On Saturday, I will change my last name. It’s surreal. And wonderful.

It’s also been hard. Getting engaged and married in the time of COVID-19 is an odd, overwhelming, anxiety-inducing, and grievous experience.

But it’s also – still – a beautiful and worthy endeavor. And recently, my fiancé said something that completely affirmed for me that not only is he the one meant to be my husband, but that God’s timing is also perfect.

A few weeks ago, Steve and I were getting peppered with a million wonderful questions by Steve’s friend who wanted to hear all about our story and how we were managing life in light of the craziness of wedding planning and well, what everyone is experiencing with this pandemic. She asked Steve what was the one thing that our engagement and this time leading up to our wedding has he learned or what has changed for him.

His response defied what most people would say about marriage and engagement. He talked about how he felt like a “weight was off his shoulders” and how there was this “new freedom” in knowing he had my support and partnership.

Some describe marriage as the ‘ball and chain’, getting ‘locked down’, and a loss of freedom. But for us, it’s about having a partner to help carry the burden, to be reminded to let go of the stresses of the day, to give each other strength and encouragement, and when the stress of work or just the world seems to be overwhelming to sneakily put on a song that makes your partner smile or send a ridiculous gif of a llama dressed as a lobster, to take on a task that lightens their load or to hold each other and pray for peace.

If we weren’t in public, I would have reached over right then and there and kissed him as he described how being engaged was a source of empowerment. (Don’t worry, there was lots of that later…) But, his answer affirmed for me that getting married is a wonderful thing – and this pandemic couldn’t take that away from us. It just made things look a little different. It put a different set of challenges before us. But beautiful things happen in the midst of challenging times every day, in every season throughout history.

This week has been especially hard in many ways. There’s been a lot of loss for some old friends and for new friends just in the last few weeks. It’s reminded us how fragile life is and how important it is to bring the ones you love closer. And I mean emotionally – still take precaution and be safe and be reasonable, but being physically distant or wearing a mask in these times does not mean you have to pull away and isolate emotionally. I would argue now is the time to draw in closer, even if it’s in creative and new ways.

“Our song” is Jason Aldean’s “You Make It Easy” – which we will dance to in my backyard as husband and wife this Saturday. Marriage will not always be easy. Life isn’t easy. The last few months have proven that. But the commitment to facing life’s challenges as a team, even in the pandemic, well that’s a beautiful and wonderful and worthy thing. And that choice, well Steve has made that easy for me.

To be loved by a dog is a profound experience.

Six and half years ago, I was looking to buy a house on my own. A house with a yard to fulfill my dream of having a dog and my very own space. I shared this with a colleague who jumped at the chance to tell me about their year and half old german shepherd they were looking to re-home, Stella. A german shepherd puppy that had grown a little too quickly for their family, had lots of energy and didn’t quite know her own size or strength. But a wonderful dog, that they just realized wasn’t the best fit for their family.  And here I was, a single girl, looking for a loving dog with a large, protective bark. But I had never thought about a german shepherd and was pretty unsure about the breed. Then, I saw her.  I was blown away by her beauty and loving spirit. She wasn’t your iconic brown, tan and black shepherd. She had beautiful golden blonde hues in her coat, gorgeous brown eyes with thick black lines as if she was wearing eye liner, and an all around sweet face.  She looked at me as if I was already her human.

Because I was.

I took her for a walk. And she and I became instant friends. I took this picture knowing that there was a special bond already being created, or perhaps it had always been there and we were just discovering it.

She was so unsure that first night at my new house and so unsure of the new routine. I remember how hesitant she was when I invited her up on my bed. Clearly something she had not been allowed to do before and despite how big she was, she turned into a complete puppy unsure of her ability to lift herself up onto it. Once she got over her fears, she jumped up and kissed my face all over before crashing next to me.

I was hers. She was mine.

