Dear 2017

It’s been two years since the Facebook post of a video of a little tree inspired my very first blog post. That little tree did so much more than just survive a storm. It became an inspiration. It became a launching pad for a new life. It was the catalyst that uncovered a gift that had long been hidden, and it helped me and so many others to discover that you can give your pain a purpose, and that there is goodness and beauty to be found in everything, even in the midst of your biggest storms. I keep a photo of this little tree at the top of my blog. It represents strength in adversity, hope within heartache, and the importance of what anchors you. It’s become a representation of who I am, and of what I want the purpose of this blog, and of my story, to be. The message is, and always will be, “Be the tree.”

That first blog was a letter to 2015 posted on New Years Eve. Last year, I posted a letter to 2016. So, in keeping with tradition, I give you my letter to this year. 

Dear 2017, 
In a lot of ways, it seems as though you rushed right in and are rushing right out. For some reason, it feels as though it has just flown by. I think maybe it’s because this year has been a little easier for us, a little less heart heavy. With the hardest days of healing and rebuilding behind us, we were able to breathe a little, and enjoy the goodness of where we are now. 

Although you did seem to fly by, we did actually have several big milestones this year, and I had a few smaller, yet significant moments, that revealed to me where my heart is at in this healing process and what still needs to be dealt with to get to where I want to be. 

Milestone #1:
I started a new job. That can be a stressful thing to do. But the transition was so easy, and although I may have had the occasional doubt, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. I’ve gained a new work family, kept up relationships with my old work family, and enjoyed every minute of getting to work with my actual family, my two sisters. It’s been SO much fun.  

Milestone #2:
My oldest daughter moved out of the house and into an apartment with her cousins a couple of hours drive away from home. That was a HUGE adjustment. I miss her like crazy when she’s not at home but I am also so proud of her and the life she is building for herself. 

 Milestone #3:

We reached the 2 year mark of surviving the devastation of our marriage. Most of the books I’ve read say that’s the magic number. The turning point, if you will. I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say it’s somehow magic. It’s definitely not as if it never happened, and I think to say it could ever come to that point is just unrealistic. But it definitely is easier. I still think about aspects of it probably at some point of every day. But I don’t live in the pain of it. There are still twinges every now and then. But the triggers are so much less present in our everyday life. I would say that we are in a place now where things are really good, we’ve dealt with most of the outer layers of damage and pain, and a lot of the innermost injuries, and what is left is mostly just goodness and gratitude. 

There are still a few things that I have to work on. I’m still working on that whole forgiveness thing. Letting go of the negative thoughts I have towards his affair partner. So there’s that. I suppose I’ve made some progress. She creeps into my thoughts less these days, so I guess in actuality, I just have less opportunity to have the feelings of anger and loathing that the thought of her incites. I don’t know if that’s really progress in true forgiveness, but I’ll take it. 
I would also say that I still have some pretty big issues with trust. I’m much better than I once was. With Jeff anyway. But it is still something that doesn’t come easily for me. Not just with Jeff, but also I tend to be wary of people’s intentions in general. I suppose that’s a normal side effect of having been deceived. I’m trying to be better about it, but still have such a reflex of needing to protect myself, so I question everything. I guess it really all just comes down to the fact that I have some pretty deeply rooted residual fears. 

And speaking of fear, that leads me to the next milestone of this year. 
Milestone #4:
My youngest daughter got her learners permit. Now this, this has been a real challenge for me. All you mom’s out there that have sat in the passenger seat while your baby gets behind the wheel of a thousand pounds of moving metal, and all of you who have watched your children drive off for the first time, you feel me. You totally get it. 

I’ve done this once before, so it shouldn’t give me quite this much anxiety. And y’all, she’s really not a bad driver. She’s not great with the parking, but she does pretty good with the driving. We had a few near misses where she pulled out in front of another car because she was confused about when it was ok for her to go, and there were a few times when she took a turn a little too fast. She also may have pulled into the driveway a little too quickly and nearly hit a parked car. But hey, we’ve all done those things. And she didn’t hit anything and they were learning moments and all is well. 

But my goodness, it is SO scary. 

