tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74392753943005043042024-03-05T10:37:37.677-06:00Chosenby the Still, Small VoiceShelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.comBlogger531125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-68952961604466375712014-03-30T00:22:00.001-05:002014-03-30T00:22:41.391-05:00newlet's try something new, shall we? <div><br></div><div>http://shelbymerriam.wordpress.com</div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-71433360930531889152014-03-29T23:34:00.001-05:002014-03-29T23:34:23.135-05:00todayOne day I'll pack my bags. One day I cash out my savings, take all my money with me and go. One day I'll open up a map and point somewhere and set my compass in that direction. One day I'll spin a globe and stop it with my finger and go to that very spot.<div><br></div><div>Middle of the ocean? Doesn't matter.</div><div><br></div><div>One day I'll drive miles and miles and get a postcard at every stop. One day I'll change dollars into quarters and make phone calls on pay phones in so many cities. One day I'll send a letter to my family with the return address left blank because who knows if I'll be here tomorrow? One day I'll learn to live on skill and if I'm a good waitress then I'll do that. If I can carve pipes out of cherry then I'll do that. If I can tell stories with my words and give them to you on paper then I'll do that. One day I might do it all. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But one day I might meet you. And on that day I'll stop saying one day and I'll start saying today. </span></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-61324577443440682742014-03-21T02:22:00.001-05:002014-03-22T10:52:37.498-05:00I have a question for youDid you know tears free your soul just like the truth?<div>Did you know sunlight isn't the only thing that warms the bones?</div><div>Did you know happiness isn't stored in the bottom of a treasure chest or the hand of your lover?</div><div>Did you know "I love you" could mean a thousand times more than what it means to you now?</div><div>Did you know that?</div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-69289970806029334132014-03-20T00:02:00.001-05:002014-03-20T00:03:35.879-05:00just under your noseWhere did the sweet days go<div>When did the honey stop dripping</div><div>Why did the lights go out</div><div>These eyes can't see far in front of me</div><div><br></div><div>When did the breathing get hard</div><div>Who decided to complicate things</div><div>How much farther do we travel now</div><div>How much harder are we pushing</div><div><br></div><div>Whose rules are we following</div><div>Whose lantern do we walk by</div><div>Who do I give these flowers to</div><div>Who made these goals so high</div><div><br></div><div>If I don't know where to go</div><div>If I don't know where up is</div><div>If I can't tell you my name</div><div>If I can't promise you anything</div><div><br></div><div>Will you try to hold on</div><div>Will you walk with me in the black night</div><div>We can use both of our eyes</div><div>Maybe we'll find the source of the light</div><div><br></div><div>Maybe we'll find the honey</div><div>Maybe it's been dripping all along</div><div>Maybe we've tasted too much </div><div>Maybe we need more God. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-46673468350540732542014-03-04T23:06:00.001-06:002014-03-06T11:45:41.559-06:00march 4You would be 69 today. <div><br></div><div>We would have baked you a cake, maybe served you a beer, lit a candle, and watched you blow out the flame while your raspy throat made crackly sounds-- (that's what the cigarettes did to you).</div><div><div><br></div></div><div>You would have opened your gifts that you probably didn't need, but you would have smiled in gratutude anyway. You would've joked about the wrapping or the card or something else because you like to joke-- (mostly I think you just like to laugh).</div><div><br></div><div>Maybe then we would have played a card game all together, as a family-- poker, perhaps. (Or maybe we wouldn't have because we know how seriously you take those card games.)</div><div><br></div><div>As the night lingered on, we would have poured black coffee in our cups and sat around the living room talking about the days when I was "Shrimp" and you liked to pick on me because you knew I could take it and dish it back. (I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> was so little then, but our quick wits were good together, weren't they?)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I bet you would've had good stories to tell at grandparents day at school.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I bet you would have been the loudest one cheering at my highschool graduation. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I bet you would have read all my stories-- and even liked them too.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I bet we would have be tight, me and you. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I bet we would have been really good friends. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Right now I'm thankful that you're celebrating your birthday with Jesus, without a raspy throat or any of the other illnesses that ultimately took you home. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm also thankful that one day I'll get to bake you that cake, watch you open those gifts, and talk with you into the wee hours of the night-- that will be many moons from now, but I still look forward to it. </div><div><br></div><div>Mostly I want to say that I'm sorry we didn't get more time, because I think we would have had quite a bit of fun-- me and you. </div><div><br></div><div>Happy birthday, paw paw leroy. </div><div>I love you as big as the sky, </div><div>-shrimp </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPujl0FRFahlEAUfc-hScAfVXe8mT5qO6zDzvQW2WufY3TdqFm9RiRxzhM7ufcbrhUxq6olUcNs55Q0jXPCecGHEb3Czm1q-Bvw7ri-FT8CQpOFF9ej6XThyphenhyphen1AK_LMwX3T6oTlYMPNWKc/s640/blogger-image--868206841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPujl0FRFahlEAUfc-hScAfVXe8mT5qO6zDzvQW2WufY3TdqFm9RiRxzhM7ufcbrhUxq6olUcNs55Q0jXPCecGHEb3Czm1q-Bvw7ri-FT8CQpOFF9ej6XThyphenhyphen1AK_LMwX3T6oTlYMPNWKc/s640/blogger-image--868206841.