The Radical Underground

I dedicate this piece to my son Cameron, who is a leader in the radical underground movement. A group of people who make the reality of the spotlight shine its very brightest.

13029648_772307906236924_2223564325859210780_oFor anyone who knows me, you are fully aware that I am not a “behind the scenes” kind of gal.  I love the spotlight.  I’m not going to sugar coat it, if you give me a microphone in front of 30,000 people my endorphins would immediately fly through the ceiling and pop every single one of the balloons that were meant to drop on your heads at the end.  I LOVE to skate in ice shows, write books for people to read, and give speeches in front of large groups of people.  In conclusion,  I love, wait no I ADORE the spotlight.

Reflection always takes place when you see your children take flight, into the person that they were groomed to be.  Blessed to take part and pardon in God’s magnificent grace, I have watched my two teenage sons grow toward their purpose.  My oldest son is me in every way when it comes to his ability to jump on a stage and truly own it.  He loves to sing and bless the world with his gift of leading worship.  He has preached, ministered to the masses, sang in front of thousands.  He, like me, loves to be center stage.  

My second son is the opposite and this is what gives me great pause and has inspired this piece.  Someone recently asked Cameron, in lieu of his older brother singing, writing songs, preaching at church, living boldly in the arena of sight, what he did.  Because in that person’s eyes, he doesn’t do much.  For the work that Cameron does is not vivid to the naked eye.  In this moment my  Cameron lay silent, as usual, because that is what the underground does.  They are the inaudible hero’s that create the formation of what is able to transform when the people like me set out to conquer the excitement of presentation.

The lights come on.  

The music of background decibels magically meets the onlookers ears.

A book is edited perfectly, fixing all the errors of the author who brings creation onto paper.

A cover is designed with artistic impression that grabs at emotion in a manner that provokes readers to grab your book.  

Back stage hands make it possible to know that exact moment to go on stage.

The perfect camera angle enables the stage hungry performers to articulate exactly what will capture the viewers to go with them where the story leads.

We don’t see them.  They are miraculously invisible, and that is what makes them deeply and infinitely important.  For, in essence, the availability of the show stoppers who have the ability to reach the masses cannot function alone.  We are unable to perform in our God given talented ways without you; the background foundation that without all would not be possible.

To the lights person.

To the tech expert.

To the editor.

~Digital designer.

~Person behind the camera.

~Song writer.

You all deserve our applause and deepest of gratitude.  For even if you seem like you are quiet and stand behind the lights and action, you are our rock.

As a profound team, we bring the Word of God and His promises into a light that can assimilate with the masses.  Profoundly, we do this together.  Not only the showman, or show-woman on the bright shining stage, but, side by side with the radical underground movement that supports the dream of bringing the love of God to the world.

Fifteen (In The Essence of Grace)

537465_10151588726537977_437446480_nTo Jon and Janet Brown,

Fifteen years ago today I was holding a sick baby who I had no clue was sick.  It’s an odd place to live in, one that you think is crystal clear with the visions of gold pastures abound, but underneath the surface is gray, dark, and bleaker than bleak.

Fifteen years ago, I held Caleb Scott in my arms as I sang him to sleep.  His body was waging a war deep within that I didn’t know anything of.  Decade plus Five ago you must know what I’m talking about.  Holding God’s calling for you in the breast of your soul, yet terrified that you may not be good enough.  

Fifteen years ago I had a sandy blonde haired boy who knew nothing more than sacrifice.  Tender age of two and all I knew of him was of protection for me, of life, of sanctity.  Fifteen years ago, in his world,  Cameron Wesley Otis looked onward with blue eyes of steel and majesty

Fifteen years ago, I walked away.

Angry.

Torn.

Bitter.

Left Behind.

I left.

Without a second thought.

Yet then, after years in oblivion, dessert and famine aboud, I fell to my knees.  Not because of my last breath or famine…yet in the very whisper of an essence of grace.

The Essence of Grace has the ability to:

Bring us to places we could have never foreseen.

Takes us further than any beauty we can conjure.

And gives us gifts that we are left in awe of…

Pastor Jon and Janet Brown,

In this essence of my life, you are a whisper of grace that God has placed in my life at this time and in this moment.  

