Christmas Eve

My blog has lain dormant for almost a month. I have been very busy. Now, here it is, Christmas Eve. I am so filled with gratitude, love, peace and joy. If God is with us, who is against us?!

This is one of my favorite Christmas songs.

It was not a silent night

There was blood on the ground

You could hear a woman crying

In the alleyway that night

On the streets of David's town

And the stable was not clean

And the cobblestones were cold

And little Mary, full of grace

With the tears upon her face

Had no mother's hand to hold

It was a labour of pain

It was a cold sky above

But for the girl on the ground in the dark

Every beat of her beautiful heart

It was a labour of love

Noble Joseph by her side

Calloused hands and weary eyes

There were no midwives to be found

On the streets of David's town

In the middle of the night

So he held her and he prayed

Shafts of moonlight on his face

But the baby in her womb

He was the Maker of the moon

He was the Author of the faith

That could make the mountains move

It was a labour of pain

It was a cold sky above

But for the girl on the ground in the dark

Every beat of her beautiful heart

It was a labour of love

Little Mary, full of grace

With the tears upon her face

It was a labour of love

~Andrew Peterson

God is so good. I've questioned Him so many times...and for what?

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace among men on whom His favor rests.

Merry Christmas to you all, and God bless us, every one.

Love,

Shelley

My Own Personal Saboteur, or Why CJ Is My Least Favorite Sister

My sister CJ has been married and gone for almost two months now. So naturally, I thought that it was time for me to start taking over a few of her many responsibilities, one of which is making the world's most amazing bagels. So yesterday, I asked her for the recipe, which she kindly (or so I thought) posted on Facebook for me. Here is what posted:

Bagels, in small terms for Shelley.

5 c hot water

2 T yeast

Dissolve yeast in water.

Add:

8 scant cups flour

Cover and let rise till doubled in bulk and very bubbly.

Add:

3 T yeast

1/4 c honey

8 c flour

It's ok if you can't stir all the flour in. Turn it onto the counter and knead it in until dough is very firm and stiff.

Divide into 32 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball. Poke a hole in the middle of each ball and stretch out the hole till it looks like a bagel. Cover and let rise till they're as big as you want them.

Fill dutch oven about halfway with water. Boil. Reduce to heavy simmer. Put bagels in the boiling water. Boil on each side 2-3 minutes.

Put boiled bagels on baking sheets that have been greased and sprinkled with cornmeal.

Bake at 425 till they're done. How long? I have no idea. Just till they're brown and look done.

If I had been a little bit more intelligent (if you know me, say nothing), I might have caught the malicious glitch above. But I did not, and I made my bagels, following this recipe exactly. I only had to call her ONCE to make sure I was doing it right. She evilly assured me that everything was going just fine. Feeling rather good about myself and my bagels, I put the first batch in the oven. After a conspicuously long time of them not looking done, I finally pulled them out, only to realize with horror that they were ROCK. HARD. Blerg. I must have overbaked them. No problem, I'll get it right the second time around. So I put the next batch in and hoped for the best. In the meantime, I crack open one of my fossilized bagels, found it to be slightly soft in the middle, and tasted it...or, I tried to taste it. What I tasted reminded me of water. Or dirt. So in a frenzy, I call my dear sister--the sister I rely on for nearly everything, and thus went our conversation:

CJ: Hey! Did they turn out okay?
Me: NO!
CJ: Why? What did you do? (Notice how she tries to pin this on me)
Me: I don't know! The first batch came out and they're completely hard, so I thought I had overbaked them, but I tasted them and I can't taste anything! Was I supposed to put salt in them or something??
CJ: Yes! Of course you were!
Me: Well it's not in the recipe you gave me.
CJ: Yes it is.
Me: No it's not. I'm looking at it right now.
CJ: Oh no.....oh crap.....
Me: What?
CJ: I put yeast instead of salt!

At this time, I'd like to invite you to revisit the recipe above, and notice that yeast appears twice in the recipe--the first time, like normal, dissolved in water. But the SECOND time, my friends, THREE EXTRA TABLESPOONS mixed in with honey and flour. You guessed it--that yeast was supposed to be salt. Which accounts for the bagel being rock solid, the lack of flavor, and the fact that they were ENORMOUS.

Me: ARE YOU SERIOUS????
CJ: *uncontrollable laughter with interspersed "I'm so sorry!!"s*
Me: I hate you so much. What am I going to do with 32 huge hard nasty bagels??
CJ: *see above*
Me: You are the worst sister ever.
CJ: Oh my gosh, that's so disgusting! You put five tablespoons of yeast in the bagels??
Me: Don't try and make this about me. WHO is the blonde sister now?!

So 32 bagels (some cooked, some not) went into the trash. It is my firm belief that CJ felt threatened by my mad baking skills and didn't want me stepping on her finest work, so she sabotaged me on purpose. She would do that. You know she would. She's just that evil.

Ugh.

I miss her so much.




Love,
Shelley

a grateful people

Thanksgiving is here...I'm giving thanks. I have been blessed with so much--more than I could ever ask for. It's definitely been a rocky year, and God knows I've not been quiet about it, but today, I'm reflecting on things I am thankful for.

• Christ
• Freedom
• Grace
• John and Cathi Warren...for everything and more
• Siblings: Aubrey Russell; Kristen Slaughter; Annie Welty; Cathryn Longenbaugh; Nathan Warren; Beth Warren; Caleb Warren; Timothy Warren...I couldn't begin to imagine a better group of people to call my brothers and sisters
• In-laws: Dirk Russell; Dave Slaughter; Caleb Welty; Tony Longenbaugh...for taking such good care of my sisters
• Nephews and nieces: Jonathan; David; Joshua; Isaac; Abigail; Samuel; Molly; Warren; Henry; Carrie; Liam; Baby Slaughter; Erin; Judah; Savannah; Longenbaby...you light up my life
• Dear friends: Cheyenne Sabo; Hannah Cisarik; Chris White; Hayden Fletcher; Cristen Gauthier; Rachel Wells (and many others)...I can't tell you how incredible these people are
• My job and the fabulous girls I work with...I know God put me there and with them for a reason
• My piano...for still being there for me, whenever I need it
• My church family...what an excellent, loving group of believers
• The girl at the Starbucks in Barnes&Noble at La Cantera...she always knows what I'll order, and she always makes me smile
• Lewis Wells and Hillary McFarland...God uses these amazing Christians in such astounding ways
• My red platform heels...they make me feel pretty
• My adorable pink computer...for not dying...yet
• This blog...for helping me keep track of my rambling, disorganized thoughts

I hope your Thanksgiving Day is filled with 100000000009 reasons to be thankful.

Thank YOU.

In love and thanks,
Shelley

no more, my God

I am an open person.

Depending on who you are, you may either condemn or condone me for that. Take it for what it is, there is very little that I hide.

