New Year's Resolutions found in the depths of Show Holes and Empty Wells.

I've been pondering New Years resolutions for a couple of weeks now, if not longer.

When one is dissatisfied with things, New Years resolutions are enticing, they elicit a new version of you that you wish you could be. They usher in hopes and dreams and wishes for a skinnier, richer, happier, smarter life.

And when one is feeling fatter, poorer, sadder, and dumber, the promise of a new year and the "if I make them, they will happen" mentality is VERY enticing.

But, then January 1st arrives and we realize that sitting on a couch watching marathons of NCIS and envisioning the skinnier, happier, smarter, and richer Shelly doesn't change anything.

What the heck?? You mean you have to do something more than just make the resolution?!?!?

That stinks!

Wouldn't it be great if we could just lay out all we "wanted" for the New Year and for one day experience it, get a taste of it, so we would have the motivation to actually work for it??

Ahhhhh, if only...then it would work.

Ya, who am I kidding. It still wouldn't work.

Because I desire a product of awesomeness with a path of least resistance.

And there in lies the problem. Least resistance is my MO.

Nothing truly beautiful comes from least resistance. It's impossible.

But that doesn't stop me from wanting to magically become someone who isn't sitting on her couch entering a show hole on December 28, 2016, all the while being the person who's sitting on her couch entering a show hole on December 28, 2015.

Impossible dreams.

Least resistance puts you on a stream that doesn't take you far. It might be pretty and calm and at times scenic, but you end up seeing the same scene over and over, because you refuse to paddle passed it. You're stuck amongst the same weeds and flowers and brush with nothing new on the horizon.

You're stagnant, refusing to paddle and avoiding any waves that might actually take you somewhere.

Stagnation is only satisfying for a short while, because you will inevitably realize you're no longer in a stream, but in a puddle, at the bottom of a pit.

You either have to numb yourself through it to convince yourself you want to stay there, or you have to pick up your boat and go find a river.

I've been stagnant for a long while, and I'm having to acknowledge I'm now in a puddle, that can quickly become a pit.

God has been gracious to put all sorts of rivers in my path this year, and I hopped on them and rowed as fast as I could because I saw His river and I knew I didn't want to miss a few of its waves, but as soon as I could hop off it this fall, I picked up my boat and went back to the calm of stagnation.
It seemed safe.
It had little resistance, required minimal output, and I could sit in the sun and let the small ripple push my floaty along.
Stagnant water doesn't even require a boat, just a floaty. I can just sit and do nothing...

but then those pesky gnats come along, the view is deathly boring, and the water is murky.

And the cycle begins again...get numb or get moving.

But the thought of leaving my puddle and going to His river is overwhelming. The thought of resistance, of the unknown of the waves and direction, and the amount of output required of me is daunting...so I continued to choose my puddle.

I numb myself by watching something distracting.

This break I chose to watch marathons of dark, creepy TV shows that take me from the pinnacle of "I have hopes and dreams and by golly I'm going to go for them before I turn 40!!" to "What's the point? Nothing ever changes. I'm worthless. This world is dark and creepy and I never reach a goal, and I'm a complete loser."

Thank you producers of Mr. Robot.

The best commercial I saw was the Netflix one...or maybe it is Amazon Prime...but it's the "Show hole" one.
Holy Schnikees is it accurate?!?!
The ironic thing is that it's advertising for something that will take you from one show hole and plunge into a hole that is deeper, darker, and 5 days further down the path of "you're wasting your life away".

I usually choose to do this to myself after Cade leaves for an extended amount of time. It seems to be inevitable. I tend to need 24 hours to process, moan, groan, and be depressed while numbing myself with watching television.

I'm aware of it every time. I beat myself up about it every time.

When the marathon of my latest show hole was ending after only 10 episodes, I actually looked up to the ceiling, raised my hands, and exclaimed, "Thank you God! It's only 2:00 in the afternoon!"

I needed Him to miraculously end my pit of despair. I needed Him to save me from myself by making this TV show end.

I needed Him to show me He had a river awaiting me, and I was stuck in my puddle.

I changed the channel and wandered in my puddle a bit longer, but I could hear the birds chirping and the Light was breaking in again.

If I did get anything from my hole it was that as I watched the creepy, dark show, I was greatly aware of the twisted nature we humans get ourselves in, especially if we are separated from the Light.

As I watched and saw how the writers of the show were trying to create this scenario where "If only all the debt was erased, then we'd be free", "if we scheme and can get to the top, then we can be our own god", "if we can take away the pain through drugs, alcohol, manipulation, sex, money, then we can escape the pain and reach this pinnacle of something I'm not even sure of." it made me keenly aware of how lost and confused we are...how many of us are choosing stagnant puddles found at the bottom of deep, dark pits.

As I watched I kept wondering, what are they thinking will be accomplished by any of this? What is their end?

