Saturday, December 21, 2013
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
Friday, November 1, 2013
Seasons of 'New'ness' with special excerpt from Chuckie Finster
My hair has gotten longer.
I noticed it in the shower the other day when I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair and letting the hot water run the suds out, I felt my hair had hit a new length down my back. I remember cutting it was only a few days after I got back from India. I had grown my hair for a really long time, like over a year, to be the length that it was, refusing to even trim the dead, fried, ends that were what was left of my bleach blonde hair I had done a few years earlier. I was really hesitant to cut it, and sort of on a whim my mom and I had gone into a salon that 'owed her a favor', as seedy as that sounds and he cut it, a lot shorter than I had hoped, but I ended up really liking it.
Not to get super corny or anything, but I think looking back my hair had represented that past year. That past year was full of hardships, and disappointments, and sin, and temptation, and just a lot of ugly things-the things that are the dead, fried, split ends of our life. Those dead ends are also the ones we hold on to, just as I had refused to cut them, believing that they were helping me or that they looked better, they were actually making my hair look worse and preventing it from being totally healthy. Without even knowing it, I think that cutting my hair was representative of leaving the old things in the past and God giving me a new life, a new spirit, a new hair-do.
I guess when I was in the shower, it caught me off guard to the length in which my hair had grown because it seemed like just yesterday I was in that salon. It kind of baffled me as to how time fast time flies, and how much things can change, literally from day to day.
In my own life, God has physically been taking me through a season of new-ness, if you will.
It seems like every aspect of my life has become changed.
I live in a new place, and am experiencing a whole different lifestyle not only one that's different from El Paso, but one that is wholly independent. I'm paying bills (that are addressed in my name), making dinner, cleaning the house, and I even make my bed every morning. I'm entering into this fresh experience of the REALITIES of adulthood that I'd never fully felt the extent of before.
There's also this new change God's doing in my heart. I have found, that sometimes, the things we say or the preconceived ideas we have about our life are not always true. I guess mostly what I'm specifically referring to is our plans for our life. I had been making the mistake of dreaming up my life and asking God to put his stamp of approval on it, rather than asking God initially what his plan was for my life. (Seems simple enough right?) But for some reason, we just can't do it, we go and go and go sometimes for years without inputting God into any of our decisions and then we hit a wall, fail miserably and ask God where he was and he still, picks us up, dusts us off and tells us that he's been there the whole time. God is SO good to us. He's been so good to me, and so patient to me in this season of my life. He's been gently correcting me on the things that I had so obstinately labeled about who I was and what my life was going to be. He's sort of taking me through a season of rebuilding. My world that I had built up for what my life was going to be was wrecked, and the Lord has sort of said to me, "Let ME tell you who you are. Let ME tell you how I see you." And you know what? It's been refreshing. To have the only confidence and security you have come from the Lord.
I was reading this morning in the November 1st devotional for My Utmost for his Highest, (Oswald Chambers is the bombdotcom y'all) and a part of what he said really spoke to me:
The first thing God does is get us grounded on strong reality and truth. He does this until our cares for ourselves individually have been brought into submission to His way for the purpose of His redemption. Why shouldn’t we experience heartbreak? Through those doorways God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son.
Man, God knew what he was doing when he sent Jesus. He knew we would fail as humans, and he even knew that we would question the Gospel, and in this context he knew life would get hard for us stubborn little urchins. And what my man Oswald is saying here is that our heartbreak, our hurts, are what brings us closer to God. THIS is why the Good Book says to rejoice in your hardships, because hardships bring us to the point that we have no choice but to sit down at God's door like limp rags and say, "I can't do this on my own anymore. Life is just too hard." And THEN you know what God does at that point in our lives, he takes us and gives us the truth and strength of the Gospel and the truth about ourselves.
My world was getting hard this past year, and I was broken and broken and broken again. My preconceived pillars about my life and what my life would be, the things that I was putting between me and God were shattered and I became a limp rag, and I came to God's door and he picked me up like a little lamb that got left out of the barn in the rain, and he took me and he's kept me close to him. Because of my hardships, God is near to me now, and he's given me a new spirit. He's rebuilding me to be something that was totally different than what I had ever imagined for my life, but I love it. I love it because it's pure and right and from the Lord.
