How God used loneliness and fear to draw me back to Him.

These last two weeks have been filled with gut check moments for me. I'm not sure why, and I wish I could turn the clock back and not go through a few of the moments I've walked, but I know I can't, and I know it's all for something.

I have to believe that it's all for something.

Loneliness and fear are two of the most powerful forces I've come to know over the years. They can be paralyzing, gut wrenching, and life manipulating. Both have encompassed much of my last 2 weeks.

I've had to look both in the eye, and I have to admit, it's still up in the air on which one of us will flinch first.

What's unusual about the two is that fear draws me to God, but loneliness seems to drive a wedge between us.

These last 6 years without a mom and also being divorced has left a gaping hole in my desire for daily interaction with someone who knows me intimately. There is something quite powerful in intimate relationships. For a person to know the secrets of your soul, the hurts of your heart, the whispers of your dreams is special, and I absolutely believe is a gift from God's gracious hands.

I didn't really appreciate it or fully understand it until it was missing.

And most days, I hate it...I curse the fact that it's missing.

I hate desiring it or needing it or wishing to the depths of my being that I had it.

But one learns to navigate through it, to live within it, to keep walking and telling God on the days it hurts, that it hurts.

And then, a moment comes when you get a taste of that sort of friendship again and you start to truly realize how much you miss intimacy.

So, your heart opens up a bit, pieces that have lain dormant for a long time begin to awaken, and your heart beats a bit differently than before.

I didn't ever think I'd let myself walk down that road again. The path I took before was not a good one. It was full of pain and disappointment and an emptiness I don't ever want to feel again.

So when I found myself in a situation, looking down a road that could lead to something, I had to decide if it was worth the risk.

My loneliness had hit an all time high where my relationship with the Lord had suffered. It had become hard for me to even open my Bible. I talked to God all the time about it...talked at Him, but I couldn't read His word. Something about loneliness made me hurt in a way I couldn't reconcile, it had started making me angry at God. I knew there was a wedge between us, and I kept telling Him about it, but it stayed there.

There were times I would just take my Bible everywhere, in and out, back and forth, lay it next to me as I slept, but only opened it on Sunday mornings.

There were other times I just opened it and laid my head in it.
I couldn't read it.
I knew it wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to hear, but I knew I wanted God, needed God, but I just couldn't bring myself to listen to Him.

I read it at school, I spoke it over others, I looked up things I needed to know for a lesson or a friend, but never for me...never for just me and Him.

So, when a moment came when there was a chance for me to choose a road that might not be so lonely, I decided to take it.

In spite of fear, in spite of anxiety, in spite of all my memories, I chose to walk it.

And the most powerful lesson in all of it is I realized I didn't really know how lonely I really was until, for a short while, I wasn't lonely.

God made us creatures of community. He made us to be people who see and listen, who feel and grieve, who engage and press on, who encourage and love.

And for years, I didn't do any of that. My heart was numb, I kept it locked up, and my community was small and my intimacy with others was very limited.

And for 5 years now, God has worked on my heart, has shown me love in more ways than I could recount or write in a year of posts. He's shown me the incredibleness of friendship and vulnerability, of transparency and depth.

He breathed life into my heart and made it pump anew.

And as hard as loneliness is, I'm grateful God has turned my heart from one that was numb, into one that feels...and feels deeply.

I'm grateful I crave intimacy, that I desire a partner in life, that I truly believe life is better with family and people, friends and loved ones, a table filled with laughter and a heart full of love.

A friend of mine met me at Starbucks last night. As we talked and caught up on our lives and she shared some hard stuff she was dealing with, she asked me what I do when I feel like I just want to quit, when I'm weary, when I feel like things aren't going to change...

I told her, all I ever know to do is to take the step in front of me; to take that next step that you know you should take.

To get up, get dressed, and go do it.

In 5th grade we memorize Philippians 3 and a good chunk of 4, and perseverance and moving on and straining forward are key pieces in that text.

In any race, there are valleys and there are mountains that one must go through and go over, and the only one who makes it to the end is the one that keeps moving, keeps going, keeps taking that one step right in front of them, no matter it be the valley or the climb. They keep going.

In my loneliness, all I knew to do tonight was to come read, spend some time in God's word, and listen to His voice...to let His truth wash over me.

Yep, I've reopened His word. I started to listen again.

As my loneliness seems to place a wedge between us, fear drives me towards Him, and 2 weeks ago, I had the rug pulled out from under me (technically, it was the treadmill) and fear entered the picture in a mighty way...so somehow, in God's mysterious and gracious way, He used both loneliness and fear to get me back to Him.

For nearly a week now, fear has driven me back into His word. God began reminding me that I was bought with a price, that the word of the Lord endures forever, that I've tasted the kindness of God and I'm precious in His sight. He's called me out of darkness and into HIs marvelous light. That he who believes in Him will not be disappointed, that Jesus died for me, once and for all, and to cast all my anxiety on Him, because He cares for me...and all that is written within this book is the true grace of God and I shall stand firm in it.

For two weeks I've doubted, questioned, cried, and begged thinking that loneliness and fear were going to grip my life and steal it of a joy I've been able to experience for many years now...

But tonight, in the secret place spent with Him, His goodness revealed that maybe, just maybe, they were just tough climbs I needed to take to find Him again, to be reminded that in His presence loneliness and fear begin to wash away.

"And we have joy in our troubles, knowing that troubles produce perseverance, and perseverance, produces character, and character produces hope; and hope does not disappoint because the love of Christ has been poured out within our hearts." Romans 5:3-5

"So we have the prophetic word...pay attention to it as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your heart." 2 Peter 1:19

If you are lonely tonight, may you take that step closer to Him whose goodness is revealed in that secret place of His presence. (Psalm 31)

My prayers are for you.

In Him,
Shelly

Redefining Love

I count 7 items in my home that are mine. Seven pieces of furniture or appliances, etc... that I brought in from my prior life. Everything else I have been given.

All of it.

And my house isn’t some bachelor, college hodge-podge house. The items people gave me were legit: a washer and dryer, an incredible couch and these uber great leather chairs, my dining table, antique side tables, and much more...

Walking through my house each day, I am reminded about how much I have been given. That all I have, was and is a gift from people who know how to love on others.

I've always known I was loved, my parents made sure of it. But somewhere in my late teens to early thirties, my definition of love got really messed up...and much of it was my own doing.

Five years ago, I prayed, no I begged God, to give me another chance at love. That what I had experienced wouldn't be what I thought love was or wouldn't be the love I gave and understood and lived out.

I wanted my story of love to have a chance to be told differently.

I knew the pendulum had swung so far to one side, I begged God for Him to right it, to swing it back and rebalance it.

I wouldn't have ever thought it would take 5 years to do that...or I should say, I wished it would only take 5 days, but it didn't.

