This Early Bird is Grateful for the Worm

   This morning I woke up early.  I even woke up with my mom’s voice in my head saying “Arise O Sluggard" as she used to say to us on mornings where the day’s activities (usually chores) awaited us, but nonetheless the subtle chastising from Proverbs always got us out of bed.

   

However this morning I did not grumble as I woke up, it took no chastising to get me out of bed. This morning I awoke at 4:30 to take a friend to the bus station and hurried to get her there only to find out that we were there half an hour before even the bus station opened, but what surprised me is that I was not in the least bit irritated but rather grateful for the extra little time I would get to spend with my best friend. As her bus came and I saw her off the feeling-that overwhelming gratitude- still resonated with me. Like sweet honey residue that stays on your fingers that just keeps sticking to everything til you address it.

  

 As I drove home I felt my heart welling up. Barely 6:30 in the morning and I felt so alive, so awake, and yet every highway of thought in my mind all kept coming back to that sweet aroma of gratefulness in my life.

   I decided to go to an apartment complex rooftop and it was there that the feeling seemed to flower and bloom within my heart. It seems odd that “Thanksgiving” is now done and I’m feeling this way now, but it was something about that sunrise over the newly awakened San Marcos and realizing it was December 1^st and that this year is almost over that it seemed to be my spirit that was breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Thank You Lord for silence”, I said out loud as it was through that stillness, like a silent dramatic pause in a movie, that I could soak up this revelation of gratefulness in my life.

   As I got home and started my much needed coffee the gratitude still embraced my frame. I was actually just putting some cinnamon raisin peanut butter on some gluten free crackers when I realized that both the crackers and raisin spread were given to me by dad who knows what I love. The NPR mug I was drinking my coffee out of was given to me by the dad of the very friend I had just dropped off at the bus station because he knows I love NPR.

Mostly what I felt like what hit me hardest was HOW God loves us. He knows us, knows just what we need and when we allow him to intervene in our lives he works in small ways too not just big ways.

   For example, my best friend and I love animals and both know the joy and therapy animals’ sweet spirits brings. As we were walking around my grandparents property on Thanksgiving we came upon a sweet dog who simply wanted petting and all we wanted was to hug it. Seriously a divine appointment. Then a couple minutes later as I had been telling my brother I had been desiring to pet a horse lately, a girl on a horse walks by and I bolted out of the house and got to feed and pet a horse named Pappy. God knows just what we need.

    Or as some of you know and I’ve talked about frequently, this semester I seemed to stumble upon jazz music. Specifically Vince Guaraldi who is the composer of all the Peanuts’ soundtracks. Seriously this has been something that the Lord has put in my life that I thoroughly enjoy and believe it had to have been HIM that put it there because of the rest and relaxation I get from listening to it.

I am so loved. I am so grateful that God knows us and he knows just what we need. Perhaps you’re not a sentimental sappy Sally as I am and petting animals, jazz music, cinnamon brooms, and fresh flowers don’t make you happy. That is the great thing about the Lord and that I’m realizing. He doesn’t just know me, he knows ALL, to the depths of their very existence and he knows what makes us tick.

   So I guess I’m just resonating on gratefulness today. I’m in gratitude today to God that he made a way for me to spend eternity with him and that I can spend time with him now. I’m grateful that I was given a family that loves me and appreciates me for who I am and will always and forever be my 1^st audience to entertain, and siblings that are lifelong best friends.  I’m grateful for friends who just get me’ and for NPR mugs that just seem to make coffee taste better. I’m grateful for sunrises, for the wonderful month of December and the actual joyful and almost tangible spirit of Christmas. I’m grateful for jazz music and coffee and the culmination of those two things together. And especially today I am grateful for early mornings, and the wonderful joy and stillness that comes from the dawn til noon.  

So with that: 

                                                                 Arise O Sluggard!                                                                                                                                 How long will you sleep?

And what are YOU grateful for this morning-for this is the day that the Lord has made! Rejoice and be glad in it.