Truthfully though, the problem is not her or her driving skills. Yes, she still has some things to learn before we let her drive off on her own, but the real issue is ME and my anxiety level. 
And it’s not just with her. Some of the biggest fights between Jeff and I this year stemmed from arguments over how Jeff was driving. Maybe I felt he was following too close, waiting til the last minute to brake, turning when I thought he should have waited for the car to pass, or maybe I worried that he wasn’t paying close enough attention and maybe I pointed out EVERY single possible danger to him. Because if I didn’t, we could possibly be in a horrific crash. Or maybe just an inconvenient fender bender. I’m just being helpful. Ok, ok. And possibly my constant “helpfulness” might be a little annoying. 
There.

I owned it. 

And his reaction to my “helpfulness” could sometimes be a little hurtful. 
We recently had a talk about it and he suggested that maybe I might benefit from taking some sort of anxiety medication before getting in the car. Ha. I’m pretty sure we all might benefit from that. 

But what I asked myself later is “why?”

Why am I having these near panic attacks every time I’m riding in the car with one of them? It doesn’t happen when I’m the one driving. And that’s when it hit me. It’s not about their driving skills. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt for them to maybe be a little more careful. 

But the real issue underneath my anxiety and panic is control. When they are driving, I’m not in control. I can’t control their decisions. I can’t control what may or may not happen. 
This is not a driving issue. This is not an anxiety issue. 

It’s a heart issue. 

It’s a mind condition issue. 

And it’s not really about riding in a car. That is just where it happened to become more tangibly seen. What it’s really about is me trying to control every situation, every possibility, every outcome, in an attempt to protect myself. To protect the people I love. It’s about being hyper vigilant, because I’m terrified I might miss some danger that is lurking, waiting to jump out and destroy us. Because I still maybe haven’t forgiven myself for missing so many of the danger signs before and during Jeff’s affair. And because deep down there’s a part of me that thinks if I can somehow control everything that happens around me, I can ensure that nothing bad happens to me or the people I care about.

This is what Oprah likes to call an “aha moment”. 
And so, I know that I still have big things to work through. I trust that God will take care of me. I’ve seen it firsthand. I have no reason to doubt it. But still, the thought of going through anything hard again, anything painful, it terrifies me. It’s a deep seated fear that at any given moment my world could fall apart again. And so there’s this part of me that thinks that if I just pay really close attention and do my best to control every single aspect of my life, I can ensure that nothing bad happens to me or the people I love.
And to some degree it’s true. It is true that we should all pay closer attention. There were so many signs that I missed when my world fell apart. Some of them glaring, flashing signs that I most certainly should not have missed. And I guess I still tend to beat myself up for that. So yes, we should pay attention. But when it comes down to it, signs or no signs, we can’t control the decisions of others. And unfortunately, when the people we love make bad ones, and they eventually crash and burn, we are there, sitting in the passenger seat, with no say, with no control. And many times we are the ones that take the brunt of the impact and suffer the most serious injuries. 

So, this is my struggle. To find the balance. To be alert and aware, but not to the point of paranoia. To be helpful, and hold people accountable when it’s actually warranted without pointing out every single possible danger and becoming annoying. 
But mostly, to learn to let go of the insatiable need to be in control. To trust that everything is going to be ok. To remind myself daily of the ways God carried me through every bad day after life as I knew it went up in flames. How He has used what was meant for my harm to bring the goodness of the life I have now. 

Because to control every aspect of my life is exhausting. And in all reality, a waste of energy. And quite frankly, I’m tired. 
So I’m working on it. I’m trying to remind myself to just relax. To let go. To trust that the God of the universe, the God that walked with me through my best days, and carried me through my worst, has my best interests at heart. And that no matter what comes my way, no matter if I make a bad decision, or someone else makes a bad decision, He will carry me through that too and work all things for my good. 

I have to remind myself that I’m still that tree that I wrote about in my very first post, the one that stands strong no matter what comes my way, because of what anchors me.  

I can’t allow my anchor to be the fear of heartache. And I have to remind myself that I am not my own anchor. I can’t serve as my own anchor deep below the swirling waters of life and still keep my head above the waves. I have to learn to really trust the true anchor. 
The true anchor is the joy of God’s goodness, it is the hope and the certainty that no matter what, the best is yet to come. 

So, 2017, thanks for going fairly easy on me. Thanks for making me face some hard truths about myself and the work I still have to do to move forward, to find some peace, and to become the best version of me. 
 As for you 2018, I don’t know what you have planned for me. And I’m working on learning to be ok with that. Because I know whatever it is, it will always turn to goodness. I’m expecting it to be a year of breakthroughs and blessings. 