It's taken 5 years for me to somewhat, with mild confidence ;) say the pendulum is somewhat righted.

How did God do it?

He immediately brought in this incredibly tall, dark and handsome to settle the score...he told me I was beautiful and I was enough...that I was the greatest woman he'd ever met and the incredible rejection I had felt was now over. This tall, dark and handsome mended and reassembled my broken heart and we lived happily ever after...

Um, no.

No God didn't...

and I'm not bitter about it at all. Not. at. all.

Nope, God took a different approach. Go figure.

Coming out of divorce and feeling completely rejected and unloved, my definition of love was very much wrapped up in romantic love, spouse/friendship type love, which plays a huge part on a story of love, but it’s not the whole story...and God knew I needed the entire story of love retold in order for this one section to be righted once again.

God was intent on telling me the whole story.

God’s way to right this pendulum has been to use friends, parents, mentors, 216 ten year olds, a son, my job, traveling alone, heartache, disappointment, and even loneliness to teach me once again what love is.

He gave me what I needed, not what I wanted: nights alone, aching, crying, begging Him to take the loneliness away, to have nights so quiet, that then and only then, could I hear His answer...HIS answer to what love is.

His answer wasn't my tall, dark and handsome.

His answer was Himself. The One and Only who could speak into my heart and begin to mend it, over time, through His faithfulness and goodness, showing me mercy amongst pain, pain I needed to feel and see and understand.

I needed to learn and experience that He is love, and if I was going to get a grip once more in life and have a chance to live love out, then I had to see and know the Source, to feel His love, appreciate Hs love, to trust His love, and to be filled with His love.

Through time, I’ve witnessed love in ways God wanted me to see it, and get it, and do it.

He's brought incredible friends into our life that Cade and I can witness love amongst them, and theirs towards us. I can see marriages that are real and fun, and as I watch them,  it makes me less jaded, less cynical, and dare I say, even hopeful...

After Valentine's Day, a friend of mine was sharing how each year she tries not to build up the day in her mind, to remind herself  her husband and family share their love throughout the year and that's what matters (and it's VERY true - the love contained in that family is dreamy!) but she's always so disappointed in herself at how disappointed she is when the day comes to a close.

I told her I thought it was because for 364 days of the year, she lives the REAL deal. Her family does God's love all year...to each other, in marriage, in parenting, in friendship...but for this one day, she buys the lie of the world, of culture, and that's all it is - a lie, so it leaves her disappointed.

The love the world touts and talks about and depicts is an illusion. The world hijacked love by creating an  empty and fake version; it created something that doesn't and can't exist. And I believe the emptiness she feels on Valentine's day is the disappointment most of us feel quite often because that's the love we've signed up for and live.

It's cheap, last minute and unintentional.

I love chocolate, but I don't eat it for the same reason, most women over a certain age don't. So, if buying a card that someone else wrote, a $10 box of chocolates I don't want and will throw away, and possibly some overpriced flowers from HEB on the way home is how the world says we show love to the most important people in our life, then that's a cheap, last minute, and unintentional way to live out love.

But, to go out and love on your hurting or grieving neighbor, to take a single mother's child shopping so he can give her something at Christmas time, to sit with your friend during chemo, to help carry the burden of a new widow, to snuggle up with your kiddos and laugh and read until midnight, to pray over them and for them as they are sad or nervous, to mow a single mom's yard every 2 weeks, and to take time and write a letter to a young man whose dad isn't there to usher in manhood with him, now that's love.

That's abundant, living and breathing love. That's the kind of love that turns boys into godly men and girls into godly women.

That's the kind of love that brings Jesus in and transforms...that love moves mountains, and that's the love God uses to redefine LOVE and usher in His HOPE.

God knew I needed five years for Him to tell me I was enough because I was His.

I needed to feel alone, deeply alone and heartbroken, in order for me to realize, I wasn't ever really alone because Jesus is always with me...really with me. Jesus would always show up, and each time He showed up, I discovered that I mattered. That He, the Maker of heaven and earth, valued and loved little ole me, and He believed I mattered.

Through five years, He's given me time, time to reformulate my definition of beautiful, to become less jaded or engrossed with what the world says is beauty.

Five years ago, when I begged God to give me another chance at love, if He’d have told me it would take five long years, I think I would have thrown in the towel. I wouldn’t have wanted to walk it out. I would have quit before I even started.

But now, looking back over these years...all I see is God’s hand working and holding and moving and carrying and loving...

He took something so incredibly broken and poisoned and gave it time to heal, to mend, to breathe, to rest, to catch up, to ask, to question, to grow, and to be moved.

So, wherever you are today, whatever your heart and mind believe or feel or are wounded by, because God is real and God is love...His HOPE sits right next to you in all of that.

He will lift you up.

He will walk you out.

And if you trust in Him, His time, His plan, and His love, then a life you never knew could exist FINDS YOU, and it's a gift undeserved and undreamed...it's God’s Grace.

May you seek it, may you bask in it, and may we all have no other desire but to share it.

In Him,

Shelly

Redefining Hope

I used to think hope was a four letter word. I vividly remember weeping, yelling at God to stop giving me hope because it was always dashed, it was only a mirage, and I had come to hate it.

For a long time, I believed hope was a curse...not a gift.

But the reality was, I didn't really know what hope was.

I had hijacked hope and turned it into something it wasn't meant to be.

For most of my life my hope for happiness, for marriage, for parenting, for working out all the details of my life rested on me. I constantly carried the burden of planning and designing and figuring and worrying about so much. And since I was so busy doing that, I not only missed out on living life, but I was settling on a mediocre life created out of the mind of a child, as well as basically setting the whole thing on fire; I was taking the role of director when I wasn't made to do that, nor equipped to do that, and in the end, I was lighting a match to my life and my hope didn't stand a chance.

See, my hope was in me. in people. circumstances. feeling secure and safe. wanting everything to work out just so.

And since my hope was in all of that, it was in brokenness. My hope was just a mirage.

It was doomed to be dashed.

I look at my life back then as a building engulfed in flames.

I had built the structure with my visions and dreams and misguided ideals...and my "hopes" were in all of that and now those hopes were the burning timbers.

My mom dying, and then me being engrossed in devastation and divorce, come March 2009, I sat in the embers of what's left after the firemen leave from putting out a 4 alarm fire.

I sat alone, in a heap of rubble. And as much as I hated where I was, I was also relieved to have had the fire put out. Something inside of me knew I had been chasing something that didn't exist. I was chasing an illusion that I kept calling hope, but it wasn't real. It wasn't there.

And I just sat in the smoke of my hope and life burned.

I can't help but wonder, if all those times I begged God to stop giving me hope...all that my hope was in had to first be burned before I could ever let go of it.

If I ever to was to have a chance at knowing what real HOPE was, I honestly believe my version had to play out, and I had to watch it burn.