Thanks and Amen.

Love, your actual Christmas elf, Shelby

I Have Run Out of Rocks

Today, I am tired. The heaviness of it resonates with me today in everything I do. The fact that the clothes I’m wearing are all fished from the dirty clothes hamper, or the fact that my hair is not done and hangs loosely untamed down my back and shoulders framing my drooping face. There is no makeup on my face to cover up my dark circles, or even to cover up the few blemishes that showed themselves this morning that I’m sure have erupted from stress. I am just simply too tired to care about those things today.

I spent the wee hours of the morning last night crying on my kitchen table. My laptop and books strewn across the table, I felt myself cracking like clay that is drying after being molded and shaped. I couldn’t hold myself together, and the effort it took to try and collect myself and then fail made me fall apart even more. As I sat laying my head against my table, the mascara staining the pages of my bible I had opened I remembered a painting I saw years ago. 

It was of a girl, lying sideways in a field looking up at a house and barn on the hill. I was simply going to google the description of it because I couldn’t remember the name but then as I pulled up google I immediately ‘remembered’ although I don’t ever remember knowing the name in the first place but nonetheless I knew the paintings name-Christina’s World. I googled it and there it popped up. My heart seemed to bubble over as I looked at this painting.

That’s it. That’s how I felt.

Weary. Worn out. Weak.

I remember reading about the initial inspiration for the painter was of a neighbor girl close by who was crippled with Polio and he saw her climbing a hill with her arms.

This painting resonated (still) with me and I can’t seem to shake the feeling of it. I feel like that girl-she is continuing on despite her struggle but the journey for her is difficult, I imagine how tired she must be.

I cannot exactly put my finger on why I feel the way I do. After all, my struggle is not quite the same as hers. I do not have polio, and I can walk and run, I am provided for, and I have people around me and yet, I know just how she feels.

I feel like her because I have felt alone in this struggle of life. Tired and in pain, she just continues but although there might be people waiting for her in the place she’s looking towards there is no one along beside her. 

Too often have I felt like this for this to be okay. And I know that my God does not desire for me to feel this way.  

I read that this painting inspired the scene in Forrest Gump when Jenny is throwing rocks at her childhood home and slips and falls and therein lies one of the most poignant quotes of the movie:

“Sometimes, I guess there just aren’t enough rocks.”

Forrest Gump is quite wise for being fictional. But to me this scene in this movie represents the weakness of our own strength. Though we may fight and ‘throw rocks’ found from our own self at those looming worriments in our life, eventually we run out of our own strength and we fall and break down. 

I realized that in this painting perhaps the girl may not be crawling towards the house but running away from it. Why would a crippled girl with polio want to leave so bad from a place that she must crawl away from it to leave?

Or perhaps that place is hope that she has wandered away from and is crawling back to it and realized that she can go no further with her own strength.

I do not know.

Perhaps that is the beauty of art and its subjectivity to each individual that views it.

Nonetheless the aspect of this painting that most resonates with me is her echoing lonesomeness in the midst of that field.

After praying about this painting and why I felt so close with this girl, I felt the Lord whispering to me that perhaps what she is doing, is waiting. Waiting for her hope. And that’s what I decided she must be doing.

I felt like the Lord showed this to me because this is the place He wants us to be at. Not that He delights in our weakness and weariness, but rather this is the place that He meets us. Broken and tired and lacking our ‘rocks’ to fight life with, this is where He comes in, scoops us up and carries us. Whether He brings us up the hill to the potential house of hope or rescues us away from the potential house of brokenness, I think that He is waiting for us to get to this point of weakness so He can come and be our hope.  

The Lord is my strength. And I have run out of rocks.

So as I find myself crawling through the hardship of life’s worries and lonesomeness, I have decided to wait, below the hill and let Lord be my hope and carry me to where I need to be.

Love, your new Andrew Wyeth enthusiast, Shelby

Peach Season

It might be barely spring break, but as the weather slowly starts to warm up summer is inevitably on the mind. But for me, one thing I'm really excited is that the impending summer means peach season.
This year has been a lot of new experiences. But moving to a different part of the state that is not desert means that crops like peaches will be more accessible and abundant and therefore I am excited.

