I was writing it at all. I just felt compelled to put the pen to paper and write. And I quickly found that it was like therapy for me. And I remembered how much I loved it, writing. And then I felt compelled to post it. Which was so out of character for my very introverted, private self. But I felt like God was telling me to post it, and so, just seconds before the clock struck midnight, I pressed that publish button and bid a formal goodbye to 2015. 
Little did I know what that one small act of pressing that button would put into motion for me. That it would usher in a whole new existence, a whole new outlook, a whole new beginning for me. And I certainly never expected that I would be bringing thousands of people all over the world along for the ride. In my mind, I thought that probably my family would read it. A few facebook friends. I never imagined how far it would go. I mean, seriously, this still blows my mind every time I see it. 

And here we are, one year later. It’s been an emotional year full of goodness, hard work, trial and error, setbacks and triumphs. And you all have been there with me through every last bit of it.
So tonight, I share with you my letter to 2016:

Dear 2016,
To say we’ve been through a lot together would be an understatement. While 2015 came swinging for me, bringing its wrecking ball crashing through my life….you, you were different. 
You were more like a steady hand. 
Guiding me as gently as possible as I recovered from the battering injuries I’d sustained in my storm. 
In many ways, it was a tough year, but not in the same ways as 2015. We had a lot of pain to face. A lot of fears to face. A lot of grief to work through. And it was no easy task. It was hard, gut wrenching, soul cleansing work. Sometimes I wasn’t sure we could do it. Sometimes it felt impossible. Sometimes we would take several steps upward only to stumble and go tumbling halfway to the bottom again. It was work. It was at times excruciating. It was hard. It was exhausting. And it was incredibly painful. 
But every time I would fall, I’d lift my eyes upward. I’d see the good stuff ahead. I’d look to the promises, “Behold, I make all things new”, and “you intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.” And I picked myself back up, and kept pushing on. And so along with all the hard stuff, it was also rewarding, joyful, encouraging, expectant, propelling, and life giving.  
You brought me healing. You brought me strength. You brought me courage. You brought me hope. 

You brought me love.                    The real kind.                                                    

You brought me joy, and you brought me redemption.

You reminded me of who I am.  Not who people thought I was.  Not who others had come to expect me to be. 

Not even the person I’d confined myself to be. 

But Who I really am.        

You brought out the gifts within me. And the courage to use them.

You taught me that fear is an illusion. An illusion meant to keep us stuck where we are. Never growing, never reaching beyond our walls. 

You taught me that God goes ahead of us no matter where life takes us. 

You taught me how to not be afraid anymore. 

I look back on this year and see how much has happened, and how my life has changed. My relationship with my husband is so much better than it’s ever been. My friendships are stronger, and my social circle has grown to include some very special people all over the world that I never would have known had I not gone through my storm. We’ve seen blessings professionally and financially. Our children are healthy and happy and thriving and it is such a blessing to watch them unfold into the beautiful, strong, bright young women that God made them to be. 

And I have this blog. A place to purge my pain, to shed my heartache, to proclaim His goodness and to declare our victories. A place to use my gifts, and to do what I’m passionate about. A place to share hope. A place to connect with all of you. 

So 2016, to you, I say thank you. 
Thank you for ushering in the afternoon of my life. Thank you for being the place where I learned to focus on the good. Thank you for making me do the hard work and for making me face my fears and for launching me on the path to becoming the woman God intended me to be. 
I said it a year ago and it still rings true today. 

I AM the tree. 



The storm came and it beat me down, it battered me until parts of me were so very broken. It’s wind and rain took my breath away until I felt like I would suffocate. It left me drowning in my heartache. It came to bring death and destruction. But my roots held firm. The storm came to steal everything good from me. But instead of washing all the goodness away, it took the dead leaves on my branches, and the stagnant earth around my trunk, and washed away everything unusable. It washed away everything that had no place in the life God intended for me. And it made way for fresh soil. And the winds calmed and the torrential downpour subsided and the sun broke through, and then the showers of blessings poured out to bring new growth. To bring me a new life. 

The storm came to shake me to my core. And now, my roots are even deeper and stronger. My trunk more solid and steady. My branches, expanding, growing, reaching towards the sun. And I think I’m even starting to see some blooms. Maybe, even putting out a little fruit. 