I spoiled her rotten with multiple trips to the dog parks, toys, and treats. We played hide and seek with her toys. I made homemade dog treats.  My world revolved around her those first few months because – she was my joy. Coming home to find a big dog who spun in circles with excitement to see you filled me up. I felt delighted in simply by arriving home. And no, it wasn’t because I fed her or gave her treats. In fact, I noticed that Stella would actually refuse to eat the treat I gave her when I left in the morning, until I returned home in the evening. She would keep it for later – I joked that it was an act of protest against my daily absence, but perhaps she was just reserving it as a celebratory treat for my return. Every evening there was a small party when I turned the handle to my door.

She followed me everywhere. Watched guard at the door while I showered and even learned how to push the door open to check on me and make sure I wasn’t drowning. She bathed my feet. Brought me toys. Nudged my elbow to invite me to play fetch – and on really hard days, would snuggle up and kiss my tears away.

Her love was unconditional and big. And she loved everyone well, but I was the most important human being to her. She always picked me. Always had her eyes on me. Always guarded me. Always accompanied me – even if it was just from the living room to the kitchen.

I was hers.

When I adopted Stella, I took her to see the vet about possibly getting her spayed. It was then that we learned her heart had a serious defect causing it to be enlarged and signaling that she would not have a long life. At a year and a half, they told me she would have 50% chance to live to the age of four. The prognosis was that she would either die suddenly or would have congestive heart failure that would be a slower and more uncomfortable process. I was devastated.

She was my best friend. Why would God give me this wonderful creature who loved me and brought so much joy in my life – to just take her away from me.

I remember that night. After seeing the doggy cardiologist, that I went to get her medicine and bought her a special toy and new doggy blanket. I wanted to spoil her, comfort her, and make things better. But she was just happy to play with her new toy and quickly made me laugh, made me play with her. She knew I was sad. She comforted me. And I became determined to make the most of every day I had with her.

However, I also began this strange process of grieving the loss of her. . .having to play the odds of how long I would be able to love on her and be loved by her, seemed so unfair. Eventually, I decided to add another pup to our pack, hoping to add to Stella’s life, but also preparing for when she would leave me.

And Lacey gave Stella new life. A friend to have during the long days while I was work. A sister to boss around. A puppy to add just enough exercise and fun, but a puppy that wasn’t so big that she couldn’t put her in her place to settle her down.

Lacey adored Stella. Stella was her protector at the dog park, her protector from monsoons, and her therapist during car rides that helped her get through her anxiety.

They were my girls, my pack. There’s nothing quite like getting woken up by not just one, but two dogs who love you. And adding Lacey, I’m certain of this, added years to Stella’s life by giving her a friend and entertainment during the long days while I was away. But still, Stella continued to take lead as my guardian. Her eyes were always on me.

Because I was hers.

Stella celebrated her eighth birthday this last February. We joked every year that we were living in her bonus years. Every year, I would visit the cardiologist. Every year, they would tell me the odds were worse, that her heart was worse, that she would only have 12 months. They told me that for the last three years.

But in June, something was different. We discovered her heart had gone into atrial fibrillation. We had to monitor her with a mobile ECG device and change her medicine. Again, we were told – this would be her last year.

My regular vet, who is a complete gem by the way, loved Stella. She was a rock star at his office and he took such good care of us. He once told me that out of all of his patients with heart problems – Stella by far had the worse heart. But that out of all of his patients with heart problems – she was the healthiest and happiest. I always felt so much comfort in that comment. It was true.

But as always, the vet and the cardiologist reminded me regularly – she could die instantly without any warning from her heart simply giving out. She could at any time start showing signs of heart failure.

But as always, Stella would comfort me, love me, and remind me she lived in the present. So we celebrated every day, knowing she was always defying the odds.

On August 24th, we did something Stella loves the most – we took a long drive up to Colorado. Lacey had seemed sick that morning, so much to Stella’s delight, I crawled in the back seat and curled up with them for over half the trip. Stella laid her head on my knee and looked at me with those big loving eyes. She was so happy to have me in the back seat with her those hours.

