Come Here......

Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like without all of our senses?  Or what would life be like with only a few?  Each is a gift and I can't imagine not having them all.  But if I HAD to give one thing up, it would be talking.  We abuse our speech.  

Sometimes, oftentimes I believe we are flippant with our words. We forget the power we hold within us; the power of the tongue  our flippancy careless jib jabs all in our paths, leaving behind a fusilage of wounded souls.   Because of this, Sometimes…. I wish there were no such thing as spoken words.  What if we could only communicate with the other four senses.  What if we didn’t have spoken sounds or a written gutteral that carries meaning?  What if there was no alphabet we purposefully strung together to communicate meaning?  What if?

The structure in a simple utterance inspires and invokes joy.  Or, it invokes shame, insecurity, and destruction.  Add to the structures punctuation, adjectives, and tone and there is a weapon of mass destruction waiting to launch. 

Tone colors the word with personality, breathing  life and attitude behind  it. “How are you today?” is asked, and the responder’s heart is revealed, not in the one word answered, but in the tone behind it.  Look in their eyes.  Observe their body language behind the delivery.  Communication at its finest lies within the tone.  “Good” is usually the one word response.”  Put a feeling and tone behind that spoken word, and let the interpretations ensue.  This makes the spoken language beautiful and hideous. 

Another example.  “Come here” flavored with anger, impatience, or even sarcasm births shame, fear, even defensiveness.  I mean, If I hear the words “come here..(you messed up big time, and I am gonna let you have it) that is not exactly the same “come here” seasoned with the tenderness when a lover takes you by the hand pulling you in close for an embrace.  The warmth of that “come here” draws me in beckoning intimacy, acceptance, and life.  Tone travels through the filter of the listener’s soul assembling emotion.    “Come here… (I have a secret to share),” welcomes warmth and trust.

Oh, how often we flippantly fling our words around, seasoning them with tones that foster damage.  Reflect.  What words have been spoken into you that stuck? 

What voices have you entertained?  Words delivered in anger, shame, manipulation, coupled with the mixture of self invoked failure….. surely is a destructive concoction., and add to this the “Come here” of a failed anything, and there is much work. 

One sylabell at a time…. Not right away, not immediately… slowly, systematically, and achingly drawn out…. One arrow at a time….A, B, C, D, E, F…BAM, you die, Because when your soul diseases, you stop living.  All you need is a kindness, tenderness, a gaze.  Perhaps A loving touch, a “come here” and with each pressing of the metaphorical button, the chasm deepens between a “come here,” and “I don’t know you.”   Further still, the “come here” dream fades into a whipsy fog and dissipates into thin air. 

So my pondering leads me to ask the question….  Why do we need to speak so much to communicate?  Words so often interfere!  Oh how lovely and beautiful it would be to simply convey tone, emotion, in silence, in a gaze, in a touch.  At times,   a world of no verbal pratter back and forth is my heaven.   Pratter consumes the senses, causing static.  When we walk outside and take note of the climate, we say, “wow, it’s a beautiful day?”  The empty vocal gutturals of “it’s a beautiful day.”  Are spoken and we move on to our next thought, chore, errand.   What does that even mean? 

I want to stop and bask in the beauty of the day, if even for a brief moment.  My senses awakened at the beaty and I marvel in the yellow sunbeam warmth that hits my skin.  The branches are bare, and the air crisp, but the yellow ignites warmth and gratitude in my heart.  In my moment of basking in the beauty, the smell of fireplaces burning all around stimulate peaceful memories of  days gone by, practically sitting in the fireplace!  Such golden precious memories of that fireplace hearth, and my treasured spot beside it.  And what do I hear?  The wind.  I hear the wind singing her song of welcome into the day.  She welcomes me softly, gently in song, but lets me know she is there with her biting crisp chill blowing strait to my bones.  How can “ it’s a beautiful day” be truly conveyed in mere abc’s.   “Come here, Oh beautiful day… Come here”  Let me take you up in my embrace and hold you close to my beating heart.  “come here, my love and let me hold you, enjoy you, gaze upon your beauty….”  “Come here…….”