I believe that because I've now experienced how God has answered that prayer of mine...that cry of my heart, the deep cry of wanting to live in hope.

Over these last 5 years, God has taught me that HOPE isn't a "four letter" word. In fact, I kind of think it's been His mission in my life to show me that I had hijacked hope, and He wanted it back.

He was taking it back; and He was going to redefine hope for me.

When I came to a pivotal moment in my life, when all I'd put my hope in had fallen, the greatest life lesson God has shown me is that if I put my hope in anything besides Him, it isn't hope.

Hope only exists when it is in Him.

Genuine Hope takes Jesus.

As I sat amongst the rubble, there was no joy, relationship, love, or peace. I hadn't experienced, I mean truly experienced, any of those in years. And I believe the reason is because all of those glorious gifts are contingent on HOPE, so putting our hope in Him and only Him is crucial to grasping all those treasures we long for, we're desperate for.

What's remarkable is that in the same moment of having all my hope dashed, was really the first moment in my life to clearly see genuine HOPE.

Through God's grace, at the bottom of my pit is where I knew my only way out and up was with God.

I saw HOPE, because amongst my destruction, all I saw was Him there with me.

I knew that I had nothing left.  I had spent 31 years putting hope in myself and I was on the floor weeping a life destitute, a life broken, a life burned.

Each day, I remember that picture. I remember what and where my brokenness gets me.

My life changed, my faith changed, and eventually, my definition of hope changed when all I had left to get me up off the floor was Jesus.

Before then, I had never grasped the simple fact that my task of being human was to live life.

What I did was orchestrate life...not live it. I needed to learn how to LIVE it.

Living takes trust; it takes an element of walking in an unknown. I'm not someone who can handle not knowing what's around the corner.  I'm too fearful to live amongst unknown. TRUSTING amongst unknown was a foreign concept. It was insanity to me.

Some of that fear was reasonable...I had circumstances in my life that fear was fed, but much of it, I chose or I didn't know what to do with because faith and trust and grace weren't  something I lived out.

But, through God's infinite grace, He walked me through the fire, pursued me in the rubble, and His constant goodness and mercy and faithfulness have continued to massage the fear and worry out and convince me to trust Him...to see that my hope is now in HIM.

It's a daily work, but He's faithful and unchanging, so He's quick to remind me that trusting Him, placing all my hope in Him is an integral part of freedom, of peace, of truly living.

And when one sets aside all that is within them to fix or mold or create and rests it all in the mighty hands of God, life starts taking a turn, it shifts into a realm that becomes a bit magical...remarkable...wondrous...and dare I say, hopeful.

One of my favorite verses for over 10 years now is in Romans 5. It always gave me hope that something would come from the mess I kept walking in...but I didn't really get it until I'd walked 10 years in it.

I think most of us strive to be people of character. We wish we'd have courage and be brave. We wish we'd truly love and be loved. We wish we'd be patient, merciful, and full of joy; to be known as a perseverer, an endurer, a believer, a hoper.

But, those treasured characteristics don't come easily, they aren't cheap, and they are only earned through the crap none of us want to experience; they come through blood, sweat, tears, heartache, grief, loneliness, sacrifice, and in walking through all of that, trusting in the hope that only God can give.

God's great mercy allows those to be found as we walk on a journey, a journey with Him through all that life brings.

"And not only this, but we also have joy in our troubles, knowing that troubles bring perseverance, perseverance brings character, and character brings hope; and hope does not disappoint us because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy SPirit who was given to us." Romans 5:3-5

In Him,
Shelly

Your Friendly Fairy Eavesdropper travels to Philadelphia.

My Top 10 Observations and Lessons learned in Philly:

#10 - More people wear grey to Philadelphia's Museum of Art than to any other place in the world. There was a guy actually doing his morning workout, in all grey, running up and down the steps. I personally had my red coat on, channeling my English heritage, and was a bit disappointed in myself for not wearing my grey outfit that day. Amateur mistake, and I will be better prepared next time.

 Unfortunately, after piddling and toiling around the infamous steps, pretending to be Rocky, watching clips from the movie, yelling a bit into the wind, and taking in the view and scenes and sounds of all things at the top of the Rocky steps, I finally walked ALL THE WAY around to the west side entrance, only to discover the museum is closed on Mondays! WHAT?!?! I'm quite certain I googled that, but somewhere, somehow, that one fell through the cracks.

#9 - There are conspiracy theorists who tour on segways proclaiming that Sylvester Stallone did not really write Rocky. Their proof? The compilation of the  remainder of his produced work. "How can a man who wrote all of those, have truly written the little gem known as Rocky?.?. Impossible. I'm convinced he bought it from someone." And then they and their fanny packs took their pictures by the MOST PHOTOGRAPHED artwork in Philly, "Rocky", and zoomed on their segway way. I would have fairyeavesdropped on more of their tour, but those things are quite speedy.

#8 - According to my friend Philly's streets are laid out like the streets of Paris. When I first heard this, I had idyllic thoughts of magical city streets with glimmering lights, love, music, and Frenchmen awaiting to buy me cappuccinos and feed me cheese. But then, as I walked down the boulevards and sidewalks, all I learned was that because these streets are so jacked up, it just provided me with 7 different ways to get hit by 17 different cars coming from 9 different directions! WHAT?!?!

Which leads to the 2nd tidbit this friend shared with me, that Philly is the place where certain "colorful" words are used most. After I was led down yet another dead end path to a place blocked once more by some new street springing forth from some other roundabout and missing a crosswalk, I about yelled one of those colorful words...I may or may not have yelled one of its colorful cousins...the goodie two shoes cousin, but a colorful cousin nonetheless.

#7 - Newsmen like to photobomb "I am Rocky, hear me roar!" pictures taken atop the steps. Thankfully my very handsome, broken English speaking stranger who I nabbed to take my picture waited for the "strange man" to pass by, so my picture would be sans a photobomber. But these same newsmen who have "tipline" plastered on their TV vehicles are hesitant to receive tips of what I would deem a worthwhile nature. Which brings me to #6...

#6 - Philly is massively deficient in its Starbucks availability. When I travel, I must have spots I can walk in that contain something familiar. Starbucks is of course the dominant of all things familiar in my life. I can count on getting the same drink, that TASTES the same in whatever location I walk into. I can also chat and get some friendly travel advice from the baristas. It's quite helpful and safe for the lonely traveler. So, when the so called tip-line guy yelled how he had tried to photobomb my pic, I yelled back, "Hey, I see you are the tipline guy. I have a tip for you...Philly needs more Starbucks. It's 15 degrees out here, I've been up and out for nearly 3 hours and there's no Starbucks in sight."

"Starbucks?" he yelled. "There's one right down there by that Whole Foods."

Um, ya, that's 6 blocks, 14 roundabouts, and 87 possible "get hit by cars" moments away. You just proved my point Mr. Tipline.