I remember a few times when I was little a member of my family would usually make some trip to the hill country and they would always make it a point to usually pass through Fredericksburg and bring back bushels of peaches. One year though, someone brought back 3 full milk carton boxes filled with peaches. The crispers of our refrigerator were full to the brim of that orange and sun kissed glow of the tons of peaches that were inside of them. I remember I finished both drawers of peaches in probably 2 days. Everytime I'd pass the fridge I'd pop open that door and sink my teeth into one of those juicy peaches. I couldn't stop. It was insatiable; and those were (and still are) the best peaches I have ever had. When my mom noticed she was definitely upset especially because it only left one bushel to use for frozen peaches and cobbler but I actually remember not even feeling that guilty. Those peaches were worth it. The only guilt I did have was that not many members of my family got to share in that sweet peach nectar wealth I had taken part in.

Lately God has been teaching me a lot about dependency even when I don't even realize he's doing it. But it never fails that as soon as I start to tip-toe away and start to reach for the other things to satisfy me God always finds a way to humble me and it forces me to crawl back to him and let him pick me up and I can once again find my solace and comfort in him.

In my quiet time with the Lord earlier today, I felt him describe my pursuit of satisfaction as trying to build a house of cards out in the open air. It won't take long for something small like a breeze to blow through it and knock it down. And the frustration will never end- no matter how many times I try to change my WAY of building a house of cards, if the foundation isn't right, and the setting isn't right-something as fragile as our flimsy cards won't stand and will eventually topple at the first thing opposing it.

See, I've made the mistake recently that somehow God's work is finished with me. And that my point of dependency and intimacy with him that I had reached had somehow bottomed out and that was as high and deep as it could go. So I started to put my love and comfort and security in other things. People mostly.

But that house of cards  I was building in trying to find satisfaction elsewhere didn't get very far before something as subtle as breeze toppled it. Nothing drastic, but it was just enough for me to feel that familiar pang of brokenness again.

Brokenness has become familiar to me. But not only am I learning to delight in that brokenness but also that God does not allow problems without provisions. There is no problem in our lives that we shouldn't delight in-because if all problems come with provisions-that means that God is making a way for us to become more like him. In essence, the more problems we have in our lives means the more ways that God is teaching us to be more like him. If we worry, perhaps he's teaching trust. If we are angry, perhaps he's teaching us patience. If we are disparaged, perhaps he's trying to teach us joy.

There has been one time that I have clearly heard the voice of the Lord. He said to me 'Shelby. I, I, love you. Aren't I enough?' *insert sound of heart physically cracking in half.*
I think often when life is hard we look for other outlets of comfort and love to satisfy us. But in my experience what's something that's not so recognized is even when we think life is peachy keen, we often leave God on the curb to just wait a second while we go and try to walk our own road. But finding our satisfaction in God is a daily activity. It doesn't come in seasons, there's always more God has to show us.

I want my love for God and walk with the Lord to be like the peaches that were in the refrigerator. Insatiable. Memorable. Always wanting more. I want my love for God to be something that I can't just pass  up but it has to be satisfied with that sweet bite into that juicy goodness peach flesh.

See, what I'm learning is that God is satisfying. He's more satisfying than those precious, succulent Fredericksburg peaches. He is enough. He has never disappointed me with His sweetness to comfort me, teach me, even to correct me. I don't want to just find His sweetness when I'm in a season of brokenness or correction. I want to daily find my satisfaction in Him.

He's sweeter and more satisfying than Fredericksburg peaches on a hot summer day, and there's more to him than all of the crisper drawers of refrigerators around the world, combined.

Thank you God for being so sweet to me. Even when you're teaching me, correcting me. Even when I try and build my own house of cards and attempt satisfaction elsewhere. You're the only place where I find true peace, rest, love, and security. 

