Christian Personal Growth, Christian Spiritual Growth
Date Published: September 28, 2021
Publisher: Clay Bridges Press
Redemptive Grace uses personal accounts from the author's life to identify with people on topics that everyone faces. These transparent stories touch on anger, depression, self-harm, loss of a baby, death of a parent, separation, and divorce as well as triumph, joy, and hope. The reader will have the opportunity to journal their own experiences and thoughts in each section.
The heart behind Redemptive Grace is for the reader to:
● Identify struggles and construct a plan for battling those issues.
● Be reminded that God is in the details of each life.
● Be encouraged in the truth of God's incredible love for every person.
● Reflect on their own stories and find God's presence.
● Understand that God's grace is so great that there is nothing that He can't or won't redeem.
In my world, music brought fun and a
little bit of rebellion. During the first semester of my senior year, I started
having problems with my voice. When I was growing up, I would always lose my
voice in the fall and spring for a few days, and my doctor related it to
allergies. The first few times this happened to me as a senior, I didn’t panic;
I assumed it was an allergy thing. My voice loss became more persistent. I
could be reading out loud in English class at full volume, then my voice would
just disappear—not fade, just stop. Singing became a game of chance. Maybe I
would be able to hit those first soprano notes or maybe I wouldn’t be able to
even hit the tenor line. I didn’t have any pain, just frustration. I went to my
regular doctor who sent me to an ear, nose, and throat doctor. After a series
of disgusting tests where tubes were stuck up my nose and down my throat, acid
reflux was ruled out along with any bronchial or allergy issue. He determined I
had polyps or nodules. I was referred to a specialist in a city a few hours
away from my home. My initial visit was to establish my routines and to see if
any patterns could be detected with my symptoms. Over the next few months, I
underwent a variety of tests. My Mama always went with me to these
appointments, and my Daddy would come when he could. The first test was again
having a tube placed up my nose, down my throat and hooked to a monitor. This
had to be left on for twenty-four hours and required me to take on normal
activities while it was in place. I had to talk, sing, eat, etc. all the while
feeling this tube that felt as thick as a garden hose in my throat. I would
sing and gag, eat and choke. My Mama would encourage me a lot and cry a little.
We found out that I had developed cysts up and down my vocal cords. The next
test was gruesome. I was taken into an examination room and laid out flat. I
could not have any anesthesia on my neck because the test was to watch how my
vocal cords would react. Nine needles were placed into my throat, one at a
time. With each needle, I could feel the metal move around inside my throat,
cold and foreign. As each needle was added, I was asked to read a passage out
loud or sing a few lines from a song. These needles were about ten inches long
because they had to be able to go through the layers of the throat to reach the
vocal cords while being manipulated by the nurse or doctor externally. The
process of this test was brutal. The pain is one I still am not sure how to
properly describe. After this, my neck was bruised and swollen, but the next
day, I was back at school. After several less-exciting procedures and countless
more days of having no voice, it was decided that I would have a bilateral
medialization—translation: my throat would be cut open for the doctor to see my
vocal cords with his own eyes. Fun fact, I would be awake for this and would be
without any anesthesia again, just a topical cream for my neck where the
incision would be made. When I arrived for this appointment, I was very scared.
However, God has blessed me with a weird
sense of humor, so I had jokes at the ready for my doctor. As we entered the
operating room, he allowed me to choose what music we would listen to during
the procedure; this was also to encourage me to sing during the procedure. I
chose Broadway hits and off we went! My doctor had an enormous ego, but he was
very kind and funny. During the procedure, he kept me giggling. I can remember
the feel of the chilly knife that cut the incision in my throat. I can remember
the weight of the tools used to move the parts of my throat out of the way. I
remember seeing and feeling the clips that would hold my throat open. I
remember the constant feeling of choking throughout the surgery. I remember
singing “All I Ask of You” from Phantom of the Opera while the doctor poked,
pulled, and searched for an answer.
About the Author
Amber was born and raised in western North Carolina. After high school, she spent some time living in other parts of the country. While she enjoyed the adventure of being in different places and meeting new people, she was happy to move back to the mountains. Amber says she took the scenic path to her college education, but she loves utilizing her bachelor’s degree in Sociology and her master’s degree in Education: Family and Community Services. Her education helped shape her thoughts, but her life experiences helped shape her heart. Amber has worked in the educational world for twenty years in every role from volunteer to substitute teacher to assistant to small group teacher. She has worked in church world for several years as a small group leader, Bible study teacher, children’s director, and women’s ministry coordinator.
Amber is married to Brian and together they have four children. Together, Amber, Brian and the kiddos still at home enjoy traveling, playing games, watching movies, trying new foods, and attempting to tame their dog.
Amber makes it a personal goal to remind every person she works with that they were created on purpose, with a purpose and for a purpose. She loves helping children and women connect the experiences of their lives with the presence of the God who created them and loves them.
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