I want to sit in a room and ask the writer, to what end are you taking this? What will be achieved? What greater good is coming? What truth is being exploited here?

What's the point you are making?

And the answer would be, there is none.

The world is pining for, scrambling for, grasping at the idea that there's this big conspiracy to keep everyone's happiness locked away in a box somewhere and only the richest, darkest, schemiest of those have it, and the only way you track that supposed happiness down is by delving into the darkness of finding it, by enslaving ourselves to the very base of human desire.

I've lived a pretty naive life, with very little exposure to the dark and paranoia this life can involve and is so easily accessed by any and all of us, but I got a glimpse "over the wall" several years back.

I was in my own pit, and it was a dark one...but I was dealing with someone who had crossed over the wall found in another realm of darkness...a wall that I didn't really know about, but one I had only read about or watched on TV, but this person had gone there.

 And because I had to deal with some things with this person, I got a glimpse over that wall. I had to be drawn to the window of it, and I saw in.
Even if it was just a skewed, foggy picture of it, I got a glimpse, and the glimpse was enough for me to take a whole lot of steps back and do all I could to not ever get close to the window again.

I now knew there truly was a twisted, dark, paranoid life out there, and I knew that I never wanted to get entangled in it.

I've known pits, destructive, despairing pits, but I now knew there were darker ones, where the desperation is so deep, it scared me to even get a glimpse in.

All that to say, I know those pits are easily accessed by any of us. I know that various pits in life are just a succession of daily missteps and wrong turns and the ignoring of that sweet whisper inside of us beckoning us to turn around, to reengage, to not believe the dark nor the schemes, nor the idea of how pursuing the lies will bring an ounce of satisfaction, of contentedness, or hope.

The end those all profess is an illusion of a temple, but that temple is made of matchsticks.
It won't withstand a simple wind, and if you make your way to it, you will be destroyed by its own inevitable fire.

One way to find yourself in a pit is to let your well run dry. Without the life source of the well, it just becomes a deep pit.

This last year, I let my well run dry.

I ran until I couldn't run anymore. And instead of choosing to refill and stay connected to the source of life for my well, I chose to let it start becoming a pit.

In many aspects, 2015 was like a marathon for me. We all have years like that. Big opportunities, great responsibilities, lots to juggle, and even though so much of mine were incredible blessings, I refused to stop and refuel...I didn't do what I'd been trained to do. I stopped being disciplined about how I ran and became haphazard about it all, and I let myself think it wouldn't matter that much.

I turned my back on my number one rule in life: Rule #1 IT MATTERS!

I chose to eat metaphorical donuts, to run until I crashed and then get back up and sprint some more.

I rarely refueled properly or reconnected myself to the very source that gives me life.

I just kept running on empty, while wondering why I felt empty or why I felt like I was going in a circle.

When one's well is dry, stagnation is the go to. There is nothing to give it the energy to choose the river that's going somewhere.

Plopping seems to be the only choice because to get out of the pit would require climbing...no matter the gnats, the quiet, or the murky water...climbing out and picking up my boat to head to the river would require something I began to believe I didn't have...purpose.

Purpose was becoming elusive because I kept choosing my stagnant puddle, and purpose and meaning require movement, and I was losing the motivation to move. I was beginning to believe the lie that I didn't have it in me to move again, to pick up my boat and go find His river.

And even worse, I had started to believe that if I didn't know where His river would take me, I'd rather stay in my puddle, right here in my pit.

So, what's my 2016 New Year's resolution?

To lose 15 pounds? To pay off debt? to get smarter? Be a more present mom? To turn off my stinkin TV?

No.

It's not.

My resolution, what I am resolved to do is to not let my well run dry.

I am resolved to acknowledge that I'm floating in a stagnant puddle down in a pit because I've let my well run dry, and in 2016, I'd like to get my well filled up again, so I can pick up my boat and go find His river.

My goal is to wake up each day and ask God to help me let Him turn my pit back into His well, and then to give me the determination to stand up and have the courage to find His river and row where He leads me.

To stop believing the lie and believe His truth and His plan matters in my life and to pursue it each and every day.

What would happen if I let Him turn my pit back into His well?

How is life different when I choose His well of truth and beauty over the pit of dark and creepy?

It becomes a life full of light.

"For you are all children of the light and of the day; we don’t belong to darkness and night. So be on your guard, not asleep like the others. Stay alert and be clearheaded. Night is the time when people sleep and drinkers get drunk. ⁸ But let us who live in the light be clearheaded, protected by the armor of faith and love, and wearing as our helmet the confidence of our salvation.
For God chose to save us through our Lord Jesus Christ, not to pour out his anger on us.¹⁰ Christ died for us so that, whether we are dead or alive when he returns, we can live with him forever.
So encourage each other, build others up.
Honor those who are your leaders in the Lord’s work. They work hard among you...Respect them.
Live peacefully with each other.
We urge you, warn the lazy, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, and be patient.
Don't repay evil with evil.
Seek after the good for all.
Rejoice always.
PRAY without ceasing.
Give thanks, for this is God's will for you.
Listen to the Holy Spirt, don't ignore it.
Consider prophetic teachings but examine everything carefully.
HOLD FAST to what is good, abstain from every form of evil...