Love, your peach nut, Shelby

Childlike

Today I feel like a child stuck in a grown up’s body. Ironically some of you may laugh because I do not quite have the stature of a full grown adult, but nonetheless as my feet dangle from the chair while I sit here and type this, I just feel like a child that is found to be in way over their head.

Perhaps it is the weather outside that has spurned this. The weather outside reminds me of a memory I had of traveling to College Station to an A&M game with my family. It was one of the few ‘vacations’ we ever took and I remember the thought of being the age to ever attend University seemed light years away. Yet here I am, with that memory and thought still fresh in my mind, but despite the years of growing up I still have that feeling of being a child in a foreign place. Some place where I am a visitor but not quite a member.

Sometimes I think I’m too sensitive that something like weather can just consume my whole person with this blanketing nostalgia-sometimes for memories that I can’t even fully recall. However this feeling like a child I think is so heavy because it has forced me to look back on time and reflect on the fleetingness of it, and really what it reveals and roots up in me is lack of control.

Lately I have wanted to really learn about God’s holiness. I would read about the angels in Revelation and Isaiah shouting,  “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty!” and I knew that I was missing something when I began to think How could the angels do that for eternity? Repeating that over and over? Wouldn’t they get bored? Like...just a little? Recently I have been hearing many teachings and reading myself over Isaiah 6 and the biggest part that has stuck out to me about this verse is that when Isaiah comes into the presence of the Lord he says, “Woe is me!-I am ruined!-I am a man of unclean lips--and my eyes have seen the  King, the Lord Almighty!” See, when Isaiah, an esteemed prophet and ‘relatively holy’ person came into the presence of the Lord his sins were magnified! But the Lord sent an angel to cleanse him and Isaiah was so in awe that God would spare his life that when the Lord asked whom shall He send Isaiah said Here am I! Here am I!

Y’all this passage blew me away. BLEW. ME. AWAY. It has easily become one of my favorite chapters in the Bible because it not only reveals God’s holiness (and mercy) but it sets out the purpose of our life!

We are so CONSUMED with the world around us. Everything. Looks, people, money, success, etc. But the one blinding conclusion that has been poking and prodding in my head is that it DOES. NOT. MATTER. Those things will fall away. Riches will fall away. Beauty will fall away.Earthly success will not be measured. We fill our lives and minds up daily with these things that don’t matter. But what do they  matter? I mean honestly- practically and realistically what DOES matter is God because HE is the only thing that will be here at the end. Why are we putting our trust and time and effort into these fleeting things? When that same energy could be put into the kingdom?

I suppose what I’m trying to say is as a college kid that feels very often like I have no idea what I’m doing with my life- this concept of God’s holiness has put my whole life into perspective. It has humbled me in the sense that the God of the universe has called me by name and cleansed me of my sin despite my unworthiness. The second thing is that it has put purpose and drive into my life. Much like how Isaiah felt after his lips were cleansed with a coal and God spared his life, that enthusiasm and excitement and sheer gratefulness to do ANYTHING that the Lord asked of him that caused him to cry out ‘Here am I Lord! Send me!’  I understand that. I understand (atleast a little bit) how Isaiah must have felt.

God has given me this hunger that can only be satisfied by spending time with him and I have noticed that it has made things of this earth that I was once dazzled by seem like black and white television compared to the high-definition, high resolution, color television-esque joy that I get from God in comparison.

Y’all I look back on old journals, old blog posts, old facebook statuses from even this time last year and I hardly recognize myself. I wish I could fully convey the amount of things I was idolizing. Awards shows, celebrities, fashion, movies, men, approval of people…

It’s true that today I feel like a child. Partly due to this nostalgic weather, but the other part is that I realize I am just a child in the depth of my knowledge about the Lord. And ironically, the more I grow in the Lord the more I realize how little I thought I knew. It took me to this point in my life, and for many things to be stripped out of my life and hands for me to realize that God is enough for me.  