I have been extremely transparent on this blog, and for that, I have recently received both praise and criticism. I asked for neither. I understand both. On the one hand, I am grateful that others find my transparency refreshing. It makes me feel like all of this writing isn't for nothing. On the other hand, being transparent means being honest about not only myself, but the relationships I have, and the people involved. So I get that others who aren't as open as I am don't take too kindly to receiving a shout-out from yours truly for all the world to see. So, I'm sorry if it makes people feel uncomfortable, but this is how I'm trying to live my life: honestly.

At this time last year, I was not nearly this person. I had a relationship (not a romantic one, but a clandestine one nonetheless) that I kept completely hidden from everyone important to me. I started lying about little things--things that didn't even matter. I severely damaged my relationships with my parents, my siblings and my friends, I wasn't sleeping, wasn't studying (I honestly do not know how I managed to pass all of my classes). Getting caught the first time did nothing--I just got more elaborate in my dishonesty. It took getting caught a second time; this time with much more painful consequences, to make me realize how I was ruining my life at the tender age of 17. So, I made some drastic changes. I had to work hard at gaining back all the trust that I had lost. It was one of the hardest lessons God ever taught me.

So now, a year later, I keep almost nothing to myself. Concealing things did absolutely nothing but bad things for me. So this is who I am. You can find nearly everything there is to know about me on this blog. The good, the bad and the ugly. And that's the way I like it. I don't want to be private or hidden or mysterious. I want to be open and honest.

So for openness and honesty's sake, this is about as transparent as I come:

There are still some nights when I can't fall asleep because I'm caught between bitter anger and devastated love for him. There are some days when I look in the mirror and feel like if I was a better person he would have fought for me. I never walk into Ann Taylor without looking at the chairs outside and wondering if today is the day he'll come see me. Every few days, I send him a text to see if my number is still blocked from his phone. Then there are days when I go several hours having completely forgotten about him, only to wake up rudely. I feel like a complete mess sometimes.

BUT, I know that Christ loves me. He didn't fight for me--He died for me. There is never a time when I can't have access to Him. He was with me when I could hide everything from everyone else--I couldn't hide from Him. He was with me when I didn't wear makeup for days because I cried too often. He is with me now as I am trying to figure out all of the lessons He is teaching me through this. And He'll be with me forever. Without Him, I am absolutely nothing. Without Him, I AM a mess. But I am not without Him, and because of Him, I am not a mess. He won't let me be.

There you have it. I have no problem telling you all of this, because God didn't make us to hide behind fake smiles and syrupy "I'm fine"s. He didn't give us emotions so we could hide or slight them. Feelings are for FEELING. I refuse to feel bad that I don't hide them all away. I don't think I'm at the point yet where I can say, "I'd do it all over again because of what God did through it all." I still pretty much wish it had never happened. But I'm very hopeful that I'll get to that point at some point!

In love,

Shelley

PS. I will always be ready to be your friend.

I'm here

Promises Like Pie-Crust ~~ Christina Georgina Rossetti

Promise me no promises,

So will I not promise you:

Keep we both our liberties,

Never false and never true:

Let us hold the die uncast,

Free to come as free to go:

For I cannot know your past,

And of mine what can you know?

You, so warm, may once have been

Warmer towards another one:

I, so cold, may once have seen

Sunlight, once have felt the sun:

Who shall show us if it was

Thus indeed in time of old?

Fades the image from the glass

And the fortune is not told.

If you promised, you might grieve

For lost liberty again:
If I promised, I believe

I should fret to break the chain.

Let us be the friends we were,

Nothing more but nothing less:

Many thrive on frugal fare

Who would perish of excess.

I'll always be here.

Love,

Shelley

for the weary and troubled

Now that my sister is married, the responsibility of church music has fallen to me. I'll save most of that for a later post, but for now, while going through some new music given to me by my brother-in-law/pastor, I fell in love with this hymn that spoke to me loudly and clearly. I hope it blesses you as much as it has me.

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul (Words: Anne Steele; Music: Kevin Twit)

Dear refuge of my weary soul

On Thee, when sorrows rise

On Thee, when waves of trouble roll

My fainting hope relies

To Thee I tell each rising grief

For Thou alone canst heal

Thy Word can bring a sweet relief

For every pain I feel

But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail

I fear to call Thee mine

The springs of comfort seem to fail

And all my hopes decline

Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?

Thou art my only trust

And still my soul would cleave to Thee

Though prostrate in the dust

Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face

And shall I seek in vain?

And can the ear of sovereign grace

Be deaf when I complain?

No still the ear of sovereign grace

Attends the mourner's prayer

Oh may I ever find access

To breathe my sorrows there

Thy mercy seat is open still

Here let my soul retreat

With humble hope attend Thy will

And wait beneath Thy feet

Thy mercy seat is open still

Here let my soul retreat

With humble hope attend Thy will

And wait beneath Thy feet

I'll be honest. I cried the first time I played it. God gave me this hymn exactly when I needed it. Weary is definitely the word to describe my soul. I needed to remember to take refuge in Him. I can't get rid of my frustration, anxiety, weakness or pain. Only He can.

If you think the words are beautiful, listen the melody here.

Love,

Shelley

remember this time?

I've been feeling very nostalgic...it happens every time Fall comes around. Go figure.

I remember when I turned 6, Beth and I had our birthday party in an almost-empty house, seeing as how we were gearing up for an overseas move the following week. Pawpop and Grandma gave us Barbie balloons. We thought it was strange, since we didn't play with Barbies. But the balloons were nice.

I remember getting lost at Waikiki Beach 2 weeks after moving to Hawaii. Beth knows she left me on purpose.

I remember spending the night at my friend Sarah's house, getting my hair caught in a hairbrush and having to cut my hair off the brush at 2 am. We laughed so hard.

I remember turning 7 during Vacation Bible School, and getting my first Bible.

I remember my daddy baptizing me at the North Shore.*

I remember decorating the Easter Cross with all kinds of flowers with Beth and our friends Sarah, Hannah and Stephanie. It was beautiful.*

I remember boarding the plane to move back to San Antonio. I can only count on one hand the number of times I have cried that hard.

I remember hating San Antonio with a white hot fiery passion.

I remember getting my ears pierced. It didn't hurt.

I remember the first Sunday of Covenant of Grace, in a tiny hotel banquet room, with a handful of wonderful families.

I remember meeting Ms. Penny...she understood me right away. It blew my mind.

I remember singing For Good with my friend Nicole.

I remember taking pictures on a rainy day with my friends Hannah and Rachel.*

I remember going out to eat in Fort Worth with my parents and my eight brothers and sisters...just us. I think that's the only time that has ever happened. We ate lots of sopapillas.*

I remember co-producing a 10 minute movie with my friend Andy and a bunch of fabulous people.

I remember co-directing Psalty's Christmas Calamity with CJ and Beth. It was then that I was given the nickname, "Psalty Nazi." Let's just say I have a very, very loud yelling voice.

I remember going hiking with most of my family, and coming home exhausted, but with enough energy to wolf down mom's tuna stuffed potatoes, and cast lots for the leftovers.*

I remember my first day at Northwest Vista. 16 years old, and no idea what the hell I was doing. I never turned in homework in French 1, because I was under the impression that homework assignments were optional.

