Sincerely, Amy Lee

This past year has been laced with challenges I hadn’t faced before in my adult life. While I’ve tasted heartache, I’ve always had steady work and made smooth transitions between jobs. But this year served me something different: the bitter bite of joblessness for months on end.

Even so, I chose not to rot on my couch. I got to work with skills I had. I stepped back into the classroom as a long-term substitute and launched my own freelance marketing and communications business. I’m grateful for those roles, they sustained me in many ways, but they didn’t fill the gap left by losing my full-time corporate job.

The hits didn’t stop there. An injury pulled me away from running, which I use to still my heart and my mind. On top of that, as a single mom navigating co-parenting, and as a single woman with half an iota of feelings… well, if you want the details, we can sip that tea together sometime.

In short: it’s been hard. There have been days where I questioned my worth, days where I felt like I had nothing left to offer but was still trying to give my boys the best life within my means.

Still, service is stitched into the fabric of who I am. It’s how I find purpose and feel connected to the community. Even when my own life felt like a mess, I tried to keep showing up for others. Some days, though, I felt like a fraud, like I had no business encouraging anyone else when I barely had anything to give.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe, and why I’m sharing all of this with you. Not because I want pity (please, no), but because I know I’m not the only one who’s ever felt like this. And because God gave me a voice and for some reason, He’s made me unashamed to use it.

Those thoughts that whisper “you’re not enough” aren’t true. Not even close. Scripture is full of people just like us. Broken, tired, doubting, poor, overlooked, those who came to God with what little they had, and were used to make a world-changing difference.

Just look:

• David, the youngest and smallest, defeated Goliath.
  
• Moses, abandoned in a basket, led a nation to freedom.
  
• Ruth, a grieving widow and foreigner, became part of Jesus’ lineage. (not to mention a beautiful love story, her story is one of my personal favorites)
  
• Mary, a teenage girl from Nazareth, was chosen to bear the Son of God.
  
• The widow, who gave two coins, gave more than anyone else.
  
• The woman who wept at Jesus’ feet was honored above the Pharisees.
  
• And the boy—the one who had just five loaves and two fish, he offered what he had, and Jesus used it to feed thousands.
  

That story, the boy with the loaves (John 6), has stayed close to my heart lately. Jesus and the disciples were grieving and exhausted. John the Baptist had just been killed. And yet, in the middle of their weariness, Jesus still made time to love, to heal, to teach. And then came the boy: quiet, nameless, offering something so small it seemed laughable.

But Jesus saw it. He blessed it. And He multiplied it into a miracle.

I was recently listening to “Fishes and Loaves” by Josiah Queen, and I broke. The lyrics were a reminder straight to my heart: God doesn’t need my accolades or perfection. He just wants what I can give, my fishes and loaves. He’ll take care of the rest.

“My heart is uneasy but I give you control.
I know it’s not much, but I know what I owe.
So, I give you all of my fishes and loaves.”

So that’s what I’ll do. When my heart is weary, when my mind is swirling, when I feel like a mess. I’ll still bring Him what I have. I’ll trust Him to use it for good. He always does.

Things are still messy. Healing is still coming. But there’s also light, gratitude, and new beginnings. This fall, I’ll be stepping into an unexpected new chapter, back into the art classroom, this time in secondary education. Creativity has always been at the core of who I am, and I’m excited to be hands-on again and pour into young minds. I’ll also continue working with some of my freelance clients and see where that path leads.

Good things are ahead. Not perfect things, not easy things, but meaningful ones. One small offering at a time.