I Ruined Everything ... Or Did I?

In the middle of the night, my youngest taps me lightly on the arm. "Mama, Karalee's sick." Oh, no. They won't be able to go to church camp. They wanted to go so badly. I never should have let her go into Wal-Mart. She must have picked up a germ. I've ruined everything.

I rush to the girls' bathroom to greet Karalee resting on the floor. "I've been sick once, Mom. I think I made myself sick." Yes, she has a nervous stomach like me.

She's feeling a bit better. No fever. I place her on a living room couch, opposite me, and I cover her and give her the pink bowl ... just in case. I start praying. Not only will the girls miss camp, but my husband and I will never make our two-day Disney vacation. We didn't purchase insurance. We'll lose everything. I've ruined everything.

We wake the next morning. My daughter feels so much better and had never became sick again.

"Mom, it was just my nerves. And Mom, I prayed, and I went through all the Bible stories that I know while trying to fall asleep, stopping and falling asleep at Jesus telling the little children to come to Him."

I didn't ruin everything.

We place the girls on the bus to Colorado.

We start packing for Disney. We board the plane to Florida. I've been fighting a headache with Excedrin for a few days. My face feels flushed the whole flight there, and I'm feeling like I can't get enough cool air.

Our first day in the park, I'm still fighting a headache with Excedrin--just trying to cope. It's hot out, but we manage fairly well, moving from one air conditioned attraction to another. At 5pm, a huge thunderstorm rolls in, and we make our way back to the resort. After supper, I stay in bed with my head booming through the thunderstorm.

I awake the next morning feeling slight head pain but feeling very weak. We eat breakfast, arrive at Epcot. I'm hiding my condition fairly well, hoping to overcome--not wanting to ruin everything. While waiting for the park to open amongst the thousands of surrounding feet, I start feeling like I'd better sit down ... on the ground. What choice did I have? Sit or fall. The park opens ... wobbly standing, I get my husband's attention--I tug at his arm ... "I can't ... I'm not feeling good ... I need to sit down again." My heart breaks as I watch all those feet pass me by, beating us to the rides. I've ruined everything.

Three precious women who work for Epcot surround me. "Are you okay?"

I tell them how I'm feeling. "You're dehydrated," they say. A wheelchair pulls up. "This little girl wants you to know she's praying for you. Isn't that sweet." I turn around to see a precious child and her mother standing there, with looks of concern, assuring me they are praying. I thank them. My heart is overwhelmed.

"God bless you," I say. We serve a good Father ... our amazing God. Thank you, Father. You never abandon me.

I'm wheeled to the bathroom ... the three women never leave my side. I walk into the bathroom ... and instantly have to lie down on the floor. My husband expresses his concern about me lying on the very public bathroom floor and its condition.

"If I stand, I'll hit the floor," I say. It seems clean. Who cares? Lord, let me survive.

"The bathroom floor was cleaned very good last night," the Epcot lady says. She takes my feet and elevates them. "The color is coming back into your face." One lady gets me a sugary drink. Another lady takes my husband out in the hallway and talks his head off, trying to distract him. But after an hour has passed, I'm still not able. "Do you need the nurse?" one lady asks.

"I need the nurse," I say in defeat.

Miserable at Epcot

At the nurses' station, the nurse feels with the combination of the heat and the effects of caffeinated Excedrin that I was quickly dehydrating. She says she will take my blood pressure. "It'll probably be very low," she says. "Dehydration causes low pressure." I nod in agreement. She takes it. "It's very high," she says with a look of dismay. "Since you are thin, and fairly young, and high blood pressure isn't your normal, I think you need to go to the hospital." Oh, I've ruined everything.

A young Nicolas Cage inserts my IV into my left arm throughout the bumpy ambulance ride. "You're using the best arm. My right arm is near impossible to use when I'm dehydrated. And you look just like Nicolas Cage." I couldn't resist.

"Everyone tells me that," he laughs. I try to laugh. I've ruined everything. "Don't worry. I'll get your IV on the first try." And thankfully, he painfully does.

The doctor greets me. "You're blood pressure is very high. No rides at the park for you. See your doctor immediately when you get home and be monitoring your blood pressure." I've ruined everything. I'm hydrated now, but I didn't even receive anything for my high blood pressure--the very reason I came to the ER. All afternoon in the ER, and no solution for my problem. I've ruined everything.

"My flight home is in the morning. Can I fly home?" I ask.

"Yes, you can fly home," the doctor says with a grin.