“Why do we have to learn how to speak  THEIR language!”  This represented my attitude growing up.  My experience with the Hispanic culture is rooted in prejudice that my white race is superior.  Growing up in Orlando, Florida, my parents and grandparents modeled this superiority and as the Hispanic population migrated further north from Miami to Central Florida, we whites were resentful.  With their migration, we were taught that our crime rate had risen, gangs were on the rise, and we had to learn their language and not the other way around.  I must add that my family carries a generational judgmental and critical spirit that I have worked very hard to break in my own generation.  That being said, choosing to go to a Hispanic church felt very intimidating.  

(I had to immerse myself in a culture out of my comfort zone as an experiential activity for grad school last year)  

My past judgments of them led me to prejudge their judgments of me.   I did not feel I would be welcome, and I just knew I would feel alone, as I do not speak Spanish.  Funny thing, those judgements we hold for others and ourselves.  

Driving to the church, I was prayerful and asked God to teach me something, and to somehow give me some word of encouragement.  To set the stage of my emotional and spiritual frame of mind, I had experienced an emotionally excruciating, exhausting evening before.   Suffering the loss of a very dear relationship (boyfriend breakups are a bitch) as well as my spiritual and mental fatigue in my own “work” had me waking up with a hopeless frame of mind.  I was not sure Casa de mi Padre would be the place.  A friend had texted me  about reaping what we sow right before I got out of my car.  She had said that I would reap all I had sown in regards to my ability to love others well.   

My anxiety heightened, I set forth to cross the street, hold my head high, and walk into this little community as if I belonged there.  What happened in the next two hours impacted me in ways that words could never do justice.  I thought I would be stared at, whispered about, snubbed, and isolated.  What I received was so different.

I was not prepared for what I was about to experience.  I walked in, feeling intimidated by the groups standing out front on the steps.  I felt their eyes on this white lady walking up the steps.  Two ladies welcomed me at the door immediately.  Millie was one of their names, and I know this because she immediately welcomed me in Spanish.  I thanked her in Spanish ( I do know Gracious) and informed her that I did not speak her language.  ("No Habla Espanol... "NAILED it!)  Thats about all I had in me.  

Then she spoke in English and took me aside.  Kindly she sat me down and gave me a card to fill out.  She intuitively asked me why I was sad, and a tear trickled as I said, “broken heart....(in english just in case you wondered)”  Well that sweet Millie.  She knelt down and asked to pray for me  right then.  She held my hands and she prayed the most beautiful prayer over me in English, weeping for me. IN MY LANGUAGE.  Millie, wept. For me.  I know she felt my heavy wet tears splatting onto her hands that held mine so tightly.  Not. What. I Expected. 

She then escorted me to front and center ( GAWH!  THANKS MILLIE) and promised to bring me a translator box soon.  I felt like a “WHITE” elephant in the room that everyone was watching, judging me.  Again, I prejudged their judgment.   The music began and I was able to follow the songs and sing along mostly from the giant overhead.  I was uncomfortable at first, but once I opened my mouth and sang, my intimidation was gone.  It was amazing!   Worship is powerful for me, and I tend to cry even when I am happy during worship, and this was no different.  I cried, a lot.  A LOT.  I didn't care either.  I. Was. A. Mess.  I felt love in this place. I felt safe for some weird reason.  I felt God.  I was one in spirit with these people as we worshiped the same God in a language I did not know. 

The service was much like my own “white” service.  An offering was taken, there were announcements, the teens and children were released after, and the pastor came to the platform to preach. The lady beside me then kindly gave me her program.  It was in Spanish, so perhaps she thought I was able to understand.  Millie then brought me headphones to listen to the English interpretation.  The pastor spoke on loneliness and marriage from the book of Genesis Chapter two and I took four pages of notes.  It was one of the best sermons I’d ever heard. Perfect timing for my events in life, as I had just ended a relationship!  At the end of the service, there was more worship, and the pastor prayed a beautiful prayer over all of us.  I wept again, and what happened next was an experience I know that my words will not justly articulate the power behind it. 

After the prayer the music continued and the pastor of the church called out my name.  At first, I didn’t notice it.  I had taken off my headphones and then he said my name again and looked at me.  He called me to the front of the church in English and then asked if the church could pray for me. 

“MILLIE!!!!  YOU ARE GOING DOWN!”

