A nonfat, decaf latte please. Is that a nondescript enough drink? Sometimes I just don’t want to stand out so much. Just blend in. Belong. Be like everyone else.

Jessi at 17 wearing a 1 of a kind grad dress with pride
Jessi at 17 wearing a 1 of a kind graduation dress with pride

I remember the date because it was the day I started dating my husband, Jeff. December 27th we were in a big conference center in Chicago for a teen convention. Thousands of teens were there and we were part of a singing group that would perform that first night. Jeff told me the other girls in the group were in their room and pointed the way to the elevators so I could join them.

You’d think that’d be easy but  there were escalators  that led up to the bank of elevators. Those escalators were the only way up and I am always terrified that I’ll miss the first step on those things and fall on my face or that my toes will get eaten at the top. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it looks like the gliding stairs are just for the purpose of moving items/people into the steel mouth of the upper floor. I have had my flip flop get caught in one of these at an airport in Kenya and ended up with a bloody toe so I know what I am talking about.

I made it to the top with no carnage (though I will admit to causing a small traffic jam as I waited to get the timing of the movement in my head and gathered courage to step on.) The worst was still to come. You see – there were 6 elevators and only 4 sets of buttons with up and down arrows. There were no labels so I didn’t know which elevator went to which floor or which buttons ran which elevator. But, how hard could it be? I was sure I would figure it out – I’m a fairly smart girl after all. So, I stood and watched. Everyone else seemed to know just what they were doing. They would confidently walk up and push a button and a door would open. But there didn’t seem to be a pattern as to which one. I’d see the numbers changing showing what floor the elevator was on but I couldn’t see any consistency as to which elevator went to which floor.

I finally had to go get Jeff to help me. Me – a 17 year old young woman and I needed help  to get on an elevator. I’m sure it’s obvious to you  that any  button would run any  elevator and it would take me to any  floor. I bet there are lots of things that are obvious to you  that don’t know yet. But do you know the best kind of weather to catch flying ants in? Yeah – didn’t think so. Forget about being like everyone else. I’ll have a Mayan mocha with whipped cream.


6 thoughts on “Belonging

  • May 28, 2015 at 1:17 am

    Dearest Amy,

    What a wonderful web page, I love everything about it, and I felt like I had indeed sat down to have coffee with you. It’s amazing to have watched your journey transpire from conception of this site to now, what a blessing for those who use it.

    You are such an inspiration Amy, beautiful inside and out, loving, wise beyond your years, talented in so many ways – writing, art, music and more. I have loved getting to know you, you and Jeff have blessed our lives more than you could ever know.

    May the Lord Yeshua continue to use your gifts and wisdom for His work on earth, preparing all of us for His return.

    Love, your friend and sister in Christ,


    • June 29, 2015 at 6:18 pm

      Hi Gayle,
      Your words of encouragement mean so much to me. I’m loving learning as I write and I pray with you that Jesus uses whatever gifts He has given me for Him. A little birdie told me that you’ve refurbished your violin and are diving into playing again. Violin is one of my favorite instruments – their tone so versatile- from pensive to celebrative to mournful. I’m excited to see how God will develop this gift in you! When do I get to hear you?:)

  • July 20, 2015 at 10:43 am

    Hi Amy,
    Beloved by and belonging to Jesus. If I could only remember those two things! We had been traveling for days, staying with kind people, but I was trying to make sure we kept the home neat enough, the kids quiet enough, that I listened enough, served enough and somehow “measured up.” I was tired. (Sin does that…forgetting grace, choosing pride). It was in an Anglican church in Libya surrounded by Nigerians and Indians that I finally felt like I had come home. Tears of thankfulness healed my heart as I listened to Kenny calling out the mighty loving deeds of God and the whole church singing back, “O we thank you.” Maybe it was the warm colors of Africa and the continual swaying and full throated song that reminded me of home in Zaire. Maybe it was the respect in the voice of Vasinth who declared, “Here ye the gospel of our Lord,” as we stood to hear the gospel. But there I knew I belonged. I knew I was welcome and loved and accepted, that grace was extended. Here with Jesus was home.


  • September 24, 2015 at 7:13 pm

    Can I click somewhere to sign up without leaving a comment?


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