But this time in my life has been beautiful in many ways. Like a child listening to her Father’s stories that she’s heard for years-suddenly they enthrall me. I read stories from the Bible and I GET IT. I feel like so many of the children I’ve ever been around who are looking at a picture book and look back at me to ask for help and affirmation and understanding of what they’re looking at.

Oh guys, I have such a sweet father.

He’s kind to me. He’s gentle when he disciplines me. He knows the plans for my life.

I know there will be many, many times in my life when I do not understand what God is doing in my life or what I am supposed to do-all I know is that I want to be in God’s presence all the time. Learning about him. Talking to him. And like Isaiah was- I just want the Lord to send me! Use me!

Although I never would have told you this growing up, sometimes it’s good to feel like a child. To be excited like a child. Believe like a child. Comforted by our Father like a child.

It’s funny how that realization comes when we’re all grown up, huh?

Love, your child-sized grown up (sort of), Shelby

Being Shepherded as a Weary Lamb (while procrastinating for a test.)

Isn't it ironic in life how when we're supposed to be getting work done is when we least feel like it?

Right now I should be reading a book about Puritans, but I'm not and despite the fact of me writing this, the most enticing thought right now is actually a nap. The apartment is quiet, it's overcast outside, and I feel like my whole body is like the physical manifestation of having dark circles under your eyes. Tired.

So tired.

Today, maybe it was the physical aspect of being tired that pushed me into just overload. But this fatigue goes far beyond my physical body and goes far beyond even today. This weariness has reached to a spiritual level and no amount of sleep can satisfy it.

Last night after returning from a super bowl party, and hyped up on some midnight triple shot Starbucks (I think I have a problem with impulsively drinking coffee-but I digress)- I found myself alone in the apartment. This is not a new sensation for me as I have previously mentioned, and I was a little bit excited because I thought that I would use this caffeinated energy to spend some time with the Lord.

After trying to press and press into the Lord's presence waiting for me to 'encounter' Him.
 I began just praying and found myself on the floor of my apartment sobbing and crying out to the Lord and this phrase bubbled up inside me that I just couldn't stop repeating.

"I just want you to be proud of me Lord! I want to make you proud Abba! I want to make you proud!" 

Where did this come from? Moments before I had still been on my knees in prayer, yes, but this feeling, this outcry just sort of came out.
However, as the words were coming out of my mouth, the truth that rang with it seemed to make me crumple on the ground even more.

Lately, the Lord has been teaching me about physically acting on the heart he has given me. And it has been really rough. I guess a more colloquial way of saying it is the Lord has been guiding me into not just' talking the talk' but walking the walk.

My heart is to be like Jesus. That's it.
I want to tell people about the Lord's great love. I want to be bold and sensitive to the spirit and in my daily life I want to bring the Holy Spirit with me and like the disciples in Acts I want to see New Testament miracles happen in our modern age. I want to just overflow with love that strangers even feel the love of God radiating off me. I want to be used by God. I want to bring GLORY.

I want it to be easy. I want talking to people to be easy. I wish that the logistics of talking to people about Jesus was as easy to do as it is to just say nothing and sit silently at the bus stop.

I have been so transformed by this love of Jesus. How do I tell people that? How? I want so badly people to know the peace I have found. I don't want people to perish. I want them to know the joy of salvation and eternity. I want them to know! I want them to feel! I want them to be a part of my family.

But sometimes I get overwhelmed. Because for example as I'm walking through campus I think-look at all these people. Every one of these people could not know the truth and I do! How selfish am I to keep this to myself? 

Sometimes I have talked to people around me and there has been little fruit (to my knowledge), and other times I have known I was supposed to talk to someone and didn't.

There are many things that stop us from telling people about Jesus. It seems silly to know something so sincerely like the love of Jesus and yet find it so hard to share with those around us. Especially when we know the rewards of following Christ.

 But for me, it is fear of man that cripples me. Probably it is insecurity that is rooted in that. I definitely am trying to work through that obstacle in my spiritual life. But that is what stops me.
What will they think of me? What if they get angry? What if I can't give them an answer? 