My new spirit is popping up like little flowers all over my life. I'm learning to listen to people more and enjoy being an observer rather than the talker. I'm learning to be sensitive to what other people want and sometimes doing what they want without even letting them know that's not what I 'wanted' to do. I'm learning to see people in a new light, strangers on the street and bus, I'm learning to see them how God sees them without making harsh judgements in my head. Another new blessing of change that may seem silly but I believe was a prompting from the Lord is my newfound love of black coffee. I used to be scared of it, but now I wouldn't have it any other way, and it has truly gotten me through some hard times, and lifted my spirits this semester.
Chuckie Finster has some good insight below:
You know, life IS hard. It's inevitable. It's full of disappointments, and tragedy, and stresses, and pain but God is near through it all. He's sovereign. And he wants use to use those hardships to be in closer fellowship with the Son.
Lately I've learned to just have to take a big breath and say "Lord, won't you come and just be with me today?" and that has made all the difference.
So I guess, what I'm trying to say is invite the Lord into your daily life. He just wants to be close to you. He wants to be a part of our decisions. A part of our conversations. A part of our lives.
It will make all the difference.
Love, Your so fresh and so clean clean (spirit)/Oswald Chambers fan, Shelby
I noticed it in the shower the other day when I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair and letting the hot water run the suds out, I felt my hair had hit a new length down my back. I remember cutting it was only a few days after I got back from India. I had grown my hair for a really long time, like over a year, to be the length that it was, refusing to even trim the dead, fried, ends that were what was left of my bleach blonde hair I had done a few years earlier. I was really hesitant to cut it, and sort of on a whim my mom and I had gone into a salon that 'owed her a favor', as seedy as that sounds and he cut it, a lot shorter than I had hoped, but I ended up really liking it.
Not to get super corny or anything, but I think looking back my hair had represented that past year. That past year was full of hardships, and disappointments, and sin, and temptation, and just a lot of ugly things-the things that are the dead, fried, split ends of our life. Those dead ends are also the ones we hold on to, just as I had refused to cut them, believing that they were helping me or that they looked better, they were actually making my hair look worse and preventing it from being totally healthy. Without even knowing it, I think that cutting my hair was representative of leaving the old things in the past and God giving me a new life, a new spirit, a new hair-do.
I guess when I was in the shower, it caught me off guard to the length in which my hair had grown because it seemed like just yesterday I was in that salon. It kind of baffled me as to how time fast time flies, and how much things can change, literally from day to day.
In my own life, God has physically been taking me through a season of new-ness, if you will.
It seems like every aspect of my life has become changed.
I live in a new place, and am experiencing a whole different lifestyle not only one that's different from El Paso, but one that is wholly independent. I'm paying bills (that are addressed in my name), making dinner, cleaning the house, and I even make my bed every morning. I'm entering into this fresh experience of the REALITIES of adulthood that I'd never fully felt the extent of before.
There's also this new change God's doing in my heart. I have found, that sometimes, the things we say or the preconceived ideas we have about our life are not always true. I guess mostly what I'm specifically referring to is our plans for our life. I had been making the mistake of dreaming up my life and asking God to put his stamp of approval on it, rather than asking God initially what his plan was for my life. (Seems simple enough right?) But for some reason, we just can't do it, we go and go and go sometimes for years without inputting God into any of our decisions and then we hit a wall, fail miserably and ask God where he was and he still, picks us up, dusts us off and tells us that he's been there the whole time. God is SO good to us. He's been so good to me, and so patient to me in this season of my life. He's been gently correcting me on the things that I had so obstinately labeled about who I was and what my life was going to be. He's sort of taking me through a season of rebuilding. My world that I had built up for what my life was going to be was wrecked, and the Lord has sort of said to me, "Let ME tell you who you are. Let ME tell you how I see you." And you know what? It's been refreshing. To have the only confidence and security you have come from the Lord.
