Surrender Believe Faith

They say getting sober is all about surrender

They are right

Pouring the amber liquid down the drain…

The fight

The Fear

Acquiesce or die…

….Year one is Release

It is said staying sober is all about Believing

They are right

Imprinted in our brokenness…

The struggle

The creed

Loss of euphoria’s lies…

…Year Two is learning to Trust

I say living a sober life is all about Faith

I am right.

The Light asked me to leap…

The Turquoise 

The Sea

Free fall where I am destined to be…

…Year Three is my Hope

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.