no change of heart, a change in me

Very few things make me quite as happy as cool weather. Yes, summer is nice for flowy skirts, greek sandals and tank tops, but oh...what I'd give for a year-round fall. Time to pull out the sweaters, black tights, boots, and, of course, my red plaid coat. :) Fall and winter agree with me.

As I walked outside this morning and was met with the 60 degree air, I was immediately flooded with memories of last fall--the feel and the smell of the air took me back to a time when my life looked so different, even just a year ago. I was reminded of being at Northwest Vista, the people there I hung out with, all the time I wasted, all the mistakes I made, all the laughs I had. I also remembered Black Friday shopping...deathly cold, running on absolutely no sleep, crying from exhaustion, falling asleep at Starbucks...not the BEST shopping trip ever, but it makes for a hilarious memory. So all of this made me think about all that has happened since I last felt chilly walking outside. This has without a doubt been the busiest, craziest, happiest, saddest, most wonderful year of my life. So much that I never could have imagined happening happened. All of this realization made me catch my breath. I serve a sovereign God. This busy, crazy, happy, sad, wonderful year is everything He planned it would be. What a beautiful reminder. I say this all the time, but it bears repeating: nothing surprises God. When life surprises you, remember that. It's such a relief. God made me who I am today, and He used the best and worst of circumstances to do it. I am grateful.

put on your Sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there

"Why do you dress nicely for church?"

The above question was asked to me a few weeks ago at my church. To my surprise, I had never given serious thought to it before. As far back as I can remember, my parents have set standards for dress, including for Sundays. When I was a very little girl, I would never dream of wearing anything but a dress to church (albeit, I would never dream of wearing anything but a dress, at all). My mother would brush my soft curly hair (while I enjoyed the soft curliness of it, having my hair brushed was one of the worst things I could think of, right next to wearing tennis shoes or worse...pants), help me distinguish between white and off-white tights and pick out a "twirly" dress.

When we moved to Hawaii, tights became less practical, and were reserved strictly for ballet lessons. My hair had turned blonde and wild, but Sunday was the one day when I simply had to get every knot out. In those days, my church clothes were still primarily dresses, including one or two muumuus (oh yes).

Moving back to San Antonio saw me branch out a little bit, and mix in denim skirts and shirts to my Sunday attire. In those days, my parents not only had rules about clothing, but hair as well. Although this became less of an issue as we got older, for several years, my sisters and I weren't allowed to wear our hair in ponytails to church. Hair needed to be brushed and left down, held back with barrettes, or french braided (every self-respecting homeschooled girl knows the joys of french braids).

As I got older, I began wearing pants to church occasionally, but always "nice" pants. I would never dream of wearing jeans with holes (to this day, I seldom wear jeans at all to church). It was always dressed up, never casual, hair was done, makeup neat.

So thinking back over all of this, and looking at how much the way I dress for church has changed over the years, I realized (rather late in life, I'd imagine) that it's not aboutwhat you wear, but why you are wearing it. It's your attitude. I dress nicely because I am in the Lord's house--why wouldn't I want to look my best for Him? Not that He cares what I look like, obviously, but even so, I want to be presentable. So for me, dressing nicely has everything to do with perception. At 8 years old, I would have thought that wearing pants or hair in a ponytail to church wasn't nice enough. That had everything to do with my perception of what nice was. Now, I feel presentable when I wear pants to church, because I can make it look "dressy." The reason my parents had a rule about ponytails was because when we were younger, wearing a ponytail meant not doing our hair--throwing it up in a ponytail holder so we didn't have to mess with it. That isn't how I think of it today. Again, it was about attitude. Dressing "nicely" is relative--what is nice to one person may be far too casual OR over-the-top to any other given person. Let's not judge fellow believers on what they wear when they worship--or what they wear at all. The Lord calls us all to different standards of dress, and it is our own to work out based on how we feel He has called us.

Love,

Shelley

Trust me

Ever noticed how loosely we throw around the word "trust?" It's a big deal to put your trust in someone. To have faith in them. To believe that they won't let you down.

I have a "childlike trust in the goodness of others." Unfortunately, it sets me up for disappointment more often than not. I simply force myself to believe that people, in general, are good, and that they won't disappoint or hurt me. Of course, that is generally not the case. People, in general, are bad. People are not trustworthy, and they will disappoint you.

Last night, sister Beth, almost-sister Cristen and I were having a somewhat melancholy discussion about trust. The conclusion we came to was that God must have made us all so untrustworthy on purpose. If people could be trusted, no one would need to trust in God. That is the comfort in which I rest. When people inevitably fail me, God will never.

However, even after coming to this realization, I still tend to place my trust in faulty, fallen people. I can't exactly help it. After all, I am part of that faulty, fallen people. I trust too easily. I suppose it goes along with being an optimist. There's nothing wrong with wanting to assume the best in people. I'm not saying I think that one should never trust another person. What I'm reveling in is that I know there is One who will never, ever give me a reason not to trust Him. He gave me the gift of faith in Him, and I can always rest in that. It's an amazing feeling.

