Some people are like a harvest. Steady underground of you, they live. Like a seed, they are the absolute potential you seek. Their life movements & ways are the germination you need. Sprouting? Oh they do this gloriously. Energy catapults from their outstretched vessel of breathes. It matters not of your proximity, you'll completely know nourished before you even realize.

They're your harvest. Your field of grain. Flowing brilliantly in breezes; awaiting your collection only to serve you well. Today's human here in this space is my source of sustenance. This beautiful soul lives out boldness and grows golden stalks of light for so very many not just me. She believes. She works. She enjoys. She shines. Please make welcome Mrs. Autumn O'Bryan.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

Psalms 139:14

The thing is, everyone just wants to be loved. That’s my story. Plain and simple. My story begins peering out my kindergarten classroom window. As blurry as those days are, life became crystal clear at Marion Elementary School in upstate New York. I had my first broken bone. I watched with envy as the rest of my class played outside in the snow. I distinctly remember feeling disconnected and I didn’t like the feeling one bit.

Actually, my journey begins five years before that in Sodus, NY. My parents were young and self-proclaimed “unprepared” parents. They struggled through the usual stuff…finances, family dynamics, and the future. I was their first attempt at writing their own stories as adults. My memories of those times roll through my brain like a very broken movie reel.

A puppy named Angel
A Red Rocking Chair
Birth of my First Brother
Cutting down Christmas Trees on Austin Road

The broken movie reel became a continuous thread as I watched my friends sled down the hill from inside my classroom. I guess it’s my most vivid early memory because of the feeling attached.

I was sad.

A few apartments and several classrooms later and my parents bought a home in Flint, NY. I remember crying the entire ten-mile trip in the moving truck. I couldn’t be excited about the move because it was located in a new school district. As a nine-year old girl, I hated to leave my teachers and friends. A month later, I walked into Gorham Elementary wearing a white and blue lace dress that Grandma Dee had bought at a yard sale. I had shiny white shoes and my mom had curled my hair. None of those things made me feel better about the situation. I missed my old school. My principal, Mr. Young, had kind eyes and a big smile. As he led me to my classroom, he told me all of the wonderful things about the school. I didn’t hear much. I just wanted to find my desk and sink into it until the end of the day.

I was alone.

My home on 5 and 20 was an adolescent's dream. It was a one hundred year old farmhouse with eighteen rooms on five acres. There were plenty of places to disappear and create a world far from that of a struggling young person.

Mowing the Lawn Listening to Bon Jovi
Writing in the Goat Barn
Bike Rides down Goose Street

My parents always promoted an open home. They would treat anyone that walked through the door like they were family. This included my group of friends. On any given night, mom would have cookies coming out of the oven and dad would fire up the grill for some Zweigles hots.

I spent my time as a teenager involved in everything. I played softball and soccer, participated in marching band and winterguard, and had a booming social life. I craved spending time with those I loved. I spent every Wednesday night and Sunday morning seated on the front pew of my dad’s church. It was a life that was polarized. I loved every minute of it, but yet found ways to struggle through those times.It was because of this culture that I was apprehensive to leave when the time came to select my college destination. After many tears and arguments, I abruptly decided to attend Lee College, a small Christian school 800 miles away from my home.

I was scared.

Change is hard. It’s natural that with change comes feelings of sadness, loneliness, and fear. When I think about my story, there is a distinct separation of the times when I didn’t know and the times I did.

The rest of the story…

“For you created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

Psalms 139:13-14

It’s quite simple. My story is completely wrapped around a beautiful love. After many heart breaks and bittersweet loss, his proclamation of love was my only redemption. I stopped searching for it. I stopped trying to get attention for it. I stopped seeking comfort from those that couldn’t give it. What I found in that place was a tremendous peace and faith. I remain wonderfully fearful of his works in my life.

A Beautiful Family
A Job I Love
A life I Don’t Deserve

Woven by Him.

I have had my share of disappointments and despair over the past 41 years. They pale in comparison to the joy I experience daily. It is not a bubbly, giddy elation. It is a blessed, content peace that despite my hopelessly-flawed, human self…