Well I am the lady who will take a prayer whenever I can get it;  I remember just pulling aside a family on Thursday and praying for them in a need they had.  Maybe this was the reaping of what I sowed that my friend had promised.  I went to the front and a multitude of women came to the front and surrounded me, laying hands on my head, my back, and my arms and began to pray.  Strangers.  These strangers were praying for me.  In their language, powerful prayers were prayed, tears were shed, and as one woman’s (who I would learn later was the pastor’s wife) English prayers went up, I raised my hands in agreement and smiled.  I smiled, and felt my sadness lift.  When the prayer time was over, these women hugged me and said that they loved me.  Women I had never met, embraced me, and said in MY language, “I love you.”  Afterward, Millie gave me her number and invited me to her Friday evening small group.  I did not go to her small group.  I did go back to Church a few weeks later, however.  This Sunday, a young man Roberto sat beside me with Millie on the other and he translated for me in my ear every word.  I was invited to lunch with this group after and guess what!  I went!  My translator by my side, I engaged in a lunch commune with these precious people.  

I have not returned in a year.  As I was driving through Down Town Franklin with my mom yesterday, I pondered where I would attend church on my Easter Sunday alone.  My kids with their father this year, and I really miss them.  I have visited EVERY non-denominational church and some others over the last 5 years since my divorce.  This is not the piece to process why I haven’t found what I am looking for and my view of evangelical/ fundamental/ charismatic/ progressive/ or any other word that floats around.  For me, its just Jesus.  It’s authentic LOVE.  And I ironically, the place that beckoned me, was this little white church on the corner in Downtown Franklin with an all-Spanish congregation.  Love beckons me.  This is where I celebrate my Saviors Resurrection.

Strength to Let Go..........

You have not because you ask not....

The asking is immediate.

The waiting can be excruciating....

This is where faith lives......In the waiting.

 "Israelite" that I can be, I forget the many ways my "asks" have been answered.

Fighting my "Israelite" heart, while driving to church Sunday morning, I prayed.  My petition once again for restoration of something dear to me.  This "something" taken at the hands of deceptions, manipulations, and misunderstandings.  Lies break relationships.  Every time.  Gosh, aren't lies deafening?

Often, the lies we believe are so much louder than the gentle soft truth whispers of the Great.  Fortunately, the "now" promises my Great speaks to me are louder than any lies that war within.  (It didn't used to be that way, trust me).  This is why I have great compassion and patience in my promise.  So I wait for Truth to be revealed.  I wait in kindness.  For it is in the kindness of the Father that leads to restoration.

Back to my drive.  As I drove and prayed, I declared my gratitude (With thanksgiving, let your requests be known).   Rolling in to the church parking lot, late for that matter, I asked, "I want another surprise.  I need surprises today."

Church was beautiful.  Simple.  Different than any other church I've been to in Nashville in quite sometime.  Refreshingly different than the LOUD concert-like performances I have attended.  Now don't get me wrong, I love me some worship!   Currently,  I am learning that worship has nothing to do with the people on the stage, the flashy lights,  and dark room as much as it is the condition of my own heart.  Worship Sunday morning was tender, bright, pure, and simple.  I could use some tender, pure and simple. Many aspects of the service transported me back to my childhood.
(Come to Me as a child)  The teaching was perfect, and there were tears.  I emote.....

              Surprise 1- The miracle of me reflecting on childhood with joy.

              Surprise 2- A word from someone in passing.  They did not even know what they were
                                 saying, but my Divine did.  He knew how special those words would be to me.

After church, I jetted to a meeting.   More worship.  Surprise 3 was coming and this was my best one of the day.  (God has a way of exceeding our asks...)  

               Surprise 3- There was a friend arriving.  We had been painfully estranged for a year.
                                  The estrangement was from manipulations, deceptions, and misconceptions.  In
                                  my heart I knew that the truth would come out.  I knew this situation would one
                                  day be resolved, not by ME trying to do the truth revealing, but by LETTING
                                  GO.   So I let go, and believed.  I practiced kindness.      
                                  (Kindness leads to restoration).   It took one year, but
                                  sure enough, out of the blue, the relationship was repaired without me
                                  controlling.  Truth came.  When I saw her for the first time yesterday, we
                                  hugged, and my hope in my "ask" earlier was renewed.


Often, it requires more strength to open up our hands in surrender, than to hold on tightly to something we want so badly to control.

 Hope.  Ask.  Let Go. Believe.

Ask and you will receive......

Lessons from my dog...

I feel like most lessons I learn about my relationship with God either parallel my relationship with my kids, or my relationship with my dogs.... 