What happens when I choose to listen to His voice and ignore mine and go find His river?

"Now, may the God of peace sanctify you entirely, and may your spirit and soul and body be preserved complete."

And the greatest of all the lines...the reason why pursuing this has such a beautiful outcome. It's because the river of God takes you somewhere miraculous.

Faithful is He who calls you and He will also bring it to pass. 1 Thes. 5

In 2016, I just need to remember that the guarantee is with Him. It's His promise that will come to pass, not one from Gillian Michaels or Oprah Winfrey.

So, what's my New Year's resolution?

To stop ignoring that whisper inside my head, the one inside my soul...

because it's in the whisper...the answer is always in the whisper, found at a well so deep, it's goodness never ceases.

"When I'm afraid, I will put my trust in You...You have taken account of my wanderings; put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call; This I know, that God is for me."

This I know, that God is for me.

In Him,
Shelly

Making Memories...the reason I take Cade to Disney

Being divorced, I quickly realized that making traditions and memories would have to be VERY intentional. Something that just comes naturally and inevitably in a traditional family setting, doesn't come in a divorced setting. There's too much back and forth and change from year to year. No holiday looks the same, no birthday or graduation comes easy or is predictable. The only tradition in divorce seems to be that there is no tradition.

So after year one, I decided as a mom, I would work at making memories...Cade and I would experience adventures together, and that our tradition would be, we travel and go have a blast experiencing this world together. 

It's been the best decision I've made. Memories are something we have, and traveling together is something that builds trust, cultivates love and friendship, confidence and bravery, and it opens up your imagination and soul to a bigger world, so when your world gets very small and sad and dark, you remember there's more out there and it's awaiting you to come and rediscover it once again.

I truly believe God uses traveling to remind us how BIG HE is, that the world doesn't revolve around us, and there's a bigger story and to never be afraid to go out and find it.

It all started the year after my mom's death. It was the summer after my divorce, and my dad took me and Cade to Hawaii. I saved my money to take Cade and me to swim with the dolphins. Seeing his smile and hearing the laughter sealed the deal for me. My money and resources would go to making memories...of creating moments of extreme laughter, wonder, and awe.

Cade's 4th grade year was a Spring Break that I had him. He and I road tripped across Texas; touring Blue Bell, watching jousting (and other questionable "shows" at Sherwood Forest), ice skating at the Galleria, and singing at the top of our lungs with the windows down.

And this will be year 3 of Cade receiving plane tickets and Disney gift cards for Christmas. In the grand scheme of things, I'm not a big Disney person. I don't want a Goofy t-shirt nor a Toy Story pencil...now Mickey ears ice cream is another story, but that has more to do with the ice cream than the shape it is found in.

This tradition...hey, look at what God can do, divorced families can have traditions, that's called grace Shelly, right there, that's grace... it all started when Cade was entering 5th grade. Being a 5th grade teacher, I'd hear numerous stories of parents and grandparents taking their children on trips commemorating the end of Grammar school...and then of course I had read Bob Goff's book and he does 10 year old adventures, and though I was not able to take my child to an obscure mountain range in Asia or even the Empire State building in New York, me and my travel bug knew I could do something adventurous with Cade.

I was secretly hoping he'd choose the Wizarding World of Harry Potter because that's where my 10 year old (or 35 year old) self wanted to go. I may have even been playing a loop of "you want to go see Harry Potter and shop eat at the Three Broomsticks..." as he slept, but I had decided that wherever he chose (within reason), we'd try and make happen.

My secret scheming worked, because he exclaimed, "Harry Potter World!" WOOHOO!

He and I saved for nearly a year and it was so fun anticipating the trip. At Christmas, we opened Disney gift cards and Universal Studio ones. We kept our monies in a special box and we'd label what we'd use it for. We had wand savings, Mickey Mouse ice cream funds, and visions of riding Thunder Mountain Railroad until midnight.

Planning, anticipating, and going on that trip with Cade was one of the best decisions I've made as a mom, and I decided I'd keep making that one each year.

And though my experience told me I it was the best thing for me to do as a mom, one of my 5th graders taught me just how true that was.

One thing I do as a teacher is have my students create thankful lists in their Bible journals. We write 6 each day, and each child accumulates 50 - 100 items depending on the year and how many days I have them do it before Christmas. Everyday we do it, I have each child share one they wrote that day. We each get to hear what others have reflected on being thankful for. It's terrific! I love it every time!