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-76847199674313146902014-03-02T17:21:00.001-06:002014-03-02T17:21:39.293-06:00become invisible<blockquote class="quoteBody" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding-left: 25px; text-indent: -30px;"><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">How I go to the woods</strong></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">unsuitable.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">praying, as you no doubt have yours. </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">unhearable sound of the roses singing.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">you very much.</span></div></blockquote><div><br></div><div>Mary Oliver</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwweqtWyw4ehiTAQTiFPywhtjYpaTkgiVgfjlBugSZ7ftKk81sAg_LVFphq_OadTLpTnAMeQ_Wz0sptnWnEvtFYI8MP8JqYTGVF31V1dyS4vynz6PfhI0ZbjRwZGKH8fL0QuW6j6x6VyI/s640/blogger-image--335603064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwweqtWyw4ehiTAQTiFPywhtjYpaTkgiVgfjlBugSZ7ftKk81sAg_LVFphq_OadTLpTnAMeQ_Wz0sptnWnEvtFYI8MP8JqYTGVF31V1dyS4vynz6PfhI0ZbjRwZGKH8fL0QuW6j6x6VyI/s640/blogger-image--335603064.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="quoteDetails" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 25px; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-19635988852440428902014-02-25T12:58:00.001-06:002014-02-25T12:58:48.818-06:00promised landSometimes you just have to take a chance.<div><br></div><div>You have to take the chance that looks so good, but might be bad. Or, maybe not bad, but not quite the best. </div><div><br></div><div>But it's still a chance. You take it because it's there and your hands are open wide. The chance could fill your hands like a rock, or it might slip through your fingers like sand. Isn't that the essence of chance?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUyA-GHlBmJE4ZC882hTfwtCtu5XHgWOf02rILCf2MZwfCe5_lKP1YMg7NkY_j07PfqQxBw9OevkYcrlUyio-K56AHiHIR4fWA1iATVmYvTUX3q0L6dreB48uBLPpxEr8BVf7ZL_yzYo/s640/blogger-image--630883238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUyA-GHlBmJE4ZC882hTfwtCtu5XHgWOf02rILCf2MZwfCe5_lKP1YMg7NkY_j07PfqQxBw9OevkYcrlUyio-K56AHiHIR4fWA1iATVmYvTUX3q0L6dreB48uBLPpxEr8BVf7ZL_yzYo/s640/blogger-image--630883238.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>You could say that chance is bad for you, unhealthy even, but when has chance ever been that? Chance is salty, exciting, vibrant. Chance foreshadows a sweet resolution. </div><div><br></div><div>But on the other side of chance is reality. Reality could be gloom or greatness-- you don't know. </div><div><br></div><div>But you take the chance, you jump the tracks, you write the check and pray it cashes. </div><div><br></div><div>If it cashes, then the Giver of the good gifts had lead you right into the promised land. </div><div><br></div><div>And if it doesn't cash, your account isn't empty. Truly, your money has simply been put into reserve for something greater-- a better promise. A better chance.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmv3a5oZT6ym7YjnO-MksAdSW3m0xfwQ3qwCifnTNbEJ7ol1owRgwymx64Ab5FpKscVhac-YKPVpnJ8NmeIq_2RVre4uRdWgQOKJtVUWEmHwPTw6CSDkmNVqzkVh9hX5JD_B6uC719IA/s640/blogger-image-1766704104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmv3a5oZT6ym7YjnO-MksAdSW3m0xfwQ3qwCifnTNbEJ7ol1owRgwymx64Ab5FpKscVhac-YKPVpnJ8NmeIq_2RVre4uRdWgQOKJtVUWEmHwPTw6CSDkmNVqzkVh9hX5JD_B6uC719IA/s640/blogger-image-1766704104.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So take the chances and carry your mind in one hand and your heart in the other. Eventually you come to the chance that will lead you into your promised land. This chance, this sacred chance, might not feel much different than any of the other uncashed checks, but as soon as it clears it will become evident--</div><div><br></div><div>this was your chance. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N866D9BTcmVxajKRia4Zp_dzqkgJ3c6_MnQjNttRpq7maQT55ouQAL3PMgHpMoQ_EjbUKUzl46ycPQYPk08bDwjt9lxAAZDMzTgH7kKAmzdk67Vtr1S5w_wn_OqYJ-qe3jVlE0Z7_f8/s640/blogger-image--1445823399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N866D9BTcmVxajKRia4Zp_dzqkgJ3c6_MnQjNttRpq7maQT55ouQAL3PMgHpMoQ_EjbUKUzl46ycPQYPk08bDwjt9lxAAZDMzTgH7kKAmzdk67Vtr1S5w_wn_OqYJ-qe3jVlE0Z7_f8/s640/blogger-image--1445823399.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-15161368424662326132014-01-14T23:13:00.001-06:002014-01-14T23:13:19.407-06:00tomorrowI just want you to know that it's ok to close your eyes. <div><br></div><div>I just want you to know that if all you can muster is, "God, give me strength--" that's ok. </div><div><br></div><div>There are times when you feel as tall as a mountain and as bold as a lion. Those are the times for calling down the fire from heaven and casting out the evil.</div><div><br></div><div>But forget not the times to be still. To sit quietly at His feet and just soak-- soak in all the holiness He radiates. Those are the times for whispers of peace and "I love you." Those are the times to go off in the garden by yourself and say, "Your will, not mine."</div><div><br></div><div>And He will give you the strength. Just enough strength for today-- nothing more, nothing less. The strength for today and the bright hope for tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div>Friends, there is always hope for tomorrow. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIF70xNMIGoDlI-e3D2f6ZpIRZfe1mlImioG57ZnUbRj8NXipn3q-1PmGNX4yuCFs3NgM8eqq5fTZ1cjBD28j2N-u_S2NHDT1Fema4tN2pl0RdF1_DmpV-mzP9s46rlM0SxDRNMGYHXE/s640/blogger-image--1715093175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIF70xNMIGoDlI-e3D2f6ZpIRZfe1mlImioG57ZnUbRj8NXipn3q-1PmGNX4yuCFs3NgM8eqq5fTZ1cjBD28j2N-u_S2NHDT1Fema4tN2pl0RdF1_DmpV-mzP9s46rlM0SxDRNMGYHXE/s640/blogger-image--1715093175.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Cheers to our tomorrow!