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
Some blessings arrive in the quiet, but others wait outside your comfort zone.
Last night reminded me that sometimes the most healing thing you can do is say a quiet, brave yes to joy—even when staying home feels safer.
This one is for the girl learning to trust connection again.
Sometimes we miss the miracle in motion because we’re already looking for the next one. Today’s reminder: gratitude doesn’t wait for the finish line—it grows right where you are.
Love doesn’t ignore what’s broken — it looks right at the fracture and still chooses not to throw the pieces away. Even when life feels divided, love is still the plan.
There’s peace in knowing you showed up fully. Peace in honoring your voice, even when others can’t receive it. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do isn’t to explain yourself — it’s to release the need to be understood and choose peace instead.
Even the strongest hearts get tired. Even the bravest souls have days they wonder, “Can I keep carrying all of this?” But peace isn’t found in controlling everything—it’s found in trusting the next step.
Yesterday, I did something brave-I got on a plane and joined a group of women, unsure if old memories would stir up old pain. But instead of people-pleasing or pretending, I honored my healing. I chose rest over fear of missing out, peace over pressure, and discovered something beautiful: growth doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like quietly honoring who you’ve become.
At 55, I’m done apologizing for who I am. God has been shaping me through every scar, every knot, and every miracle. I’m not finished — I’m a work of art in progress, and that’s worth celebrating.
You don’t have to earn God’s voice. You don’t need perfect faith to be heard — you just need to turn your heart toward Him.
It’s easy to trust God when life is good — but what about when it’s not? When the waiting feels endless and the prayers go unanswered? This Dear Little Girl devotional is an honest look at faith in the hard seasons and a reminder that God is the same in the storm as He is in the sunshine.
Sometimes the waiting room isn’t about God changing our circumstances—it’s about Him strengthening us within them. When life feels fragile, the Cornerstone remains firm.
Friday left me emotionally spun out. A situation with my son stirred fear, anger, and mama-bear instinct, leaving me tangled in uncertainty. But in Acts 4, God reminded me: the Cornerstone hasn’t moved. Even in waiting rooms, fear doesn’t get to drive.
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.