Two years ago, the same year of our first Disney adventure, one of my students shared the most profound one that truly solidified in me that what God had led me to do with Cade, was something I needed to keep as a priority in my life. I can't thank Connor enough for teaching me that what I do as a mom matters...matters more than I'd realized.

Here's the letter I sent out to the 5th grade parents reminding them and encouraging them that what they do matters too...my prayer is that it would encourage you too.

I'm not sure how it is already December 22nd, but it is. No matter if it feels like it should be or not, the calendar overrules all feelings and tells us Christmas 2015 is just 3 days away.

  

Over these last few weeks, as the students filled their Bible journals with 100's of things they were thankful for, I was always impressed with the wisdom and simplicity many expressed through their gratitude: Family, friends, a warm and safe home, cozy slippers, loving parents, God's word, Jesus dying on the cross, forgiveness, and much more. It's always a blessing to see into their worlds through the lead of their pencils as they share their thoughts.

One year as I did this, a particular "thankful item" was especially poignant.

The student wrote, "I am thankful for memories."

This one stood out to me because I had lost my mom 5 years prior, so at times, I live on memories. In fact, memories can be what carry me through quiet holidays. 

But, I love how God's grace gives us the chance to make new memories everyday. We are capable of creating moments that can last a lifetime in a child's heart.

As a teacher, one of my main goals is to have a year the students remember, one filled with incredible memories. I want it to be a year that challenged them, stretched them and matured them, but also one filled with more fun than a school year is supposed to contain. I want them leaving saying, "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!" J

That's why muffin mountains and a week with daily sugar cookies and classrooms filled with dancing are worth the craziness that can follow. Those days are filled with laughter, they bring joy to a sad soul, and give us something to remember.

God is the best memory maker, and He continuously tells us, "Remember, remember, remember."

I pray this Christmas is one of remembering what God has done for us and in us.

The angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." Luke 2:10-11

He came down to be with you and me. May it be fresh in our hearts and remind us all that we are loved and valued beyond comprehension.

If this holiday season is tough for you and your family, my prayer is that your home will be overwhelmed by God's peace, that the grace of Emmanuel will ignite a hope that would otherwise be absent.

The next day, the student shared one more, "I'm grateful for parents who make memories with me."   -what a beautiful picture of family, of God's grace in our lives.

May 2016 be the year we intentionally create incredible moments for our families that will be remembered for a lifetime and can even carry them through hard times if and when they come.

Merry Christmas!

Shelly Vaughn

Last year's trip included a night of rain, pouring down drenching rain. There wasn't lightning, so Disney continued on, and as I debated on whether or not I could continue in the rain, I remembered Connor's profound words and Cade and I rode Thunder Mountain Railroad 23 times that day. We were completely soaked, but had never laughed so hard as we watched the fireworks over head and had the sensation of riding a roller coaster through a swimming pool. We made a memory that I will treasure forever.

His Amazing Grace beckons us to show up and Watch HIM.

(I composed this over a month ago, but never revisited it and hit send. So grateful I wrote this down...God tells us to REMEMBER, and without a written record, it's amazing how one can forget...even when the amazing happens.)

It's been forever since I've written. Today, I knew it was time. In fact, I knew if I didn't today, I would've ignored an appointment I had. I have no idea what I'm supposed to write, but I know there's something God has been showing me all summer, so we'll start there and see where He takes this.

It was May 28th. I was finishing up the busiest 3 months I'd had in recent memory. I hadn't stopped going. School was incredibly busy and every weekend had something major going on so I hadn't rested or gathered myself in months.

I was headed into the busiest portion of my summer. In the subsequent 5 weeks, I was taking 3 different groups of 8 students on 3 different trips. I was headed to Boston twice and Philly once...but by July 8th, I'd be finished, I'd be able to finally rest after nearly 5 months of non stop.

My trips don't just entail the 5 days of travel, they included 4 group meetings, so times 3 is 12 group meetings, and one meeting per traveller that is one on one, so that's 24, and then a prayer gathering for each group, and due to busy schedules, a couple of trips required 2 options for that.

So, in conclusion, that's over 40 meetings from February-June...and then we travel and go have the best time in glorious cities.

I was looking forward to the trips because that's when the fun kicks in, the getaway, and the adventure, and due to such a busy spring, I was ready for the adventure.

So on May 28th, when I received a text from my traveling partner and sweet bestie about a home in Boerne, I shrugged it off as just another attempt to get me to do something that was impossible for me at this time in my life.

I'd dreamed of moving into Boerne proper for years. I'd dreamed of either having my dad design me a house or help me redo a little cottage for as long as I could remember. But it was a dream. A dream that I knew wouldn't ever be fulfilled. Ever.