I remember going to see Wicked.*

I remember the night when my friend Cheyenne and I sat in my bed and, for the first time, talked about one day being sisters.

I remember going to the zoo over spring break with Nathan and our friends Hannah, Rachel and Chris. Nathan was blocking the rhino.*

I remember my senior recital. It scared me to death, it stressed me out beyond measure, but I'm so glad I did it.

I remember seeing Toy Story 3 at midnight with my friends on my 18th birthday.

I remember sitting at Starbucks with my friend Josh after smoking my first cigarette, talking about nearly everything.*

I remember Beth piercing my ears with a piercing gun. She was more freaked out than I was.

I remember CJ's wedding. I miss that day.*

*My favorite days.

I believe that everything--every person, place, situation you experience changes you. Not drastically, of course, but you are ever so slightly different than you were before each new encounter. This helps me to see the positive side to things...without each and every thing that has happened to me, I wouldn't be exactly who I am today.

Love,

Shelley

free to be me

Sunday was, for the general public, Halloween, and for many Christians, Reformation Day. I am a fan of both. Don't be fooled--Reformation Day isn't a "Christian response" to Halloween. It's actually older than Halloween, and they just happen to fall on the same day of the year. It's not anyone's fault that Martin Luther picked October 31, 1517 to nail his 95 theses on a church door. Well, I suppose it's Martin Luther's fault. But I just want to make it clear that I have no problem with kids dressing up and asking people for candy. I've had some great costumes over the years. At 5 I was a kitten, at 8 I was a ballerina, at 13 I was Trinity from The Matrix, at 14 Beth and I were each other (it was awesome, btw), and last year I was a hippie. I really committed to that one, too, abstaining from shaving my legs for almost 2 weeks before Halloween. Yeah. This year, however, I wore no costume. I was happy being me!

After a church service at which I thundered out A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, my siblings and I (sans parents who are greatly missed on their wonderful vacation) went to a Reformation Day celebration hosted by some wonderful church friends of ours. We had such a great time fellowshipping with so many other believers. A couple hours in to the party, the host gave a wonderful presentation on the Reformation, and the life of St. Augustine. At the very end of it, he said something that has stuck with me, primarily because it has been on my mind so much for the past several weeks. He was wrapping up explaining how Christ saved us out of death because we could not save ourselves, and that because of Him, we are not held by death or bondage. "That is freedom in Christ." It most certainly is.

Like I said--this topic has largely occupied my thoughts as of late. Too many times I have seen freedom in Christ neglected and replaced with human bondage. Too many times I have seen that human bondage consume entire families to the point where they stifle their own children or ostracize their friends. It breaks my heart. I am so thankful to God for a) the freedom He has given His people, and b) for allowing me to realize and take hold of it! I don't need a formula or a list or a method. I need Christ. And since I have Him, I am free to be myself, free to live for Him, free from feeling like I'm "not doing it right."

Anyway, it was so wonderful to hear those words spoken in a large setting on Sunday night. I write about freedom in Christ in my journal constantly, and I talk about it occasionally online or in my own home, so it was nice to hear it from someone else's mouth. And no matter who you are, it is always something beneficial to be reminded of. I left that night remembering for the thousandth time over how grateful I am for my freedom, and how I can't even imagine living without it. It must be such a sad existence.

I hope you all had a wonderful day on Sunday, whatever your preferred holiday.

Love, always,

Shelley

less like scars and more like character

I am rebuilding.

I am relinquishing bitterness, resentment, longing, sad songs, arguing, self-doubt, insomnia and hurt.

I am not broken. It may have felt that way, but I am whole, I am full of life and love, and I refuse to be jaded or cynical or weak.

There is not a single person who I do not love.

I tip my hat to friends like Hillary and Lewis who have the strength and courage to use their own experiences to 1) speak out against those who would manipulate Christians' hearts and minds using their own version of the Gospel, and 2) be comfort and sound counsel for those being wounded by the same movements. Perhaps one day I will be in a state of mind to do the same, but for now, I enjoy sharing what these wonderfully articulate writers have to say.

During these past several weeks and months, I realized for the 18930849th time that I truly have the greatest family. They will always be here for me, even when I'm too miserable to notice. I don't deserve them, but I thank God every day for them.

God also surrounded me with the most loving, caring, honest and supportive brothers and sisters in Christ who I am so, so blessed to call my friends.

My life has purpose.

I am not looking back. I am looking ahead.

When I get to Heaven, God will not care that I wore pants, that I didn't believe in courtship or that I listened to music other than K LOVE. He cares about His children, not the rules they make for themselves.

I will go where He leads. Nowhere else.

In peace and love,

Shelley

wedding post part 2

I had every intention of writing this BEFORE the wedding. As Mraz would say, I'm the best definition of good intentions.

Oh, my sister's wedding. I don't know where to begin. I have seen few days as happy as this one was. And rightly so. My sister CJ deserves every happiness in the world.

I remember a time when CJ couldn't get out of bed for a whole year. The house stayed dark and quiet. I watched her become progressively weaker and sadder. I remember thinking, "Why in the world is this happening, and when will it end?"

Seeing CJ's beaming face on Saturday is something that will stay with me forever. Her unimaginable trials will always be a testimony to God's unfailing love and protection, and now through it all, CJ is a strong, healthy, talented, beautiful woman after His own heart that I am so blessed to call my sister.

As it should have been, the day of the wedding was perfect. She, of course, looked absolutely beautiful, the setting was pristine, the weather crystal clear and bright, and (much to the concern of my mother) nothing went wrong. Nothing? Nothing. Like I said--it was perfect.

It should go without saying that the goodbye portion of the night was hard. After a good half hour of crying and hugging, CJ and Tony Longenbaugh walked through dozens of sparklers to their getaway car, and then they were gone. I can't talk about it.

I'm so grateful for my sister and my new brother. Dok, you'll always be my twin. :)

Love,

Shelley

human

Today's Song of the Day on my sidebar is brought to you by one of my favorite bands, The Killers, and this song is one of their best. I've discussed with several people the meaning of this song, and this is the part where I'll try that again, for the sake of clarification. This is how I understand the song, and perhaps, if you know me well, you can see why it means so much to me.

Are we human, or are we dancer? This is not an arbitrary, meaninglessly poetic question. It is actually very thought-provoking. In this context, dancer is used disparagingly. A human thinks, feels, acts based on instinct and personal decision. A dancer is controlled by someone else...similar to a puppet. A dancer has no will, but rather, only does what someone else has taught or told them. This is not a prison--dancers put themselves in this position. Up to the platform of surrender, I was brought but I was kind.

Close your eyes, clear your heart, cut the cord. This line is confusing. On the one hand, it could be a reference to surrendering all personal responsibility to someone else and losing your own life force--essentially, belonging to someone else and dancing for them. On the other hand, it could be just the opposite, with cutting the cord referring to being released from another person (i.e. cutting an umbilical cord). Perhaps it is meant to be taken either way, depending on if the reader/listener feels we are human or dancer. I'm still not sure which way I want to take it.