I arrive home, see my doctor, and she puts me on blood pressure medication. That's the second time in just a little over a year where I feel the Lord has used dehydration to alert me to a greater problem within my body ... a little over a year ago, dehydration sent me into the hospital where I discovered my appendix was about to rupture. If it weren't for dehydration, I would have been sent back home to face disaster. And now ... dehydration alerted me to high blood pressure. My top number's been up to 184, while my bottom number's been up to 106. Without dehydration, I would have been spinning wildly on Epcot's Mission Space ride--a ride that someone has no business on with high blood pressure.

The girls are due to arrive home from camp that afternoon, and I'm still fighting a terrible headache. I take another dose of Excedrin and find relief. I make it to that bus to greet and welcome home the girls. Thank you, Father.

"We had the best time, Mom." They chat all the way home, never ceasing. Karalee said, "Mom, they played the best song at worship. It made me cry. I felt so close to God."

"What's the song called?" I ask.

"Good, Good Father," she says.

I smile.

I didn't ruin everything.

**I've been on high blood pressure medication for a week now. It's up and down, no stability yet. I've continued to fight headaches. My doctor gave me a better medication for headaches that is working, and it doesn't contain caffeine (which works against high blood pressure). I'm refraining from caffeine. But things are improving. Lower pressure, fewer headaches. But I ask for your prayers. I want off this medication, if possible. And this is the first day in over a week that I've awaken without a headache--I'm praising our good, good Father for that.

Why Do I Love You?

Have you ever wondered why you love? Why you love another?

I loved my grandmother dearly. But why?

She loved me first.
She spent time with me.
I belonged to her, and she claimed me. 
She told me bedtime stories.
She rubbed my feet till I fell asleep.
I always had an open invitation to her home. I knew it. She made sure I knew it.
I'd always be her baby, no matter how big I got. She told me so.
She wanted to know my favorite foods so she could make them for me.
She'd sacrifice for me without grudge (that last piece of cherry cheesecake).
She'd forgive me for anything.

Oh, as kids, my sister and I played to our hearts' content at my grandparents' country place outside of Atlanta, Texas. We played in the sand. There was a huge sand pile by her house. We'd spend hours there. Then, we'd wander barefoot down her sandy driveway and spend a few more hours, in the shade of the hovering pine trees that lined her drive. We'd write in the sand, draw, play games in it, build castles, cover our feet in it, dig our toes through it. It was so cool, even in extreme heat. We'd find broken rocks in the sand that looked like puzzles and we'd admire them, admire how they fit together, and we'd  piece them back together. My grandmother watched us from her kitchen window as she did the dishes and worked.


My girls playing in the sand at my grandmother's home.











My grandmother would let us sit in her wheelbarrow, and she'd push us around the yard, while we giggled ourselves silly.

She kept us in the latest fashions. Luv-It Jeans and Yo-Yo shoes. She sewed for us, too.

She was the first one all the grandkids ran to with news of any kind. If something special happened or something bad happened, she was the first we wanted to tell. Because she cared.

She'd defend her loved ones in a heartbeat. She'd fight for you.

I could go on and on ...

But bottom line, my grandmother, Leola, extended a gift of love ... lid wide open ... one that was continually replenished, continually full, continually new ... and I reached out and took it.

***

Have you ever wondered why you love God? Why you should?

I can only tell you why I love Him.

He loved me first.
He spends time with me.
I belong to Him, and He claims me. I'm His.
He tells me stories.
He comforts me.
I always have an open invitation.
I'll always be His baby.
He knows me.
He provides for me.
He sacrificed for me.
He's the first one I run to when important things happen.
He cares.
He pieced me together.
He'll forgive me for anything.

But the dearest reason I love Him is because ... He'll defend me in a heartbeat. He'll fight for me.

He wrote in the sand for me.

Gold.

Bottom line, He extended a gift of love, wrapped in deity gold ... lid wide open ... one that is continually replenished, continually full, continually new ... and I reached out and took it.







Father, I want your qualities. Let me be a person who loves like you and worth loving in return. Amen.

Take the Bad with the Good!

It was the worst sunburn I ever had. I don't have a picture of it, and you can thank me for that. You see, I had on capris. I had my leg crossed over the other, sitting prim and proper on that bleacher for the air show. Uh-huh, Southern belle style. It was April. The weather was neither hot nor cold, and it was a little cloudy. All perfect conditions for a sunburn. And I never once thought my lower leg or foot would need something like sunscreen.

After returning home, my left leg, just above my ankle, was beet red, as well as my foot. It swelled up like a red balloon. There was no way I was going to the doctor for a sunburn. No degree of sunburn on my lower leg could drag me there. I used Aloe Vera on the sunburned area all night long ... because I woke up in a sweat every hour on the hour.