There was no way it could. Barring a marriage where my small teaching salary wasn't the only funds I had to use, it was an impossible dream. And since marriage would have to bring along the provision, I never wanted to truly dream about it because I don't ever want that to be part of my search for someone...I don't want my desire for things to ever be a motivation for me to date someone...and that easily could be. Financial security is a wooing factor in my life.

SO, I didn't ever really dream about it. It was on the list of impossible things that my life wasn't going to include and I had come to the place with that being okay.

My sweet bestie thought differently. For over a year she had sent me listings and I would barely glance at them. There was no point. No way that I could sell my house in a timely manner, make any sort of money to have enough to buy another and redo it, because any home I could afford in Boerne was basically a dump.

I didn't have a desire to take Cade and I to a dump and have to remain in that, so the obstacles were always too great, not to mention the timing. Boerne sells before things even hit the market, much less allow for sales of present homes to buy new ones.

But, for some reason, May 28th was different.

IF there was one thing about God I'd say I knew hardly anything about was grace. I'm too formulaic, black and white, and anxious.

But for the last 7 years, God has had me on a journey teaching me about grace, showing me what it is and what it means and how it works.

I saw it play out in tragedy and hardship. I saw that it was provision and faithfulness, companionship and goodness during grief and heartache and loneliness.

I saw how God walked every step with me and answered countless prayers that only my soul ached for, the kind that rebuild a person's character and mindset. He set my feet on a path that was leading me to things that only He could show me.

I'd seen His overwhelming grace during the hard but I still had no true concept what His grace was like in the good.

I mean, I had a home. Nothing was wrong with it. My life was moving along and besides bouts of loneliness, things were good...no grief, no difficulty, no present ashes that needed His gracious hands to make beautiful.

But on May 28th, His gracious train showed up and I had no idea what I was about to experience and witness, and sitting tonight, I still can't even fathom, yet alone grasp.

B sent me a text, which led to me going to see a home on a whim...2 days before leaving for Boston.

I took my dad, who, to my surprise, was chipper and excited about the house. He saw no major issues and saw great potential. And not that he's a downer about things, but he's realistic, practical, and conservative.

Big dreams get squashed by reality, practicality, which all lead to conservative decisions, not big dream ones per se.

B and I left for Boston and little did I know, the train began to move.

The property was too high for me and included too much.
My home would have to be sold, and I didn't see how I could do this on my own.

Obstacles were everywhere. That's what I saw. Obstacles.

But B kept pushing.

While in Boston, we checked out what my house would get, and by some miracle, a home 2 doors down had sold in 24 hours for a sum of money I could never have dreamed my home would sell for.

On our way back, B asked if I could have my house ready to sell in the 48 hours, and I just answered yes with no vision on what that would entail.

I came back from spending 5 non stop days in Boston with 8 middle school students, where our days are from 6 am until after midnight, and I woke up the next day at 6 again and began cleaning my house and getting it ready to go on the market.

It was ready Saturday morning and on Sunday, an offer was made.

What?!?

The train hadn't just left at this point, it was gaining speed and I was doing my best to hold on.

The offer was great but they wanted to close in 3 weeks.

Say what?!?

B, just kept talking me down from every cliff of impossible I came to.

I had 2 trips in the next 4 weeks.

But, I said yes...I knew this was a train that I had to catch.

On June 7th, I knew that this summer was not going to be what I had planned and I knew this was something God was in control of and I just needed to keep showing up because for some reason, impossible was becoming possible.

I packed, I panicked, friends talked me off cliffs, and I packed some more.

All of my trip preparations, which are incredibly time consuming and at times can be overwhelming, went along without a hitch and somehow I had enough energy to do all of that and pack.

In the meantime, a deal was trying to be put together on the purchase of the house in Boerne...one of the hottest and fastest markets around.

Obstacle after obstacle kept coming and I would panic and get discouraged but B would push me forward. Mountains that had to be moved, I got to watch be moved.

Mountains moved for the purchase of the home.

I was exhausted and weary, not just from the packing and the unknown, but from the previous months of non-stop, from the weight of traveling and busyness of planning and going forth on little sleep and no restorative time between any of it.

But the train was chugging down the track, and I knew I just needed to hold on.

I returned from Philadelphia on the 25th and I was out of my home on the 30th and leaving for Boston on the 4th.

Everyone who knows me, knows that I LOSE everything. I misplace stuff all. the. time. Ask my students. I can't keep a pen, marker, or history book for longer than 5 minutes. I will have taken it and set it down in the most obscure place and have no recollection of doing so.

I leave a trail of crud everywhere I go.

SO, to be packing and moving while having to keep extremely important travel info, journals, and paraphernalia at my finger tips is a MIRACLE in itself.

I returned from Boston homeless, waiting for mountains to move so I could close on my new home in early August.