The second verse explores the reality of being a dancer. Pay my respects to grace and virtue, send my condolences to good, give my regards to soul and romance...so long to devotion...wave goodbye, wish me well, you've gotta let me go. If we go with the implication that dancers don't feel (again, in THIS context), then they have to let go of all of the above. Grace, virtue, good, soul, romance, devotion...they are all meaningless to a dancer (--side note: grace in its abstract, mental form--obviously, dancers possess massive amounts of physical grace).

My sign is vital, my hands are cold...there is no message we're receiving, let me know, is your heart still beating? Vital signs indicate that a person {>human<} is alive, whereas cold hands are associated with a lack of life or warmth. A beating heart is another sign of life. Would a dancer know if their heart wasn't beating, though?

Throughout the song, the singer seems to imply that we are, in fact, dancer, but keeps going back to the question: which are we? I'm on my knees looking for the answer. The lead singer of The Killers, Brandon Flowers, is a devout Mormon. It could be that this question so puzzles him that he is asking God for help. This is strangely coincidental, seeing as how God is the only One for whom humans should dance. That was not the point of the question, however. As a Mormon, Flowers understands that he is to follow God's commandments (whether or not I agree with him on what those commandments are is irrelevant here). Flowers is talking about dancing for people--a dancer who is willing to make their every move based on direction from someone else.

In an interview, Brandon Flowers said that he was inspired to write this song when he heard a friend of his complain that "we are raising a generation of dancers" with dancers having the same unfavorable context. I sincerely hope that my generation is not one of dancers, and I won't claim that I am one or the other. All I can say is I wish I was in love with a human.

Love,

Shelley

wedding post part 1

Well, by the end of the week, my sister Cathryn will be married. The first of the "B team" to say "I do." She'll be leaving behind her younger siblings and joining the ranks of the fabulously married ones. And she'll be moving away. :( But we're not thinking about THAT right now! We're thinking about how busy this week is! I took Wednesday through Saturday off from work so I can do bridesmaidy things. Monday is almost through, and it feels like it's taken forever. This morning, CJ coerced her two bridesmaids (Beth and me) into cleaning the disaster that calls itself the game room at my house. {Yuck.} Then I abandoned them for several hours, opting instead for what turned out to be a very distracted and unnerving shift at work. This evening will see a lot more cleaning. Tomorrow I'll work for the better part of the day...after working 9-5:45, I'm not sure how much cleaning I'll want to do! I'm taking the night off! ;)

Things will get more exciting the closer we get to the weekend. I'm so excited about all the people coming into town for this wedding! My BCF (Best Cousin Forever) Courtney who is all of 4 days younger than me will fly in on Thursday! She's the greatest. :) Also coming on Thursday is my {newish} fantastic friend Hayden, flying in all the way from California! I can finally put a face with the phone number--we'll have such fun. Of course, these two wonderful people don't compare to how excited I am that ANNIE IS COMING. I can't believe it's been a year since I last saw my sister and her beautiful family. I can't wait to see my baby niece! I am ecstatic. Thursday, Thursday, Thursday. Come quickly, please?

Saturday is going to be an unforgettable day. I get to stand up in my "twin" sister's wedding...I get to help her on the best day of her amazing life (more on this in wedding post part 2). So, so, so many people I love will be there. Of course, the one person I desperately want to be there won't, but c'est la vie maintenant. The day will be incredibly special, and I can hardly sleep at night, partly from excitement.

Stay tuned for part 2 of this post, coming to you Thursday or Friday!

Love,

Shelley

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.

we'll make it through

As I half-hang my head in shame, half-smile in bemused delight, I will admit that I am a fan of the show Glee. Not everything about it, mind you. I definitely think they could have picked a few better singers, a few better actors, and stuck to some more appropriate story lines. Don't get me wrong--Lea Michele, Chris Culfer and a few others have more than proven their vocal talent on the show, there is a decent number of good actors, and the scripts, while many times offensive, are socially relevant. What I like about Glee is that reaches out to most every high school stereotype and breaks it. Everyone on the show is given a clean slate and a chance to sing their precious hearts out. The kids in the show make real mistakes and deal with real problems. But at the end of the day, they don't judge each other; they reach out to, love and accept one another. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

And of course, the songs they sing are closely tied to the problems they deal with, which is something I always appreciate...especially lately. My Most Played Songs on iTunes currently consists of: Details in the Fabric (Jason Mraz), A Beautiful Mess (Jason Mraz), Slow Dancing in a Burning Room (John Mayer), Smile (Uncle Kracker), The World Spins Madly On (The Weepies), etc. You can tell a lot about a person by the songs they listen to at any given time. This fabulous arrangement of an Avril Lavigne song done by the cast of Glee is a wonderful example of the way they sing their frustrations away.

Keep Holding On - Glee Cast

everything will be fine

Another long week comes to a close. Another long week is about to start.

This week will see me working a lot. I'm not complaining. I like working. Friday will be interesting...I'll be working 9-5:30 (with a break from 1-1:30, thank goodness). We'll see how well I can manage my ADHD.

Sometimes I wish my life was simple. Normal. But then I remember that it wouldn't be exciting and neurotic. You can't have it all. At least not all at once.

The nice thing about insomnia is that it leaves ample time to think. I've been getting lots of quality thinking time in lately.

I usually blog with a purpose or theme. Not tonight. I'm too tired, my thoughts are too scattered, my emotions are too exhausted.

Good night. Love,

Shelley

more on comparisons

I've never been very into formulas. I see big pictures, not details. I prefer to do things "off the cuff" and just see what happens. However, I work very well with guidelines and strategies. So I've drawn some more comparisons between working for Ann Taylor and witnessing.

In a recent store meeting, we were given some guidelines on how to work with clients:

-Get to know the client. Be familiar with her lifestyle, know where she's coming from, her background, etc. Befriend her, let her get to know you. Create an emotional connection with her. In doing this, you'll know what to offer her, what will appeal to her, what will work for her, and most of all, make you care about what you bring her. If you don't know or like your client, you won't be motivated to help them.

-Be knowledgeable about the product. Know what you're talking about. Be excited about it. A mirror can convince a client to buy a product, but a stylist can convince her to try it on with how good she makes it sound. Make the client trust you--f she doesn't think you know about the product, she won't. Also, care about the product. If the client doesn't think you love it, she'll second guess it.

-Have style credibility. Wear your words. Follow your own advice. A client will be much more inclined to buy something if a stylist is wearing it, and wearing it well. This is another huge factor in establishing trust with your client. Look stylish, and [at least act like you] know it. She's the client, you're the stylist. If you look sloppy, and you're trying to sell her a chic dress, she won't do it.

Any of this sound familiar? Of course, talking about clothes is a huge leap away from talking about Christ, but apply these same principles in a different context, and what do we get?