And I pray the same for all of you. 
Happy New Year, and thank you all again for another year of walking along side us and cheering us on as we build this new life. Your support is felt, your prayers are felt, and I am forever grateful for every one of you. 

❤️

Amy Thurston Gordy

* tree video credit goes to Back Road Travels on Facebook

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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

The fullness of now

Summer in Georgia is hot. Like sweltering, sticky, oppressively hot. The kind of hot that makes you imagine you’re a stick of butter melting into a puddle on the pavement. Which is why I find myself sitting in my room, lights off, curtains drawn, air conditioner blaring and fan blowing. 

There’s nothing quite like a Sunday afternoon nap in Georgia. A super cold dark room and some fluffy covers is like heaven when it’s 100 degrees outside. It’s much too hot to go out and do anything, so might as well enjoy just being still for a bit. 

It also gives me an excuse to sit and write, which is not something I’ve done much of this month, and I’ve missed it.
It’s been about a month since I last posted, and things have been going really well. We’ve spent some time at the lake, laid out by the pool, seen a few movies, and done some shopping for my oldest daughter’s apartment. I’m still pretending that she’s not moving out on her own in a couple of weeks. Mama’s. Not. Ready. Oh my heart. 

Overall we’ve had a great month. I did, however, have a couple of days where I struggled a little. Nothing really noticeable to anyone, (except Jeff, as usual). No particular reason, just had a hard time keeping my thoughts focused on the good ones and pushing out the bad ones. It happens occasionally. No major incident, just thoughts of insecurity, doubt, fear… you know, the usual suspects. 

They’re liars and thieves , those three. Really convincing ones. They are especially efficient in their attack. They bombard you with reminders of the past, and then they use that to fill you with fear of what could happen in the future. Because if they can keep you busy flip flopping back and forth from the pain of your yesterdays to the fear of what could happen in your tomorrows, they can very effectively steal today. And that’s all they want. Because your today, your now, is everything. Now is all we ever really have. 

So when you find yourself falling prey to doubt, insecurity, and fear, it’s important to get control of that as quickly as possible. 

To reclaim your now.

I clawed my way out of that fog and was feeling much better. But it seems those thieves wanted one more go at me that night.

We sat on the sofa that evening and decided we would find a new tv series to watch on Netflix. We weren’t sure what to choose. It can be difficult sometimes to find things that we can watch. A lot of the popular series are extremely explicit, and we try to avoid that due to the former porn issue. Some may think that’s silly, but it’s no different than the fact that you wouldn’t set up a fully stocked bar in front of an alcoholic or offer a recovering drug addict a sample of cocaine. They may be able to control it, but why take the risk?

Then there’s all the shows that have affairs as part of the main story line. Sometimes it bothers me and sometimes it doesn’t. It mostly just depends on how similar the details are to mine. 

Anyway, I had heard my sister and some coworkers talking about this series that they loved. They talked about it all the time, and so I suggested maybe we should try that one. 

I really had no idea what it was about, just that it was about this influential family that had all these secrets and that there were all these twists and turns to keep things interesting.

So we get cozy on the couch, start the show, and the scene, the very first scene, was a couple having sex in the back seat of a car. 

Of all the things. 

OF ALL THE THINGS. 

It had to be that. 

It could have started with any other sex scene and I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. I don’t think it was super explicit or even involved much nudity, if any. Actually I’m really not sure if it did or not because I completely checked out. 

I saw 3, maybe 5 seconds of it. 

That’s when my brain did that thing it does and takes me somewhere else. Somewhere that I never actually saw with my own eyes but have seen in my minds eye a million different torturous times. 

I didn’t see the actors on the screen anymore. 

I saw Jeff. With her. 

That’s all I can see. His face, her hair, his hands. And I look away. I can’t look. Make it go away. Make it go away. Please make it go away.

But it doesn’t help because the image isn’t only on the screen. It’s in my head. And I just want it to stop. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to hear it. It was only a few seconds. But it was long enough. Long enough for the panic to set in. For the painful tightening in my chest. For the knot to form in my stomach. For my lungs to forget how to breathe again.  

“Is that what it was like?” I hear myself ask him, realizing that I actually said it out loud and not just in my head.

Another one of those questions that I need to know and yet also do not need to know. 

His face is pained, his hands searching feverishly for the remote. 