Thankfully, that Starbucks was in the direction I was walking next.

#5 - Foundations that build museums are VERY pretentious and all "secret society" when it comes to their art. That same friend from before also told me about the Barnes Foundation art gallery. And since my friends are all cultured and artsy and high class and all, I always have to play along and enter at least one art museum when I travel, so I have some credibility left with them, and we can all pretend I am a mature adult. If they knew I mainly walk in for the gift shops, because museum gift shops are the VERY best, they'd be quite disappointed in me, but I keep that to myself.

I always buy my ticket, swing through Wing C and D, pop in on Mr. Art Guy's conversation about how Matisse's art really doesn't look like a 4 year old did it, and then mosey over and watch the take down of how "You and your children need to quiet down" and then the reaction of highly offended mom who says "MY CHILDREN ARE JUST TRYING TO COMPLETE THE MUSEUM SCAVENGER HUNT," I then call it a day, go through the gift shop, buy some "highly inappropriate" postcards, mail them to my friends and tell them I was inspired by the museum experience, and this post card proves it.

But, actually finding the museum is always the first task, and with the Barnes Foundation, it was proved to be a task. Mr. "I'm hanging the lights for our big holiday reveal on the boulevard" told me the Barnes Foundation was just up the way next to the Rodin Museum. I had seen the large sign for that and knew just where I was going.

Can you see the TINY writing on the building??

I proceed to cross and dodge and do all things "real life frogger" requires of you, make it to the correct sidewalk and go passed the Rodin, take my pic for my artsy friends, tell them I made note of it, knew Rodin was an artist, but kept on walking.

I came to the building next door, but it was just a rectangle with no signage, not really any windows, and screamed, "I'm a government building trying to camo myself on this block". I knew the guy had said the Barnes was next to Rodin, and this building was next to Rodin, so I walked to the left side, and nothing...but I did get a glimpse down a little alley way and saw the potential for being in the right spot, so I walked all the way to the right side, and AROUND to the BACK. I walked through a courtyard, back INTO the building to find a door. There, on the left of that door, was etched into the building in letters approximately 2 inches tall, "The Barnes Foundation".

I pull open the door to only read something in small print about having to buy tickets back at the ticket building.

 What ticket building?

A "colorful cousin" slipped at this point...but the tornado-ish, 15 degree winds covered it up I am certain.

I walked back around the building and saw a wall and another wall. There's no ticket building. But, then, I caught a glimpse between those walls, and I saw an "S".

I moved closer and around the wall, and there it was, a tiny little sign saying, "TICKETS".

Needless to say, I'm annoyed by this whole ordeal, so I walked in, and immediately said to the ticket guys, "Are you trying to NOT let people in this place?!?! There is no signage anywhere. Is this a secret art gallery?"

Their reply while laughing, "That's what the architect was trying to do...have this place be something you stumble upon...that you find your way in to."

WHAT?!?! Colorful cousin...

My dad is an architect, and I have to say, your architect was an idiot. (but I kept that to myself.)

"Well, ma'am (Don't call me ma'am) you have now found it and let me call up your reservation."

Reservation? Are you kidding me?!?! Is this a secret portal to Disney World where there are lines a mile long, because, let's be honest boys, I see no one around here.

"Ma'am, our galleries are small and we limit the number of people who can walk through at a time to a select group."

Like 10 people? ...I silently thought...

"Our next availability is 12:30."

As in 5 minutes from now?...that's called a ticket, not a reservation...but I kept that to myself as well.

I'll take one please!

"Only one?"

Just give me a dang ticket.

I paid my $22 and strolled through the courtyard and "happened" upon the door, feeling calm and peaceful and certainly not saying any colorful cousins or giggling at the absurdity of this place.

I walked in. Security checked the contents of my purse, looked at me funny due to its collection of gum wrappers, wadded up receipts, half-eaten Zone perfect bars, raisins and cashews sprinkled throughout due to an unfortunate spillage of enormous bag of trail mix during one of my Frogger leaps trying to get here, and a few hotel mini lotions.

Don't judge me Mr. Security.

He told me that no coats were allowed in the galleries, so I needed to proceed to the coat check on the floor below.

Excuse me?

"Ma'am, (don't call me ma'am) each gallery is small and we don't like the viewers to bump into each other."

What?.?. I stared at him blankly.

Down those stairs ma'am. (Don't call me ma'am.)

As I turned to head to coat check, it became quite clear I was out of my league. Everything screamed, "we are in from the Hamptons and this scarf I'm wearing cost more than your college education."

I checked my $59 wool coat from Dillard's, and it hung next to the furs and Burberry, and out of protest, I told Mr. Coatchecker he could keep my hat, my scarf and my one glove from WalMart too. (I had lost my other one)

Certainly ma'am. (Don't call me ma'am)

I gracefully walked upstairs to the galleries, feeling out of place and unworthy. I tried to keep my hands from fidgeting, I tried to recall some large vocabulary words Cade has used saying "That's an SAT word mom." but I couldn't. My mind was blank. I'm pretty sure I spit when I said "yes, yes I would like headphones for the tour." My hands were so fidgety I nearly dropped the fancy audible tour ipod contraption.

I carefully "remained behind the black line" in every gallery. I tried to not bump into any other art connoisseur since that's why I had to check my coat in the first place. I didn't want to seem like I still had too much padding on that caused me to overstep my space allowance.

I admired the many Renoirs, Picassos, and Monets. I even found the gallery with the African and Asian billion dollar tchotchkes quite kitschy.

I was very respectful as I walked through the gallery that I knew should have been titled, "This is what my 6 year old did in art class but was signed Matisse."  ;) I shook my head, quietly saying, "Uh, huh." stood and stared, tilted my head and admired. I listened to my headphones and saw many paintings I recognized, and I tried my best to appreciate what billions of dollars of artwork looks like contained in an unmarked building, where you must walk through sans coat and not have a camera or cell phone on said persons unless you want Mr. Security guy to confiscate it.

It was quite remarkable. It was very impressive and worth the visit. In actuality, I highly recommend it. I purchased my postcards, grabbed my coat, hat, scarf and glove, and headed back onto the streets and grabbed my long awaited Starbucks.


#5 - Incredible events took place Philadelphia and the surrounding areas, namely Gettysburg. Besides the fictional character of Rocky running through its streets and fighting in its arena, great men with great vision and purpose gathered in these streets and halls and argued, debated, and persuaded one another to sign two history changing documents: The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution. To walk down cobble stone streets and under archways and into rooms that Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, Adams, Hancock, and Franklin stood is always remarkable. There's something about being there, listening to the stories one more time, and touching the wood and hearing the creaks of the floor boards that makes history come to life. I love picturing them standing there, listening to the piercing silence on the battlefields, reflecting on what I enjoy today, due to the sacrifice and fight they put forth. All of these places are worth driving to, walking through, and attempting to soak in the history of our country.