</div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-78243046885342433082014-01-06T01:24:00.001-06:002014-01-06T01:28:10.532-06:00like we never have<div><br></div>"Jesus, the Love who...went to the Cross to fulfill the unfulfilled, to pay the price for our broken love like we never could, to love God for His unbroken love like we never have."*<div><br></div><div>Truth slaps me in my face just like the frigid air slaps my bare legs in the winter time, in a skirt. </div><div><br></div><div>I could not fulfill the law. </div><div>I could not keep the commandments. </div><div>I could not pay the price for Love. </div><div>I could not love God back.</div><div><br></div><div>He says to adore His name and don't misuse it-- but I did that. </div><div>He says keep His commandments of Love, but I didn't know how.</div><div>I tried to pay the price for Love, but I came up short-- one cross short. </div><div>I tried to love Him back, but my love wasn't big enough. </div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">And may I tell you something?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I still cannot keep the commandments fully. I lie and I covet and I lust, but it never shocks God. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I still cannot pay the price for Love and I am not entirely sure I even understand how much it really cost. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">And God has not gotten any smaller.</font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So how can I sing of being lost and then found? How can I walk with a spring under my feet and carry a smile on my face with confidence in my heart? How and why on earth am I free? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today I walked into church and realized it was the first Sunday of the new year. I sat down with my team and we talked about what a privilege it was to do what we do-- how honored we were to bounce the babies on our hips and ask the two-year-old what sound the sheep makes and sing the song ten times over if it will keep the infant resting. I lifted my hands above my head and sang loudly with the others and soaked in the Truth as it was spoken. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">At the end of the day, it finally dawns on me like first light in the early hours of morning. My eyes are reopened and I recognize the familiar truth sinking into my bones. Remembering is like like hugging an old friend after years of disconnect. I feel it like home and I know it deep down in the heart of who I am:</span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">The rescue plan. </font></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">There I was, a helpless babe floundering about in a sea of "thou shalt nots". I was unworthy of loving a God so big and I was ashamed of even trying. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But out of nowhere, a star appeared in the east and it led me to a baby bouncing on His mother's knee. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">This was the plan all along-- the rescue plan. </font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The plan to sweep in and scoop me up and take me home and dust me off and set me back on my feet again. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But this time, I would feel lighter. The breath I breathed would be sweeter and the Love he gave me would feel right. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You see, professing Jesus as my savior doesn't give me special powers to finally be able to love God like he deserves. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">No, He knew I would never be able to. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So His Son traveled through the universe, making his way to the footstool of the galaxies, and do you know what He did?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">He did it for me-- that was the plan.</font><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">*<i>The Greatest Gift</i>, Ann Voskamp</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-19607792638453120762013-12-30T23:54:00.001-06:002013-12-31T17:54:04.848-06:00to you, 2013<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>2013.</div><div><br></div>2013, when I think of you I think of hanging-on-to-the-edge-of-my-seat anxiety. I think of highschool graduation. I think of waiting and praying and hoping beyond all hope. I think of unspeakable joy and blessing. I think of a charter bus bringing my daddy home from the desert. I think of a new beginning. I think of friendships. I think of friendships that still have so much room in the soil to stretch their roots. I think of heartbreak. I think of learning and absorbing and teaching. I think of humbling. I think of teeth-gritting and perseverance. I think of trying hard and sitting back to rest. I think of rest. I think of peace.<div><br></div><div>2013, I didn't expect the things we went through to happen, and the things I thought would happen didn't necessarily.</div><div><br></div><div>What I know of you, 2013, is this: you came. You came, and you were a magnificent opportunity all dressed up in lights and confetti. I didn't know it fully then, but you wouldn't be so flashy all the while, just as 2014 won't be either. You had soft moments. Even some were fearful. Some were sad. Some were so joyful I just shook my head in disbelief. </div><div>People came, people went, and people came back during your stay, didn't they, 2013? And we learned that that is ok. We learned that it's good to move about and wiggle around because if you have no room to move, you have no room to grow. And we did quite a bit of growing, didn't we, 2013? We learned some good lessons, relearned others, and next year, I might just have to go over these again with 2014-- who knows? </div><div><br></div><div>I'll say it again: 2013, you were a wonderful opportunity. Every late night, every smile, every tear, every cup of coffee, every laugh, every ray of sunlight, every baby giggle, every hug, every conversation, every prayer, every song, every "I love you", every dream, every moment-- it was a pleasure. An honor, really. </div><div><br></div><div>Thank you, 2013. Your memories are cherished. May we only look back from 2014 to remember the good times, lessons learned, and places we met Jesus. </div><div><br></div><div>Onward, we go. </div><div><br></div><div>-shel </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpBGgrIwX7PLVKjJe_djUORb4LkhZDFP0JEPZAhSrqCypquFfOrYE4iBYAIBwnnL5N6PM3C7ZcKwHlS3Xc6TfKuGKBuhn0K-gFH8U9Kvasa0xxfHzxEcYQivQnkgrEHy1fTEkKF2mtl8/s640/blogger-image--397463532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpBGgrIwX7PLVKjJe_djUORb4LkhZDFP0JEPZAhSrqCypquFfOrYE4iBYAIBwnnL5N6PM3C7ZcKwHlS3Xc6TfKuGKBuhn0K-gFH8U9Kvasa0xxfHzxEcYQivQnkgrEHy1fTEkKF2mtl8/s640/blogger-image--397463532.