(I own no dogs now... they all got sent away.....  I am sure there is a metaphor in there) 

I found an old blog post from years back and thought it was still so relevant.. I hope you enjoy it.

Dated back in 2011:

So, I am starting to like my dog now. My kids laugh at me, cuz a few weeks ago, I thought he was the devil's spawn. I called the dog trainer the doggie exorcist.....

After two sessions, the trainer couldn't get the dog to go in his crate either....which was causing major back problems for me! I remember him saying, "hmmmm, I am gonna have to give this some thought!" Yep, haven't seen him since. Kinda funny. He was stumped, and THE BEST in town.  I imagine him now as he's probly sittin in the fetal position in a corner just rocking back and forth, crying, "crate....crate......" Yeah, but its okay.

I decided to choose my battles and save my back. He is obeying so well now, and I have definitely established myself as the ALPHA in the house. My kids laugh at the transformation and now how good of friends me and the dog are. Yesterday, Lily called the dog to follow her up the stairs and he ADORES Lily. But, he just came straight to me at the reading chair I was in and sat at my feet. "You know who loves you don't you boy," I cooed. My daughter looked at me like I had officially lost my mind. I can now officially call him by name, because we are now in good relational terms. His name is Samson...

The neat thing today, was that on our walk, I realized something. Samson is Heeling perfectly. He knows when I turn and turns in the flow with me without missing a beat. He stays with me, and if he does get a little ahead of me, I gently jerk the leash and make a noise he knows, and he falls back in line. I don't have to yell or pull or tug. IT IS MARVELOUS!!!!!

I began to reflect about how this parallels me and God. I mean, when I first worked with the dog on this heel thing....he tugged,  didn't understand, and he had to be jerked a lot....and I had to make that "sound" a lot. Now, as he knows me, and I know him, he falls right in line....and we walk together. I am not walking him or he walking me...but side by side. A few times, he got tired, cuz I wore his hiney out today...and I just encouraged him and gently tugged the leash and he fell right back in line with me. When he saw another dog, he did not tug to get free...he just kept on walking in step with me. I think it is a beautiful picture of my walk with God. He and I are right in line. We are in relationship and as I press in for more relationship with Him.....there isn't as much struggle to get my way, or fear of going a certain direction. When "he turns" I turn too in a natural way. When I get tired or weary from the journey I am on.....He gently encourages me in a gentle way. He is never harsh with me. I have never heard Him use a harsh or "yelly" kinda voice with me. Always gentle and low. Always.   Me and God, well, we are great friends. There is no struggle, no mistrust....

Funny thing... I finally started calling him "not" dog... but Samson after I began to know him and he me.  There's a metaphor...

"That dang song"

Don't be alarmed........

These are the words I spoke to my friend next to me at church this morning.  When that dang song began.....
(because the waterworks are ON!)

I don't know why, ummmm... let me rephrase that..... I KNOW EXACTLY WHY today's theme turned on the water works, and let's just say that I wasted my time applying makeup this morning.

Today, Love was our theme.  If you have followed me or been my friend in the last 6 years, you know that I "heart" Love.  And we talked about it today!

Leading up to this morning, I had experienced a difficult situation where I was faced with a challenge to love.  I could fire back, get offended... or be still and practice what I knew was best.  Love.  My heart was bruised and yet I chose to stay true to me.  And so, I went to church today with a little bruise on my heart.  And then........ that dang song!  And by "dang song," I mean pretty much any song they play at church because there is something special every week in the music selected.  Every song every Sunday is "that dang song!"


Here is what Love is all about according to Paul in Corinthians:

Love is patient

Love is kind

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love takes pleasure in the flowering of truth.

Love puts up with anything.                                

Love trusts God always.

Love always looks for the best.

Love never looks back.

Love  keeps going to the end.

Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
(oh this is a toughy)

Love doesn’t strut.                                    

Love doesn’t have a swelled head.                        

Love doesn’t force itself on others                      

Love isn’t always “me first.”                                        

Love doesn’t fly off the handle.                    

Love doesn’t revel when others grovel.            


As I  measure these principles against my own life and actions, I see where I have fallen short.  I also see where I have grown.  I celebrate love for my family and friends.  I relish in NOT getting offended.... EVER. (ahem... PRIDE)   This week, I had an opportunity to become very offended.

