Welcome to my blog. I document my adventures in life as a wife, mom, daughter, sister, and friend.....Hope you enjoy your time with me!
All in Amy's Adventures
In a world torn by violence and division, it can feel like we’re living through a cultural winter. But just as Easter always comes, resurrection is still on God’s calendar. Even in silence, He is at work—inviting us to be light, love, and hope in a culture gone mad.
You don’t have to force it. You don’t have to choke it. You don’t even have to feel brave. You just have to trust—one breath at a time, one step at a time. The same God who met you in the waiting is the same God who carries you in the trusting.
Some seasons feel heavier than others — and sometimes we can’t explain why. I’ve known those days too, the ones where nothing is wrong but your heart still feels heavy. If that’s where you are today, hear this: you don’t have to fix yourself to be worthy. You are already loved.
You’ve spent so much of your life trying to be seen — twirling harder, talking faster, smiling brighter. But here’s the truth: you were already seen by the God who never missed a single moment. And now, He’s leading you full circle, back to the place where passion meets purpose.
You don’t have to wait until you’re strong to be seen by God. Even in the overwhelm, He’s already there—faithful, present, and ready to carry what you can’t. Inspired by Jacob’s story in Genesis 28, this devotional reminds you that God doesn’t need your perfection—just your presence.
After a summer marked by both joy and unspeakable loss, I’m slowly finding my way back to the page. This letter is a reminder—for me and maybe for you—that we’re allowed to live in the “And.” You don’t have to choose between grief and growth, purpose and peace, or legacy and calling. Both can be holy. And you, sweet girl, are already enough.
This past week pushed me, pulled me, and hugged me tight—all while it was healing me and growing me. I came home with new tools, new friends, and a reminder that healing isn’t just possible—it’s already happening.
Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you became everything to everyone. Wife. Mother. Healer. Helper. Peacemaker. Protector. And all the while, you feared divorce, worried about finances, and wondered if healing would ever come. If you're there now—holding your breath and holding it all together—this is for you. From someone who's been there. You don’t have to compete for love anymore. You already are chosen.
You’ve stayed through storms, raised sons in the wreckage, and poured yourself out even when your cup was empty. But Little Girl, you were never second choice. Like Leah in Genesis, your story isn’t about being unloved—it’s about being seen by a God who always chooses you.
A rainbow. A robe. A reminder that even when life strips you of your comfort, your reputation, or your freedom—God never leaves. In this post, I reflect on Joseph’s story, the quiet beauty of healing after heartbreak, and what it means to remain in the vine. This one’s for the woman who feels trapped, forgotten, or afraid. You are not alone—and your story isn’t over.
You’ve been carrying things God never asked you to hold. This Dear Little Girl devotional is a midweek reminder that you can release the guilt, pressure, and pain — and walk in freedom again.
You thought the messy parts meant you were off course — but what if they were part of the plan all along? In this tender letter to your younger self, rediscover the beauty in the detours and the God who never let go.
Maybe it’s not about needing a new sign — but recognizing the ones you’ve already been given. In this week's Dear Little Girl devotional, we reflect on the ways God still speaks through peace, people, and everyday whispers. What if He’s already answered… and now He’s just asking you to trust?
Four years ago, I stood on a stage and shared my story — not from a place of polish, but from raw, real pain. I was in the middle of heartbreak, and instead of reading my notes, I crumpled them and spoke from the heart. That moment changed everything. Today, I’m ready to share again — this time from peace, not pain. Maybe you are too.
Sixteen years ago, I lost the baby I never held. Today, I remember. I reflect. And somehow, I also release. This is a story of quiet grief, unexpected healing, and the gentle voice of God reminding me that I am loved — even in the letting go.
You don’t have to strive for your voice — you already have it. God’s whisper is waiting under the noise. Come breathe, trust, and listen.
Some seasons don’t feel hard because of what’s happening—they feel hard because of what’s still healing underneath. In this reflection, I look back on a season of caregiving, emotional anniversaries, and surrender. If you're carrying something heavy today, may this remind you: you don’t have to have words to lay it down. God is still near, still faithful, and still holding you.
Some days you’re strong. Some days you’re just tired of being strong. This is for the woman walking through heartbreak, healing, or hard conversations — the one who keeps showing up even when she’s exhausted. You’re not weak. You’re human. And God sees every moment of your sacred work.
When all the flocks were gathered there, the shepherds would roll the stone away from the well’s mouth and water the sheep. Then they would return the stone to its place over the mouth of the well.
You’ve walked this road before — the emotional landmines, the fear, the heaviness of what-ifs. But today’s not about fixing anyone else. It’s about healing you. Even in the chaos, God sees you. He walks with you. Even now. Even in this.