I leave the room, busy myself with loading some laundry to try and clear my head and learn to breathe correctly again. 

It happens. 

It kind of stinks that something as simple as watching tv can be so complicated. It kind of stinks that there are a lot of simple things that bring the past to the surface. 

But it is what it is. We deal with it, and we move on. 

A few days ago, I made the executive decision to watch the show anyway. 

It was just an unfortunate coincidence that it started with that particular scene. 

We just skipped to the next scene and started there. 

We have to live our lives, regardless of the triggers. I do my best to avoid them. The ones that I can’t avoid, I deal with the best that I can. Thankfully, there have been very few this year that affected me that way. 

I’ve gotten pretty good at controlling the thoughts. 

I can’t say that I’ve gone a whole day yet that I haven’t had some kind of thoughts about the affair. I guess I’m not sure that will ever happen. 

But it rarely affects my now. There’s more of a separation. The thoughts are there. But the pain attached to them is not as overpowering as it once was on a daily basis anyway. 

The goodness of my now has gotten bigger than the pain of my past. 

And I like to imagine that it will continue to get bigger, so much so that the panic stops even with the bigger triggers at some point.

Those few minutes were tough. They took me back to a very painful time. And it can be overwhelming. 

But it was only a few minutes. I’ve had a million other great minutes.  

And all I have to do is remember that the panic, the pain, those things are not my now. 

My now is full of goodness.                                    My now is full of joy.                                               My now is simply….full. 
❤️                                                                             Amy Thurston Gordy

Happy Anniversary

December 7th 1991. I was 17 and a half years old. So young. Too young. And no, we didn’t have to get married. But he had joined the military, and was going to be 3000 miles away, and I couldn’t imagine not going with him. I loved him.

I couldn’t get out of bed. My body ached. When I would try to get up I’d lay right back down, because I just felt so heavy. Get up Amy. You have to get up. It’s your wedding day.
Something was wrong.

My face is so hot. I’m dizzy. I can’t make it across the room without having to sit down.

My parents called their sweet friend and probably one of the most interesting people in the world, Dr. Slade, and he said to bring me right over.

A few minutes later, I’m sitting on his exam table and he is telling me, “You have the flu. I’m sorry but I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding today. You’re very sick.”

The flu. On my wedding day? Of all the days?

No. Flu or no flu, it’s too late to cancel this wedding. I’m getting married today.

And so I pulled myself together, put on my huge white dress,(it was 1991 after all.. the dress AND the hair HAD to be huge!) and I got married. With a fever of 102.

To look at me you would never had known it. I made it through the ceremony, and the reception. Right up until it was time to feed each other the cake and drink the punch. Suddenly, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m pale as a ghost. I look at Jeff and say I think it’s time for us to go.

So we get in the limo, and make it about a mile when I look at the driver and say..”Home! I need you to get me home now!”

The nausea had set in.

We pull up, and I jump from the car trying to unbutton the dress, screaming “get it off of me, I don’t want to ruin the dress!”

And so instead of heading off to our planned Honeymoon at Disney World, I spent the night in misery, while poor Jeff spent our first night as husband and wife holding my hair back when I’d get sick and wiping my face down with cold cloths to try and bring my fever down.

It was not the wedding day and night we had dreamed of. But seeing him take care of me so selflessly, never complaining, just being so tender and sweet, I knew why I married him.

That was 25 years ago.

Over those 25 years, things weren’t always that tender and sweet. We had some rough patches, for sure. But divorce was never an option. Except for that one time last year when it was.

But I decided not to take that option.

And so we’ve spent the last year not restoring our marriage, but rebuilding it. From the ground up.

We pressed through the hardest year of our lives. We pressed in with God. We let the people surrounding us build us up and we leaned on them when we couldn’t carry this load ourselves.

And today, we have a marriage that’s so much better than we had before. We had to walk through what sometimes felt like literal hell on earth to get to where we are. But I can look back now and say that I am truly so thankful. Not that he had an affair. But for all the goodness God has brought us from the most awful situation. For the sweetness of His presence. For the way He went before us and set in place every person and every thing we would need to get us through it. For the way He has made every ounce of pain and every single tear count for His kingdom. For the opportunity to share His infinite goodness with the world. For the amazing husband and man that Jeff has become. For the opportunities and blessings that He has poured out and continues to pour out on us.