We took the exit to my parents’ house and Stella knew immediately where we were and turned in excited circles, whimpering for us to hurry so that she could frolic in her favorite place with it’s cool air, and rediscover all of her favorite wonderful country smells from the cows to the red clay. She loved this place.  She loved my dad. She loved running in the fields with wild abandon.

We brought her in for dinner. She gobbled up her food. Gave me a kiss to show her gratitude and found a place to lay down for awhile.

I decided to walk the short distance to my grandparents trailer.

Not long after, my nephew rushed in to tell me I had to get back quickly – something was wrong with Stella. I wasn’t quite sure what to think, but something in me knew to run.

My dad was with her. Holding her. Asking her to stay a little longer.

And as her heart failed, my heart broke.

I remember this urgent feeling to tell her – “Thank you” before she left . I can’t quite remember all that I said as I cried and pressed my face into her fur in those last few moments. I was talking to her, but also praying and thanking God for her.  I worried she wouldn’t know. . . that I was hers and she was mine. That I believed with every fiber of my being that God created her just for me. That she was not just any dog, but the best dog and my best friend. For me to experience knowing a creature who saw me in my worst moments and hardest days, but who never faltered in devotion and unrestrained affection for me. Because God knew that I needed to know the profound feeling of being loved by Stella.

She was my Lassie, my Flipper, the dream pet we all wanted as a child. The pet that would follow you everywhere and look at you as if knowing everything you said and meant. The pet who came to your rescue.

I was hers. She was mine. And now, the world feels a little emptier. Little clouds of her hair from the latest round of shedding seem to appear like memorials at a wake. Sweeping them up, feels wrong, like I’m erasing her from the house. I try not to think about it – how much I miss her.

Instead, I try to remember how grateful I am. Grateful that she made one last trip to Colorado, that she is buried in her favorite place to run and play with her puppy-like joy that she never seemed to lose, she rests in a place we can visit regularly. I’m grateful that it happened quickly and that my dad was with her during the whole episode. I’m grateful that I was with my fiancee, my dad and my nephew – men who cried with me and held me. Who jumped to action to help me bury her as the sun went down and the stars came out. I’m grateful I got to spend the next days with the family as I grieved. My nieces hugged my neck, drew pictures of Stella, picked flowers for her grave, and reminded me that she will always be with me. I’m grateful for Lacey. Who is grieving with me. She was with us as she passed, she curled up next to Stella as I held her and cried. And she with me as we prayed over her grave. She sat next to me as if she understood the weight of the moment, as if she somehow understood exactly what happened.

I’m grateful for friends who understand what Stella meant to me and reached out to check on me. Thank you.

At the end of the day, I’m mostly grateful that God would create such a loving dog and that He found a way to bring her into my life. Of course, He always knew, He made it so:  I was hers and she was mine.

As promised, the return of the ABJs (Amanda’s Birthday Jams) is here. I had forgotten how much fun it could be to use music to reflect and celebrate life.

This year, more than any other year, I saw a pretty clear theme for this season I’ve found myself in. This last year, I felt like I was on a path towards figuring out how to be a better steward of myself – this life I’ve been given. And specifically, it required giving myself permission. Permission to hope for more, permission to care for myself, permission to celebrate who God made me, permission to dance, laugh, play – and come out of hiding behind the fear of failure or insecurities.

Recently, I’ve been putting myself out there in several ways – and there’s a group of people in my life that I’ve invited to be my support in that. They’re my team. In the last few months, God has reminded me of how blessed I am to have the friends I have who have loved me and cared for me, better than I have done for myself. They see me better than I see myself and somewhere in the last few months, I’ve discovered this new confidence in myself. Not because I think I’m so great, but because I feel so incredibly loved by God and these people who he’s put in my life who have been there to encourage and affirm me in reminding me that God made me who I am. I find myself in a season of embracing that fact – that God made me – all my silliness, strengths, weaknesses and all. And that he delights in me.

