Tuesday, December 29, 2015

My Texas--When You Wonder How to Survive a Natural Disaster


How do you survive a disaster? I don't know. 

I had a completely different post ready for this week, but a tornado swirled through our Dallas area, leaving devastation in its wake. It traveled our I-30, turning vehicles upside down. Bodies strewn. My tires touch that I-30 weekly.

The warm weather we were experiencing has turned to rain and chilled air. 

And my heart is shivering from unbelief and fear and concern. 

I'm thankful to be safe. 

I was near the area when the sirens began blaring ... driving home with my girls from a Christmas family gathering. My hands shook, my body trembled. Lightning lit the sky, one after another. No rain. When the sky brightened, the girls looked for tornadoes, as I drove.

But tornado warnings are a common, so common, occurrence here in Texas. You mentally blow it off for the most parttime after time, hiding out in the bathroom, and nothing happensuntil something like this happens. 

I have a dear friend who survived the major tornado in Wichita Falls, Texas, over 25 years ago ... as a child ... and you can believe she takes warnings seriously. When your entire house is missing except for the four walls of the tiny closet you and your three family members are standing in ... you take it seriously. 

I just learned that our pediatrician's office in Rowlett, Texas, was destroyed. 




Our dentist is there. Our daughter volunteers at the hospital there each summer. I have two cousins that work there at the cancer center. It's real.

We have dear friends we haven't heard from. I've heard their neighborhood was damaged. I pray they didn't lose their home. I pray they weren't hurt. But they weren't at church today. Maybe they are out of town. I'm trying to find out.
**update ... they are fine. Their home was damaged but not destroyed. However, the homes one street over were demolished.

Since my early 20s, I've witnessed an airplane crashB-52 on the air base, preparing for an air show. I was inches from being at a base hospital that was terrorized by a gunman, this is the hospital where we had doctor appointments, picked up our prescriptions, etc. The gunman killed and injured so many. Bloodied the walls. So a tornado ... why should it surprise me? But like all else, it's always something that happens in other states, other cities. But wow ... this hits close to home. I was little more than a mile away from the destruction, as a crow flies, that evening. Traveling the same direction for a time, a lake separating us.

Destruction abounds.

What do you do in the aftermath? This is the best my heart's got.

CRY

The only thing that comes to mind is an event that took place Christmas Eve. My daughter came to me in tears, holding a cherished childhood book called You and Me, Little Bear.

She was clearly hurting.

I said, "What's wrong?"




CAST YOUR CARES 

She melted into my arms and sobbed, "This is my last Christmas as a teenager."

Tears pooled in my eyes. She's afraid. Change is coming, change has come, good or bad, and there is nothing any of us can do about it. We can't reverse the clock. We can't grasp hold of the past. We are helpless. 

She handed me a letter. I opened it and read these beautiful words:

"This has been a great year. I'm almost 18, getting ready for college, but these times, I'm always going to remember. I love you and thank you for picking me, for raising me a Godly girl. My last Christmas as a teenager. But no matter how old I get, I will always come home. I need my momma. I love you."

CURL INTO THE ARMS THAT LOVE YOU


I asked her if I could read her bitty baby book to her, the one she held, like when she was little. She nodded. 




We sat on my bed, legs out straight, and I wrapped her in my arms. I read what I wrote to her so many years ago:




She smiled and said, "You were a writer even then."

We giggled. More tears. I read. We looked for the hidden crickets amongst the sweet pages like we always did way back when. I closed the page and said, "You will always be my baby. Wherever I am, you will always have a home. And nothing will change until you are ready for it to."

So ... with all that said ... I ask you to pray for Texas. Change and heartache come ... that's a real and unavoidable part of life. But there is relief in sharing the pain. Let yourself cry. Cast your cares on the God who loves you and on family and friends who love you. Focus on what is salvageable. Curl up in the heavenly and earthly arms that ease around your shoulders. Go through the motions, but still your heart until you are ready to take on the change.

I honestly don't know. But this I know

"Love covers over all wrongs." Proverbs 10:12





Monday, December 21, 2015

A Very, Very Merry Christmas Vlog From Me to You!