-Get to know the unbeliever. Learn their story, their background, their lifestyle. Care about them. We are called to love the lost. So love them. Let them know you love them and want to help them. The unbeliever will be much more inclined to listen to you if they feel like you care about them.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3: "If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am a noisy going or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing."

-Be equipped with the Sword of the Spirit. Know what you're saying, and know why you believe it. It's not enough to say, "Christ died for your sins. Believe in Him, repent of your sins and you can be with Him." Why? How? Where is that found? If the unbeliever doesn't feel like you know what you're talking about, they won't take you seriously. Give examples, give reasoning, always take it back to Scripture. The unbeliever will see evidence that not only do you know what you're saying, but that you truly care about it. Evangelism is about showing God's love to the people you love.

2 Timothy 4:2: "Preach the word, be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke and exhort, with complete patience and teaching."

-Be credible. Be in the world, not of the world. The unbeliever won't listen to you if you act like "everyone else" while preaching something different. I'm not talking about modesty (although standards of modesty are, of course, important). I'm talking about your attitude. How you live your life. Do you demonstrate God's love and grace in everything you do, or only when you're trying to win people to Christ? The unbeliever will observe you in everything, and if you talk about love, mercy, graciousness, repentance, freedom in Christ, etc. but don't carry it out, what kind of credibility have you established? Live out your faith.

Matthew 28:19-20: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you."

If you read my blog, I pray that you find this helpful. Like I said--I don't like formulas, but I like strategies. I'll end today with another verse from Paul's second letter to Timothy:

"As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry." 2 Timothy 4:4

Love,

Shelley

on everything

>>>My room is a mess. Mainly because I'm never home for a long enough period of time to clean it. Also because the speakers on my computer are not great, and I refuse to do anything time consuming without a lot of music to help me.

>>>My hair is straight. Feeling adventurous, with hair still wet yesterday morning, I ran a brush through it for the first time in I don't know how long (curly hair is not meant to be brushed). After which I blow-dried it and straightened it. And guess what? My hair is getting LONG. So I repeated this process today, liking the way my hair feels as it brushes across my shoulders. It won't last long though, it will most likely be back to its curly, barely manageable self tomorrow.

>>>My journal is filling up. So many things to write in it. I like my journal more than I like my blog. Most of my thoughts either aren't worth blogging, or are not purposed to be blogged.

>>>My piano is suffering through my mood swings. Days of neglect followed by days of much love and attention. The latter has been the past few days, although at the moment, most of my preferred music is lacking a little something [read: someone] special.

>>>My anticipation is mounting. In less than 50 days, I get to meet my beautiful niece Savannah, see my wonderful sister and co., and stand by my "twin" sister as she gets married. October 9th is going to be an amazing day.

>>>My God is continually preserving and strengthening me. He loves me forever.

leaning on Him

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. 1 Peter 4:12-13

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Revelation 21:3-4

Love,

Shelley

waiting on the world to change

I've recently been feeling very convicted by my lack of evangelism. I can very easily say I have a "heart for evangelism," and a "love for the lost," but at the moment, since I'm not in school anymore, I haven't been living that out. My wandering mind has led me to draw comparisons.

I work at Ann Taylor. Every time I go in and start my shift, my manager updates me on how we are doing in terms of sales, Style Rewards, etc. I am good at both of those things. I can add 3 pieces to an outfit in a dressing room and I can convince women to open credit cards. I'm trustworthy and persuasive. I make people like me. So it hit me earlier,

Why am I not capitalizing on this outside of a clothing store??

When I am so good at helping women find clothes that will work for them, why am I not helping people in their walk with the Lord, or helping them to find their walk?

When I am so good at saying, "Have you heard about our Style Rewards program? Here are all the benefits...," why am I not saying, "Have you heard about Jesus? Here's how he died so you could live...?"

Ann Taylor sets a sales goal for every hour, day, week, month. I'm going to set myself a witnessing goal. I'm excited!

Love, Shelley

well it goes without saying

Been too busy to blog lately...summer does not = summer break.

I have the privilege of lending my soprano-ness to a choir that will perform at two fundraising events for Voice of the Martyrs. VOM is a wonderful organization and I am proud to be a part of this, but the rehearsing is a trip. Fortunately, the two events are the last two Fridays of this month, so we're almost done!

Ann Taylor hired me as a stylist/sales associate, which is fun. When I was a little girl, I would have fainted from excitement if I knew that at 18, I would be required to get moderately dressed up for work, and spend hours styling people. I also think I would have been shocked if I knew that I would come to resent wearing high heels at the end of each day. Mais c'est la vie, n'est-ce pas?

Today is the first day all week that I am home for dinner. Well, really, it's the first day all week that I've been home period. I've been looking forward to today for that very reason, but now that it's more than halfway through the day, I feel like I need to be doing something. I'm not sure I know how not to do anything anymore. All I've been able to do all day is think--which I haven't had time for all week. It's odd.

Well, I've knocked out two items on my list of things to do. Good for me.

I think this is my most aimless, undirected post to date. Time to go find something to do.

Love,

Shelley

measure in love

Something that I have been pondering for a while now is the issue of homosexuality and the rights demanded by homosexuals in this country. As recent as a year ago, I would have told you, straight up, homosexuality was the worst offense, that there is no "coming back" from it, and that conservatives should fight to keep gay marriage illegal at all costs. What I would not have said, but would have felt, is that homosexuals aren't worth my time. I am truly ashamed to admit that. The homosexuals I came in contact with were immediately written off and disdainfully ignored.

I don't recall when specifically my mind changed, but after praying, reading and thinking about it, I came to the realization that homosexuals deserve and need to hear the Gospel just as much as every other unbeliever. If, as is so often the case, Christians more often judge and pay less attention homosexuals than to the rest of the world, can we hardly blame them for rejecting Christ? What example do we set?

I do believe homosexuality is wrong. Scripture gives ample evidence to that. But does that mean that I shouldn't love homosexuals? Does that mean I shouldn't pray for them? Does that mean I shouldn't waste my breath telling them about Christ? Of course not.

I would never do anything to assist in the passing of a gay marriage law. However, I am not going to waste energy standing in its way. Marriage was given to Christians as a religious, Scriptural institution. And to Christians, it has remained that way. But in this country, where two people have to get permission from their state to get married, marriage is a civil institution, having nothing to do with religion. For this reason, I don't see the point in conservatives spending valuable time, money and effort into making sure that no two men or women can obtain a marriage license, especially when this law is so inevitable. Gay marriage will become legal very soon. When thousands of children are being murdered legally in this country every day, when Christians are persecuted for their faith all around the world, why are we so concerned about this group of people that simply wants the benefits that come with being "married?" Conservatives need to throw up their hands on this issue and narrow their focus to things on which they have a fighting chance--i.e. Roe v. Wade.