#4 - Traveling, even when kicked off by an anxiety attack, is always worth it. The landscape, the

people, the sights, sounds, air and skies does something remarkable to my heart, my soul, and my mind. It awakens pieces inside of me that get stuffed down and covered up by Hallmark Christmas movies and grading papers. And traveling alone, though lonely, takes me to the edge of my box, my comfort zone, and that's when growth occurs, epiphanies take place, and an adjustments on perspective and dreams are made.

#3 - I have people, and because of modern technology, my people go with me. The holidays make me miss my mom terribly. I miss her so much it hurts. And traveling alone always brings her to mind, so mixing those two this past week was hard. I'm thankful I did it, but it was difficult. BUT, in God's goodness and mercy, He reminded me that I have people. I can text my people, and they respond. They ask and walk and see with me. They laugh and pray and remind me that though I am far, and though I seem to be alone, I really am not. They care about me, my life, my adventures, just as I care about theirs. It's always a beautiful reminder, and another reason to be grateful for modern technology. Where I am, they can be too.

#2 - God is good and personal and with you in the big, and, even sweeter, He's with you in the small.
So often I feel like my problems are petty, pitiful and small. I think I whine more than pray. I wonder more than trust. I forget more than I remember.
But, somehow, someway, God weaves in and through all of that. And as I continue to whine, wonder, and forget, He walks with me, and nudges me to listen, urges me to be patient and keep walking, and then reminds me He is faithful by being faithful yet one more time in some extraordinary way in my seemingly simple and small life.

#1 - I'm grateful for the opportunities I have to travel! After hearing about my panic attack, someone said, "I can't believe you still travel amidst that." Which, I completely understand that sentiment and often wonder myself and get fearful of it if I dwell on it for too long. But, I am determined to not let that fear steal something that brings such adventure, joy, challenge, meaning, education, and purpose to my life. If I stop traveling, then it wins...the fear wins and takes something from me. I just have to tell myself, Look, I'm going again. Fear can make this difficult, but we're going to face it again. We're going to plan again, book another, and board that plane once more and find us the adventure that awaits on the flip side.

May we all look fear in the face this week, brave our way through it, and most importantly, listen to God's voice, be patient, keep walking, and KNOW that He is faithful.

In Him,
Shelly

When the beast of anxiety rears its ugly head at 30,000 feet.

I just returned from Philadelphia. I'd been wanting to go there for nearly 4 years now. Part of what we study in 5th grade includes the origins of Philadelphia. I had gone when I was 7 or 8, but had very few memories, so me and my traveling heart wanted to go see it again.

Due to a gift I'd been given, I was able to purchase the airfare, and you know me and priceline.com, we (as in me and my computer) got the hotels at GREAT DEALS!

So, Friday after school, I headed to the airport and was ready to jet off on another adventure. This one had many purposes. One, was the one I just stated above, but another was that Cade is away this Thanksgiving, so it's perfect timing to go off and find some fun instead of sitting at home for 9 days. Another is I'm hoping to do some more summer trips with students, and besides Boston, Philadelphia seemed like a viable option.

What's funny about me and traveling is that I get anxiety when I travel. Many of you know that I experienced major anxiety years ago. I lived in it, with it, was treated for it, and then, after my divorce, what had remained, left. I rarely experience it anymore, but when I fly, it comes back.

I have to carry medicine when I travel. Sometimes I take it, sometimes I don't. Typically on the flights out, I get more anxious, so I'm usually better prepared for those. I make sure I've exercised, I have movies, I take a pill, I pray, and I get on, we take off, we land, and I'm fine.

I'm not afraid to fly. I'm afraid of having an anxiety attack while we are flying, and there's no "escape route" at 30,000 feet.

I'm afraid of the fear, of the anxiety.

Why is that?

Because I know how powerful it is. I've tangled with it before, and beating it is hard. It makes you want to throw up, it convinces you that you are dying, it tells you that if you don't get out, you're going to go crazy.

If and when that happens to me on the ground, it's fine...because one can get out. The monster is irritating, aggravating, discouraging, and disheartening, but it is manageable. It is beatable...on the ground.

But, at 30,000 feet, it's like fighting a monster with a Popsicle stick; and it feels like you are drowning in an ocean amidst a hurricane.

I've had some rough flights before. But my medicine takes care of it, I may not enjoy the flight, but I make it, it works, and I head out on adventure.

This flight...ya, this flight I was ill prepared.

Or, I guess I was, because this one was different.

I hadn't packed a single movie...which is a rookie mistake.

I had too much to take care of and I didn't make going to the gym before my flight a priority, so I was short on my natural brain fighters.

I hadn't drank much water that day, and I scoffed at the prospect of anxiety when someone mentioned it earlier in the day.

Thankfully, I did have my medicine.

Because the moment those cabin doors closed, the monster reared its ugly head.

The first wave came, and I took a pill. I talked to myself, closed my eyes, and began everything I knew to do. I started telling myself truths, reminding myself of reality, I asked the flight attendant for ice, I turned on my Ipod, I prayed...I took another pill.

I knew my limit on medicine, so I paced myself trying to see when it would kick in.

It didn't.

It wasn't.

My mind was panicking. I had 2 hours to go, and I couldn't get a handle on the monster.

My book made me want to vomit.

My mind was picturing me telling the flight attendant that we were going to have to land on that patchy grass below, or I don't know what would happen, but something would happen.

The beast grew; the waves kept crashing, and I couldn't catch my breath.

I took one more pill.

I knew my max was 4, and I still had one more leg to reach Philly.

I prayed. I begged.

I sucked down ice, the ice was dripping off my neck and I'm quite certain the man next to me was sitting half in the aisle and his head was beneath his coat.

He didn't know what was wrong with me, but he knew that crazy was next to him.

The flight attendant was so nice and brought me more ice sans a linking bag.

I never muttered the words anxiety. I knew the moment they came out, it would be all over for me. I knew the moment I stood to go to the bathroom, it would be all over.

My defense was my seat, my prayers, my medicine, and not muttering the words of fear.

Just keep my eyes closed.

then open.

speak truth and only truth.

beg God.

pray the medicine would take over.

pray that God would supernaturally take over my mind because the monster had it and nothing I did seemed to be working.

I kept thinking, if only a doctor would come sit next to me. Maybe I could ask the flight attendant for a doctor instead of landing the plane in the grass of Missouri below us. That would be better. That would seem less crazy. ;)

I kept playing that scenario over and over...if only a doctor were here with me, telling my brain that it was fine.

That all this, was just a mirage. It was fear of a fear, and it would end.

But I had reached my end, so I took my final pill.

Only once before had I taken all 4, and it had been years ago.

I couldn't remember the last time I needed that much to calm me.

That alone, caused me angst.

That alone took me to a place that I hadn't traveled to in a while.

