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

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

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

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

(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." :)