When this does pass into law, homosexuals will forever look back and say, "The Christians tried to stand in our way." And they'd be right. I know that many don't share this same view, but the way I see it, how does it affect me if homosexuals can get married? Oh yeah, it doesn't really. I was not put on this earth to judge homosexuals--or anyone. I was put here by God to a) glorify Him, b) spread His Word, and c) love. First and foremost, I love Christ. I love the Church. And I love the lost. How do I glorify God and spread His Word if I don't overflow with love for those to whom He called me to witness? Equally as important, why would the lost be open to the teachings of Christ if Christians are perpetually antagonizing them? What if Christians gently but firmly stated that we do not agree with homosexuals' lifestyle choices, but that we love them? Why all the commotion that only ends in bitterness on both sides? Why would homosexuals ever be open to the Gospel after that?

As I have said, I think the passage of this law is imminent. But I firmly believe that a necessary caveat to this law be that churches must reserve the right not to perform homosexual wedding ceremonies, or grant church membership to homosexual couples. In talking with my brother-in-law about this the other night, he profoundly commented that more important than churches having the right not to perform such ceremonies will be churches having the courage not to. Hmm.

I have been told that my point of view is too conservative for liberals and too liberal for conservatives. Story of my life.

In peace and love,

Shelley

Things I learned and did while 17

As chronologically as possible, starting with my 17th birthday.

• Broken Social Scene's "Anthems For a 17-Year-Old Girl" is highly irrelevant
• Going to the pool with your nieces and nephews is a delicious way to spend a birthday
• I started reading Fahrenheit 451 on my birthday because in the first chapter, the female character introduces herself as "17 and crazy." Thus, my interest was piqued. I have yet to finish the book.
• Listening to swing music while on a stepladder is a very. bad. idea.
• Directing rehearsals for a kids' musical in the dead of summer, outside, is the worst.
• Two of my best friends and I started a movie review blog. It was great. Except that we thought of it at 3 in the morning. That was a year ago, and there are all of two posts.
• Apparently, the death of a hasbeen, pedophile popstar can cause national uproar unlike anything I'd seen.
• The best way to spend a summer is with a sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew.
• It is madness trying to get pictures of 9 siblings, everyone in a different color, making sure that two people standing next to each other don't clash.
• My brother-in-law Dave painted my room. It is gold and sparkly. No kidding. It goes well with my dark purple curtains.
• Having an organ in the house does not necessarily mean that I will ever be motivated enough to learn to play it.
• The people closest to you can easily turn on you out of the blue.
• In one morning, I made 5 dozen orange cake balls, 5 dozen chocolate cake balls, 2 dozen chocolate dipped strawberries and 2 pots of hot tea for a little girls' tea party with their Granny.
• I had 3 WHMC doctors, 4 X-rays and 6 physical therapists tell me that I have a bad back--which I already knew.
• When the power goes out at your house in the middle of summer, your entire family can crash a friend's house and have a wonderful time.
• Holocaust movies are sad, but tolerable. Holocaust movies about children are unbearable.
• I complain too much.
• Texas cake is amazing, but don't ever try to layer it. It was cause of much heartache.
• I made community college much more fun by withholding my age as long as possible, and watching people's faces afterwards.
• My sisters and I went to see Jason Mraz in Austin, and it was life-changing.
• The last musical my sisters and I directed brought out the worst in me. And many other people.
• Never again will I participate another of the aforementioned musical.
• Give grace.
• I look old enough that people don't ask my age before offering me Jello shots.
• I would have done better to refuse the Jello shots.
• One of the best things I did all year was start taking voice lessons.
• L'habite ne fait pas le moine.
• Being claustrophobic and being stuck in an elevator is absolutely no fun.
• Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever take trust for granted.
• See above.
• See above.
• See above.
• Find a healthy way to express yourself.
• It's hard to apologize when you're not ready to be forgiven.
• Be grateful for the people with whom God surrounds you.
• Excessive baking is not the answer.
• I read a Dr. Seuss book in French to some very Texan kids. It was very fun.
• If I find that I've been taking myself too seriously, I go out in public in my green skinny jeans.
• You can never be "prepared enough."
• In January, I tried to quit caffeine until my birthday. I lasted one day.
• Reflect often upon what you are grateful for.
• Journaling in French makes it much more difficult for your sister to read it (as per usual).
• I'd rather listen to truly talented, secular artists than mediocre, watered down Christian artists.
• J'étais française dans une autre vie.
• Frankenstein is an intensely powerful book.
• My lifelong disdain for poetry was rooted in an incomplete poetic education.
• I am now a very big John Keats fan.
• Don't associate with adults who insist on acting like children. In a bad way.
• My metronome has tough love for me.
• Ask yourself what your purpose is.
• My brothers will do literally ANYTHING for sandwiches.
• American Idol is lame.
• This not-being-able-to-drive business is nonsense.
• Taking senior pictures on a windy day is not very fun.
• Breaking ties is hard.
• Don't call yourself secure until you've been called some horrible things and see how you feel.
• La grâce couvre une multitude de péchés.
• Apparently, my heart can break without my even knowing it!
• My expectations for a Christian concert were far too low before seeing Hillsong United.
• Whenever someone begins talking to me by saying my name, it usually means they're being condescending.
• Whenever someone ends a sentence to me with my name, it usually means they're being encouraging or emphatic.
• I made complete strangers think that I only spoke French. It was a good feeling.
• I have been taking my sister CJ for granted for 18 years. Now she's getting married and leaving me. I'm preparing for a hard adjustment.
• I realized that I have a compulsive need to be right. I'm working on it.
• Senioritis is not a myth. It is vicious. It is caused by a mixture of adolescence and 12 consecutive years in school; its symptoms include lethargy, apathy and severe procrastination regarding school, and everything.
• Judging a band by the amount of eyeliner the male lead singer wears (or used to wear) can deafen you to their beautiful music.
• Loving someone out of obligation is not love.
• I graduated high school!
• I spent an entire year preparing for my senior piano recital.
• I played, from memory, seven major piano works at the aforementioned piano recital.
• The people of whom you think well can disappoint you.
• The people of whom you don't think well can surprise you.
• I decided that I don't know what I'm doing with my life, and I was/am okay with that.

from where i sit you're one of a kind

I did it. What did I do? I graduated high school, that's what. While I did not have a formal graduation, I did have a formal senior recital, at which my father handed me my diploma.

I started planning this recital a year ago, after my conservatory's Grand recital--I had just wrapped up my junior year. My piano teacher introduced the idea of doing a senior recital to me, and my thought was, "I have a whole year. I can SO do this. This will be fun." Historically, I do not get nervous before piano recitals, competitions, festivals, etc., so what did I have to do except practice and be excited? My other constant thought was, "I wonder what kind of person I'll be at my senior recital." I thought about that a lot.

So for the next year, I worked diligently on putting together and polishing my repertoire. But before I knew it, my year was almost over. As June 5th got closer and closer, the pressure kept building and I was getting more and more worried and stressed about it. But my parents, teachers and friends all assured me that it would be fine. So I practiced for hours every day, even escaping to the conservatory to play uninterrupted.