That lonely place that makes you feel helpless, hopeless, never getting better, failure, ridiculous, vulnerable, and humiliated, and alone...

But then, I opened my eyes, reminded myself of reality one more time, turned my head to my neighbor and asked the woman if she was from St. Louis. (our connection)

I asked because I wanted to know how far of a drive it was to Philly. I knew I had maxed my medicine and there was no way on earth I could go through this again. I was in a nightmare and I couldn't escape it.

I certainly wasn't going to walk onto another one.

The lady turned to me sweetly, told me no, and asked how I was feeling.

I told her not good. I hadn't felt great for a couple days (which was honest) and I thought it was just the business of teaching before a holiday, getting ready for a trip, and getting prepared to be away from Cade for 9 days. All of that is heavy, and I assumed it was that. But, apparently, there is something more.

She asked what I taught and we spoke for a bit.

I asked what she did.

Her response, "I'm a nurse."

I could feel the monster slither back a bit.

My brain immediately thanked God and thought, "this whole time Lord, this whole time I was begging in my mind for a doctor, and you had seated a sweet nurse next to me. I was fighting the monster alone, with my eyes closed, within my head, and I hadn't even looked to the person next to me."

Maureen and I continued to chat, my heart began to slow, my mind began to quiet.

God had reminded me that He was there...right next to me.

The waves would still come, but they were easier, would pass quicker, and Maureen was so sweet to let me stop mid sentence and then finish whatever it was I was saying after the wave went by. She never flinched.

The time began to pass, and St. Louis was soon below the airplane's tires.

As soon as I could turn my phone on, I texted about 9 friends and my dad. I told them what I had just experienced: the worst anxiety attack in recent memory, and I didn't know what to do.

I did know my medicine was finally kicking in: everything was slower and I was sleepy. Thankfully it was getting late, and so I was naturally tired as well. I asked one of my doctor friends if Tylenol would be okay to take as well, and she said yes.

So I begged them all to pray for me: for calm, for sleep, because I had 2 more hours to make it to Philly.

The gate people were so sweet, because after they informed me the flight wasn't full, they let me pre- board so I could sit in the back by myself.

If I was going to freak out, I wanted it to be alone, where I could curl up and ride it out.

I bought me one of those plane pillows, handed my boarding pass to the ticket taker, walked down the gateway, found the furthest back aisle, thanked God when no one sat with me, let the prayers of my friends wash over me, and the next thing I knew, I was almost to Philadelphia.

I didn't even remember taking off. Sleep had come before we left ground.

You can't imagine how thankful I was to have made it, for that to be over.

It was one of the most horrible experiences of my life. I couldn't even think about it. I just wanted to pretend it had never happened.

But it had.

All 3 days as I toured, I tried my best to soak in all of Philadelphia, Lancaster and Gettysburg, but I couldn't get in my groove.

What had happened haunted me.

That monster, the one that came on November 22nd, had messed with me, had taken something from me, was threatening to take something that brings so much joy to my life - traveling.

As I travel alone, I am always texting my friends, my brother, my dad, and sharing things I'm seeing, pithy stories, or funny observations, but it wasn't until day 3 that I could really get into it.

And by day 3, my evening flight was looming. I had asked for prayer all day, and I knew they were all praying.

I could feel it.

I was relaxed enough to have some fun, joke around, run up the Rocky steps, tell the local news tipline guy that Philly had a severe deficiency in the number of Starbucks.

But, 6:00 eventually came, and I waited for the monster.

I wondered what I would face.

But this time, I came better armed.

For one, I had stopped at a Walmart and bought 3 movies...action packed movies.

Two, I walked tons that day and drank lots of water.

Three, I prayed, and kept telling myself that at the end of this flight was my bed, was home.

Four, I had confessed to my friends that I needed them, that I couldn't do this without them, without their prayers.

Five, I remembered something Jon Acuff had said at Love Does, "Bravery is in the moments that make you want to throw up. It isn't easy, and it is not fun as it is occurring."

It seems stupid that getting on a flight was a moment of bravery in my life. Pitiful really, but for me, traveling is a passion, a desire; adventure is something that feeds me in ways I can't explain. The time I get with God, the air I breathe, and the world I see opens up, and having something stand in front of that is disheartening.

The idea that fear could close that world down for me is maddening.

So, at 6:00 Monday night, I walked down the terminal, awaiting the beast.

I stepped onto the plane, reading the many text messages of prayers, and reminders, and Bible verses my friends and family had sent and were sending.

One, stood out.

It said, "May you know that Jesus is sitting right next to you and that He is mighty."

As I buckled, I looked up to see a man coming down the aisle and stop next to me. He pointed to the window seat (only 2 seats on our side), and said, I believe that seat is mine.

I smiled, and no kidding, I almost said OUT LOUD, so you are my Jesus tonight.

I knew it was Jesus.

Calm washed over me, because only Jesus would show up in the form of a 430 pound NFL player.

No kidding.

Any ounce of anxiety I'd had, was now gone.

God knew I needed a physical reminder of His presence, of His might, and by His grace, He gave me one.

We sat, we chatted, and he apologized for being so big and being in half my seat. I told him that I was grateful for him. I never felt small, and he made me feel small, and I loved it.

This man had no idea how God was using him.

As we talked he told me about his injury and upcoming surgery, and so I told him I'd be praying for him and be looking for him on the Packers.

I asked him if he believed in God, and he said he certainly did.

So I was about to go into what Jesus had done for me that night, but the flight attendant walked up just then and told him that there was a spot in business class for him to have some more room.

He looked at me and said, well, we were having a great conversation.

I laughed and said, I'm just grateful I had these few minutes, go enjoy the room.

He got up, the plane took off, and I eventually walked off, back in SA knowing that Jesus loved me enough to sit with me as I traveled through my own personal fire.

He sent a mighty man to remind me that He's bigger than anything I face.

He reminded me that bravery comes in all forms and for all sorts of reasons.

Saw this @ Franklin Inst. & thought Perfect pic of  friendship

He reminded me that fear is powerful, but His love has no match. That friends are the ones who know no bounds or distance, who walk with you when you feel ridiculous, humiliated, foolish, and scared beyond your imagination.

He reminded me that prayer is powerful, that it works, that even though some bridges can be scary to cross, the fear of fear is no reason to stop you from crossing them.


On my flight home, I listened to David Crowder's new song, I Am. I love David Crowder, and this song...this song, is one of the best.

There's no space that His love can't reach,
There's no place where we can't find peace,
There's no end to amazing grace.

Take me in with your arms spread wide,
Take me in like an orphaned child,
Never let go never leave my side.

I am... holding onto you
I am... holding onto you

In the middle of the storm I am holding on. I am.

Love like this,
Oh my God to find,
I am overwhelmed with the joy divine.
Love like this sets our hearts on fire.

I am... holding onto You.
I am... holding on to You.