So begins a cycle of me spending glorious time with Jesus-absorbing his word and spirit and then itching to share with people and trying to fight against my flesh to be bold, and worrying what people will think, sometimes obeying God and sometimes not, and then feeling the anvil of guilt fall upon my shoulders as I cycle through the feeling of thinking I disappointed God.

I was tired. I am tired. I feel so weary of the whole process. My poor flesh is just not enough to keep up.

But as I was talking to a friend the other day who had recently returned from a missions trip abroad-she made a good point and that is that God doesn't need us. He can bring people to know him without any of our help and it is a privilege that he uses us.

I will say that in no way does that let us off the hook of sharing the gospel. God calls us to go out-and make disciples however something that has been hard for me to realize as someone  who is hungry for people to know Jesus is that it is not my job to retrieve the sheep. The Lord is the greatest shepherd and he is the one who gently uses his staff to retrieve us around our woolly sheep necks and ultimately calls us close to him.

This subject is something that I'm writing about while being in the thick of it. I am surely not at the end of my journey of learning how to be like Jesus in this area of evangelism and preach like the disciples and use the new spirit-the same spirit Jesus had in him in my day to day life.

But I do know that God sustains me. I could preach to every one I meet for the rest of my life and its pretty much a guarantee that many of them will brush me off. That many of them will hate me like they hated Jesus. And many of them will reach the end of their life still filled with unsatisfaction.

If you're ready to swallow this pill of conviction about our fear of man the other day I was reading in Acts and in Acts 5:41 it says that  "They departed from the council, rejoicing that they were worthy enough to suffer shame for His name." 

Woh. Let's go over that real quick.

The apostles were REJOICING that they were even worthy enough to SUFFER (shame) for in the name of Jesus. See, the Lord is good and gracious and cares for our fragile hearts so He does indeed care how we feel, but I should be so HUMBLED by the Lord and what he did on the Cross, that I should rejoice to suffer for Jesus' name.

I think what we as Christians but ultimately as humans get caught up in is ourselves; but really- it is not about us. It. is. not. about. us. Plain and simple.

When we put on the name of Christ, our purpose in life is to serve God and follow his commandments and bring him glory. Not bring ourselves glory. My purpose in 'preaching' is not to give myself a name but to glorify Jesus' name.

The joy and assurance of our salvation as well as the promises found in the Word should be where we build our foundation and confidence on. And as for our daily sustenance we are given that by spending time with our 'Abba Father' daily and embracing the spirit of God that has been bestowed upon us as 'sons of God' (Romans 8).

Surely, surely I can promise you that as soon as my finger releases the cursor to publish this blog I will find myself with my foot in my mouth about what I am writing here.

But you know what? The Lord is gracious. And despite my inevitable disobedience that I'm sure will happen throughout my years I will continue to try my best in hearing God's voice and being the best vessel I can be for his spirit to work in this broken world.

Days like today I am tired. I feel drained physically and spiritually but the Lord sustains me, he is teaching me everyday, gently correcting me as he holds my face between his hands and lets me know when I have done wrong, and when I stray he comes and finds me and picks me up and puts me around his shoulders and carries me close to him.

I will never stop being taught by the Lord. And I hope this never stops. As I grow closer to the Lord I find myself wanting less and less of myself and more of more of him. And I hope that as I grow old I am not someone who is known for my own name, but known for bringing glory to Jesus' name.

I am tired yes, but that is because it is 2:30 in the morning. However as I pull my covers back and get into bed I can tell you that I have never felt more rested or renewed than I do now in this wee morning hour after spending time with my Abba, my Shepherd, my Comfort.

Love, your little roaming lamb, Shelby

Lessons from that Pharisee, Nicodemus.

I'm sitting here writing this while my nails dry and I stop and listen... 

Silence. 

Save for the sounds of the apartment.

A zipper clanging against the dryer during its cycle. The stomp from my neighbors with rhinoceros feet upstairs. A lonely train whistles in the distance. All just noise. But yet- all of it seems to only emphasize the silence even more. 