Finally, I woke up on June 5th at 9 o'clock, after spending a marvelous night with my sister Beth and three of our closest friends. I got up, took a shower, had bean and cheese tacos for breakfast (compliments of Beth and Chey who left the house without us knowing, and came back with armfulls of Taco Cabana), did my hair and makeup, practiced my pieces for the last time as a high school student, we loaded up the cars and were off to Castle Hills. When we got there, I tried to helpful as my wonderful family and aforementioned friends set everything up, but each time I ended up walking around aimlessly with shaking hands and pounding heart and butterflies in my stomach.

4 o'clock got closer and closer. I got dressed and was told to go hibernate backstage as guests started to arrive. So I had Beth (who was out greeting people) put her phone on speaker so I could hear everything going on, while I was locked away, with nothing to do but marinate in my own nerves. I had a couple visitors--sister CJ and friend Samuel came to check up on me and wish me luck one last time. Then I heard Pawpop voice the opening prayer, I heard Mrs. Woodard introduce me, I felt myself walk down the ramp, explain my first song choice, sit down at the piano bench and think to myself, "Well, I guess this is who I'm going to be at my senior recital." I sent one last prayer heavenward for peace and strength, and I played. After each piece, I left the stage and came back to more applause. I don't really remember what I was doing in my 1/2 minute backstage between pieces. I remember that it felt like a dream. A surreal, intense dream in which I was doing what I know best, and all of the people I love and who love me were watching.

Before I knew it, I thundered the last G of Chopin's Ballade in G Minor, lifted my fingers from their ivory friends and breathed an enormous sigh of relief and gratitude. I took my last bow, came to meet Mrs. Woodard and knew that my legs were shaking and my face was flushed. Dad read from Colossians, handed me my diploma with Mom, prayed, I handed my two amazing piano teachers flowers, then went backstage to change for the third time. Sisters CJ and Aubrey were waiting to help me and make sure I was still breathing (I think I was).

Once I had changed clothes, I went out to my reception, where I spent the next 2 hours being hugged and complimented by close to 200 people who I am grateful to call my family and friends. I was shaking and ridiculously thirsty. Once it was all over and the last guests had left, I collapsed into a chair beside my mother and felt the feeling return to my body.

When it was all said and done and cleaned up, some of my siblings and our good friends went to have dinner and see Letters to Juliet (which was terrible, mind you). Then I came home, talked with my parents about the night, and after lying in bed with my mind racing for about an hour, I fell asleep, waking up in exactly the same position the next morning (being an extremely light sleeper, this NEVER happens to me).

Being the human that I am, my recital was rife with mistakes--tripped cadenzas, jazz chords, a [graceful] transition from triplets to sixteenth notes, a clumsy page-turn, and 8 measures that I up and skipped, but the fact that I did it at all is kind of awesome, isn't it? I didn't have to play a senior recital. I didn't have to memorize 90 minutes worth of music. But I did! And I'm so grateful for that. God gave me a talent, and I got to share it with so many people. I'm ecstatic.

I'm also ecstatic that it's over and I feel so optimistic about where my life will take me, post-high school. It's gonna be great. Want to come?

i'm feelin good

I got to thinking yesterday: I've finished my college classes for the semester, by the end of this month I'll be finished with the last of my high school requirements, by June 5 I'll have finished my senior piano recital. I made the decision to take a gap year next year, for many reasons. So now the questions has hit me: what in the world am I going to do with myself? I'll have an entire year to regain the sanity and order that left me during high school, but beyond continuing to pursue piano and singing, I haven't made very many plans. So I figured I should make some.

During my gap year, I want to:

• get a REAL job
• get my driver's license
• take a road trip by myself
• change someone's life
• smoke a cigarette...just one, once
• become trustworthy
• play pretty music with my friends...often
• stop pretending I'm more hipster than I really am
• [finally] learn to play my organ
• read more books
• start applying myself more to church music
• say "thank you" more
• grow up

Hmm. I'll probably add more as I think of them. That should keep me busy for a while, I'd imagine.

Our God is mighty to save

Hillsong United came to San Antonio two nights ago. While I am not a very big fan of Christian music in general (a story for another time), these guys are amazing. From the moment they took the stage, it was evident that, not only are they phenomenal musicians and showmen, but that they, above all, wanted to glorify God and inspire people to worship with them. The atmosphere was wonderful and full of energy.

The last concert I went to was Jason Mraz's Gratitude Café Tour in Austin. That was the best concert I've ever been to. The difference is that at Mraz's concert, everyone was there solely to see a fantastic musician and hear fantastic music. At Hillsong, everyone was there to, yes, see fantastic musicians, but also to praise God and worship him with this incredible praise band. It was a wonderful experience. Thousands of God's people gathered together to honor and exalt Him.

Savior

He can move the mountains

Our God is mighty to save

He is mighty to save

Forever

Author of salvation

Our God is mighty to save

He is mighty to save

Love, Shelley

"Music is such an expensive habit"

The current most played artists on my iTunes: Jason Mraz, The Beatles, Ingrid Michaelson, The Killers, Tom Petty, Blue October, The Ditty Bops, Regina Spektor, Joshua Radin, Brendan James, Alexa Wilkinson.

I don't know that I would call myself a "music geek." But I'm not sure what I would call myself. I am deeply passionate about music. For the past seven years, I have been paying my dues and doing my time to get to where I am with music. I appreciate good music. I do not appreciate bad music. I have a critical ear. Music is something that everyone loves, but not everyone is good at. It does not necessarily make me mean, arrogant, closed-minded or any less in love with music because I am not afraid to say that a good number of people in popular music are not good musicians. I am entitled to my own opinions as much as you are entitled to disagree with them.

I long to see the day when real musicians dominate popular music once again.

Unfortunately, these days, people are obsessed with the following sad excuses for artists:

Ke$ha. I have a theory that this girl represents everything wrong with popular music. Countless songs about drunken hookups? Check. Autotune? Check. Elementary rhymes? Check. Bonus White Trash factor? Check check.

Orianthi. I will be the first to admit: Orianthi is an incredibly gifted guitarist. The sad thing is, she's not satisfied with that, and seems to think that since she's such a great guitarist, she must be able to sing as well. Sad, sad misunderstanding. Her current single, "According to You," which is topping the charts, is just plain awful. I would not be surprised if a fifth grade girl wrote it.

Justin Bieber. Aside from being essentially a sweatshop kid, who told him it was a good idea to use "Baby, baby, baby oh (x2)" as a chorus? Poor kid.

Miley Cyrus. Sweetheart, try singing without sounding like you have a sinus infection. Also, try not to call yourself a Christian, then pole dance at a kids' awards show. And if you're not too busy, you might give good songwriting a try. You are one of the mass of teenage girls who think that pretty face=pretty voice.

Don't get me wrong, there have been some wonderful exceptions. Jason Mraz almost single-handedly brought real music back into the mainstream. How? Because he knows how to play his instruments well, he has a classically smooth voice, and his use of the English language is unparalleled. Blue October (one of the only rock bands I enjoy) also fought through the mess of bad music to make it. Lead singer Justin Furstenfeld's painfully impassioned voice mixed with their creative and beautiful use of not only electric, but classical instruments and very relatable, yet still original, lyrical concepts made them a very interesting and stimulating band. There are others, such as The Killers, Sara Bareilles, Staind, Ben Folds, etc.

