September 25, 2012
The leaves are beginning to fall; they twist and turn and delicately glide to crunch under my oxfords. The sun was peeking at me through the trees and the breeze is a tease for the hairs on my neck. The air smells like fall and has cooled to match, but carries the weight of a summer only half-gone. I had in my arms seven new books that came in the mail; I was on my way to the library, and I was already certain the seven and I would soon be friends.
The top of the hill and the end of the path came far too early, and I turned to take in the view: my building at the bottom, trees all around, books in hand. And suddenly I was aware of how very much You must love me to call me to a place like this.
Hi, friend. I'm Amy. Mostly, I’m just another twenty-something trying to figure out the stuff of life. I am a nerdy seminary student who loves the smell of old books and early mornings in the library. I am an artist wanabee, a liberal to the conservative and conservative to the liberal, guilty social justice groupie, and a recovering Bible know-it-all with the unreal ability to put my foot in my mouth an astonishing number of times each day. I am a sister to eight of the most hysterical creatures ever created. Good theology, used book stores, and autumn make me giddy. I preach passionately, think deeply, and ask too many questions. I write prayers, poetry and prose. I write about preaching bad and good, gender roles in the Church, the sacraments, stupid things we do on Sunday, politics, and almost everything else that you are not supposed to discuss in polite company. I also blog at oneyellowbird.blogspot.com. Welcome to the journey.
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