Thank you for always stopping by. 
I am so blessed by you, to know you, to hear from you. 
Thank you for all of your selves that you weekly give to me.
Every moment that I've thought to myself, Shelli, what are you doing? 
You answer my question by helping push me to keep going, dig deeper, and be better.
You are dear to my heart ... don't ever doubt it.
I'm excited and hopeful to share 2016 with you.
And if you have about 4 minutes to spare, I'd like to talk to you from Texas ... about what to scrape your life on ... how not to scrape make-up on your shirt ... how to properly remove a shirt ... well, y'all know me. 
Silly things always happen to me.
But I love laughter, joy, reasons to smile.
Listen for my sheep in the background.
And I'm sorry I'm not better at this video-recording vlog thing.
And Jesus ... the reason for every breath we take ... glory to God on the highest.
Love,
Shelli



From my home to yours ...



 Come inside ...
This writing inspiration might look familiar to some of you.

Our tree ... see the cats underneath?



Me and my girls


Monday, December 14, 2015

Finding Treasures at Cracker Barrel


The Cracker Barrel chairs out front rock and sway. We slip inside, and I head straight to the bathroom. That's a joke in my house because I can't go from Point A to Point B without needing to find a restroom. 

"You can go get a table. I'll find y'all," I say.  

I pass this sweet elderly man waiting by the restroom door. He's propped his elbows up on the counter. He looks so out of place, yet so comfortable. Peaceful. Purposeful. Maybe he's waiting for his wife. I smile. He smiles. I feel drawn to him.

We eat dinner. I'm so routine. Chicken and dumplings for me ... light on the chicken. The dumplings are my favorite part. Why waste valuable, limited space on your least favorite part? 

We make our way to the exit with these treasures tucked away in a brown paper sack. All three of us girls have one item each. 

Can you guess which treasure is mine?




Plus two Andes thin chocolate mints each ... the kind in the green package. My sweet proof is missing.

We push through the door, and there is that sweet man sitting in a rocking chair out front. I smile.

"Bye," I say.

"Don't forget to write," he replies, with a smile.

I laugh myself hysterically all the way to the car. His personality reminds me of my grandfather. It took maximum restraint not to run up and hug him. Walking the length of that front porch, I have to repeat his comment to the girls and explain a little, and then they laugh themselves hysterically, too.

"Don't forget to write." The treasured meaning knocks me right upside the head, wraps around my shoulders like a scarf, and pulls me in for a tender kiss.

Yes, Lord, I'm listening. I won't forget to write. I'll write. I will. 

When discouraged, O Soul Within, the Lord knows and sees. And He speaks through the least likely people, who end up being the most likely people. It really all makes sense.

What if that sweet man were waiting for me? All along. What if he was an angel? What if?

And I'm reminded of a journal that was given to me recently, at a lady's retreat I spoke at. I didn't have time to make one like everyone else because I spent time in prayer and preparing. But I shared about how special journaling had been in my life. And before I left, the ladies gave me my very own. It's so cute, y'all. It even has a tiny journal pocketed on the inside.






And I know the Lord is speaking straight to my soul. Oh, the sweetness that waits for me. 

Me.

Don't forget me, He breathes into my heart. Time is valuable and limited. I'm the only one who makes sense.

Write your novel story for me, to me, share with me. 


Today.


Share your life with me. Share your days and nights with me. Push through the doors to see me. Listen for me. Let me be your routine. 


Select me. Seek me with all your heart. Let me be your favorite partyour treasure.


I am so un-fit for The King, but He pursues me anyway, like I'm the greatest gift in the world. It's humbling ...


Our treasures from Cracker Barrel. Did you guess correctly?!


Merry Christmas!

Have you ever wondered if you'd just entertained an angel? Or perhaps wondered if an angel had just entertained you? Has God ever used someone interesting, least expected, to speak to your heart? I'd love to hear your story. 

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

More of the Story--Cleaning out the Closet


Just so you know, this may very well be one of my life's most embarrassing moments ... but some things, you just have to own ... ACB it ... admit, confess, and believe God will use it. 

"My first job, at only 15, entailed working at a five-and-dime. My tiny paycheck came by way of cash and loose change in a brown paper sack.

Christmas Eve had passed, and my boss divided the leftover Christmas candy that had never sold between us 5 employees. I was thrilled—kids and candy.

After work, I walked into my home with my bag of candy..."


Please join me for more of the story at WMU ... 