I think we all have times like this in our lives, where things fall into place and it's a wonder how it happened, but somehow it does.

It's happened to me before, but this time, God was going to show me that grace was not just a charitable heart when things were rough and desperate.

Grace included dreams...the kind of dreams that only a heart dreamed because the mind knew that it could never happen. It was a dream that would never be, so it was never actually thought about because what would be the point.

On May 28th, God was going to show me a grace I still couldn't comprehend and one that had been in motion for years. One that would include extravagant provision, healing, and unbelievable friendship.

Let's start with B. Her tenacity and determination on my behalf can't be explained. It included 2 months

of constant attention and talks of encouragement. She talked me off so many cliffs in such a short amount of time, I'm embarrassed to even recall them all.

But she did it, with a heart of love, compassion and made me feel like a champion at the end of it, not the weary warrior barely making it over the finish line.

Then there's my little peeps who upon the return of my first Boston trip they had completely redone my
front flowerbed, pressure washed my house, cleaned my windows, and more.

I was returning with a new hope of putting my house on the market, and God used the generosity of 8 families and my peeps to bless me with a gift I could never, NEVER do for myself.

Then there's Lacy, Ashley, Tracy, Kelley, the Fitzies, Chris, Bower boys, Egg, Amy, Cindy, Jackson, Bobby, Sammy, Willy, Jim Guy, Katie, Greg, and unknowns that came and packed when I was gone, too busy, or so overwhelmed I could barely see straight.

Not because I was sick or grieving or walking a tragic road...just because I needed help, even "worse" I needed help with something that was just good and fun and a blessing.

This really bothered me. I mean accepting help when it had nothing to do with something bad or wrong...I didn't do that, I couldn't do that.

God reminded me of a conversation I'd had with someone a few months before. I was trying to help him, just trying to be nice and kind and he told me he didn't like accepting help. He did things on his own.

It made me mad when he said that. I was frustrated that he wouldn't let me help him, and I thought how far he needed to go to understand kindness and understand how God worked... that some people just like to help and be kind.

And here I was. Not wanting to accept help, not understanding how to accept help, and blown away at how people would help me in such extravagant ways for something that was good and fun and had nothing to do with cancer or death or divorce.

But, God made this train leave the station during a time in my summer that I couldn't not accept help. What was before me was impossible for me, so God was setting up a scenario that would only be possible for Him to orchestrate.

So I showed up each day, and watched Him work.

People packed, lifted heavy furniture, opened up their barns, stayed late, came early, washed clothes, talked to me when I was overwhelmed or seemingly ungrateful because I was afraid or worried or exhausted.

They prayed, lent trucks, cleaned, and encouraged, and they got me out of my house and everything into storage and put me on a plane to Boston.

God had orchestrated my trips to fall at just the right times, so the first few days of being homeless, I was traveling the streets of Boston and watching the most incredible firework show with 9 incredible people, including Cade.

Then, He had provided me with housesitting gigs the remainder of July, in fact, He provided them to go until August 3rd, right when I was to move into my new home.

His timing had included my entire summer schedule to be planned out in January, so when it came to May 28th, His train could move, according to His schedule, his timing, and His grace.

My mind couldn't even dream it, my heart couldn't even imagine it, but His grace was orchestrating it.

And if all of those mountains moving and provisions weren't enough, the train was just picking up speed.

My house sold in 48 hours, for more money than I could have dreamed, and I had paid off more than I thought.

B was so tenacious that she helped me witness mountains move in a market where only those with enormous money and no timing restrictions find deals, and then she stuck with me as I wanted to quit every other day.

But then...just when I thought I had seen what grace was, God was just getting started.

It wasn't just in the form of people showing up once more, because they did. Gretchen and Dan, Janyce and Brittany, Stacey and Tracy, Julio, and Bobby, ERIC AND KAREN, Heather, and Ashley, Adi and Dawson, Madeline and Brittan, Carsen and Cole, Greg and Summer, Papa and Carolyn, Amy and Egg, Chris and Jessica, Ronnie and Angela, and the list could go on...

They did for me, at times what I could never do for myself. I was stuck without them. I couldn't fix a fan or hang a shower head. I couldn't lift that or hang this. I was getting sick from scraping ceilings and staying up passed midnight. I couldn't paint a house or finish assembling my cabinets.

I couldn't. It was impossible. But I continued to watch the impossible happen.

But it wasn't just that. It was the overflowing, outpouring of extreme generosity that blew me away...that sealed the summer of 2015 as a moment in time I watched God work in wondrous, overwhelming, and abundant ways to show me how His grace has no limits. That it isn't about only rescuing and comforting...

it's about delighting in, blessing, and lavishing love upon you.

Even now, typing that sounds so foreign, even corny to me. How dreams come to life, is taking me aback, making walls that were so set inside of me get torn down and rearranged, and my heart is having to start grasping that life includes a joy that is delightful and fun.

