Menu
Hello, my name is Amy Miller. I joined All Saints in 2010 when I married Marshall Miller.
We had planned an anniversary party for last summer – to celebrate our first decade of marriage, but 2020 had other plans. It has been a staggering year. I can imagine no other set of circumstances that would have made me reorder my life so quickly. Basketball, ballet, and music lessons stopped – all in one day. Our home, one I tried to emotionally disconnect from as we evacuated over and over again just a couple years ago, is now our sanctuary. Truly. It is a classroom, a movie theatre, a concert hall, a gym, a toy store, a place of worship.
I’ve always felt my Mom superpower is empathy. Even as a child, I felt the needs of others deeply. As a Mom, I have honed my craft. Crying babies make me want to swaddle them, rock them, get them to sleep. My friends tease that I am the only member of our book club (perhaps their circle of friends) who happily holds crying babies. I want contentment for everyone.
2020 has challenged me. How can I be Elenora’s missed playdate? She is my six-year-old daughter and I am not her peer, not a teacher, not a ballet instructor, and – in the midst of COVID-19 – not someone who has all the answers for her. I wrestled with these emotions until they sat with me long enough that they have become my new normal and I’m leaning into them. Unplanned is okay. Dirty dishes? Okay. Unfinished homework? Okay. Half-done sewing project? Also, okay.
My value does not lay in these tasks. My identity is tied to my faith and my role as a wife and a mother. I cannot make whole all the missing parts of 2020, but I can seek out what truly matters and focus intently on it. We are at home. When Elenora asks what goes into veggie spaghetti, I can do better than tell her. I can show her. I can cover her in an apron, move the kitchen stool and we can cook. I’m not rushing anywhere. I have time to spend, cooking then cleaning, but most of all with her.
Slowly, these small tasks of cooking together, reading, playing in our backyard, making elaborate train tracks, setting up doll hospitals, building forts… these have become the hallmarks of 2020. It doesn’t seem to be missing as much. It is rich. It has my family, very safe and content.
We aren’t in church these days, but we talk more about faith. We each take a turn saying grace before dinner. We have the time for 4 graces. We have witnessed more sunsets, celebrated more accomplishments, and found more grace this year than most. Our slower, deliberate pace puts things in perspective. Elenora Bass, Ernest Boetcher, your little namesakes are growing, learning, become faithful stewards of Christ in the midst of quelled chaos.
The values, people and institutions that sustain us are more important in 2020 than – perhaps even – other years. As evidence of my faith and my tremendous blessings, I am happy to tithe to All Saints.