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yLS8R6LSyivSzQaZyFRcXn6Uvx14unDBDASQBI8FsORPB3aPX8mg7CKixi8TVxl7KC4szhG02J6x1Wtt8dgsGABB9AfAnkWbFqWhEWSh4itQiakRHHqArqa7eEnFexp3BhJPsgQCTQQ/s640/blogger-image-1612972289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-46447488108708544322013-08-12T21:57:00.001-05:002013-08-12T22:44:13.308-05:00she's beautifulWrinkled skin. <div>Bruised arms.</div><div>Gray, wiry hair pulled back behind a headband wrapping around her frail crown. </div><div>Eyes peeking behind glasses that help her see- see her daughter, her grand-babies, and me, one of her 16 great-grandchildren. </div><div><br></div><div>Sixteen of us. I'm one of sixteen.</div><div>One of sixteen who knows that specific, wobbling voice she has. One of sixteen who has listened to her stories, has heard her struggles, and knows her heart. </div><div><br></div><div>I know her smell. It's like the CoverGirl brand of blush. </div><div>I remember spending the night at her house, admiring her giant pantry. </div><div>I can hear her stories in my mind, the ones about growing up poor, about taking in the baby with no home, about trusting Jesus with all her heart. </div><div><br></div><div>"<i>Is she your inspiration?" the boy asks me</i>. </div><div><br></div><div>She's a flawed old woman with years of life hanging plainly from her shoulders. No doubt she's told some lies, broken hearts, and made a wrong decision. </div><div>Haven't we all? </div><div><br></div><div>But I bet she's saved a life or two, with her smile, a timely pat on the back, a kiss on the forehead, or an "it's gonna be alright, sha."</div><div>I bet she's helped friends out of many-a pickles.</div><div>I bet she's prayed a thousand prayers.</div><div><br></div><div><i>"Is she your inspiration?"</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>I don't think I would have dubbed her this title before he asked the question, but as I sit and watch her hold the baby on her lap with the little bit of strength she has left, my answer is this:</div><div>She is quite the inspiration. </div><div><br></div><div>Because of knowing her, I am inspired to love and love and love until there is no love left. </div><div>To love in the selfless way. </div><div>To love and then love some more. </div><div>To trust Love again even when love lets you down. </div><div>To hold on when Jesus says to hold on, and not let go till he says so. </div><div><br></div><div>She has been, is, and will be remembered as inspiring. </div><div><br></div><div>Her name is Evelyn. </div><div><br></div><div>Evelyn loved hard. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's to you, Granny. </div><div>You're my inspiration. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHp1ElB4M_qLSd3qap5uovs9iG3IDt5sI3Y-QlSg4VxUXcApAoFmAd9rlnj58JlUXdEhUOdVB376YGxXiG24cE8IWKDe-wU7u4QcWkY-x_GznKbYlLAHXwzIwNWncUaCth67y1hgR13w/s640/blogger-image-943640536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHp1ElB4M_qLSd3qap5uovs9iG3IDt5sI3Y-QlSg4VxUXcApAoFmAd9rlnj58JlUXdEhUOdVB376YGxXiG24cE8IWKDe-wU7u4QcWkY-x_GznKbYlLAHXwzIwNWncUaCth67y1hgR13w/s640/blogger-image-943640536.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-47982757050035596202013-08-11T22:42:00.001-05:002013-08-11T22:42:03.411-05:00no equal<div><br></div><div><br></div>Who has scooped up the ocean in his two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger?<div>Who has put all the earth’s dirt in one of his baskets, weighed each mountain and hill? </div><div>Who could ever have told God what to do or taught him his business? </div><div>What expert would he have gone to for advice, what school would he attend to learn justice? </div><div>What god do you suppose might have taught him what he knows, showed him how things work? </div><div>Why, the nations are but a drop in a bucket, a mere smudge on a window. Watch him sweep up the islands like so much dust off the floor! There aren’t enough trees in Lebanon nor enough animals in those vast forests to furnish adequate fuel and offerings for his worship. All the nations add up to simply nothing before him— less than nothing is more like it. </div><div>A minus. </div><div>So who even comes close to being like God? To whom or what can you compare him?</div><div><br></div><div>Have you not been paying attention? Have you not been listening? </div><div>Haven’t you heard these stories all your life? </div><div>Don’t you understand the foundation of all things? </div><div>God sits high above the round ball of earth. The people look like mere ants. He stretches out the skies like a canvas— yes, like a tent canvas to live under. He ignores what all the princes say and do. The rulers of the earth count for nothing. Princes and rulers don’t amount to much. Like seeds barely rooted, just sprouted, They shrivel when God blows on them. Like flecks of chaff, they’re gone with the wind. </div><div>“So—who is like me? Who holds a candle to me?” says The Holy. Look at the night skies: </div><div>Who do you think made all this? </div><div>Who marches this army of stars out each night, counts them off, calls each by name —so magnificent! so powerful!— and never overlooks a single one? </div><div><br></div><div>Don’t you know anything? </div><div>Haven’t you been listening? </div><div>God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-53203885644196396412013-08-11T00:22:00.001-05:002013-08-11T00:22:39.024-05:00that thing you doIt's that thing.