I was reading this morning in the November 1st devotional for My Utmost for his Highest, (Oswald Chambers is the bombdotcom y'all) and a part of what he said really spoke to me:
The first thing God does is get us grounded on strong reality and truth. He does this until our cares for ourselves individually have been brought into submission to His way for the purpose of His redemption. Why shouldn’t we experience heartbreak? Through those doorways God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son.
Man, God knew what he was doing when he sent Jesus. He knew we would fail as humans, and he even knew that we would question the Gospel, and in this context he knew life would get hard for us stubborn little urchins. And what my man Oswald is saying here is that our heartbreak, our hurts, are what brings us closer to God. THIS is why the Good Book says to rejoice in your hardships, because hardships bring us to the point that we have no choice but to sit down at God's door like limp rags and say, "I can't do this on my own anymore. Life is just too hard." And THEN you know what God does at that point in our lives, he takes us and gives us the truth and strength of the Gospel and the truth about ourselves.
My world was getting hard this past year, and I was broken and broken and broken again. My preconceived pillars about my life and what my life would be, the things that I was putting between me and God were shattered and I became a limp rag, and I came to God's door and he picked me up like a little lamb that got left out of the barn in the rain, and he took me and he's kept me close to him. Because of my hardships, God is near to me now, and he's given me a new spirit. He's rebuilding me to be something that was totally different than what I had ever imagined for my life, but I love it. I love it because it's pure and right and from the Lord.
My new spirit is popping up like little flowers all over my life. I'm learning to listen to people more and enjoy being an observer rather than the talker. I'm learning to be sensitive to what other people want and sometimes doing what they want without even letting them know that's not what I 'wanted' to do. I'm learning to see people in a new light, strangers on the street and bus, I'm learning to see them how God sees them without making harsh judgements in my head. Another new blessing of change that may seem silly but I believe was a prompting from the Lord is my newfound love of black coffee. I used to be scared of it, but now I wouldn't have it any other way, and it has truly gotten me through some hard times, and lifted my spirits this semester.
Chuckie Finster has some good insight below:
You know, life IS hard. It's inevitable. It's full of disappointments, and tragedy, and stresses, and pain but God is near through it all. He's sovereign. And he wants use to use those hardships to be in closer fellowship with the Son.
Lately I've learned to just have to take a big breath and say "Lord, won't you come and just be with me today?" and that has made all the difference.
So I guess, what I'm trying to say is invite the Lord into your daily life. He just wants to be close to you. He wants to be a part of our decisions. A part of our conversations. A part of our lives.
It will make all the difference.
Love, Your so fresh and so clean clean (spirit)/Oswald Chambers fan, Shelby
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Rain and Robert Frost
I knew this was coming.
I did. I knew that this change, this inevitable change of growing up and moving on would be here. But what I really did not expect is the change in my heart to appear with the physical changes of my surroundings.
There's something about the rain that brings out people's inner emotions, almost like its washing away the facade of emotions and ideas we cake over ourselves. As I write this, you can probably guess that it's raining outside, and I feel like I have to write out my heart for myself to even understand it.
Change is unsettling. Especially change within ourselves.
For me, the most unsettling change in myself is my loss of inspiration. These nights, these kind of late, quiet, (especially rainy) all to myself nights I used to relish because these were the nights that my creative wheel would spin and I was full of stories and characters, emotions and dreams. And now the inspiration seems like an old friend, or a fond memory. Someone who was in my life and we used to have really great times together, and even had a future planned together but we just kind of..drifted apart.
If I could write Inspiration a letter I would ask it to come visit, but, but, I feel like Inspiration's mad at me. That feeling that once ignited me, that feeling that was able to just feel emotion and write and create and dream up stories, is gone.
I suppose I feel like a young child who has just realized the puppet show they have been watching-that the puppets are just peoples hands of normal people moving inside of a cartoon made of cloth,and not the wonderful entertainment I once thought it was.