Thank you for your service, for the fifteen years of ministry to what my mind can see the magnitude of.

Thank you for being…

Present.

Interwoven.

The lives of our youth…

In the Fortitude of God and Grace.

~Fifteen years ago, I had no idea of a Trasen Alan.  Who is a loving, sweet, smart, funny eight year old who will eventually come into your hearts.

~Fifteen years ago, the thought of a daughter, my delight, and heart’s desire was next to impossible.  Yet Lilia Opal Lorraine comes crashing into your lives in less than a decade!

Your service is forever imprinted in our hearts as parents, but more so in the souls of our children who we have trusted you with…For a decade plus five and into the next 15.  

Xx

The Passion of My Creator

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My wonderful readers, this is in fact, the shortest blog post I will ever publish.  I’m fully aware  I am that person who rambles on and on. I often lose people with the words that flood me like a tidal wave, yet prayerfully, am used to captivate you with even one sentence you may recall.  If you have the uncanny gift to follow a conversation with me, you deserve an award!  I say this with light humor because I feel it is important to sometimes slow down in life…To:

Not say as much.

Listen more.

Care deeply.

When I was sixteen years old, I faced an extremely intense dilemma for someone of my young life.  It consisted of a choice.  Do I leave a deeply toxic and damaging situation and run into the arms of God’s purpose for my life?  Or do I stay stuck in the barrel of the gun that was shot in my face each and every day, because as we all know eventually a bullseye can happen when we are living outside of God’s purpose?  Therefore putting ourselves in the fire of total destruction.

During my lunch hour today, in the midst of a rather stressful day at work, I sat next to a big pine tree enjoying the unseasonal warm Wisconsin weather.  Jamming out to my Spotify playlists, God brought me a memory of a poem I wrote in the throws of past turmoil.  One that propelled me to eventually chose Him, and take the risk of a lifetime, leaving severe dysfunction to heal from abuse no one should ever have to face.

I sat on the murky grass and took in the sunshine that will soon turn to a gray cold that will blanket my state for months on end, and found myself, at forty-two faced with a similar dilemma I did when I was a teenager.

What choice do I make, one that God is showing me will transpire, one of healing, peace, acceptance, and unconditional love?  Or will I stay intoxicated by a habit that I now give myself?  Sadly children who have suffered severe abuse at a young age, deliver the same level of destruction that was placed upon them as children into adulthood.  When abusive behavior was forced upon a child in the delicate formation of emotional budding the consequences can be dire.

God gave me the provision through the sun beaming down on the fall trees in all of their red and gold glory today…To…

Chose Him.

Choose Life.

Choose the Passion of My Creator.

This poem was one of the first pieces of literature that I wrote that helped give me confidence as an author.  It won awards, scholarships, and His words that flowed through me helped me cling to His love through my suffering.  It was later published in a book of a New York Times Bestseller’s collection of poetry and prose, filled with stories of overcoming odds and fulfilling…my  very own destiny!

My life has always been, during the peaks and valleys about turning to the Love that won’t be undone.  I promise you, at forty-two it will be no different than in the adolescence of a very young version of…me.

Here is my short yet deeply powerful poem I wrote in the fall of 1989, and my friends, no matter how difficult your situation may seem, follow the Passion of your Creator.

The Passion of my Creator  ~Ami George 1989
I search for security
In the essence of a risk.
Slipping into the hollow chamber of change
My hands in torment can no longer hold on.
Feeling faced with the impossible
Expectations of strength,
His blood trickles down my arm,
As I scream out,
“Declare the passion of my Creator”

My identity is captured
In the culmination of my morality,
Through the ambivalence of my existence
the journey of my poignant youth is discovered.

Perplexed as how to quench the desire
His blood flows into the tears of my wounds.
I look beyond the fears ahead
and once again
the dichotomy is reborn.

Suddenly, the blood on my hands,
And the tears proving the sorrow of life
become transparent.
I reach out to the power of Salvation
Touching, feeling, and holding the love with no pain.

His resilient hand, I cling
And His Passion is Declared Through My Life.