In the middle of the storm, I am holding onto You.

This is my resurrection song, this is my hallelujah come, this is why it's to You I run.
This is my resurrection song, this is my hallelujah come, this is why it's to You I run.

There's no space that His love can't reach
There's no place where we can't find peace.
There's no end to amazing grace.

I am
holding onto You.
I am
holding onto You.

In the middle of the storm I am holding on.

I am
holding onto You.
I am
holding onto You.

~ Crowder

My prayer for you, and for me, is that whatever beast we face, whether one that seems ridiculous or not, that we will see God with us, we will see His hand, His love and His grace. And that if we need to see it more, that we will beg Him to make it even more real...because only God could have known, that what would bring calm to my night, was a 430 pound football player.

I would have never thought, or dreamed, or imagined that as I showed up with Popsicle sticks and trembling knees, God was willing to show up with the physical picture of might and even a sense of humor.

To the One who does far more than we could ever ask or imagine, to Him I give the glory.

In Him,
Shelly

Next post, I'll actually tell you about Philly.  :)

Epiphanies via Jon Acuff, Repealing the 'Shutdown of Blockbuster' and how my "Jewish Mother" is a 10 year old boy- Ruth had Naomi helping her date, I've got Cade.

I'll never forget the day Cade became my "Jewish mother". Frankly, I need one in my life: one who keeps me on the straight and narrow, paying attention to all sorts of details I like to think don't really matter. But I never thought it would come in the form of a super cute 10 year old boy.

As we were driving one day, Cade turned to me and said, "I wish you would get married again. I want a step dad."

Me, "You do?!" amongst my laughter.

C, "Mom, are you trying? I mean, are you REALLY trying?"

Me - "I LOVE YOU!" as I was thinking "When did you become my Jewish mother?"

Being single, and being one who always at times whines complains mentions dissatisfaction about being single, I can receive all sorts of questions, suggestions, and advice in this area.

And, honestly, I don't mind it. I like that people think I should/could get married again...that it isn't a far fetched dream that I really am "just a girl...standing in front of a boy...asking him to love her." (Gosh, I need to rent that movie tonight. Oh wait, I CAN'T! Seriously, what can we do about this situation? Protest? hit the streets with picket signs? get Sen. Ted Cruz to add 'the shutting down Blockbuster' to his list of things to repeal?!?!)

For me, loneliness is like grief: it comes in waves.

Some days you are kicking butt, taking names, and loving everything about that, and then the next, you are in the fetal position, eating ice cream from the carton, wishing the couple next to you would share their $10 popcorn because this movie is just. so. sad.

Loneliness truly is a funny thing...and by funny I mean that monster that makes you want to scream and vomit at the same time.

But, I think it follows all of us.

Whether we are married or not, have children or not, whether we are old and grey or young and wrinkle and bone creaking free.

Loneliness, like grief, is part of life.

Why? one of sane emotional status might ask.

I'm not sure.

Honestly, I'm not sure of the point.

I don't like problems that can't be solved. I mean, what's the point of a problem, if it can't be solved!!

That's why life, relationships, love, family, poetry, riddles, etc... are complicated, irritating, and hard for me to grasp.

That's also how I know marriage won't solve my loneliness. For one, I've been married, and I was lonelier then than I am now. A healthy one can/will fill a hole that only a good marriage can fill, but there's other holes present, and even a healthy marriage can create a few more, so I'm not looking to get married to solve anything.

So, when my "jewish mother" says, "Mom, why don't you do that "Christian Meet" thing, my answer is always, "Um, you mean Christian Mingle...ya, that's not for me."

After I giggle and hug him and tell him I'm so glad he's looking out for me, I go into my 30 minute monologue on how I'm not looking to solve my lack of marriage and I'm certainly not looking for crazies and I seem to believe out of 20 people on those sites, you might have 1 normal, and if I'm going to get married again, I'm looking for normal.

So, until there's a site called, www.PleaseGod,I'mjustlookingforanormalguywholovesJesus,life,is6fttall,honestandnotcrazy.com - I'm just not interested in turning to the interwebs to find my dude.

If I were younger, braver, and without child, I might do it as an experiment on all things quirky about humanity, but since I'm none of those things, I'm sticking with natural protocol.

Girl marries, gets heartbroken, then divorced, Begs God for another chance at love, waits umpteen billion years, and then waits some more, goes to Starbucks, eavesdrops on a boatload of conversations, lives her life, goes on one adventure after another, reaches a mountaintop, walks through a valley, and then looks up one day, God steps in and says, "Shelly, meet Tall, Dark and Handsome. Tall, Dark and Handsome, meet Shelly."

And, I'm not sure when that day will occur.

It might not ever.

And, honestly, as much as I'm not okay with that, I am okay with that.

Because my "way" would be one of looking for something to fix or solve this problem, and that's not what I need, that's not what life or love is about.

Loneliness, just like grief, can't be fixed. Not being married or finding love isn't a problem to solve.

Love is like a cool breeze found on a vista created not by human hands, it is the poetry created from the depths of a heart willing to walk through the fire on behalf of another.

Sitting at the LoveDoes conference, I had many Epiphanies...MANY moments with God speaking into my heart.

One was while Jon Acuff was speaking. I don't remember what he said exactly, but what I wrote was:

I often try to redeem something instead of letting and allowing God to do it.

I try and redeem instead of acknowledging that God is the Redeemer.

I can try all I want to redeem love in my life...to redeem marriage...to redeem time, my mistakes, my flippancy, my regret, my choices, my sin, my messed up plans

but it won't work.

I'm on a hamster wheel when I try and redeem any of that.

I don't have the power, the wisdom, the know how, nor the capacity to redeem.

I wasn't made to redeem my mistakes. See, my mode of redemption is to fix something, but our lives aren't meant to be fixed.

They were meant to be redeemed.

And I was made to turn and acknowledge THE REDEEMER and bask in the grace of being one He sees worthy of redemption...not fixed, not solved, but redeemed.

I love the story of Ruth, and you know what, God used her "Jewish mother" to bring about her Tall, Dark and Handsome as part of her redemption story.

"My daughter, shall I not seek security for you, that it may be well with you?"

She too spurred Ruth on to try...to REALLY try:

"Wash yourself therefore, and anoint yourself and put on your best clothes, and go down to the threshing floor."

My 10 year old version is spurring me on to 'go down to the Christian Mingle', which I am not saying to him, "All that you say I will do."

but, I am trying to live life, let go of thinking that anything in this life will solve a "problem" I may or may not have, and trust in my Redeemer, who orchestrates and moves in His time, in His ways, and remember that all things work out for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purposes.

And even though a Tall, Dark and Handsome was part of Ruth's redemption story, more importantly, God was out to redeem her and her family.

I do find it interesting how Naomi's closest relative was willing to redeem the land and even Naomi, but once Ruth entered the picture, the deal was off.