It's like the wander has gone out of my life.
The wander that I used to look upon people's lives and stories and the world around me is gone. It's been muddled with the reality of my future, and my career, and bills, and.. decisions...
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's motto is Ars Gratia Artis which roughly translates to Art for Art's Sake.
I used to...understand that. I used to love that motto because I understand that Art helps make life beautiful. Art helps us outwardly express and understand what is going on within our lives.
I was born feeling like an artist and I knew that simply because I knew that I understood what art meant to the world. I understood why we have so many versions of art and entertainment. Why art? It's to help us understand what we feel, or sometimes to help us feel things we didn't think we could feel. Art whether that be painting, sculpting, writing, acting, dancing or film, tells some sort of story that takes us out of our reality and into another.
Art shouldn't have to justify itself. But it does serve a purpose, but for those that are skeptical, we say
why not? Art for Art's Sake.
This summer I went to India. And I love India, from the bottom of my heart. I truly, truly do know that I want to live there and have a life there, and be a part of the surrogate Indian family I had the privilege of being a part of while I was there.
And while in India, I started to not think about being in Hollywood. (What I'm getting at people is the decision to give up a film career or not..) But I just felt so happy, so content to be in India. I loved where I was and who I was with and when I would think about starting a career to end up in Hollywood just seemed so fleeting. It still does, when I talk about it. To think about the shallowness and fleeting 'treasures' of the glamorous lifestyle Hollywood is associated with. While in India, I started to be okay with the idea of not being famous.
But I think what was happening is that India, is so extra sensory. It is constantly filled with smells, and colors, and sights, and sounds that you don't have time to be inspired because you're so consumed with this effervescent culture.
Yet, as I've been home I still think that the treasures of Hollywood are fleeting and shallow, but the feeling that I associated with being inspired, and making movies and telling stories, the feelings I associated with what would be my film career feel lost and... I miss them.
So basically I'm just conflicted. I know the emotions and the way I felt in India were real, I know that if I became a doctor and did medical missions that I would be happy once I'm back in India..
but at the same time, I don't know what to do with my old friend Inspiration..
That inspiration feeling is what drove my creativity, that inspiration feeling is what drove me to tell stories and to want to make movies and to be an artist for art's sake.
Why do I feel like I must choose one or the other? I cannot just ignore the aching right side of my brain and turn off my need to create and entertain the rest of my life, but at the same time my only future for those feelings had always been to end up in Hollywood and I don't know if that is a place that I could thrive spiritually and be 100% sure I was doing the work and living the life God wanted me to live.
I've been reading a lot of Robert Frost lately and I really love him a lot. He's one of few writers that makes me truly like poetry, and he's also a writer/poet that can from line to line transport you to wherever he wants to take you, put you directly in the setting and make you feel what he wants you to feel. So naturally, in my current pickle I relate to "The Road Not Taken" I see my two roads, and the yellow wood is clearly my future but unlike Mr. Frost I don't know which one to take. I wish to take the road less traveled but the road as to which is 'less traveled' is not so clear yet.
So for now, I take these things day by day, and see which emotions are fleeting and impulsive and which ones stay, because those are the ones that matter. But tonight, it's grieving. I miss my Inspiration, I miss my stories. I miss the way 'creating' a story felt.
I don't know if I will follow in Mr. Frost's path and take the road less traveled, to be honest I really just want to be on the path that God wants me to be on.
All I know is change is scary. Rain is comforting. And Writing is cathartic.
Til the next thunderstorm-when the rain can wash away and reveal more from my heart.
Your, 'one traveler', Shelby
I did. I knew that this change, this inevitable change of growing up and moving on would be here. But what I really did not expect is the change in my heart to appear with the physical changes of my surroundings.
There's something about the rain that brings out people's inner emotions, almost like its washing away the facade of emotions and ideas we cake over ourselves. As I write this, you can probably guess that it's raining outside, and I feel like I have to write out my heart for myself to even understand it.
Change is unsettling. Especially change within ourselves.