For the family and friends that stuck by us through it all, and the new friends that we never would have known if none of this had happened.

Last year, I had just decided to let him move home and see if we could make this work not long before our anniversary and I was still in so much pain. I really didn’t want to celebrate our anniversary. How could I celebrate a day that represented the day we took our vows, the ones he broke? Did all those years really even count anymore?

But this year, this year was different. This year I was excited. And we had a great anniversary date last weekend.


And today I came home and found my house clean and this beautiful gift waiting for me on the table.


Then tonight I got to share my heart and our story at our Wednesday night church service. I’m so grateful that he is ok with being so transparent and supportive in sharing our story. It’s not a story he’s particularly proud of his part in and hearing me tell it is not easy for him. I do not take his willingness to be so open with it for granted.
For all intensive purposes, we shouldn’t have an anniversary to celebrate anymore. But here we are. A year later. And we survived. We not only survived but we have so much more. More of everything. More of all the good stuff. More goodness than I ever could have imagined. I was certain a year ago that I’d never be able to look at Jeff and not see what he had done to me. What he had done to us.

But today, I look at him and I don’t see what he did anymore. I look at him and I don’t see her anymore. I look at him and I don’t see the pain anymore.

When I look at him now, I see goodness. I see the goodness inside of him. I see the way he looks at me now. I see the way he loves me with his whole heart. I see the beautiful transparency of his heart. I see the way he looks for the good in everyone. I see his desire to be the man God says he is.

This year, my heart is full. Full of love. Full of joy. Full of gratitude.

Happy Anniversary, Jeff. I’m thankful for you, for the man you are becoming, for the way you love me so well, for second chances and new beginnings. And I can’t wait to see all the goodness in store for us in the years to come. ❤️
Amy Thurston Gordy

He goes before us.

Anxiety. Worry. Fear of the unknown.

We’ve all had it.

Some of us deal with it just on occasion. Others of us…well, we basically live in it. 24 hours a day.

And for those, it’s just exhausting.

And it’s a lie.

An illusion.

A tactic to steal our happiness.

To steal our security.

Our joy.

To steal our time. Precious, precious time.

We worry and we fret, and minute by minute it slips away.

Wasted.

On a lie.

But this is the truth:
God goes before us.
Whatever we are stepping into, He’s already there.
He has prepared the path.

Yes, our choices, and the choices of others may have set us on that path.

But no matter what turns that path takes,

He goes before us. 

When I found out about the affair,
One after another He put people and resources in my path to guide me through it.

Some I knew of, but didn’t really know personally, and they reached out and spoke words of hope and comfort to me. Others had been close to me forever. But they were all there for a purpose. As each one spoke into my life I remember being amazed at how they had been placed so strategically even before any of this happened.

Because He knew.

He knew I would need them.

And now I see how I’ve been placed in other people’s paths.

People that need to hear my story. People that I can give hope to. People that I never would have connected with otherwise.
Just last week, I got a message from a woman. She wanted to thank me for stepping out of my comfort zone and sharing my story. A few days after hearing me speak, she found out her husband was cheating.

God put me in her path, so that when she faced what I faced, she would remember the words I spoke and know that no matter what, whether the marriage survives or even if it doesn’t, if she will keep her focus on him, God will redeem her story and bring goodness to her.

He goes before us.
In another situation, I was dreading something hard that I knew I had to do this week.
I was filled with anxiety and worry about it, and about how the next few weeks would play out.

But when it came down to it, it went surprisingly well. It was still hard, but not in the way that I had expected. I know why it went so well.

It’s because He goes before us.

Jeff and I have prayed for new opportunities over the past few months. Opportunities to put our family in a better place financially. Opportunities to lower the stress in our lives.
And in the past week, we believe we are seeing those opportunities arise. I’ve had to step out of my comfort zone again, and make a decision in faith.

And we both feel good about it and have confidence that there is good stuff ahead in that area.

Because we know He goes before us.

He is making the way.

And not just in the big stuff.
In the little stuff too.

Last night we were headed out for a special early anniversary date. We got in the car after having dinner and headed towards Atlanta.
Suddenly, our headlights go out. BOTH of them…while we are driving on the expressway.

We can’t go to Atlanta with no headlights. And our tickets are date specific and non-refundable.

20 seconds later as we are preparing to pull over, I look up and on the corner at the next red-light, is an auto parts store.