My prayer for everyone this year, is that you would get to experience what it’s like to have someone show you God’s love the way my friends have – that they would remind you that God delights in you and that you would give yourself to permission, freedom to celebrate and dance in that kind of joy.

The Songs

Instead of making actual cds and covers this year, I’m just posting it on Spotify (use this link) and I will list the songs below. Why? Because I just gave myself permission to not put a bunch of pressure on myself. I added a few extras at the end – because I didn’t have to edit it down to fit on a CD which is brilliant.

I won’t breakdown the symbolism or reason I chose every song. I will tell you there’s a lot of songs I just want to dance to! There’s a couple that are a specific nod to my new addiction of West Coast Swing. A couple that have become my theme songs to facing dating in my thirties. Sigh. Some are about trying to own my newfound confidence – and maybe encourage it’s growth.

Some are about facing fears.

Time to drown in your own thrill
Riding a rollercoaster is like losing your breath and finding it in your will
You’re jumping on the back of your fears
And you’re taking them for a ride
You’re seeing yourself when you were five
It is surreal
– Rollercoasters, Tank and the Bangas

Some were chosen purely because I love blaring them in my car to dance and sing to because they make me happy. And in all of that, I fell in love again with the process of creating my own birthday jams again.

The Art

I’ve been drawing a lot of faceless portraits lately. And they seemed connected to my playlist this year.

I gave myself permission to stop trying to draw eyes, nose and mouth. Because I’m not a great artist, especially when it comes to the technical stuff. I don’t aspire to be, but for the longest time I felt this pressure like – they had to have faces. But then when I would add it, I would hate the way it changed her and I hated the way I felt like I fell to the pressure of what others thought would complete the picture, what others thought would be perfect. I just wanted to create these pieces I enjoyed and that evoked the emotions I was feeling through the texture, color and movement I created as I used my hands to blur and layer the various oil and chalk pastels over each other. And she feels free, confident, and happy – she feels like the person my friends see in me when I’m at my best. And I kind of love that because she isn’t technically perfect, but she’s vibrant and free to dance.

So I hope you take the time to listen. I’ve found that while the whole list may not be everyone’s cup of tea, most people find at least one song they really like – maybe even love – out of the list. And that makes my day to share music that someone falls in love with! And more than anything, I hope this list invites you dance.

With that, I’ll end with the words of Marvin Gaye – just “keep on dancing, got to give it up!”

*Just a quick reminder for folks with kids, you might want to listen first before sharing with your littles. Thanks!

The John Wayne – Little Green Cars
You Get What You Give – Charming Horses & Grace Grundy
Emotions and Math – Margaret Glaspy
Boxes and Squares – Tank and the Bangas
Lost – Dermot Kennedy
Dumb Myself Down – JR JR
I Wanna Dance with Somebody – Rachel Brown
Got to Give it Up, Pt. 1 – Marvin Gaye
Built for Comfort – UFO
Figure it Out – The Thing with Feathers
Quick – Tank and The Bangas
Baby’s Got Sauce – G. Love and Special Sauce
After Rain – Dermot Kennedy
People Need a Melody – The Head and the Heart
Want  – Birdtalker
Hot Air Balloons – Tank and the Bangas
Someone New – Mara Connor & Langhorne Slim
Heavy – Birdtalker
Rollercoasters – Tank and the Bangas

Extras –
Sway – Heartless Bastards
New Shoes – Paolo Nutini
Paranoia in B Major  – Avett Brothers

I’ve always said that I love to dance. When I was young, I would dance in my room or living room when no one was watching. Wild abandon. Not worried about what I looked like or if anything was right; but just dancing. When I was in middle school and high school, I was the first out to get the party started.

And then something happened, insecurities and becoming very aware of how I looked when dancing. But I loved it from afar.