In my mind, I had a RIGHT to be offended.   There was mistreatment and misunderstandings against me.  More gossips and meddling from those who expect me to be the "old Shelli"  taunted me.  And the entire time, I chose to NOT break character.  I've learned to BE STILL and know.  I've learned that getting offended doesn't serve me well, and looking for ways to love mercy is far better.  My "situation" did not change, but my heart changes every single time when I choose mercy and grace.

I was told that when I extend grace to certain people in my life, that they see me as weak.
I disagree.  Extending Grace and Mercy requires strength.  It's difficult at times to walk in mercy, extend grace, and be still.  That my friend is strong.  This is love.  And that dang song brought it all back!

Splinters and Stones

I think there is a reason I love this song so very much. It resonates deeply. I still cannot get through it without shedding a tear. (what else is new, right?)

but if you have a chance, listen to this beautiful acoustic version...

This past Sunday.... well.... it was perfect. Symbolic. Beautiful. I was not even going to go to church this week, as I had a final to study for, but I did go. Each song and reading leading up to the teaching laid the groundwork in my heart for a final letting go. Letting go of what you ask? Maybe of resentments that still try to creep in. Yeah, I think that could be it. I still feel like I have a right to be ticked sometimes about injustices. But in church Sunday, I was reminded through every single song and scripture reading of how beautiful letting go and surrender is.

As I reflect on my journey that 2016 took me on, I am reminded of the words in Exodus 14:14 that say, "God will fight for you, just be still." And it is a verse that I hung on to for dear life as many injustices came my way. Misunderstood, mistreated, stripped in every detailed way that I identified myself, I hung on for dear life and took the words to heart. Stones were thrown. Many stones. This time, rather than to pick them up and throw them back, I let my Divine take them. He dealt with it all for me and told me to be still. To save all my energy for it, I closed off, self protected, and took out my pen. I wrote... ALOT. I write about stones often. Often, stones metaphors for lies we hold to about ourselves. I also found solace in music....ALOT.

As I heard a teaching about David and Goliath, I was reminded of my own David season when I came up against numerous Goliaths... alone. In my 6-7 months of clinging and holding on to truths, against the lies that bullied me from every direction, I asked God for one thing. I asked Him to change me and no one else. That while he fought for me, would he teach me how to love mercy, and walk kindly? Would he teach me more about gratitude? Oh it was a doozy of a time. Looking back on it, I daresay, I would do it again.

You see, every day, we are faced with stones, with words spoken to us and about us. It's a broken world. But we have a choice. What we do with those words and accusations bear tremendous responsibility. We hold the power of life and or death birthed in our thoughts and then words. I wonder how David handled the accusations? I wonder how still David was before his time came? Was he still before he was brave? Was he still before he boldly shouted his victory? What about Christ? Was he still and calm before his accusers? Something I ponder as I continually seek to be kind, brave, still, and loving...letting go of my final "rights" to resentments.

Sunday marks a year when it all began. And it is a year that I will honor and respect. I know life is hard. I also know that life is beautiful, and much is determined by the way we handle our little bags of stones. What will you do with your stones?

"Next Year"

Six years ago, my marriage ended.  

I thought that my “six years later/perfect picture” would look much different. Seems to me that those “perfect pictures” are the contributing factors that ended my marriage in the first place, but that is for a separate conversation altogether.

This morning, I wake up with a grateful heart because this was my first year on the beach vacation with my family that I didn't "wish" for anything. There was no undertone of sadness or regret like the last years. There was no wish for a different future.

Let me explain: Every family vacation or holiday gathering the first five years post divorce, I sat on that beach (or in a home) with the mentality of "next year" I will have ____________, "next year" I will be ______________. Always next year. Always wishing for something different than the position I was standing. "Next year" I would show my family and friends my success in ____________. My family would catch me saying, "LUCKY!!!!" (family joke)

Fill in the blanks with whatever your "next year" could be. For FIVE YEARS I lived in that wishing for my "perfect picture" for my "next year" and I measured my value and success against what I didn't have. Did you catch that?  

I MEASURED MY VALUE AND SUCCESS AGAINST THE THINGS I DIDN'T ATTAIN OR HAVE.

Year six..... 2016, I went through some terrible things. And by terrible, I mean TERRIBLE and WONDERFUL! Had I not lived through it, I would not know my own strength and the fact that I could not have gotten through it without my Savior. My confidence muscle grew and my stillness muscle grew ALOT. I would not understand Grace at all had I not gone through it! I would not know how to live in the mentality of peace and present-mindedness.