I didn't really know that. That not everything has strings or consequences or hardship. Sometimes, life is just good and sweet and full of amazing grace.

In July I received a text telling me this person had an envelope for me. Cade and I drove to pick it up. Cade ran in to grab it, but the man walked out too and told me he was supposed to watch me open it. The envelope was a typical greeting card one but it was fat, like something was in it.

My heart began beating fast as I opened it and watched $100 bills fall into my lap. A stack of them fell and the card had an incredibly sweet note inside.

I was stunned. Completely and totally stunned.

Who does this? Who gives someone a stack of money?

Tears welled up and Cade and I couldn't believe what had just happened.

The man gave me a hug and told me he had just been instructed to watch me open it and see my reaction.

My reaction was one of disbelief in how God works.

As amazing as that is, what no one knew was that the night before I sat in the shower crying, telling God how lonely and overwhelmed I felt in this process, that it was too big, too great for me to making such big changes with so many unknowns, and even though I had so many people rallying around me, at the end of the day, it was me...just me, and I was in charge of Cade and I didn't know if I could do this big thing.

I sat crying to God at how I felt alone.

Then, the very next day, the most tangible, overwhelming gift of grace occurred., in a way I could not have fathomed.

Yes, the money was unbelievable, unforgettable, and a sign of immeasurable anonymous generosity, but what those people had done, had been used to do, was to allow God to tell my heart (and allow my 12 year old son to witness!) that He was here with me, that this was His train, and I was to just keep showing up...I was NOT ALONE.

After that day, I never worried much anymore.

I had seen grace in such a new way, that the impossible for man, was possible with God.

I'd just stood on "the cliff" and watched the waters part, the mountains move, and I knew to my very core, that God was taking me somewhere, I just needed to follow Him.

One of my mom's favorite verses had come to life,

"Now to Him who is able to do far more than we could ever think or imagine, to Him be the glory forever and ever."

So, dream, Dream big...or if you're like me and a little too afraid to dream, believe in a God that says, show up, and watch ME.

This season, let's show up and watch HIM.

In Him,

Shelly

If loneliness and grief are your schtick, then the great philosopher Elsa had it right, it's time to Let it Go

Typically, when I write, I spend hours on it. It takes me a long time to get all of my thoughts out, then I read and reread and edit and try and make it sound coherent.

So, by the time I hit publish, I've read the darn thing so many times, I'm over it.

I've released whatever was inside my head and heart and I move on.

It doesn't ever bother me that it sits on the website for a long time, and I usually feel just fine with whomever might stumble upon it.

The blog I wrote a few weeks back messed with me on sitting there for a while. I didn't like the idea of that one, being one of my most vulnerable ones, sitting out there for so long.

I used to write way more frequently, but now I only write when I feel this rush in me that I'm supposed to sit and do it. There has to be a deeper voice within me saying I need to go and think and process and put it down in some words.

When that happens, I know the same process will occur. I'll show up truly having no idea where the post will end up, and as I begin typing, sometime in there I will cry and wipe my tears in the middle of a Starbucks as a post comes together in some magical way.

My last post was different. I wanted to write it. I had stirring thoughts and I wanted to write. I decided to roll with it and write just on a desire to do so.

The post came easy and since I didn't have that compelling feeling inside, I decided to sit on it and not immediately publish it.

After several days, I mustered up the courage to reread and hit publish.

I knew I wrote during a low point in the month, not when I was at my optimum, but it was real and true and it was what it was.

The funny thing is, as I wrote and after I wrote, I wondered if there would ever be a time I would write about anything other than loneliness or grief or other discouraging stuff.

I even told myself, loneliness and grief seem to be your schtick Shelly.

I wondered what that said about me...I wondered if I could write about anything else.

I received some sweet notes, a text or two after my post. They were kind and encouraging.

I received a long email from my dearest friend and it made me weep.

But then, I opened another one...it was encouraging as well, but it also said some other things in it that truly made me pause and have a gut check moment.

Here's the deal, more often than not, my significance, value, worth are completely tied to what I think others think of me.

For years, this was a HUGE problem. It ran my life. People's opinions of me have been my holy grail. I wanted, and still 99% of the time want people to think I'm great, I'm doing it right, have my poop together, am wise, funny, solid, with it, and let me just say it, amazing.

It's the "I must get it right to avoid the pitfalls in life" part of my personality meeting the "perfectionist" meeting the "I'm completely insecure with who I am" trifecta.

It's the perfect storm.

It causes one to over analyze, over step, over try, and anything else you can over, it overs that as well.

So, after my life went to pot, I was determined to let go of so much, give this thing to God, and fully immerse myself into rehabilitating the toxicity that had become my insides and my thinking.