Recently, I was doing my “expressive art therapy” intro for a group of women that a friend and I serve once a month. It goes something like:

Our number one rule is to be kind. To yourself and to others. So when that inner critic that comes to tell you that you’re not an artist, that your work isn’t good enough, or that your work isn’t looking like how you wanted to – kindly ask your inner critic to take a hike. And instead remember what it was like when you were kid. When you proudly drew stick figures and imperfect coloring pages, never comparing or caring about making it perfect. Enjoying art for the act of making art. Because what you’ll hear us say over and over again: it’s not about the product, but the process.

And all my EAT (Expressive Art Therapy) friends reading this are like “Preach!” I say this or something like this before every group. But the last time, I was thinking. . .what is my inner critic keeping me from.

See, I have been trying to figure out a better balance to life. Spending more time with friends and less time on the weekend working. Taking more breaks during my day to be present with myself, with my friends and family. Getting healthier has been a huge help, but I am still trying to figure things out with this new body and how to build strength and endurance that I can maintain as I continue to lose weight. I’m just constantly balancing and adjusting.

And I realized that maybe I need a little bit of self-prescribed expressive art therapy for myself to reach some of these goals. And it hit me. I’ve been saying that I want to learn how to dance. I want to see about joining that community that I know from friends and family can be incredibly fun and welcoming.

So I asked a friend for info on the best way to get lessons. I took about two weeks to commit to it and I just finished my third lesson tonight. And I’m working through so much more than just the technical learning the steps.

I’m learning that I have to be present. Being present just isn’t optional. If I come to my lesson overwhelmed with thoughts about work, I am stumbling and can’t focus. I have to only think about being present and dancing. Where are my feet, where is my leader’s hands and following his lead – if I start to think about anything else like the deadline tomorrow or the huge to do list in my life, my feet fail.

I’m learning that I’m pretty disconnected from my body. This isn’t new to friends who I’ve done a lot of art with – it’s come up a lot in my work. But dancing is so direct in processing that disconnection and facing down the insecurities of how I hold myself or how I move. Throw in the complexities of dealing with a massive weight loss, overcompensating in my movements and not trusting my legs as I learn new moves.

Spinning is hard. Spotting and the right shoes help. Which leads me to the inspiration for the night. We worked on turning/spinning tonight which was great because I finally got better shoes! My instructor told me I needed better shoes that wouldn’t create traction on the floor.

Red shoes. I have a thing for red shoes. Not just any red shoe. The right shade of red is important. It has been since I was kid, just ask my mom who told me once that I was very particular about picking out shoes when I was little, specifically a pair of red shoes that I loved.

I’m not sure that my new shoes being red helps me spin, but it definitely helps me feel excited about dancing. One of my favorite songs is “New Shoes” by Paolo Nutini. (Note that I did not say my favorite video. . .it’s cheesy and wonderful in it’s own way though.) Makes me want to dance. And I think I needed a little bit of that mojo and contagious good vibes.

I’m not great at spinning, but it’s a lot of fun. I just wish I was better at it. Tonight I worked through a lot of spinning exercises and was given a lot of tips that were super helpful. One of course is spotting. To find a spot that you look at and when you spin and come around, you find again. Helps to keep you from getting dizzy and helps with momentum.

I think my life right now, might be a lot like learning how to spin well. I’m trying to choose joy, to serve God, to live this life well. But if I lose sight of Christ and my identity in Him, my hope in Him, that joy and peace comes from Him. . .well, I lose my balance. I get dizzy.

It would be easy to say, well I should stop spinning – but guys, it’s so much more fun. I just have to keep trying. I just have to practice the art of finding balance. And I have to take my own advice. To be kind to myself. To kick my inner critic out of the room. And to be present and enjoy the process.

Hey, I put some new shoes on

And suddenly everything is right

I said, hey I put some new shoes on

And everybody’s smiling, it’s so inviting

Oh short on money but long on time

Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine

And I’m running late and I don’t need an excuse

Cause I’m wearing my brand new shoes