I am overwhelmed today because I sat on my beach and I looked at the beautifully painted sunsets and embraced the "nows" in my life. I did not focus on the storm behind me rolling in. (see picture) I enjoyed my beautiful happy family! And by beautiful happy family I mean.... WE are CRAZY too! I love what graduate school and my therapist training has taught me about family systems. We are not perfect but we love big. We celebrated togetherness... and needed space sometimes too! Joy and Laughter abounded. Simplicity was embraced. I experienced it all, and not ONE TIME, NOT ONCE did I think to myself, "next year."

I didn't look back and wallow in my past storms either. 

I do honor them.

In my stillness over that terrible wonderful 2016 I was in the trenches, and it was hard. I stayed still, but it was hard. I learned that the old way of doing things was not serving me well. I learned about love, practiced gratitude and mindfulness, and practiced how to be present. There was a total mind shift! All my "next years" are not a part of my process, and I am DELIGHTED IN MY NOW!!!

I AM DELIGHTED IN MY NOW!!!

I am so glad I did not get what I wished for.... I would not be the woman I am now. I love my NOW. There is no "wishing" Only expectation for more amazing experiences of love, joy, and abundance.  

The grit, blood, sweat, and tears it took to get here was so worth it! Nothing of value comes easy and without a price... It was hard work. It isn't easy. If you want more freedom, I can teach you.

Let freedom ring!

Surprised By Love

“But me he caught—reached all the way
 from sky to sea; he pulled me out of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos, the void in which I was drowning. They hit me when I was down,
  But God stuck by me.  
He stood me up on a wide-open field; 
I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!

Surprises are my love language. (Not really.... but kinda)  

I feel loved when someone thoughtfully brings me a surprise.  It can be a flower, a note, a call.  Or any little thing, really.  It’s the time and thought someone takes to show me that they care that fills my heart with so much joy.

God has been teaching me about his love for me.  Sometimes, He takes me by surprise by the little gifts he gives me that are just between us.  Only in the secret places of my heart does He know these little longings.  I shouldn't be, but I am surprised to be loved.  

I am surprised by His love. 

I imagine that He gets a lot of joy from giving them to me.  I know when my kids are given a surprise by me, that I am delighted.  

Like the time the ice cream truck came through......

It was a few hours before dinner and the chimes of the ice cream truck came through the neighborhood.  Perturbed by this scenario and what I knew was about to play out.... I sighed.  What kind of person drives an ice cream truck through the neighborhood before dinner!?  It NEVER comes in our neighborhood!   Now I am going to be the "bad guy" and have to say no!  

Immediately, I heard Tripp scurry upstairs to get his money.  "Mommy!  The ice cream truck!!!! Can we?????"  

(I get called mommy when they want something)  

"Can we get some???   I'll pay for it?!"  He was bursting with hopefulness.  

(Gosh, how many times have I wanted something, bursting with hopefulness?)

I said, "No," just as Lily was running in to ask the same thing.  

"NO NO NO.  We have icecream in the freezer," I said practically.  "You can have it after dinner."

"Mom  PLEEEEEZE?"

"NO, ITS TOO CLOSE TO DINNER…."

“MOMEEEEEE?????  PLEEEEEEZE????”  Tripp started with tears welling up in his sensitive little 8 year old eyes.  

“No, its not up for debate.  You don’t need it.”  

It was final.  I did not hear any more arguing about it, but I knew they were disappointed. I felt bad.  I started to remember a disappointment myself.

I was at that time walking through a disappointment of my own.   I realized that minute that I had been asking My Father for little surprises to show me his love in my hurts and healing. 

In that moment, something snapped inside me and with urgency I dashed to the door.  The chimes grew closer, and called the kids from the kitchen commanding them to get their quarters.  

They couldn’t believe it!  Mom had changed her mind and they were elated.  As they were scraping their quarters together, I ran outside to stop the ice cream truck that had just begun its course down our street.  

Impractical, nonsensical, but oh soooo fun!  They were delighted, and it caused my delight to grow.  The next thing I did was even more of a surprise.   As soon as we got back inside, I commanded them to eat their icecream.  Yes.  Before dinner.  And as I watchend their little eyes light up for joy in their simple little gifts, my joy tank filled, and my eyes lit up. 