We pull in, get the bulbs, and Jeff changes the headlights, and we are off safely to our special date.

If those lights had blown just a few minutes later after we left the expressway and gotten onto the interstate, it could have been disastrous. But instead they blew minutes before that and literally 30 seconds ahead of an auto parts store.

Because He goes before us.

I use to live in fear. A lot of fear. Of so many things. Of change. Of not being enough. Of worst case scenarios. Of what ifs.
But the past year has taught me a very important lesson. A lesson that is invaluable.

The lesson is this:
Anxiety is nothing more than a lie.

Worry is nothing more than a lie.

Fear is nothing more than a lie.

Because no matter what comes for us, He is there. No matter what hardship or sadness or pain our paths lead us through, He’s already there. He’s paved the path. He’s prepared the way. He’s put in place every single thing we need. All we have to do is trust Him.

He’s got us.

He LOVES us.

He works ALL things for our good.

We don’t have to worry. We don’t have to be afraid. We just have to trust Him. We just have to trust in His goodness.

And when we do, the goodness comes pouring in.

POURING in abundantly.

We can walk in the confidence that He has goodness for us.

That in Him we will find everything we need.

I am not afraid anymore. 
I don’t want you to be either.
Don’t let those fears hold you back.
The fear of change. Of worst case scenarios. Of not being enough. Of all the what ifs.

Some of you just need to let go of the anxiety and worry and rest in the fact that He knows the plans He has for you, and that they are always, always good.

Some of you need to take it a step further and step out of your comfort zone. Some of you need to know that there’s so much goodness out there if you’ll just get past taking that step. And that goodness may not be just for you. You may bring goodness to people that you wouldn’t have, had you not stepped out of your comfort zone. Scratch that. You WILL bring goodness to people that you otherwise would have never been in the position to before. That is a fact.
Stop letting the doubts and the worry keep you from becoming the person God intended you to be.
Stop letting the fear steal your happiness.

Your potential.

Your joy.

Your precious time.

Stop letting it steal the goodness of THIS day.

The goodness of THIS moment.

Don’t listen to the lies of fear and worry.

Listen to the truth.

Look for the goodness. Thank God for His love and His protection and His abundant favor.

It overwhelms me, this truth.
That He doesn’t miss a single detail.
That every single step we take,
He goes before us. 


Deutoronomy 31:8

“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.”
Amy Thurston Gordy

How do I say thank you?

It’s been a busy couple of weeks around here. Work, holiday get togethers, apartment hunting for my college kid. (How did that happen so fast?) I also had my first speaking engagement last week. Yep. If y’all know me at all you know that was kind of a big deal.

I’m not a public speaker. Correction… I WAS not a public speaker. I suppose I am now. Ha.

But seriously, that was wayyy out of my comfort zone.

I write. By myself. Behind my phone or tablet or computer screen. With no one watching me. And I have stage fright. Not the kind where I am just scared and frozen and speechless like a deer in headlights. Not that kind. The kind where your heart pounds so fast and so hard you feel almost certain you will have a heart attack right there on that stage. The kind where I think “I could totally do this if I could just stop shaking and my heart would stop freaking out.”

I wasn’t really afraid of telling the story. I wasn’t afraid of speaking. There’s just something about getting up in front of all those people, and all eyes being on you, that brings out that panic response in me.

But I did it.

I faced my fears. I pushed past the seemingly impending heart attack going on in my chest. I channeled my shaking hands into a tapping foot. Which was really funny for my family and friends to watch by the way. When one foot stopped tapping, the other foot took over. I’d catch myself doing it and try to make my self stop. But that nervous energy had to come out somewhere so that foot just tapped away!😂

I shared my story and my heart with over 350 people that night. And I think over all I did ok. I may have been a nervous wreck but the message was delivered and that’s what really matters. That people hear that God is a God of redemption, and of hope. That He always keeps His promises. That He has so much goodness for us.

And so, despite the stage fright and my overactive heart, I’ll do it again. And I’ll hopefully be a little more in control of my heartbeats next time. A little less intimidated by the spotlights. Or maybe I won’t. Either way I’ll still do it. Because it’s important. Because I want as many people as possible to know His goodness the way I know it. To know that no matter what their story is, no matter what caused their heartache, there is goodness waiting for them on the other side of it and to just keep pressing towards it.