Silence and I have become very familiar friends you see. We've crossed each others paths a lot these past couple of months and for this extrovert it has been on many uninvited terms. 

I used to fill up my silence with noise. I'd blast the happiest music I could find. I would make the supreme showstopper of Broadway playlists and fill the noise up with singing. I'd put on a movie. Put on NPR. Sometimes without even watching or listening, just to have those voices, that noise, playing in the background to fill up the brooding silence. 

But silence, oh so patient, would always wait for those things to finish, and in the end would always be there. Silence is there when the credits end. Silence is there when my computer dies. Silence is there when the Terry Gross interview I'm listening to on Fresh Air is finished. 

However after all these meetings with Silence, I realized that it wasn't Silence that was bothering me. 

No Silence, like when we feel the sensation of pain in our body is not the actual problem, but rather a symptom of something deeper. 

Silence was, for lack of a better analogy, like the heartburn to what was actually the bigger problem of an ulcer. And my ulcer was loneliness. 

Loneliness drained me. 

The past couple of months I have experienced severe loneliness. Sometimes the loneliness has been out of circumstances that is no ones in particulars fault. Busy Schedules, Little Money, your basic college problems. But what stung worse is that sometimes the loneliness was because of circumstances that were out of my control,and some that hurt me and left me feeling all alone to nurse my wounds. 

I can't count the times that I scrolled through my contacts and called or texted everybody or anybody who would be willing to talk. 

Someone, anyone, let me know that you still care. That you're thinking about me. That you want me in your life. Someone, anyone, please. 

That became my innermost cry and desire. I so badly wanted human affirmation and companionship that 't when it didn't happen my only solution would be to sleep. Because when you sleep it passes time and you get to dream. 

I felt so weary. I would talk to the Lord, but I would talk as if I already expected not to get an answer. 

I would talk to the Lord to fill up the silence and go on and on, 'Woe is me, even the LORD won't talk to me.' 

However, it was silence that ended up speaking to me the most. Silence that pushed me to my limit of talking so that I could hear the Lord.  

 

At this moment, I remembered a few months earlier the Lord speaking to me the name "Nicodemus." 

I was really puzzled by this and did a lot of research on Nicodemus and read and re-read John 3 which is where he mainly shows up in Scripture but it wasn't until this moment that I was sitting in the silence and suddenly I remembered Nicodemus and it made sense. 

See, when Nicodemus went to Jesus he was seeking answers, his time with Jesus was very private and intimate because it took place in secret and during the night and he went because he KNEW something was different about Jesus. He was not like the other prophets. And this is one of the only times Jesus did NOT speak in parable. He gave it to Nicodemus straight, and although he was mildly confused by what being born again meant, Jesus wanted Nicodemus to understand that concept because to know the spiritual things of God we must have the spirit within us and I like to think the Lord knew that Nicodemus was worth telling this to. 

See I wasn't asking questions. I was wallowing. But until I stopped talking, (which for me is the hardest part because I love to talk), was when the Lord began speaking to me about these things. And just like Nicodemus and Jesus interaction was alone and in the secret, so was this. 

'Shelby, if you ask, I will answer.'   

I began asking the Lord like Nicodemus who HE was and what HE thought of me, and you know what? He answered. 

I entered into this period (and I think am still in it) of intimacy with the Lord that would never have happened had I not been to the point of despondent loneliness and hurt that I was in. 

His comfort and presence became an almost completely tangible feeling and I began to enjoy the times that I found myself alone in my apartment because those were the times that I could most easily enter into the Secret Place and be in fellowship with the God that will never leave me. Ever.  

*big sigh of contentment.*

There are things about me that have not changed. I still am as energized by people as ever. And there are spots I find myself in every so often of just plain old being bored and alone. However, I think sometimes we put limitations on ourselves (I could never do that, I will never be that etc) that stunt the Lord's work in us and when we find ourselves in pain and trial is when the Lord is taking matters into his own hands and pruning us so we may be the fuller, richer, and shaped people he intended us to be.  