It sent my intentionality and my chance at a second chance of living into overdrive. My determination and desire to live an authentic life had another shot, and I was going to take it!

There's been much beauty and healing in the wake of that. I can't even tell you the leaps and bounds I've come and the amazing grace that God has shown me and taught me through the process of surrendering my life to Him, letting go of the controls as much as I can at each step of the way.

But, as I stated in a couple posts back, forgiving myself has been very problematic for me. It's taken (and seems to be still taking) six years to get to a point where I'm allowing the idea to become a possibility.

Six years.

The book of Exodus has always been my favorite. The story of rescue and redemption and God's power amongst a people that begs to go back to slavery and creates idols because they're impatient and forget and can't keep their minds on the Lord has always connected with me, because I have always known I am just like them.

I beg for removal, but then I practically beg to go back. I beg for rescue but then I wander around reminiscing about slavery.

I don't see God working fast enough so I track down some new idols, prop them up, and weep in the mediocrity of it all.

Years ago, a Bible teacher of mine once said, "God took the people out of Egypt, but it took a long while for the Egypt to get out of the people."

God takes me out of slavery, but so often, I think I'm still a slave or that I need to remember that I was a slave or acknowledge that slavery isn't that far away or it's the cause to my mediocrity...not because I set up camp in a desert with my man made gold statues.

When I'm about to have an anxiety attack, one of the best remedies is to call one of 2 friends. If I call Amy or Brit, they'll talk me through it and most likely out of it.
They're calm, they remind me of what is happening, that everything is going to be okay. They ask great questions and just talk with me, but most importantly, they tell me the reality of the situation.

My mind has to remember what reality is and that my body is panicking over a perceived situation but it isn't reality.

That's what God has to do with us each day. That's what we NEED to have Him do each day.

Remind me of what's real Lord, of who I am, of Your love, Your rescue, Your grace, Your forgiveness.

Remind me. Speak to me Lord.

Throughout the Old Testament God says to the people, Do this so you'll remember.

Remember that God brought you out.

Remember the Lord is mighty.

Remember what the Lord has done.

The email that stung a bit, was one that was telling me in so many words, Remember Shelly.

My immediate thought back was, I do! I do remember.

The grace, the joy, the love...all of it. The countless stories and moments and friends and job and simplicity and complete awesomeness...it's all God and I'm grateful for every ounce.

But...the forgiveness, letting things go, and not reminding myself or convincing myself I must still be a slave, not so much.

How could I let that go?. It's my schtick.
When my heart hurts, that's usually why.
When I'm alone, that's where my mind wanders.
I might become an optimist for Pete's sake and not a cynic.
I might lose my snark and start accepting the reality of who I am and stop pretending to be something I am not.

So, instead, I build my golden statue for a little while, let my mind wander in the fields of loneliness and wander back across the border into Egypt...or at least long for it for a while.

Living victoriously is hard.

I honestly didn't think it was for me.

I'm intentional and determined and hell bent on doing it, that I can't quite figure out why I'm not full on, immersed living victoriously.

And, this Easter morning, I think I caught a glimpse...

Forgiving myself is the ultimate humility for me.

Forgiving myself would mean I really did and do screw up, and I can't do anything in my own power to fix it.

It means I really do need Jesus.

I'm not solid, super wise, got it together, rockstar amazing.

It means I'm normal and human and in GREAT need of a Savior and friend and forgiveness and grace.

Too often, I am the rich young ruler showing up to Jesus telling Him I'm keeping "them all" Lord, what do I have to do?

I'm singing, I'm dancing, and I'm going after it God...

But I kind of wonder if Jesus might be telling me to stop singing and dancing and chasing it.

Forgiveness and grace come when you realize this isn't a chase; this isn't something you do.

If you do it Shelly, it isn't done, it isn't real, and you're missing the point.

"With man it is impossible, but with God, all things are possible."

 This morning, as John preached from Romans 6 and talked about how we have been buried with Him through baptism into death and all of the ramifications from that...

...that the old life is gone, buried; it is no more. There is no going back. The death has occurred and it is gone. Irrevocable..

I saw how I tend to go back. I'm afraid I haven't paid a big enough penalty, maybe I haven't learned my lesson, maybe I need to relook or rethink or continue to pay the price, so I go back.

And I really need to stop going back, exhuming my mistakes, climbing into the hole, and thinking the ghost is haunting me.

My lack of forgiveness is just my pride refusing to let it go.

And it's time, to let it go.

Stop staring at the Promised Land.

Step into the river and trust God that living victoriously is way better than standing frozen :) in fear to move on in His grip, on His path, and in His plan.

The unknown is scary. It is.

But, His unknown includes hope, grace, love, new life, and victory.

It's time to step.

Shackles gone and buried.

Closing my eyes and stepping out, stepping away...

For this I know, that God is for me.

In Him,
Shelly