I had someone ask how Jeff felt about me sharing our story. Because it’s not just mine, it’s His too. And that story reveals a darker side of his former self. It’s something he isn’t proud of. To be honest he still gets sweaty and clammy and anxious every time he hears it. Every time we have a conversation about it. Every time he reads a blog. It’s not easy for him.
But he is so incredibly supportive. He has never tried to hide from it or cover up the mistakes he made. He’s so thankful for God’s redemption in His life and in our marriage, and we both hope that sharing our story helps to bring hope and healing to other people.

The day that I was speaking at the Advent dinner, he showed up to my office with these beautiful flowers. He knew how nervous I was and so he brought me these, and told me that he knew I was going to be great and that he was so proud of me.

So yes, he is more than ok with me sharing our story. And I don’t take that lightly. I know it’s not easy for him and I am immensely thankful for his transparency. He is a good, good man. 😍

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I have much to be thankful for:

-An incredibly large, loving family of Thurston’s, that make my life so full and so fun.

-Jeff’s family who I love and who have always been there for me. And who taught me how to enjoy camping. (The secret is a really nice camper by the way😉)

-A few really special friends that make up my inner circle and mean the world to me.

-A group of girls at work that are like family and that I’ve been blessed to have for over 20 years.

-A special group of ladies from all over the world that I met as part of a book launch team and connect with online, most of whom I’ve never met in the real world, who share similar stories and support and encourage me and each other in the most beautiful way.

-My beautiful, healthy, smart, kind girls.

-My funny, sweet dogs that sometimes drive me nuts but are full of unconditional love.

-Baked goods. Seriously. I’m so thankful for baked goods.

-The opportunity to share God’s goodness, here on this blog and in my everyday life.

-My husband. Who loves me so well.

-Forgiveness.

-Redemption.

-Joy.

-All the goodness that I know lies ahead for us.
These song lyrics from Bethel Music pretty much sum up what’s in my heart this morning:
“How do I say thank You, Lord
For the way that You love

And the way that You come

For all that You’ve done

All that You’ll do

My hearts pours out

Thank You

You walk through all my walls

Conquered my shame

Stepped into my past

Fill my world with grace

You didn’t have to come

But You wanted to

I say Thank You”
Happy thanksgiving y’all.
My hope for you is that it be filled with everything good and that you soak in every single bit of that goodness.

❤️

Amy Thurston Gordy

Morning is coming 

Sometimes hope comes in the form of a gift basket.
September 24th,2015. 

My alarm is going off. I hit the snooze button, silencing it for 10 more minutes. I pull the covers over my head. Trying to hide from the day ahead of me. I had just endured the worst two weeks of my life. And I was exhausted. Just so very exhausted. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I slept. Like really slept. I certainly had not slept that night. The fear, the sadness and the anxiety eating away at my heart, my mind, and my body. 

So I laid there, considering just not getting up. I could just lay here. I could just stay right here, and hide. I could ignore my phone, ignore my responsibilities, avoid facing the realities of this day and this new life I’d been unwillingly thrown into. 

The alarm goes off again. 

I can’t do it. I can’t get up. I just can’t. I don’t want to. I just want it all to disappear. 

But responsibilities. Ughhh. 

I have responsibilities. I have to get my child up and off to school. I could hide here for a bit, and maybe get away with it. But she would be up in a few hours wanting food. Wanting to know why we didn’t get up. Wanting to know why I’m hiding in my bed. Wanting to know why she wasn’t at school. And my coworkers would be calling, worried about me if I didn’t show up for work or call. And so I would eventually have to get up and face it, this day. 

But the life and death gravity this particular day held, was just so terrifying. 

It was the day that Jeff would go to the doctor. I had insisted on it. He had assured me that they had been very careful, but we all know nothing is foolproof. And even if it was highly unlikely there was anything to worry about, I had to be sure. I needed to know that I didn’t have to worry about it, and I needed to know immediately. I had enough to deal with, I didn’t want this hanging over my head too. So I insisted. I knew we should both go, but he was the one that had put us in this position, and I just couldn’t do it yet. My heart couldn’t handle the humiliation of walking into my doctors office and telling them that I needed to get a full work up because my husband had been cheating on me.  

I was so angry. So angry that he had put us in this position. Angry that this was necessary. Angry that there was even a remote possibility that I might not only have to live with the emotional scars of what he had done, but although I had not been unfaithful, I could possibly have to bear physical consequences of HIS sin. 