<div><br></div><div>That thing He does. </div><div><br></div><div>That thing that makes me crumble into tiny pieces scattered before Him and say, "oh, you're so good." </div><div><br></div><div>That thing that makes me stop in my tracks and smile like a lunatic at the summer sky. </div><div>"What're you doing?" asks the boy. </div><div>"Look: it's just so beautiful," I breathe. </div><div>That thing. It's beautiful.</div><div><br></div><div>It's Him. He's beautiful.</div><div><br></div><div>His hand that paints all the saturated clouds in the April sky.</div><div>His mouth that breathes out the celestial nightlights, and their names too.</div><div>His feet that hop over fences and toddle down rocky driveways and sprint through overgrown fields of wheat if it means rescuing his precious lamb. </div><div><br></div><div>These things He does, they're beautiful. </div><div>He is a thousand times more-so. </div><div><br></div><div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><br></i></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>It's always like springtime with You, making all things new</i></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Your light is breaking through the dark</div></span><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">This love it is sweeter than wine</div></span><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Bringing joy, bringing life</div></span><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Your hope is rising like the dawn</div></span></i></span><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; display: inline !important; ">This is what You do, this is what You do</div></span></i></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; display: inline !important; "><i>You make me come alive</i></div></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; display: inline !important; "><i><br></i></div></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; "><span style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto; display: inline !important; "><i>You make me come alive</i></div></span></div></span></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-4048342547817533732013-07-29T22:56:00.001-05:002013-07-29T22:56:05.424-05:00rememberand if you're having trouble trusting, don't let yourself fail. Grab yourself by the shoulders and shake. Shake until the mind in your head connects with the heart in your chest and you remember.<div><br></div><div>Remember who God is. Remember your place, your adoption into his family. You belong in this Kingdom of Faith. </div><div>Remember who your Father is. Remember your inheritance and how he's always blessing you. He delights in you, every single part.</div><div>Remember how he spoke the stars out of his lips and told the waters where they could and could not go. Does he not have more control over your life than this?</div><div>Remember the lilies, the daffodils, and springtime, when everything is blooming and bursting with new songs. </div><div>Remember how intricately he created each blade of grass and each tiny ant. Does he not care about the smallest details of your life even more? </div><div>Remember how small you are- yes, you are small. You are not insignificant, but small. You will not ruin everything, you will not "miss it". Nothing is as big as it seems. </div><div>Remember to zoom out and remember how small you are, how small life is, and how great eternity will be. </div><div>Remember that God is good and gracious and big enough to get your attention, and he will. When your heart is wide open, his love can flow through and direct you in any way he chooses. </div><div><br></div><div>and when you tell yourself this, stop and sit. </div><div>Smell. See. Touch. Taste. Hear. </div><div><br></div><div>Live. Live abundantly. Worship the King. Love the people. Do your best. Have fun. </div><div><br></div><div>Always remember to do that. </div><div><br></div><div>and stand back up. and continue. </div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-67096319272020462092013-07-24T00:00:00.001-05:002013-07-24T00:00:22.875-05:00fire inside you<span style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">You are most exquisite to me in the moments when you suggest we go catch lightning bugs or try to count all the stars in the night sky because you know we might not catch any and we won't count them all, but you still put your shoes on and take my hand. You take my hand. </span>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-33924181214326098022013-07-08T22:57:00.001-05:002013-07-08T22:57:48.398-05:00greater than<div><br></div><div>When the tears of joy come from finally feeling the warmth of the light at the end of your tunnel-</div><div><br></div><div>When the littles don't want to stop hugging you and they shout squealing goodbyes after you as you walk to your car-</div><div><br></div><div>When he shares a scripture with you and says that you'll believe in victory together-</div><div><br></div><div>When Jesus not only whispers, "I love you," but also, "I like you a lot"- </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Those things are top notch. They rank high on my list of 'greater thans'. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm back in a place where my hands are stretched out before me and Jesus is dumping way more blessing in my lap than I feel like I can handle. I like this place. </div><div><br></div><div>This is a place where the joy is abundant and the grace is overwhelming and the thankfulness becomes my second language. </div><div><br></div><div>Thank God for this place. </div><div>This is my place. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><i>"When your joy in Me [God] meets My [God's] joy in you, there are fireworks of heavenly ecstasy." </i></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8xprZvnufdFMiW_t1PZ5xKLK-VBoXfxDNjcF-MKG4c1iaLnlvH8EK80t1NHuxwhk0pX97KTXDsDNPR1L1Cm9K981vw0_-3JLijMcu7cN-QbOkBMvvKra_20Uhis90wq8M6Xg0-LGRKM/s640/blogger-image--2102799143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8xprZvnufdFMiW_t1PZ5xKLK-VBoXfxDNjcF-MKG4c1iaLnlvH8EK80t1NHuxwhk0pX97KTXDsDNPR1L1Cm9K981vw0_-3JLijMcu7cN-QbOkBMvvKra_20Uhis90wq8M6Xg0-LGRKM/s640/blogger-image--2102799143.