After days of swelling, I remembered I had medication for swelling from my broken tailbone. This was another injury phase of my life, I suppose. I took that medication, and the swelling went down immediately.

But through the pain of that sunburn, my smile never departed. And I'm going to tell you why.

First off, my baby girl is a cancer survivor. That is cause for pause and reason to smile. Glory hallelujah! Not only that ... that baby girl is adopted ... thought I'd never have a #2 baby. So I'm doubly blessed.

Secondly, she had received a Make-A-Wish for being a cancer survivor. It wasn't enough that we spent a whole week at Disney World and Universal Studios, her being treated like the princess that she is ... but ...

These amazing kids raised the funds for Katelyn's Make-A-Wish trip. What a sweet mission!

thirdly, we were invited to an air show with the Thunderbirds. Yes, you read that right. Our very own air show ... just for Make-A-Wish children. What a precious ministry for hurt children!

Now you know why I'm smiling about that sunburn.

As the pilots taxied the runway, they waved at the kids who were sitting on the bleachers.

Do you see him waving here? Precious.

And when they returned, one of the pilots gave our daughter the flag that he took in flight with him. Is that beautiful, or what?


Karalee holding the flag at this point. And Katelyn still had the sweet gap between her front teeth! And I'm taking the picture.

 

The bad with the good. The sunburn with the air show. The cancer with my beautiful daughter.

It's just part of earthly life, isn't it?

They link shoulder to shoulder, arm and arm, leg and leg. We live and we die. Go on and smile about the things deemed bad, the parts of life that scare us, that cause us to shudder, because it has to remind you of the good.

Were we prepared for cancer? No way. But God was with us in the flight. And with Him, we came through this side of heaven on more than a wing and a prayer.

What Am I Fishing For?

Katelyn was a sleeper, a napper. Place her in the baby bed, and like me, she was out like a light in 60 seconds. And with her being a cancer survivor, she needed that trait more than ever. She needed sleep and rest through the toughest of times.

Karalee wasn't. She stayed up late. Her crib was the best playground in the world, converting into monkey bars, balance beams, rock climbing, when mom stepped out of sight. Well, you get the picture. And naps? Have mercy.

On those nights that she struggled to fall asleep, when she'd advanced to a big girl bed, I'd snuggle beside her in bed and cast out the heavenly lure. For that was my most important job as a mother. I'd share about our Savior till she fell asleep. We'd talk about the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit. We'd talk about the Holy Spirit's role in our lives. How God guides and instructs and cautions us through the Spirit, our amazing Counselor.

Well, one afternoon, after she'd grown older and had already accepted Christ as her Savior, I had sent her in to her bedroom to take a nap. The restful nap was more for Katelyn and me than her. In a matter of minutes, it seemed, she was back out the door.

"You didn't take a nap, did you?" I half accusingly asked.
 
"My Holy Spirit told me I did," she declared, with the nod of her sweet head.

I laughed so hard. What can you say to that?

I'd invested years, much time, baiting her precious heart for Christ that fishing her heart for a lie felt so wrong. After years of teaching her trust and truth, I had to ask myself, "What kind of fish are you aiming to fry?" Something stirred inside my heart. I'd say the Holy Spirit. I didn't fish for more. I didn't keep fishing to catch her in a lie, baiting a tall tale.

I chose to trust.

Radiance emitted from her precious eyes.

When times are tough, waters rough, we need to take it easy on ourselves and others. Choose to believe the best of others, begging God to transform our hearts into a 1 Corinthians 13 vessel of love.

And hang on to trust and love.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."—1 Corinthians 13:4-7

It's Time to See

I held the prescription bottle at a distance. Oh, so frustrating. I could see this just yesterday.

I'm losing my nearsightedness. Or maybe it's the lighting. Those blasted energy-saving light bulbs.

Admitting defeat, I ask for help.

"Baby, is that a 5?"

"Yes, Mama, that's a 5."

It happens so gradually. We see the distance, but we lose sight of what's near. The things close to us slip away. Slowly slipping. And it's hard to admit it. It's hard to acknowledge those glasses are needed.

We get so busy doing ... just doing.

What do we lose sight of?

Our children.
Our family.
The love of our life.
Our first love.

The tiny critter hopping down the path.

The seashell on the shore.

And the question we need a crystal clear answer to is this:

Do we want to see?

If we are weary of blindness, there comes a time to admit. Time to put on the glasses. Time to see.

Really see.

Forgiveness is like a Shoelace

Have you experienced the withholding of forgiveness?