Tuesday, December 1, 2015

When Christmas Ornaments Become Holiday Baubles


The doors swing open wide, and I head into the post office, with the cool breeze trailing, to mail off my latest article. With no waiting line, it's going to be a good day. Yes! I just feel it.

"Do you need stamps today?" the lady asks.


Do I need...? "Yes, I do."


"What kind?" She displays several ... gingerbread houses, ornaments.


"I'll take the Christmas ornaments," I cheerily say, with a smile. They're cute
red, green, and blue dangly things. And with all the Hallmark Christmas love movies my daughter's been recording and forcing upon me, Christmas is definitely in the air surrounding my merry heart.




The lady corrects me. "They're Holiday Baubles," she sternly says, without a smile.

I'm not quick on my toes. And suddenly I'm reduced to wondering if I've been calling them the wrong name all along. Like I've done something wrong. I walk out, my soul deflated. Confused.

The more I think about it, sitting in the car and gripping the steering wheel till my knuckles whiten, the more saddened and confused I feel. The bitter mixture stirs and stirs in my heart and gut, pleading for Rolaids. Some type of relief. Some type of salvation.


I look closer ...





When I arrive home, I look up the word "bauble" in the dictionary. I'm 40+ years old, and I'm not sure I've ever heard that word before. Okay, so maybe I'm not as worldly as others. But I think I know what a Christmas ornament looks like.

"Bauble" is actually a Middle English word, from Old French. Even The Free Dictionary on-line gets it right by stating this:



1. showy toy or trinket of little value; trifle
2. small, usually spherical ornament made of coloured or decorated material which is hung from the branches of a Christmas tree. Usual US name: Christmas ornament
3. (Historical Terms) (formerly) a mock staff of office carried by a court jester

Most might say not to make a big deal about it. It's just stamps. Lady, it's just stamps. Come on. Get Real.

And nothing is wrong with the word "holiday" or "bauble" ... 

But I've been corrected. That's the heart of the issue. 

You won't say Christmas, you'll say holiday.

And it hurt my heart. Her words, attitude, hurt my heart. Yeah, O Soul Within, it hurts, and the pain is real. It's one thing to be imposed upon ... sanctions imposed on our hearts ... we tend to expect impositions these days ...

Don't you love Jesus. Don't you pray. Don't you trust Him. Don't you tell anyone if you do. And don't you share Him. Don't ask, don't tell policy. And if you're asked, you better deny ... if you want to live.

But in the Bible Belt? It hurts to see the belt loosening. And it appears to have definitely been loosened a notch or two. And still the weight above that belt is lopping over onto people, individuals, hearts ...

The very omission reduces Christmas to a mere trinket of little value; trifle. It mocks everything God did for usthe miraculous Luke 2 wonder of the world, Jesus, the Son, virgin birth, becoming the God-man. It says that Christsurrendering everything to come to this earth, sacrificing more than we'll ever know, to exchange Heaven for us, to be born in a lowly manger, to live for us, to fight for us, to die for us ... for our sinmeans nothing. The miracle is trifle. 


It smugly yet naively says, "What miracle?"


The very act says that "Christmas" is not worth mentioning


A first class love means nothing.




The miracle of Christmas reduces from a God-man Day to a mere man-made day. 


With the chaos and violencehardships, needthat woefully weave the frayed fragments of our world, when empty eyes and empty hearts and empty stomachs are desperate for salvation, reaching out with empty hands ... there has never been more a time to keep Christ in Christmas. To keep Christmas in Christmas. To look for the miracles. 


O Soul Within, some things are black and white. What will you allow to forever stick on your heart's wall? Be careful what you let stick on your heart's wall.





O Soul Within, you may feel powerless. But remember God's power and what you can do 

~Remember to pray.

~Remember what you really needJesus' first class love. Forever.

~Remember Christ in Christmas, keep Him there, let truth nestle into your heart forever and ever. 


~Remember to impart Him to your children.

~Remember that you have it right. Don't get used to the wrong. Getting used to the wrong doesn't make it right.  


~And as long as you have a voice, O Soul Within, remember to say, with every Christ-given privilege and right ...

Merry Christmas.




This video has ministered to my heart all week long ... I hope it ministers to you, as well ...




*How do you safeguard your heart from subtle changes and stealth arrows continually thrown? Can you add to the list? What do you say? What do you remind your self?