Tagged Amy Storms

The State I'm In

The State I Am In

Christ calls me to have a West Texas simplicity in a Southern California life. To keep a quiet, content heart, whatever the state I’m in.


Doubtless Love

Just like the woman in my neighborhood, I doubt love. I take convincing. But what if I didn’t?


Sweet Beulah Land

Maybe I love Southern gospel music so much for its focus on heaven, home, and the hope that does not disappoint.


Zing the Gossiper!

I can’t be a disciple — or at least not a good one — unless I’m able to let things go, and forgive, and not care what people think about me.



Take it from the rats: a little encouragement goes a long way.


The Half Life

Jesus came to give me a rich, full life — not a half life. I’ve tasted His abundance before, so why don’t I walk in it?


Rocks and Pots

God’s voice calls me to faith — to a confidence not based on my abilities or worth, but on His.


Love Stories

Like a suitor woos his sweetheart, God has demonstrated His love for me time and time again this year — perhaps most poignantly in these three stories.


What Women Fear: A Review

Its message was so timely for me — so obviously written for Amy Storms — that I wanted to call Mrs. Smith up and scold her for reading my Moleskine.


Learning to Hope

Through the Book of Romans, and through the examples of my three kids, I am learning, slowly but surely, to hope.



Every single person on the planet has been wired by God Himself, with his or her own set of likes and dislikes, talents and shortcomings.


Pictures of Freedom

“Mama, watch me twirl!” my daughter often calls out. “Oh, listen to the music! Can I dance?” The truth is, she can’t help but dance. Even before she was born, Anne twirled and kicked and danced within me, and she hasn’t stopped in eight years. On stage or off, whether she’s practicing in the ballet…


Staying Put

In the first nine years of our marriage, Andy and I lived in seven different homes: four apartments, two townhouses, and a teeny-tiny condo with paper-thin walls. We rented, purchased, and sold. We primed, painted, and touched up. We packed, unpacked, and repacked. The transient life, I decided after nearly a decade on the move,…


Rough Draft Life

I loved my English Grammar and Composition courses in college. As an incoming freshman I tested well enough that Grammar was not required, but I still took the class anyway, for one reason: the instructor, Jackina Stark. Most people wouldn’t consider diagramming sentences to be fun, but with Jackina, it was. Jackina—she let us call…


A List Worth Keeping

I like to make lists. I have lists of chores to accomplish, lists of funny things my kids say, even lists of stories to tell my mom the next time she calls on the phone. My brain simply records information in an itemized, enumerated fashion, making me, I’m afraid, a walking outline. There is one…


The Conductor

In March of 1985, when I was 8 years old, my family attended the Oklahoma Christian Convention. That year, the children’s session held a Bible trivia contest, complete with buttons and buzzers and flashing lights, and the man in charge volunteered me to participate. I remember it vividly. I sat at a table with four…


The Musician in Charge

I could’ve been a great piano player. Really. I’d be playing circles around Chopin right now, if it weren’t for three small drawbacks. First, I’m allergic to cats. My piano teacher’s enormous Persian cat lounged on an armchair next to the piano during every lesson. I could barely breathe, let alone learn music. Second, I…


Becoming a Glass Half-Full Kind of Girl

Two autumns ago, my son sprawled on the couch to watch college football with my husband. Nathan, then six, enjoyed the time with Andy more than the game itself. He excitedly asked question after question. "Wow, they hit him hard, huh, Dad?" "Did the blue guys get the ball?" "Hey, Dad, which team do we…

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