When truly repentant, the lack of forgiveness is painful. It makes one feel like a human yo-yo ... loved one minute and hated the next.

I love you.

I hate you.

When we withhold forgiveness, we might look prettily flowered on the outside, but on the inside, we are an unraveling hazard.

Unlaced.

If we withhold forgiveness, we will flip-flop between love and hate. Without it, we are unable to walk in freedom, continually tripping and hurting ourselves and the ones we truly, deniably love.

Unnecessary tears.

Withholding forgiveness creates prison bars of tear tracks.

If we withhold forgiveness, we aren't securely fastened, and we'll forfeit walking in cleanness to drag ourselves and others through dirt and mud continuously and unnecessarily.

But if we give our grievances, our pains, our wrongs to God, He will lace them up and we'll be walking in freedom.

 

Forgiveness laces the good in our lives with the bad in our lives, allowing God to work all things together for good (Romans 8:28).

 

Do we trust Him?

Forgiveness is the sweetest bow we could place on the gift of freedom—a gift worth keeping—to offer others and ourselves.

You Get What You Get

When I was a little girl, I wanted a horse more than anything. But because we didn't live in the country, owning a horse just wasn't a possibility. My grandmother who lived two hours away had a horse, Charlie Horse, and I think to ease my heart, she'd tell me that the horse was mine.

But I didn't let that stop me from riding. No. I took advantage of the opportunities surrounding me ... and my ride turned into a gallop around the entire yard. 

Barefoot.

Completely content. Joyous. Unashamed.

A good friend always told her boys, "You get what you get." That meant ... you'll eat your supper. You'll wear that shirt. You'll play that game. You get what you get.

That so applies to life. We don't always get what we want, do we?

What do you want?

What do I want? What are my heart's desires?

Peace, love, purpose, life.

~And a wealth of adjectives, behind and before, to accompany every one of those nouns, some that only God knows.

Sometimes, we just ... get what we get. It's up to us to evaluate the surrounding opportunities and decide what we'll pass on to our children, family, friends. In this short time we have. 

Our sweet baby at 18 months, after six months of chemotherapy ... her hair finally coming in. And she can finally walk!

What are the surrounding opportunities?

A child's tiny hand to hold.
A baby's dress to fold.
A teenager turning bold.
A kid's self-esteem to mold.
A pup needing aid from cold.
A spouse to value as gold.
A story waiting to be told.

Take it and ride. Gallop around the yard. Gallop around the pasture.

Gallop with abandon.

Completely content. Joyous. Unashamed.

Barefoot.

Feel God's loving breath in your face.
Feel His hands hem you in behind ... and before.
Feel His hand laid upon you.

You get what you get.

Yeah, I'll take that.

~This song has blessed me all week long.

May it bless you,
beautiful thing.

Who Do You "Star" on Facebook?

Do you star people on Facebook?

I do.

I star my closest family, my dearest friends ... anyone I want to hear from. Those I absolutely don't want to miss a post from, an update from, a prayer request from.

Those in China, the Philippines, Malta, Brazil, Canada.

Obviously, we can't star everyone, but we definitely can those closest to us. Those of utmost importance to us.

If I "like" your posts often, you can assume that you are starred. You can assume that you are very special to me.

Recently, my hubs had been googling. Sometimes he'll search all our names to see what pops up.

 

He asked, "Do you know what the LPM Blog is?"

"Yes, that's Beth Moore's blog," I said.

"Did you know that Karalee won a book? So Long Insecurity, Teen Edition."

"No. I didn't."

"She won it in 2013."

I ran to the computer, and sure enough, there was the post announcing the winner's circle. And there was Karalee's name in bold, along with this statement:

"If the winners could email me as soon as you get a chance, I will get your book to you as fast as possible. Go ahead and send me your name and mailing address! We can’t wait for you to have this book in your hands!"

Well, obviously, I had entered my daughter into a contest, and because I didn't star the event—Beth's words—I never claimed the prize for my daughter. I missed it. I had forgotten about it and never checked back to see if she had won. The one time I win, and I missed it. How disappointing!

However, I laughed myself silly, after we hi-fived. And I wondered ... is it too late to claim the prize? Uh, I think so.

(But knowing Beth, I think not)

But, you know me. Nothing happens in my life that I don't stop and wonder what God is trying to teach me.

God asked my heart, "Do you have me starred, Shelli Ann? Are you listening for my every update, my every post, my voice, my love, my love notes, my kisses on your cheeks, my arms around you, my fingertips wiping away your tears, my warnings, my guidance, my comfort? Shelli Ann, am I of utmost importance to you?"