The Lord stretched my limits by making this extreme extrovert be alone, live with an introvert, be in desk job alone, and come home alone. 

But it was through that isolation that I grew most with the Lord. It was through that loneliness, that nagging silence that I was able to hear what He thought of me rather than what people thought of me. And what was most rewarding about my extreme solitude was being able to unlock the secrets of Gods character. The 'spiritual things of God' like what Nicodemus was looking for but needed to be born again to know. 

Yes it is true I still get lonely, but instead of frantically reaching for flawed humans companionship, I try and turn first to my greatest Friend, Counselor, and Father. It has made all the difference. 

Love, your still *inhale* extrovert, Shelby

                                                                                                                                                                                          

10 Year Lesson

I was writing in my journal this morning and I wrote down the date, December 21st. I paused for a moment remembering this date and that ten years ago today my dad was lying on the bathroom floor, gray and sallow, and (unbeknownst to us), having a heart attack. I remember bringing him a cup of water out of a plastic flowered cup as he was pressing his clammy face to the cool hard tile. Our family was going over to my grandmothers and my mother, flustered with four whiney children was upset at my father for leaving her with just the children during this holiday outing. Little did we know however that by the time we would get back, my dad would not have gotten better. His eyes were sunken in and his color was an ashy hue. A doctor call, and short drive to the hospital later my dad was admitted to the hospital with chest pains and within just a few hours after some tests and a nitroglycerin patch the doctors told my mom that my father was having a heart attack and was going to need a triple bypass surgery.

2 days later my father had the surgery.

He was in ICU on Christmas Eve.

And in recovery on Christmas Day.

I remember through this span of surgery and recovery we were shown an endless amount of love and care from others. People visiting with us, praying with us, feeding us and trying to entertain us. Although I was a child, I had a much greater idea of what was going on. My 3rd grade heart was burdened and somber with the thought of what could happen to my father. The head of the household. The bear in our family den. My daddy.

Our foundations as a family were being shaken and all I remember I could do was turn to books to read. I retreated into the pages of the novels family and friends had bought for me. I read to a reclusive state. I detached. I see now that as a child, I didn't quite understand how to cast your burdens, so I bottled them up.

Eventually things got better. We opened our Christmas presents in the hospital room and the kindness and gentleness of the nurses and doctors on that floor resonated with me as a child and still resonates with me today.

I suppose this day has reminded me of how much things have changed, how much the Lord has brought me through and how he has always always had his hand on me. Being in college now, I marvel at all that has happened in the last 10 years.

Another near death experience of my father.
Lost jobs. Money troubles.
Middle School. High School.
New Friends. Lost friends.
World Travels.
New experiences.
Car wrecks.
A rebellious streak.
Heartbreak.
Disappointments.
Moving. Moving again.
And College.

I vaguely remember this time 10 years ago thinking about what life would be like when I was in 'college'. Of course it's very different now than what I had imagined, but I wouldn't have changed anything about the last 10 years.

In the heartbreak and disappointments, the Lord has drawn me closer. In my rebellion hes broken me, and humbled me. In my new experiences and travels he's given me lifelong companions and friendships.

I believe it was that day 10 years ago that the Lord started to shape me. It was that day that the Lord started to reveal himself to me. Reveal his true character. He was patient with me. Patient with my hard and scared 9 year old heart. Patient through my rebellion. Patient through my hurt. He was so patient to wait for me. He was always near, always present, always waiting and never letting me stray too far.

 I still feel like my 9 year old self sometimes. With a scared and heavy heart, I want to close up and detach, but it's taken me 10 years to find my true peace and rest within the Lord.

During the holidays, people always want to talk about what we are grateful for. Grateful for family. For friends. Grateful for the gifts we get. But truly, what I am most grateful for is the Lord.

He has been so faithful to me. So good to my family. He has brought me out of a place of darkness and crowned me with joy.

Love, your ashes that have been turned into beauty, Shelby