Elimelech could have fixed the problem Naomi had, but it took Boaz to redeem it...to truly redeem it in ways only God had planned, that only His story could include.

God's redemptive plan restored life, blessed all, sustained and provided the Saving grace.

I have to say, THAT'S worth waiting for...that's worth LIVING in...that's worth acknowledging and letting happen.

So Jesus said to them again, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. ⁸ All who came before Me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not hear them. ⁹ I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. ¹⁰ The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep... John 10:7-11

Have a great Saturday!

Shelly

Disclaimers: I know several people who have met their Tall, Dark and Handsome via the interwebs. They are happily married and none are crazier than the rest of us. I mean no offense to any of you...you have more courage than this girl who, in all honesty, just doesn't want to be rejected by more men on more mediums.

Standing in line for a Hug

On Thursday and Friday, I attended the Love Does conference in Austin. Yes, I went to the one in Washington back in May, but when Bob Goff gathers a group of folks just an hour away, I'm going to do my best to get there.

The golden nuggets of wisdom were incredible and endless. Jon Acuff and John Richmond were two of my favorites, but every single speaker was excellent. Rebecca Lyons, Don Miller, Mike Foster, and Veronica Tutaj had powerful stuff to share. Then, of course, there's Bob, which just oozes love and Jesus and all things WHAT?! and WOW!!!

I went to Austin on Thursday, on my own, and when I travel alone, day one is always the same.

I wonder what on earth I'm doing there.

I question taking off work, being alone, my decision making skills, and how I didn't lose 10 pounds before I came.

Then I get mad at myself for feeling this way and have arguments with myself about being normal as I'm talking out loud in the parking lot with a few people around...solidifying some of my, "ya, you're not normal" arguments...but whatev's.

I'll tell you what's not normal - sidebar - a man just walked into Starbucks telling his friend, "This place is weird! I've never been here before."

Um, ya, I choose to compare my normal status to him.

I may talk to myself, but at least I don't live under a rock where people don't pay $4.49 for their coffee.

Come On people!

(Sidebar over.)

After a few hours, I settle in and remind myself that this is why I travel alone...it gets me in that highly uncomfortable state where I must face some fears, talk to God, and hear the deep down hurts inside my heart that I can ignore when lots of noise is around.

You pair all of that internal chatter with speakers talking about love, shame, calling, Jesus, second chances, redemption, community, and living and doing, then you got yourself two days of awesome.

The Love Does conference really is incredible, and I might have to be a conference groupie...because that's normal, right?

But, then, there's always the closing of it. The walking to the car, alone, and all that quiet comes rushing back in.

I coached volleyball for years.  I hated the ride home after a big game or after a long day of a tournament. If Cade wasn't with me, I'd get in my car with the emotion of coaching this incredible game and then have no one to download any of what just happened to.

To this day, I can remember how empty those nights would be. It physically hurt to have ridden that emotional train and not have a soul to tell about it.

Those moments would be this huge reminder that I had no spouse and my mom was gone.

Often times, I'd cry the entire way home. The pit would be so deep, I'd feel like throwing up.

Don't get me wrong, I had friends, good friends, but calling them for a volleyball run down of girls they didn't even know just didn't make any sense. I couldn't ever make that call.

I would just tell God how much that moment sucked. I loved coaching, loved winning, loved the fire that sports brings, but those car rides home would just about do me in.

Friday, after Love Does, I felt that same pit.

For 2 days I was forced to face dreams, heart ache, fears, wisdom, pain, and hope. But then, I walked to my car. alone. With only the ringing silence inside my head and that pain within my gut.

I tried to shake it. I got mad at it. I asked God why I couldn't leave there feeling like taking on the world and not like I walked it alone.

Once again, I was disappointed with myself and mad I felt so alone.

Thankfully, 2 friends of mine had come up for Friday and even though they rode together in another car, I called them, we put ourselves on speaker, and as they drove a few miles behind me, we chatted.

(Thank you iPhone.)

I could navigate the backroads of Austin and listen to the voices of my friends and they could listen to mine as we drove home.

I was no longer alone.

Community matters.

I never knew just how vital it was until I was single.

My marriage was lonely and so jacked up that I avoided community...not knowing really why, but that was my MO...it was part of the unhealthiness of it all.

Part of being emotionally healthy is being part of community. When we begin to withdraw from it, I truly believe it is a sign that something isn't quite right.

For me, hermit is my default. Being on the fringe, staying back, and being invisible is my comfort zone. But when I choose hermit for too long, I begin thinking my friends are Tony and Ziva, I hold conversations with myself as I get dressed, and I wear the same yoga pants for 3 days.

It ain't pretty.

I convince myself that watching a marathon of What Not to Wear is better than going to church and protein bars can be a person's sole source of nutrition.

Red flags start flying, and I know it's because I pulled back from people. It's time to text some girlfriends, make some coffee dates, and get out of the yoga pants and GO TO CHURCH!

Community makes us better. 

My friends and I talked for the entire drive home. We each shared, questioned, challenged, and listened. That conversation made me process way more than I ever would have alone.

It made me see them, and it made me see me.

Even though traveling alone can be really hard, it makes me remember that God is always with me.

Being alone, in a place that forces me to rely on Him, makes me SEE HIM, and it reminds me that He sees me.

But, I also really love how God gave us people. He made us with this innate need to see others and to have them see us. In fact, we start going a little bonkers when we don't.

He knew that we were not to walk alone.

He walks in us and for us, but He sends others to walk with us and us with them.

I'm thankful for the pain of loneliness, because it reminds me that I matter. It reminds me that He made me to feel the pain of being alone, because He firmly believes that it isn't good for man to be alone.

I'm thankful my mind, body and heart agree with God on this: It stinks to be alone.

My prayer is that I see the lonely. I pray my heart is burdened for people who feel alone and need someone to call after a long day of excitement or a hard day at work. I pray I sit, and I listen, and that I remind them, they are not alone.

One of my favorite things about Bob Goff is that he hugs you when he meets you. I had no book for him to sign, I'd met him a couple times before, I had pics of us, but I still got in line...I got in line for the hug.

When it was my turn, he, of course, hugged me, told me his name was Bob and asked mine. He chatted with his animated face and eyes and when I told him I just really wanted a Bob hug, he took his hands, clasped my face between them, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'm so glad you are here."

He sees people. He takes time and sees that people matter...they matter more than anything else.

Jesus came down to be with us, to save us...to save people, because we matter to Him and to each other.

Jesus didn't come down to save a business or to show us how to make more money. He didn't come to save the whales or demonstrate the art of getting through Target without spending 100 bucks...cause that does take a miracle. He came down for you, for me, for us, because WE MATTER.

Praying I hug more people today, that I look in their eyes, truly seeing them, and tell them that I'm so glad they are here, and in turn tell them they matter.


In Him,
Shelly