You see, when my kids are happy; when joy exudes in their beings, I am overjoyed.  I could go on with story after story of the way I feel when my children experience joy, love, walk in their truth, etc.   

When I bought my son a pair of shoes this weekend, I saw it again.  Like the many times before I’ve experienced my children’s joy, my entire being lights up.  

My being lights up!

And the spiritual law of reaping and sowing.... that universal law of attraction cannot be denied! 

Joy breeds joy, generousity breeds generousity.  I love my children in the details of their hearts desires.  I cannot always do all of the things they want. (single mom on a budget)  

My creator  hears the secret unspoken desires in my heart.  He knows all of my longings, and he delights in answering every single one of them.  He loves me immeasurably more than I love my kids.  He is a good Father and often with an amazing sense of humor... shows up for me with a surprise to delight my heart and His. 

You have not because you ask not.  What surprises are lingering at the heart of you?  What can you do to surprise another human in your world?  Think about it.

Please don’t stop the music.....

Throwing Stones

from Chapter 10

As I picked up the other picture, a warm smile instinctively took me back to the moment.  I was sitting at my parents stereo system.  Their stereo system looked like something one would see from a science fiction movie. With its huge speakers larger than me, the turntable, and all the knobs with equalizers, needles, and lights …. This was my control panel.  My space ship that I handled it with ease, confidence, and poise.  Headphones on my little bitty head wobbled around at the tightest setting, and I had to hold them at my ears still to keep out the surrounding noise.  

My ritual began....  I studied the cover first, finding a way to identify with the artists.    I desired to know everything I could before the music played.  What was the story within the music?   I wanted to know. I would covet the beauty of the singer if she were a female.  

It was a weighty decision.... to choose from all of the greats.  Some of my regular visitors were Barry Manilow, Neal Diamond, Seals and Croft, The Carpenters, The Eagles, or my 10 year old very favorite…. Barbara Mandrell.  “You can eat crackers in my bed any time… baby….”

I could sit for hours with the giant headphones.  Oh, those dear headphones that practically engulfed my entire head.  They were never tight enough so I would just have to hold them on my ears to stay secure.  I didn’t care.  Music connected me to my soul, and to my beloved 111 Brentwood Drive.  Music brought her back.  I became the characters inside the song, identifying with what they must have been feeling within their story.  I created, and lived inside those stories from my perceptions.  Belting out the songs, I had no idea how off key or off pitch I would sound to the outside world.  Until the dreadful day…

That day, I was in my favorite spot in the house again; the purest most truthful place.  As the rocket ship countdown began in my mind, “10-9-8-7….”

I am sliding my favorite vinyl from its cover.  With its shiny and black, and I was giddy with excitement as I began to match up the center hole on the vinyl to its perfect connection on the turntable.  “6-5-4-…” 

Flip the on switch….

On come the dinosaur headphones…

 “3-2-1… BLAST OFF!!!!”

The needle dropped. 

We have an ignition….

…. And oh the beautiful staticky white noise right before the music began was a part of my experience.  

The memory of it still feels like home deep in my soul. 

 Blasting off into my melodic atmosphere, I left my troubled world and all its problems behind.  For just a few moments, I was free from all of it.  I was in control.  

And then the song began…

“Summer breeze!  Makes me feel fine…” I sang.

“Blowing through the jasmine in my mind… "

In my mind, my jumprope make shift microphone in hand, On my stage,  I was the star of the show, my audience in full captivation, belting out my lyrics with passion and conviction.

Half the time I did not even know the lyrics, and I made my own up. 

One of the old family stories that made its rounds at every big gathering is the country song “Jose’ Cuervo,” by an artist named Ann Murray.  The lyrics go a little like this…  “Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine….” 

             Well the Shelli version for some odd reason sounded something like this….

             “OJ Simpson, you are a friend of mine…” 

There is absolutely no telling how I came up with those lyrics; it did not even sound like Jose’ Cuervo….. But it was my song and I would sing it the way I pleased.  It always got a great family laugh.  Every. Single. Time.

So now, operating in my expertise of my spaceship, under MY CONTROL, I left my world light years behind me, and I belted out my tune with intensity, passion, and feeling.  My eyes closed, (because that is what all singers did on Hee-Haw at least, when they sang and I was no different.)  