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-47495419459933033912013-06-28T00:55:00.001-05:002013-06-28T00:55:01.526-05:00love letter<div><br></div>My Sweet One. My Constant. My True. My Always and Forever. My Dear. My Closest Soul-Sharer. My Jesus. My Savior. My King. <div><br></div><div>You are my favorite. If I ever had to (or will have to) choose between you and anyone, even whoever I love most in the world at the time, I would (will) choose you because you're worth it. </div><div>You are the treasure I would give up everything to have. For all of my days I will seek after you and hunt for you in the corners, the unseen places. In the dry places, I will cry out for rain and when the rain comes I will stand and wait for the heart-tingling sensation of watching your promise emerge from the storm clouds. I will watch the sky's tears be wiped away with rays of tinted light and I will proclaim it was the handiwork of God. </div><div>I want you because you're intoxicating and overwhelming and when I'm fully aware of your presence, I almost can't breathe, but it doesn't scare me. I do not need air if I have you. You are my source of life and so I shall never die. You have saved me from perishing and that is a magnificent and remarkable truth. I marvel at it. I love you because you understand my heart even better than I know how to articulate to you how my heart is feeling.</div><div><br></div><div>I need you, God, at the center because that's where you belong, and when you're there, everything becomes clearer and falls into place better. Everything falls into place when you're in first place and that's how you designed our relationship and it's good. I think you made it that way so we would realize our need for you and desperation without you. </div><div><br></div><div>I want to find you and find you again. I want to sit in your lap and just look at you. I want to know your plan for me, my purpose, and then I want to do it and do it with passion and zeal for your name that is beautiful and has captured my heart. I want you in every kind of way. I want everything you're giving, everything you offer, because I know you're never too much. I'll never fill up or run out of room for you because the more you fill me, the more you increase my capacity to be filled by you. Your greatness astounds me and I'm in love with you.</div><div><br></div><div>I love you. I love you and I've never said that in a truer sense than how I'm saying it to you now. </div><div><br></div><div>I love you. </div><div><br></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-35479933923544136482013-06-12T23:06:00.000-05:002013-06-12T23:06:25.986-05:00it's jesus<br />
it's that giggle you can't hold back.<br />
that shake of your head that says, "how could this be real?"<br />
it's the awkward way your arms move up and down and all around because they can't just hang by your side- they have to do <i>something</i>.<br />
it's how you lift your hands and cover your face and bow down low and let sweet Jesus sing over you. <i>sing over you.</i><br />
<br />
it's the presence of God, my friends.<br />
<br />
have you ever experienced it? you'd know it if you did. and you wouldn't forget it. and if you were honest with yourself, no matter how badly you'd rather not "go there", you want to experience it again. He just does that to you.<br />
<br />
i close my eyes and lift my head to heaven and wonder. i wonder <i>how will we survive being face-to-face with Him for all of eternity? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
because in the spiritual and physical presence of my Maker, i surely will explode. won't i? i cannot think of what on earth will hold me together. but then, i suppose that's why we won't explode, because we won't be on this earth.<br />
<br />
why does Jesus let us have that giggle? that giddiness? that overwhelming sensation of joy and love and awe all at once? why does He sing over us a sweet lullaby of love as we are, at the very same time, singing to Him? how does that work? what is holding me together and why am i not shattered and melting on the floor, a pile of Divine love-stricken mess?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.</i></span></span></div>
<br />
oh my stars.<br />
<br />
let Him sing over you tonight.<br />
cry. laugh. swing your arms. shake your head. cover your face. dance.<br />
and rest assured: you won't explode, but it's definitely ok to feel like you will.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-3098080324289942902013-06-07T12:19:00.001-05:002013-06-07T12:19:51.662-05:00wordless<div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div>"i don’t know what to tell you<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">other than the fact that a giraffe’s<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">heart weighs 22 pounds and that<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">somebody once told me when<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">flies fall in love, their entire brain<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">is rewired to only know loving each<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">other. when one of them dies, their<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">memory becomes blank. i hope you<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">never think about anything as much <br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">as i think about waking up next to<br style="background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/x.gif); ">you during a windstorm at 5 am."</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i>like a writing desk</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">http://likeawritingdesk.tumblr.com/</span></div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-34305196637746482372013-05-22T00:46:00.001-05:002013-05-22T01:34:10.295-05:00perfectIt'll be perfect. I promise.