To hear with my heart

To see with my soul

To be guided by a Hand I cannot hold

To trust in a way that I cannot see

That's what faith must be

~Michael Card

Love,

Shelley

"This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know up front: this is not a love story"

Over the past two months, I have experienced nearly every emotional state imaginable--all jumbled together, sometimes confusing one for another, not seeing where one ended and another began: love, anger, fear, disappointment, bliss, confusion, denial, hope, hopelessness, impatience, abandonment, recklessness, calm, heartbreak, vindictiveness, pride, spite, serenity, selfishness. I can honestly say that the better part of July, August and September have collectively been the most stressful time in my life. But God has done so much in my life in this time. More than I ever imagined. My post about grace could not have come at a more appropriate time.

Back in June, I reconnected with a young man with whom I've been friends for the better part of 8 years. Long, complicated story short, we realized we had feelings for each other that went deeper than friendship. That was in the middle of August. Choosing a method that I respectfully disagreed with, his parents asked us not to communicate at all until such a time when he (and they) felt confirmation from the Lord that this was what He wanted for us. Well, it must not have been, because we didn't exactly adhere to their request, resulting in communication once again being severed, this time with more hurt and heartache. Rough emails were exchanged between children and parents, no one walked away unscathed or faultless. Not wanting to end things badly, I sought him out yesterday morning, thanks to an extremely supportive friend. We talked for about an hour, clearing the air, saying what needed to be said, and parting on excellent (if wistful) terms.

I don't pretend to know what will happen in the future. All I know is that I love him dearly, I'm crushed at the way things turned out for us, I want things between our families to be okay, and I miss being his friend more than I can say. Before it all got complicated, I could talk to him about anything. He was with me when I smoked my first cigarette. We had the most interesting and stimulating conversations. Now I can't talk to him at all...that hurts. It can't and won't last forever, this I know. This will move out of the present, into memory, and we will move on in grace, love and friendship. And someday, he and I will go to Orange Cup, because apparently I'm the only person in all of San Antonio who hasn't been. :) God has a lot in store for both of us, and I take comfort in the fact that nothing surprises Him. He knew every move we would make, every word we would say, every time we would lose sight of Him, every time He would make us find Him again. It's a good feeling. He will never leave me, nor forsake me.

Love,

Shelley

Rain ~ Patty Griffin

It's hard to listen to a hard, hard heart

Beating close to mine

Pounding up against the stone and steel

Walls that I won't climb

Sometimes the hurt is so deep, deep, deep

You think that you're gonna drown

Sometimes all I can do is weep, weep, weep

With all this rain falling down

Strange how hard it rains now

Rows and rows of big, dark clouds

But I'm holding on underneath this shroud

Of rain

It's hard to know when to give up the fight

Some things you want will just never be right

It's never rained like it has tonight before

Now I don't want to beg you, baby

For something maybe you could never give

I'm not looking for the rest of your life

I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now

Rows and rows of big, dark clouds

But I'm holding on underneath this shroud

Of rain

Strange how hard it rains now

Rows and rows of big, dark clouds

But I'm still alive underneath this shroud

Of rain

it can be a girl's name...

In case you don't know, my father is one of the greatest men who has ever lived. And as such, he never, ever runs out of wisdom which he lovingly imparts to his children. His most famous phrase (except for maybe, "I said to myself, 'self!'") is "Give grace." Those two words have built my family.

Dad has been saying them for years, but I never fully understood the concept of "giving grace" until about a year ago. Someone permanently close to me had done me a great disservice (or so it seemed at the time). My dad was not with me, so my natural thought was, "What would Dad do?" Immediately, I answered myself. Give grace. It didn't matter what this person had done, it didn't matter that my feelings were hurt, it didn't matter that I "knew" I was in the right. I needed to give grace. It was so easy and suddenly seemed so natural. It was a watershed moment for me. I began to deconstruct this idea of giving grace.

The act of giving grace is universal. It doesn't matter if someone has treated you poorly, you have been wrongfully accused, you have been judged harshly, you have been taken advantage of.... Giving grace is realizing that you are no better than the one who offends you, that you are capable of making the same mistakes as them, and that you choose to forgive them and treat them with love rather than bear a grudge against them.

After coming to this great moment of realization, I immediately started seeing the world differently. Instead of seeing what the world could do for me or what the world had done to me, I saw the world as being filled with opportunities for grace. In the past year, I have been wronged by many people. And every time, when anger, resentment and bitterness would well up inside me, I would hear my dad..."Give grace, Shelley." And each time, it got even easier. No wonder my dad can do it without batting an eye. At some point (probably learning it from his most excellent parents), he learned to give grace. And that's how he and my mother live their lives. My parents (and my whole family) have had run-ins with not-so-pleasant people. People who think we live under a rock, people who think we're going to hell because we watch movies or wear pants, and many other kinds. But every time, it's the same. Give grace. We don't need to be concerned with how others view us or treat us. All we can do is extend grace to them and pray that we are a ministry to them.

God saved us by grace alone. If He imparted saving grace to us, why shouldn't we give grace to others?

Always, always give grace.

Love, Shelley.

i'll wait for you, i promise you...

I admire them both so much--of course, Jason Mraz in particular. And I love that they are barefoot. It's very endearing.