I only wish these amazing musicians and bands weren't up against such nonsense competition and a musically ignorant generation. It's a hard fight upstream. But don't worry, your day is coming soon. One day, everyone will wake up and realize the beauty of real music. For the present, though, to avoid stooping to mediocrity, I am more than content to a) err on the side of indie, where the most wonderful artists reside and make beautiful music for the few people interested, and b) go way back, listening to the music my parents grew up on.

In love and truth, Shelley.

Purpose

I am a Christian. Why? Because God, though I did nothing to deserve it, called me out of death and into eternal life. I am His and He is mine. Forever. Because of this marvelous grace, I strive to live my life as He commands. It is an impossible task, because He is perfect and I am not (hence the grace). But I still purpose to glorify Him in everything I do. I also identify myself as a Calvinist. My personal beliefs have aligned themselves with the Scriptural teachings of John Calvin. I am aware that most Christians do not hold the same views that I do. I will gladly and enthusiastically enter into a theological debate with you about what I believe and defend it with Scripture, but it is not my calling to make Calvinists of all nations. It is my calling to make disciples of all nations. My non-Calvinist colleagues and friends are no less-saved than I am.

I am a daughter. It is my responsibility as such to respect and honor my parents. I am expected to follow every rule, command and advice from my parents. You would think that seeing as how I have the most wonderful parents in the world, it would be ridiculously easy for me to do so. Unfortunately, this is not the case. God knows I have pushed (and broken) their boundaries countless times. But at the end of the day, I know that they still love me, I know that I love them, and that is enough for me to try my hardest not to make the same mistakes again.

I am a sister. I have been blessed with the eight most fantastic people ever as my siblings. We have our disagreements, of course, but we are each other's family and best friends, and I owe it to all of them to love them unconditionally and forgive every flaw. It is my privilege to be there for all of them when they need me, to buy them a drink, to bring them a bowl in which to vomit, to aimlessly chatter with them, to defend their names to others and to babysit their kids.

I am a friend. Although many times I'm bad at deserving them, I have some amazing friends. As a friend, it is my job always to be there if you need to talk, laugh, cry, curse, sleep or hug. It is my job to be honest with you, about the positive and negative. It is also my job to let you be the same for me. My most treasured friends are the ones who love me enough to tell me when I am wrong. Like I said, I don't really deserve these friendships, but since I am blessed enough to have them, I strive to be as good a friend to you as you are to me.

I am a musician. God gave me talent. I am not afraid to admit that. He gave me the ability to sing and play piano. I was not given talent to squander. I was purposed to cultivate it, to discipline myself and to use it all for His glory. My music is to be for no audience but Him. As such, I strive to be the best musician I can, because I am playing for the King of Kings.

I am a person. This may sound arbitrary, seeing as how we are all people. That is exactly my point. No two people are exactly the same, so stop trying to imitate someone else and try creating someone you. I have a responsibility to myself to be true to myself. It would be an insult to my unique character if I were to emulate another unique character. I am me.

Whatever you are and whatever you do, be purposeful. Leave nothing half-fulfilled. If you're going to do something, do it really, really well.

Love, Shelley.

c'est pour vous

If you see something you don't understand, how do you respond? Do you a) let it go and accept that you are not meant to understand it (negative capability), b) make a concerted effort to understand it (self-improvement), or c) presume that because you can't understand it, you are better than it (arrogance)? The first is my preferred option, the second is very common and perfectly acceptable, the third is dangerous, shameful, and all too common. I am of the mindset that if something is unclear to me (especially when it does not directly apply to me), it is not meant to weigh down my mind. I know many, many people (including my vastly intelligent mother) who fixate upon learning and understanding everything. I am of the opinion that this is unnecessary, but my brain is wired differently than most. This activity works for many people, and they are the more intelligent for it. Unfortunately, still others prefer to "rise above" what they don't understand and deride it in order to make themselves feel superior. I feel that this is a sad and sometimes hurtful attempt to hide personal insecurities.

Ignorance can be fruitful, and it can also be dangerous. Arrogance is never fruitful, and is always dangerous. I prefer to err on the side of caution and shy away from foreboding absolutes.

Peace and love, Shelley.

a violent grace

Today is Easter. The time when we eat lots of candy, wear pastels, take family pictures and, most importantly, of course, commemorate and celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. He is risen, He is risen indeed.

So ruthless He loves us

So reckless His embrace

To show relentless kindness to a

Hardened human race

The joy that was before Him

On the Man of Sorrows' face

And by His blood

He bought a violent grace

We were dead, but Christ died that we might have life in Him. And not only did He die a human death, but He conquered death.

After a Holy Week as busy as l'enfer, which included a full week of school, some planning for my senior recital, two music practices for separate events, an attempt at bowling, a wedding rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, girls night out post-rehearsal dinner, wedding (for which I was in charge of all ceremony music) and Easter Sunday music, I decided to wrap up the week by pulling out the table in the kitchen, only to have it knock into the preceding bench, causing the bench to kindly smash the top of my foot. Never in my life have I been so close to screaming obscenities*. I was convinced my foot was broken. After waking up from my flexeril-induced siesta, I'm not so sure it's broken. But one thing's for sure--I'm going to have a beast of a bruise.

*In the presence of children*.

*And their parents.

My birthday is in 2 months. 2 months left to be a legal child. I could go through the cliché spiel about never wanting to grow up (which I could make very interesting and verbose) vs. everyone has to grow up (which I could make very emotional) vs. I've been waiting my whole life to grow up (which I could make very convincing), but instead I'll just leave you with this: I've got growing up to do.

Love, Shelley.

"Stop telling such outlandish tales, stop turning minnows into whales."

My favorite children's book is Dr. Seuss' And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street. In this story, we meet Marco, a boy with a huge imagination. His cynical father tells him to stop exaggerating the things he sees on his way home everyday. Unable to help himself, Marco sees a horse and a cart on Mulberry Street, and page by page, he transforms that horse and cart into a sensational treasure trove of imaginative wonders, complete with a raja, an elephant, a retinue of police, etc. etc. How can you blame him--what is exciting or inspiring about a horse and cart? However, his fragile other world is crushed when he remembers his father's charge. At the end of the book, his father asks him what he saw on his way home. The last page:

"Nothing," I said, growing red as a beet, "But a plain horse and wagon on Mulberry Street."

Poor Marco.

The world would be a better place if more parents would let their kids daydream. I know I would be a wreck (more so than I already am) if I wasn't allowed the freedom of my limitless imagination.

Love, Shelley.

I write to you, not because you do not know the truth, but because you know it, and because no lie is of the truth. 1 John 2:21

Profound truths come from everywhere.

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." -Gandhi

"You should worship God as if you saw Him, for although you cannot see Him, He sees you." -Qu'ran

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." -The Dalai Lama

"I shall never be ashamed of citing a bad author if the line is good." -Seneca