Isaiah 61:3
To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.

God took what was meant for my destruction, for the destruction of my family, and He brought goodness out of it. 

Psalm 91:14-16.                               The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble.I will rescue and honor them.I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.”

It’s not quite here yet, but I think I’ll go ahead and get a head start on my letter to 2017. 

So Dear 2017, 

This year, you aren’t coming for me. The tables are turning and        I am coming for you. And I believe that you are filled with opportunity. I believe that you have so much goodness for me, for my family, and for everyone we come into contact with. And I plan to find every single ounce of it.

As we move forward, this is our focus:
The goodness. 
The grace.
And the gifts. 
I am so grateful for the way God has paved our path with these three things. We still have more work to do. More healing to do. And more growing to do. 
But I look forward to walking through it and finding more of God’s goodness, more of His grace, and more of His gifts. 

Psalm 1:3
He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers.

I am thankful for each and every one of you. For the way you have followed my blog and our journey. For the love and the support you’ve given us. For giving me this outlet to share my story. You are a gift.

 I think I still have so many more stories to tell, so I hope you’ll continue to stick around, and follow as they unfold.

I wish you all good things in 2017. May it bring you goodness. May it bring you joy. May it bring you more blessings than you can contain. May it propel you to become everything God intended YOU to be. 

And may you also Be the tree. 
Happy New Year.


Amy Thurston Gordy

Dear 2015

Dear 2015,

Well, it’s finally here. I tossed and turned last night, unable to sleep with thoughts of all of the events you brought swirling through my mind, bringing with them a portion of anxiety and also a portion of relief that you are finally coming to an end.

In the oh so eloquent words of Miley Cyrus, you came in like a wrecking ball. From day one you came out swinging for me. You came after my finances, my health, my marriage, my security, my sanity. You started out as a strong wind, breezing in from out of nowhere day after day and randomly knocking things down. Except it didn’t seem random. It was strangely methodical. I sensed the darkness and knew that the things that were happening were not random. I knew that something was terribly off, but I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what or why. Until one day those winds kicked up and I’m suddenly and unexpectedly swept up in the eye of this tornado you had become. Suspended there, watching my world spin out of control all around me. Suddenly unable to find my bearings or tell which way was up or down. Just watching the destruction in disbelief and stunned horror as my world twisted into something I no longer recognized.

You brought me chaos, sadness, pain, anger, anxiety and torment. But I have news for you. I’m not going out like that.

My brother posted a video this week. It was of a single small tree, in the rushing flood waters of High Falls. Storm waters raging all around it, the tree is whipping around in every direction. Yet, it hangs on. Still standing though the world is in chaos around it, and its branches are bending and heavy with the force of the storm swirling around it.

In my mind I picture there are stones in the ground surrounding that little tree. I imagine its roots, weaved around those rocks, anchoring the tree in the ground so that no matter what comes, it is able to weather the storm. And when those flood waters clear, it stands firm. Resilient and strong.

Adam’s quote on that video was simply, “Be the tree.”  The fact that the video was taken at High Falls is no small detail, and is not lost on me. Those of you that know the details of my story know that it’s on the list of places that trigger painful thoughts and anxiety for me. But I saw that video and I knew it was for me. I AM the tree.

2015 brought a storm of destruction that threatened everything I knew to be true about my life. But like that tree, my roots are wrapped around the Rock. And all of those stones that hold me in place, those stones are all of you. My unwavering, amazing and beautiful support system. Rooted in Christ, and surrounded by all the people He has placed in my life. And now that the storm has passed and the world becomes a little more peaceful and the flood waters recede, I will stand just as that tree does. My branches stronger from facing the resistance of adversity. All that water meant for my destruction, instead being used to create new growth, and causing my branches to bloom into something beautiful.

So goodbye 2015. You meant to destroy me, to steal my joy. You gave it your best shot. But you. do. not. win.

I’m looking forward to sunshine and happiness in 2016. May it bring us all a year filled with countless blessings and most of all, an abundance of joy.

Happy New Year, and thank you, thank you, thank you all for being the stones that held me.

Amy Thurston Gordy