For me, the most unsettling change in myself is my loss of inspiration. These nights, these kind of late, quiet, (especially rainy) all to myself nights I used to relish because these were the nights that my creative wheel would spin and I was full of stories and characters, emotions and dreams. And now the inspiration seems like an old friend, or a fond memory. Someone who was in my life and we used to have really great times together, and even had a future planned together but we just kind of..drifted apart.
If I could write Inspiration a letter I would ask it to come visit, but, but, I feel like Inspiration's mad at me. That feeling that once ignited me, that feeling that was able to just feel emotion and write and create and dream up stories, is gone.
I suppose I feel like a young child who has just realized the puppet show they have been watching-that the puppets are just peoples hands of normal people moving inside of a cartoon made of cloth,and not the wonderful entertainment I once thought it was.
It's like the wander has gone out of my life.
The wander that I used to look upon people's lives and stories and the world around me is gone. It's been muddled with the reality of my future, and my career, and bills, and.. decisions...
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's motto is Ars Gratia Artis which roughly translates to Art for Art's Sake.
I used to...understand that. I used to love that motto because I understand that Art helps make life beautiful. Art helps us outwardly express and understand what is going on within our lives.
I was born feeling like an artist and I knew that simply because I knew that I understood what art meant to the world. I understood why we have so many versions of art and entertainment. Why art? It's to help us understand what we feel, or sometimes to help us feel things we didn't think we could feel. Art whether that be painting, sculpting, writing, acting, dancing or film, tells some sort of story that takes us out of our reality and into another.
Art shouldn't have to justify itself. But it does serve a purpose, but for those that are skeptical, we say
why not? Art for Art's Sake.
This summer I went to India. And I love India, from the bottom of my heart. I truly, truly do know that I want to live there and have a life there, and be a part of the surrogate Indian family I had the privilege of being a part of while I was there.
And while in India, I started to not think about being in Hollywood. (What I'm getting at people is the decision to give up a film career or not..) But I just felt so happy, so content to be in India. I loved where I was and who I was with and when I would think about starting a career to end up in Hollywood just seemed so fleeting. It still does, when I talk about it. To think about the shallowness and fleeting 'treasures' of the glamorous lifestyle Hollywood is associated with. While in India, I started to be okay with the idea of not being famous.
But I think what was happening is that India, is so extra sensory. It is constantly filled with smells, and colors, and sights, and sounds that you don't have time to be inspired because you're so consumed with this effervescent culture.
Yet, as I've been home I still think that the treasures of Hollywood are fleeting and shallow, but the feeling that I associated with being inspired, and making movies and telling stories, the feelings I associated with what would be my film career feel lost and... I miss them.
So basically I'm just conflicted. I know the emotions and the way I felt in India were real, I know that if I became a doctor and did medical missions that I would be happy once I'm back in India..
but at the same time, I don't know what to do with my old friend Inspiration..
That inspiration feeling is what drove my creativity, that inspiration feeling is what drove me to tell stories and to want to make movies and to be an artist for art's sake.
Why do I feel like I must choose one or the other? I cannot just ignore the aching right side of my brain and turn off my need to create and entertain the rest of my life, but at the same time my only future for those feelings had always been to end up in Hollywood and I don't know if that is a place that I could thrive spiritually and be 100% sure I was doing the work and living the life God wanted me to live.
I've been reading a lot of Robert Frost lately and I really love him a lot. He's one of few writers that makes me truly like poetry, and he's also a writer/poet that can from line to line transport you to wherever he wants to take you, put you directly in the setting and make you feel what he wants you to feel. So naturally, in my current pickle I relate to "The Road Not Taken" I see my two roads, and the yellow wood is clearly my future but unlike Mr. Frost I don't know which one to take. I wish to take the road less traveled but the road as to which is 'less traveled' is not so clear yet.
So for now, I take these things day by day, and see which emotions are fleeting and impulsive and which ones stay, because those are the ones that matter. But tonight, it's grieving. I miss my Inspiration, I miss my stories. I miss the way 'creating' a story felt.