<div><br></div><div>It'll be exactly how it's supposed to be, exactly how He's willed it, just how He's promised.</div><div><br></div><div>But will it fill your insides with that feeling they always talk about. That "I just knew it" feeling? </div><div>I don't know. </div><div>Will you know that it is indeed perfect while it's perfect or will you still be trying to understand and figure out what's going on because nothing feels perfect? </div><div>I don't know.</div><div>Will we know? Will we know like they say we'll know? </div><div>I don't know.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm filled with that unsure feeling that overwhelms my brain and my heart and makes my body feel sick, like I need more vitamin C or something. This uncertainty torments because its father is fear, and fear is trained to kill. It's trying to kill me. I'm dying.</div><div><br></div><div>"Determined to make things go your own way, you forget that I am in charge of your life. The only remedy is to switch your focus from the problem to My Presence. Stop all your striving and watch to see what I will do. I Am The Lord."</div><div><br></div><div>I'm a dramatic little thing sometimes. "You aren't dying, Child," he comforts. I'm sure He's shaking His head and laughing (a little). I sniffle back my self pity and agree with a nod of my own, swimming noggin.</div><div><br></div><div>After all, I do know that He is The Lord and sits at the right hand of The Father. Thankfully, He hollers at me (lovingly of course) sometimes saying, "Don't forget that time when I saved you and redeemed your life and became the best thing that ever happened to you."</div><div>Shoot, I did forget. How did I forget?! I'll never understand myself.</div><div>But MIRACULOUSLY and by the GRACE I do not deserve He forgives me. He looks at me, pulls me close, and retells me the story of my salvation. He extends his arms and touches with his smooth fingers all the wounds that awful fear and unknowing inflicted. There aren't even scars left. </div><div>Why do I forget His goodness?</div><div><br></div><div>"I am not skilled to understand what God has willed, what God has planned. I only know at His right hand stands One who is my Savior."</div><div><br></div><div>This is why I know it will be perfect: He is The Lord. He has willed good for me. He keeps the promises he makes. And He is perfect. </div><div><br></div><div>I will remember. I will smother the feelings of fear with the glory of his Presence. He will heal my aching body and I will surely live. I will live and I will thrive. </div><div><br></div><div>And when He wills, it will be perfect. </div><div>Because He is perfect. </div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-68883400657524334622013-05-08T22:43:00.001-05:002013-05-08T22:44:38.822-05:00awakegood morning.<div><br></div><div>The sun is peeking through the cumulus, laying it's rays delicately on my bed, across my face, awakening me.</div><div><br></div><div>It's a new day. It's a new breath. It's a new reason to live. The reason is different than yesterday's, with its own name, face, and personality. Who knows what it will be or become, but you can be sure that it will be or become something, for hasn't The Lord awoken me?</div><div>Yes, and all to live a new day, breathe a new breathe, have a new reason. </div><div><br></div><div>"Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives." Psalms 90:14</div><div><br></div><div>And when I live the new reason and breathe the new breath, look out onto the new horizons, I find myself singing new songs as I watch gold fill the sky and black blanket the earth. </div><div><br></div><div>New days bring new praise. </div><div><br></div><div>New days are coming for me, chasing me down, I sometimes feel. </div><div>"Make this decision; know your plans; think about your future." </div><div>I'm trying, I'm trying, and should it really be this hard? It's just new, and new always feels hard (for me). </div><div>New suggests unknown, but is it really?</div><div>Doesn't He promise a hopeful future, a prosperous life? Doesn't He say it'll all work out fine, for my good even, because He's God? </div><div><br></div><div>But new also makes my heart skip. New brings adventure and freedom knocking at my door. New: it's compelling, it's exciting. </div><div><br></div><div>So I'll open the door and make the decision and live the new and accept the reason because He gave it. He gave me the new. </div><div>And every good thing comes from His hand. And everything He gives can be boiled down to grace. </div><div>It's all grace. The new, the unknown, the breath, the life- oh, especially the life.</div><div>Grace is freedom. </div><div><br></div><div>And friends, freedom is where He lives. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's to a season of new, my graduating/newlywed/first-time-parents/other-types-of-new friends. </div><div>Here's to a remarkable season where you watch The Lord unfold your new and make it yours. </div><div><br></div><div>Accept the new, accept the grace, and give the thanks. </div><div><br></div><div>Amen. </div>Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-92150300443017649182013-05-02T00:01:00.001-05:002013-05-02T00:01:55.254-05:00LiveTo you who's wondering if it's ok:<br />
<br />
It is ok. It is.<br />
<br />
It's ok if you don't know for sure. It's ok if you're not totally prepared. It's ok if you're still a bit confused and move forward anyway. It's ok to take that job. It's ok to say, "no thanks." It's ok for your heart to mingle with two people at the same time....yikes! It's ok to jump in head first. <br />
<br />
It's ok, because you were made to live.<br />
<br />
You were made to live in this moment, in this age, in this year, in that house, in that car, with this president, with those friends, with that job, in that church, with these decisions.<br />
<br />
He created you to worship him right now. You know how you do that? <br />
You give thanks and enjoy the gifts. <br />