So he would go first. To give me peace of mind, at least concerning this particular subject, that day he would walk into his doctors office and ask for a full screening. 
I was terrified at just the thought of it. Mortified. Angry. Sad. I felt physically ill. Nauseous. I was an absolute wreck. 
But as much as I wanted to lay in that bed, there was no hiding from this day. 

So I got up. I took my shower, got dressed, and got AK to school.

Then I put on my best “I’m ok” face, and walked into my office. 

I hadn’t told anyone what was happening that morning. They knew what I’d been going through, but they had no idea what I was facing on this particular day. 

We have a short meeting every morning before we see patients. 

I came in, sat down, and noticed that everyone got quiet. 

Why was everyone so quiet? Then I realize all eyes are on me. 

What is going on?

Then Dr. B. starts talking. He says, “The last couple of weeks have been rough for you, and we just all love you and we all wanted to do something for you, so we put together some things to help you and to encourage you as you start this new path of life you are on.” 

I lift my hand to my mouth and can barely get the words out..”wait..this is for me? Oh.. what did y’all do?” 

And they hand me this beautiful, overflowing gift basket. 


Filled with all my favorite snacks, a coffee mug, a bird house, a daily devotional, gift cards for several restaurants,the nail salon, the movies, department stores and boutiques. You name it, it was stuffed in that basket. And tucked throughout the basket, inside and out, were handwritten encouraging bible verses. There was so much love tucked into that basket. 

It was completely unexpected, and the sudden rush of emotion was more than I could hold back. 

Which is to say, I completely fell apart, y’all. I’m talking heaving, gasping sobs. 

Pretty sure I scared the heck out of them. As I pulled myself back together, one by one they came around to hug my neck. To tell me they cared. To cry with me. 

There was one more thing in that basket. I’m wearing it right now.


 A bracelet, with quotes about joy on it. Something else they didn’t know was the significance of that word during that time. I didn’t know what I wanted in my life at the time. I was unsure of everything. So anytime I thought about what I wanted my life to look like, the word I always came up with was joy. No matter what happened with my marriage, I just desperately wanted to have joy in my life. I just imagined a time coming when I wouldn’t be so enveloped by pain and instead have joy. It’s what I longed for. 

They didn’t have any idea of what I was facing that day. They had no idea how hard it was to even pull myself from my bed that morning. They didn’t know how much I needed that encouragement and to be wrapped up in love that morning. And they wrapped me up so well. That basket spoke volumes. It said “We can’t take your pain away. We can’t fix this for you. But we can do this. We can cover you with our prayers and our encouragement and our love. We can do that.” 

They had no idea how much I needed that on that particular day. But God knew. 

I am so very blessed to have such beautiful, amazing, kind hearted people to work with. They are not just co-workers and friends. They are truly family. I am forever grateful for the way they loved me through that time. For the way they picked up my slack when it was all I could do to get the bare minimum of my work done. For the way they checked on me, brought me meals, and just showed me every kindness they possibly could. There is big, big love in my heart for these people. 

And now when I wear that bracelet, I’m reminded. 

I’m reminded that sorrow comes but for a night, but joy, joy comes in the morning. 

Joy is coming. If you are in the dark of night, if you are in that place of sorrow, hold tight to that. Joy is coming. 
Don’t just hope for it. Hold tight to that promise and EXPECT it. 

If you know someone struggling through some of their darkest days, and you don’t know what to do to help them, just be there. Just show up. Give them a hug. An encouraging word. A gift. A meal. A prayer. Whatever you are able to do, big or small. You never know if that blessing could turn out to be exactly what they needed in that moment. Your action could very well be God’s divine appointment to provide exactly what that person needs. 

Sometimes things work out the way we want. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes, you’re like I was in that moment and don’t even know for sure what you really want. You just know you want joy. 

But no matter which way things work out, there’s goodness on the other side of it. Even if you can’t see it yet, even if you can’t possibly imagine that it could exist for you at the end of whatever path you choose. Joy is waiting there, and if you’ll just keep looking for it, it’s going to find you. I’m living proof. It found me.


So go ahead, climb on out of that bed and face whatever scary things you have looming ahead. Yes it’s dark. Yes it’s scary. But the darkness will lift. Just keep moving forward. 

Morning is coming. 

Psalm 30:5 

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Amy Thurston Gordy