I don't know if I will follow in Mr. Frost's path and take the road less traveled, to be honest I really just want to be on the path that God wants me to be on.
All I know is change is scary. Rain is comforting. And Writing is cathartic.
Til the next thunderstorm-when the rain can wash away and reveal more from my heart.
Your, 'one traveler', Shelby
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Morning Comes in Light
I find it ironic that I'm writing this late at night. But night time is when I find myself with most free expression so I just deal.
Anyways, what is ironic is that this blog is about morning. Sweet morning. I'm not always some chipper song bird in the morning, but I don't understand people who hate the morning. I don't understand how someone can hate something so beautiful.
Morning is beautiful.
Night time, I love night time, its the time of the mysterious, the time of the thinkers, and the time of the regretful. But the morning, I just cannot ignore it, oh the morning is just... beautiful.
Even the very idea of the morning is beautiful. God gave us light. He gave us the day time. The earth was completely dark but God gave us the day. He gave us the sun to warm our bodies, and light for us to see.
Isn't that amazing? As the saying goes that every day is a gift, truly, every day is a gift to us from God.
The concept of morning is what brings tears to the brim of my eyes. Every day I am amazed at God's omniscience in my life, in the world. God thought about every detail, and although it seems like such a broad concept, I believe he created the morning to correlate with what would one day be salvation.
The concept of morning is new-ness. Renewing. When the sun rises it is the blanket to put the night to rest and bring a new chance every day. Don't you see? Morning is the very essence of God's redemption. Night time often brings mistakes, the shadows of the dim moon are often filled with sins, with regrets, but morning is new. No day is the same as the day before. Every day is a new day. A fresh day that has never happened. Think about it, no date in history has ever or will ever be repeated.
When God gave us light, when God gave us time, when God gave us night and day, I believe he saw ahead in the future and saw our sins, he saw what had to happen, the redemption that was going to be needed, and I believe he gave us mornings as gentle reminders of his love and redemption.
Rainbows are relatively rare and coveted for the most beautiful and many people know that rainbows are a reminder from God about his love for us, but lately God has been showing me his consistent reminder of his love with mornings.
When I think about the morning my heart wells up... I mean when you really think about it..
Mornings stand for hope. New beginnings. Second chances.
Mornings stand for comfort. When nightmares terrorize our slumbers, the first sliver of morning light has relaxed us all. And we can finally sleep with the promise of day time coming. (At least that is how I have always been.)
Morning is fresh. Dew is on the grass and plants, and the sun is beginning to warm what the night made cold.
I have always felt like God loves mornings just as much as I do. Not that night time is the best, but often we are tired or upset, or processing our day. But mornings I have always felt like are special to the Lord. I imagine him sitting at the kitchen table, with the sun warming him, and just talking to me. You know? I know God is there any time, but in the mornings, in the quiet, in the still, in the freshness of the day is my favorite time to talk to God. And for me, the best time to listen as well. The world is silent but not eerie, and anticipation of the day is in the sunrise, and God, is there, in the sunrise, in the dew, in the morning coffee, waiting to sit and talk before any of the real troubles of the day start.
I once heard a speaker say that before he got up each morning. Before he got out of bed, as his mind was waking up he just rested with God. He said that although he was awake (technically) it was the most peaceful rest he had ever gotten. Before he even truly opens his eyes, he simply rested in God's presence and talked to him before his feet even hit the floor.
Isn't that lovely? To rest with God.
See that's what the morning is meant for. The morning is not meant for strife, but the morning is meant to rest, to prepare for the coming day and all the heaviness of the troubled world that the rest of the day will bring as the earth continues to turn into night.
Scarlett O'Hara truly did change my life with her philosophy on life-After all tomorrow IS another day.
See, God thought about mornings. He thought about the mistakes we would make. And he created mornings so we are reminded of another day, of our second chances that he gives us.
So savor that sunrise, rest in God's presence, take a breath and thank the Morning Star that he is forgiving and redeeming. Thank him for mornings, and for coffee and tea, and thank him for each day that he gives us to enjoy the beautiful gift of morning.