You live. <br />
<br />
You do that thing and talk to that person and go on that date and take that job and work in that nursery and ace that test and go for a bike ride and skip down the street and sing to loud music and dream really big dreams.<br />
<br />
There's a reason he is supernatural and we are not. As we live, the Holy Spirit works through us. We can't do his part. We have to do the living part. <br />
<br />
This does not totally sum up our roles as Jesus lovers, but if you find yourself fretting over little things, and big things even, please come back to this thought. <br />
Live.<br />
Don't wish you were someplace else with someone else doing something else.<br />
Live now. Here. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow doesn't exist. <br />
<br />
"Don't worry or be anxious about anything. But prayerfully, with thanksgiving, tell God what your heart desires. And His peace that cannot be understood will wash all over you and calm your heart and mind."<br />
<br />
<br />
This is the place I most often find myself. I wish I could tell you I was a few years (moths, at the very least) older with plans to marry soon and foster all the love-starved babies of the world. <br />
I really wish I could tell you that. <br />
Or maybe tell you that I know how to discern this situation with this person because then I might could predict the outcome and prepare better.<br />
Or maybe still tell you that I know what I want to pursue in college and I'm totally ready for that new chapter and I'm not second-guessing myself at all.<br />
<br />
But I can't tell you those things. <br />
<br />
What I can tell you is that I'm still very much so a senior in highschool waiting eagerly like a child for that diploma I've worked so hard for. I have no idea what to expect in every relationship and I'm still waiting for mr. future husband to come along and love on the babies with me. I haven't a clue as to what I'll be majoring in come this fall and I don't know if I even want to go to college but what else would I do anyway? <br />
<br />
It's ok to have my problems or problems like them. It's called living.<br />
And when you're living for the Creator of the very breath you take, trust me- you're doing it right. Just keep on living. <br />
<br />
Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-78684534041005296242013-04-16T10:36:00.001-05:002013-04-16T10:38:27.670-05:00contentment is trustHow to find the joy? <br />
<br />
Learn to give the thanks.<br />
<br />
How to be genuine in giving the thanks?<br />
<br />
Learn to trust.<br />
<br />
<br />
Isn't it the root of it all? Lack of trust? Unfortunately, yes. Oh yes. <br />
And why don't I trust? Hasn't He always provided the manna, the life-giving bread that leaves me full, satisfied, not wanting anything?<br />
But the manna isn't always tasty, soft, easily swallowed. It's crispy sometimes, a little burnt, not so sweet. <br />
<br />
Is that manna still what satisfies me? keeps me living? provides the life?<br />
<br />
Yes, but it doesn't always feel that way. And so I begin the longing for other manna, more pleasant manna. <br />
<br />
And Jesus whispers, "Don't forget that all manna comes from me. Tasty or not, easy or hard, it's all still manna. I'm still providing the life, every stage of it."<br />
<br />
Mmmm, bitter-sweet Truth. <br />
<br />
So let's give thanks for all the manna, because Jesus has always been faithful to provide it, to care for us like his treasured little sheep. And doesn't that make you thankful?<br />
<br />
And when we can find the thanks in all the manna, we will find the joy. We will. How can we not? Can we not remember the most important manna, the manna that was nailed in the veins and crushed in the skull with the thorns that the manna created himself? Is that manna not enough to satisfy for eternity? <br />
It is. It always is. <br />
<br />
All other manna is blessing manna. The <br />
tasty manna, the crunchy manna. <br />
<br />
After all, it's not even about the manna. It's about manna-maker, manna-giver. <br />
It's about the good Jesus, the Best Friend, the Bride-Groom, the Lover, the Sacrificial Manna. <br />
<br />
The Bread of Life. <br />
Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7439275394300504304.post-52429787386965399192012-11-06T21:38:00.003-06:002012-11-06T21:38:33.152-06:00yellow tuesday<br />
<br />
traffic.<br />
<br />
traffic and rain.<br />
<br />
traffic, rain, a less-than-fabulous doctor report, a missing father, fatigue, a hurting friend, homework over-load, tears, lots of tears, low blood-sugar, frustration, confusion....i'll stop there.<br />
<br />
my life isn't <em>terrible</em>; really and truly, it's <em>not</em>.<br />
<br />
but there's only one thing that keeps it from becoming terrible. <br />
one thing that keeps everything from falling apart. <br />
one Truth that permeates every section of my life, my family, my heart, and keeps everything <em>worth it</em>.<br />
it's the Truth of sweet Jesus that declares "<em>nothing</em> can separate me from the love of Christ." <br />
<br />
no matter what happens, my life is hid with Christ on high, he keeps me safe beneath his wings, and my home is being prepared somewhere in that glorious place where my Jesus now dwells.<br />
<br />
<br />
monday was gray, and depending on who you're voting for in the presidential election, it could still be gray today.<br />
<br />
however, for me, today has been a yellow tuesday. the sun's been shining, the air's been crisp, the coffee was good, my headache only lasted for an hour-or-so, and my Lord still reigns.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
happy tuesday, friends!<br />
keep the faith and walk in grace!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<em>"Then they believed his promises and sang his praise."</em></div>
<div align="center">
<em>Psalm 106:12</em></div>
<div align="center">
<em></em> </div>
<div align="center">
<em></em></div>
Shelby Gracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15096196576407833435noreply@blogger.com0