Are you listening and watching for ...

The One who laid the earth's foundation, marked off its dimensions.
The One who gives orders to the morning.
The One who enters the storehouses for the snow.
The One who knows the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed.
The One who raises His voice to the clouds.
The One who brings forth the constellations in their seasons.
The One who hears the morning stars sing.
The One who makes the desolate wasteland sprout with grass, the father of rain, the father of dew drops.

And one special thing about our beautiful Maker, the lover of our souls, our Savior ... it's never too late to claim the prize.

For He is the prize.

For His Daughter, His Son—His Child.
 
He is the bright Morning Star.

Living Life Beyond the Simple Sentence

 

Hey, Friends!

I just want to encourage you today to

live life beyond the simple sentence.

Yes, when it's tempting to keep the structure simple,

follow God's lead and add a phrase.

 

So blessed by you,

Shelli

 

 

 

 



Come to the Table

Seven miles from Jerusalem, they walked along the road with Jesus, and they didn't even recognize Him (Luke 24).

Oh, we are so guilty. Are we not?

Yesterday, our 5th grade Sunday school lesson was over the Emmaus walk. It's such a sweet story. It'll tingle excitement through your every nerve.

As I sat there at that table, with a precious 5th grader next to me, reading through the Word, I asked myself—why? Not only the question of why did they not recognize Him as they walked along, but they were able to recognize Him at the table, as He broke the bread? But also ... why did Jesus do that? Why did He keep them from recognizing Him for a bit? What was His purpose?

Lord, why did you do this?

I thought of the difference of walking vs. sitting. Could this somehow be a clue?

Walking offers distractions. We look at our own path, our own feet, trying not to stumble through our own strengths, and we often neglect to look into the face of Jesus—the very one walking alongside us.

When we come to the table, it's personal. We are invited. We can see the person in front of us—Jesus. If we reach across the table, we can touch his nail scarred hands. If we lean back in our chair just a tad, we can see his precious nail scarred feet and touch them with our own.

We can touch and see. We can taste and see.

We dine with Him, and He with us.

And I was doubly baffled by Luke 24:41, "... they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement ...." What? Why would joy and amazement keep them from believing? This is all scratching my threadbare comprehension, while the 5th grader next to me is scratching her head over her word search.

The question was asked to the kiddos, "Why? Why do you think Jesus did this?"

God's omniscience and omnipotence instantly flooded my mind.

I raised both my hands in utter enthusiasm, like a child ... "I know! I know the answer!"

I know—I either scared those 5th graders half to death or inadvertently passed on contagious love of Jesus into the very marrow of their bones. I pray it was the latter. 

I was called on to answer by my fellow teacher ...

"I wrote this a while back in a response to a blog post, and the answer couldn't be more simpler than this," I said—

Will He harden a heart?  Will He part the sea? To move His people where they need to be?

Oh, yes, He will. For He is ... I am.

He knows our hearts—He knows when they need hardening and when they need softening—and knows what it takes to ensure His Word is still being discussed today as we come to the table ... with the elderly, with the babies, with 5th graders, with Him.

Glory!

Father, help us recognize you. Open our minds. Bring us to the table.

True Reflectors

My baby girl got her drivers license!

But the parallel parking strained to trip us up. We had been going to the Department of Public Safety every single day and practicing parallel parking on their poles. A good 30 minute drive from my home. And my girl ... she was parking so good. We'd drive right up to that pole, getting as close to it as possible, lining it up with the far end of the back seat door, and she nailed the parking every time.

But then ... someone moved the poles. What? The poles were our marker, our indicator. How could they be moved? Why would they be moved? They were still there but in a new position. I got a little upset. Because we were counting on those poles. Yeah, I had to eat a little crow. And I did so graciously.

But the lesson learned? We had to find an indicator that was immoveable. And we had to use the right side mirror. Using the immoveable indicator and using the mirror, there was no way to go wrong. She'd back up, using that mirror ... and I'd say, I think you can back up a bit more, but she'd say, "I don't want to risk it, Mom." She didn't want to risk hitting the curb and failing.



 

In life, we can't count on external, moveable factors to dictate our place in this world/life.

spouse
children
beauty
wealth
health

They can all be moved. They can all be lost.

God has shown me that I need to keep my eyes steadily on Him because He's immoveable, and He will always give me an accurate reflection.

We must count on God.

Setting our sites on anything else is a prescription for disappointment, failure.

Setting our sites on any other indicator is a risk we can't afford to take.

"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does." —James 1:23-25