A little more . . . I was born in the 1970s to a young couple who had recently been saved in the Jesus Movement on the West Coast. My father came from the intellectual background of Ivy League schools, and was saved after the Lord supernaturally revealed himself.  At the time, my dad lived in a little house in the middle of a California pear orchard and was writing philosphy. My mother was a product of Berkeley and intended to enter medical school, but God set her as a teacher in a small New Mexico town, where she discovered there was only one way to survive -- get Jesus! They met and married on a Christian communal ranch in Northern California. Being then at least a year old in the Lord (very "old" in those days of revival) they were put into leadership. I was the second child. My first years were spent living communally on West Coast ranches and in church houses. When I was four we moved to Chicago, where my father pastored. I grew up in an unusual melding of two worlds. My intellect was trained to be disciplined and sharp; my spirit was trained to be free in God. I lived in the "inner-city", but was raised by parents who came from a completely different subsection of American culture. Our church was non-denominational and charismatic, while our extended families were Roman Catholic and Episcopalian. I value the training I received from living in these dual worlds. However, it did take its toll on me as a person. In my small, inner-city, Christian elementary and high school I had few friends who would connect with the intellectual, Word-driven part of me. When I went to college it flipped, and I had a hard time fitting into a community where few understood the reality of my wild, charismatic, freedom-loving heart. Only recently have I articulated something God was gently leading me in all through those years: only in Him can my two worlds harmonize. I may never find a physical community where they are in perfect unity (although I've had great glimpses of some), but neither am I supposed to! This dissonance has always driven me to Jesus as the only place where I can be whole and be wholly understood. Because I value that intimacy so much, I actually hope the duality is never completely resolved. Although I always loved to read and write, I never made it my goal to be a writer. Instead of literature or philosophy, I studied history in college because I wanted to know not just what people thought, but what actions those thoughts led them to take. After that I worked as a proofreader, a high-school teacher, administrator, and an author relations manager in the Christian publishing industry. The more I worked in the field, however, the more my heart yearned toward the creative side of it. Perpetua itself was born not of a desire to write but of an un-ignorable insistency that this story -- this particular story -- be written. After it was published, I spent a year on a surprising journey with God -- living with family, seeking Him, and doing bits of writing and editing. I lived in four different states that year, visited even more, and drove from the deep green Northwest corner of the US to the tropical, teal-colored waters of the Southeasternmost point. I settled in Kansas City near family, where I have partnered with Christian ministries and work as a publishing professional. I find a lot of joy in being at an international hub of the growing global prayer movement and am fascinated by the brilliance unique individuals and cultures and nations bring into the kingdom of God. Seeing God's story with a multi-millennium, multi-nation perspective is a thrilling way to study "history" -- it's the story of Him-loving-us, rather than the story of us-seeking-Him. The Lord has trained me to look deep into eternity and His nature, partly through saying "wait" on the things that would give me the most satisfaction in my natural life. The most beautiful paths aren't necessarily the ones that are smoothest but the ones on which we meet the Lover of our souls, and I'm immensely grateful for His constant companionship! Trusting the trustworthy God, Amy