“Summer Breeze! Makes me feel fine…”

Lost in my own world,  something jarred me into reality.  In that moment of opening my eyes, a  scene out my tiny window sent my spaceship careening back to earth with a cataclysmic explosion of epic proportions. 

The wreckage left behind nothing recognizable within me, and from that moment on, I never flew my spaceship again.....

“Its time to stop hiding My light with your own darkness.”

Chapter 11 excerpt........

Welcoming me from my slumber, the percolating tune  aroused my senses and danced with  intoxicating warmth,  What sweet music to my ears.  Standing barefoot, cold floor, wrapped up in my blanket, I waited.   Drumming  fingers, I smiled as knew I had gained some incredible ground the day before.  I had ended my day finding a fancy white table cloth restaurant, and even though there was nothing fancy in my clothing, and I was by myself, I was definitely not alone, and felt as though I was the most beautiful lady in the room.

Pouring the dark rich brew, and cupping my mug in both hands, I inhaled the beautiful brown liquid and smiled.  My smile grew bigger as I thought about the victories to come today.  For I had a plan!  I knew I still had one more letter to write.  But I also had this burning question echoing in my heart.

“What will you do with the stones….” 

Hot steamy mug in hand, blanket trailing behind me, I headed to the porch.  I had slept in, and missed the sunrise, but I was captivated by the crisp, clear view of the valley this morning.  Once again, all of the earth proclaimed the majesty and glory of the King.  Drinking in the greens mingled with the hintings of oranges, reds,  and yellow tints, I felt energized and ready for my tasks.  My rock beckoned me.....

Sat on my special rock, wrapped half way in my cozy blanket.  For there was a hint of the remaining signs of dawn, and the chill in the air played tag with the rising heat of the sun.  I reflected at how how marvelous was His creation. How wonderful his handiwork.  I lay on this flat rock staring up at the trees, specks of blue from the mid morning sky, peeking thru the silhouette of trees.  I felt his breath in the wind soothe.  His nature cried out in adoration of his majesty.   I lay on the flat rock looking up and watching the branches dance and sway; the rustle of the leaves, the insects chirping; all praising Him  and in my mind I praised, not wanting to interrupt the voices of nature around me..  I see how all creation was made to honor and glorify and in my now soft singing I felt Him draw near…  As I praised Him for his beauty, I immediately felt Him respond to me with “daughter, you are more beautiful than this to me.  You are a light bringer.  I created you to bring light to the world.“  In that moment I felt so strongly His love and adoration of me.  No visions, no dreams, but I felt His  presence.  I rested a bit longer, and decided the time had come.  I had work to do.  

“What will you do with the stones…”

I kept hearing that question in my spirit.  The letter had to be written.  I needed to complete that assignment.  Pen and paper begged me inside to retrieve them.  For some reason, long hand helped me process.  The long scripted cursive lettering flowed from my pen, and something in that movement released  creativity allowing my thoughts readily to leap on paper. 

 I walked inside to retrieve them, and I heard it once again… the question. 

“What will you do with the…..”

“The stones!  Yes, I know, the stones…” I interrupted. 

I took my work out from the day before, reviewing all of the circled bold printed lies I’d made note of.  Every single lie that had pierced my spirit through the years, boldly printed; dark strait scratches, much different than my beautiful cursive loops and swirls. 

Abandonment

Rejection

Doubt

Secrecy

Insecurity

Loneliness

Fear

Shame

These lies,  huge stones had killed my beautiful garden,  rich in soil, vibrant in colors, and sweetly scented with a spicy star-shaped reddish purple blooms.  Dramatic clusters of color, mingled with a heavy scented and lovely pure white.  Clematis towering the trellis high among the most vividly painted deep red roses I had ever seen bloom,  Red everywhere.  Butterflies danced all around their playground of color.  This was my garden, my soul......until the stones began to pound upon each flower.  One by one, I imagined how the stones thrown had pounded the flowers, and overgrown my garden.  The color, aroma, beauty had left.  The butterflies found another place to dance.  

I began to find my own stones to pile  around the garden, a bulwark to keep everyone out!   There was no more garden.  Only dirt, stony soil, weeds, dried up foliage, rocks.  

This had been the state of my soul…Ruins.  No light.  Only gray stony dirt, lifeless, and cold. 

“What will you do with them?” he asked me again.