Love, your new found early bird, Shelby
Anyways, what is ironic is that this blog is about morning. Sweet morning. I'm not always some chipper song bird in the morning, but I don't understand people who hate the morning. I don't understand how someone can hate something so beautiful.
Morning is beautiful.
Night time, I love night time, its the time of the mysterious, the time of the thinkers, and the time of the regretful. But the morning, I just cannot ignore it, oh the morning is just... beautiful.
Even the very idea of the morning is beautiful. God gave us light. He gave us the day time. The earth was completely dark but God gave us the day. He gave us the sun to warm our bodies, and light for us to see.
Isn't that amazing? As the saying goes that every day is a gift, truly, every day is a gift to us from God.
The concept of morning is what brings tears to the brim of my eyes. Every day I am amazed at God's omniscience in my life, in the world. God thought about every detail, and although it seems like such a broad concept, I believe he created the morning to correlate with what would one day be salvation.
The concept of morning is new-ness. Renewing. When the sun rises it is the blanket to put the night to rest and bring a new chance every day. Don't you see? Morning is the very essence of God's redemption. Night time often brings mistakes, the shadows of the dim moon are often filled with sins, with regrets, but morning is new. No day is the same as the day before. Every day is a new day. A fresh day that has never happened. Think about it, no date in history has ever or will ever be repeated.
When God gave us light, when God gave us time, when God gave us night and day, I believe he saw ahead in the future and saw our sins, he saw what had to happen, the redemption that was going to be needed, and I believe he gave us mornings as gentle reminders of his love and redemption.
Rainbows are relatively rare and coveted for the most beautiful and many people know that rainbows are a reminder from God about his love for us, but lately God has been showing me his consistent reminder of his love with mornings.
When I think about the morning my heart wells up... I mean when you really think about it..
Mornings stand for hope. New beginnings. Second chances.
Mornings stand for comfort. When nightmares terrorize our slumbers, the first sliver of morning light has relaxed us all. And we can finally sleep with the promise of day time coming. (At least that is how I have always been.)
Morning is fresh. Dew is on the grass and plants, and the sun is beginning to warm what the night made cold.
I have always felt like God loves mornings just as much as I do. Not that night time is the best, but often we are tired or upset, or processing our day. But mornings I have always felt like are special to the Lord. I imagine him sitting at the kitchen table, with the sun warming him, and just talking to me. You know? I know God is there any time, but in the mornings, in the quiet, in the still, in the freshness of the day is my favorite time to talk to God. And for me, the best time to listen as well. The world is silent but not eerie, and anticipation of the day is in the sunrise, and God, is there, in the sunrise, in the dew, in the morning coffee, waiting to sit and talk before any of the real troubles of the day start.
I once heard a speaker say that before he got up each morning. Before he got out of bed, as his mind was waking up he just rested with God. He said that although he was awake (technically) it was the most peaceful rest he had ever gotten. Before he even truly opens his eyes, he simply rested in God's presence and talked to him before his feet even hit the floor.
Isn't that lovely? To rest with God.
See that's what the morning is meant for. The morning is not meant for strife, but the morning is meant to rest, to prepare for the coming day and all the heaviness of the troubled world that the rest of the day will bring as the earth continues to turn into night.
Scarlett O'Hara truly did change my life with her philosophy on life-After all tomorrow IS another day.
See, God thought about mornings. He thought about the mistakes we would make. And he created mornings so we are reminded of another day, of our second chances that he gives us.
So savor that sunrise, rest in God's presence, take a breath and thank the Morning Star that he is forgiving and redeeming. Thank him for mornings, and for coffee and tea, and thank him for each day that he gives us to enjoy the beautiful gift of morning.
Love, your new found early bird, Shelby
(El Paso Sunrise, I felt it appropriate to put a sunrise I actually am familiar with instead of some cheesy one.)
(OK..I know ...it's still cheesy but in the words of Forrest Gump about desert sunrises:
"I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and earth began." :)
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