A lamp unto my feet

In the fifth grade I purchased my very first cassette tape with my own money. I chose Amy Grant's "The Collection." I listened to it all the time. I learned how to harmonize. Amy and I sounded awesome together. If you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say Amy Grant. For years. I even loved her "Lead Me on" phase. I shied away from the whole "Baby, Baby" crossover situation, mostly because that was some terrible music.
I could digress into so many trails right now, but I'll stick with my intent. One of the songs on that album was "Thy Word." Words inspired by Psalms that say, "Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. When I feel afraid, think I've lost my way, still you're there right beside me. Nothing will I fear as long as you are near. Please be near me to the end..."
This song (that I sang with the backing vocals cassette--another story for another day) has been such a touchstone for me vocationally. I did not end up being Amy Grant, but looking back at almost twenty years of career, I can now see some of the threads God has been weaving.

It's a good time for a graphic to break up all these words. Here's a lantern for your viewing pleasure.

I always thought I would decide what I wanted to be (read DO) and God would bless it and magically make it happen. I also had a healthy confidence in my dreams and God's providence and KNEW that someday I would be acclaimed and/or well-known and famous. Like Shelley's-on-Oprah famous.

Shelley Jones is my favorite thing!

God's path is so different though. While the Psalmist is singing of the Word of God (written and ultimately through Jesus), our daily lives are the living out of His Word as well. It occurred to me at some point that a "lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path" are not the same as a God-GPS which illuminates an entire route, giving exact turn-by-turn instructions and warning of traffic and road-blocks. I think a lot of us expect the GPS version of our calling and/or life's work, but we're met with just enough light to show us our next few steps.
Glennon Melton over at momastery.com always says, "do the next right thing." That's what my vocational life has looked like. It has looked like dreams dashed. It has looked like humility and sacrifice. It has looked like service when I wanted it to look like superstar. It has felt like maybe I peaked in high school and was floundering in the real world. I have kept taking small steps. The next step I could see to take, then another and another. And now sometimes it looks like same-old until I look at it through God's lens.
God's "perspecticles" (credit to Glennon again) show me that I have always been a stage-setter. One who prepares a place for others to bring their gifts. One who goes ahead and thinks through the plan and sorts out and welcomes. In youth ministry, I prepared for a weekly service and facilitated for both volunteers and students and the youth pastor to bring their gifts to the space. Many times those gifts were of art--music, dance, mime, drama, speaking, singing...I helped create situations and spaces for students to spread their wings on missions trips and create life-long friendships at summer camp. Hopefully, I nudged them closer to the cross. My vocation and calling were intertwined as I sowed into their lives and set the stage for them to learn and develop their gifts. I fumbled through much of this experience, learning as I went.
I tried to leave this path several times, but The Lord always nudged me back on, giving me just enough grace to keep going. Then, when I slowed down a bit and listened, I could feel the grace truly leave, and I knew that another path was not far off.
That's when the real panic can set in. You know, know, know that you're about to take a sharp turn; but you keep looking too far down the lane in anticipation...you begin freaking out.
Just do the next right thing. Keep praying, keep applying, (keep resume-ing) and keep going back to the last thing you knew to be true.
My sharp turn took me back to my alma mater doing event planning. The vast majority of my events were for either current or potential donors, or "friend raising." Again, I found myself setting the stage for people to share and grow their gifts. Such an honor to help give back to the university that gave me a full scholarship. And to work with people who are like family.
I have attempted a few wide steps that felt like they might be sharp turns over the past few years; but at this point, I feel so blessed to be doing a job that allows me the flexibility and head space to be a mom. I am not struggling with learning all new systems, people and places. I am surrounded by familiarity and a good sense of what to do at work. This cracks the door a little for me to continue dreaming about other places I can set the stage for my child to bring his gifts and for you to bring yours. Your gifts of worship and art and writing and faith and encouragement. Your songs of lament. Your stumbles and fumbles, because those are gifts, too. As my wise new friend Emily Stone said recently in a sermon, "God wastes nothing." All the good jobs, the crappy jobs, the late nights. They weren't wasted. Experiences and unrealized visions and longings are all useful in God's economy. Doing shift work at an un-airconditioned Georgia pillow factory in summer with interesting characters who found their lottery numbers in the daily Ziggy cartoon...not wasted. Perhaps even then I was setting the stage for someone's gift of glorious sleep. ;)

"Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. When I feel afraid, think I've lost my way, still you're there right beside me. Nothing will I fear as long as you are near. Please be near me to the end..."

Telling the stories

I made a craft. I should pinterest the ))(*&(*&# out of it, except I got the idea from pinterest. It was nearly a pinstrosity, but I was able to pull it back from the brink...rip some paper off, restain, repaint...I did it over a year ago. 'Cause for the love of Pete, I NEED a creative outlet!!! It's nothing to write home about, but I do love the meaning.

"This is my Song" start

One canvas says "This is my story." The other says "This is my song." From the old hymn Blessed Assurance. On the story canvas, I chose words and passages I find meaningful; and on the song canvas, I pulled from an old hymnal.

Adding some paint

These are the two things we carry in life. Our stories and our songs. Our tales of setback and overcoming, our funniest moments, our memories, our soaring ballads and minor-keyed heartaches. I have felt compelled of late to tell my stories. However uninteresting or uneventful. I need to make markers and altars in my own life. What I don't have are the dramatic or shocking testimonies.

All painted and waiting for letters

There is nothing wrong with those. But those are not my story. What I do have is a faithful God in both little and small ways over the course of many days and nights.











These sit atop my piano, which is not often played. There's a book of hymns that was my grandmother's, published in 1913. She played piano and sang for her church for many years.

I had a heck of a time figuring out how to get the lettering on. I didn't want it to be handwriting. I wanted large statement letters. Somehow, in a fit of frustration at Hobby Lobby, I came home with smallish Scrabble-looking letters. I was underwhelmed with the result.

But then, as any good English major does, I found it fraught with MEANING. You have to get close to these guys to read them. To see this is my story and this is my song. Our stories and songs don't yell. They're the intimate parts of us, aren't they?

It's a little messy, somewhat thought out, and artsy but not art. A lot like me.

Facing fears

So much to say...so little time. I hope to get back to some writing and processing over the next few weeks. I just need to let this little stream of thought out.
Last week, I was invited to a social opportunity. The setting was unfamiliar. The people were somewhat unfamiliar. But I'm trying to live more of my life in "improv" mode...not just in my parenting, but in all aspects. I found myself saying yes and bringing Husband along before I could think about it too much. When the time came, I was kicking myself. All the "what if's" were starting in. I'm 39 years old and a fairly confident person, but find myself hovering in a corner sometimes socially. What is THAT about?
We went. We had a blast. None of my "what if's" happened. I actually made really good connections and had fun. I reached outside of myself a little. WHAT IF I did that more often? What if I say NO to fears and YES to opportunities?
I have always been a little hampered by fear. I was a terrible gymnast at the ripe old age of 9 because I could imagine myself with all sorts of broken bones (in my defense, I had actually broken a bone and knew it wasn't fun). I was scared of the high bar, scared of tumbling backwards on a 4" beam... In second grade, I signed up for a talent show and learned a song with my piano teacher. I practiced and practiced. Then when it came my turn to sing, I chickened out. Nothing was getting me on that stage. (Some of y'all are shocked now.) I don't have debilitating anxiety, and won't attempt to speak to those issues. I just have some natural and odd fears and insecurities. Things I've allowed to hold me back. Things that bring me back to the Atkinson School auditorium and make me want to hide under my chair instead of standing up and singing Dolly Parton's "9 to 5" at the top of my lungs like I practiced. (yes. what I wouldn't give of a video of little me doing just that!)
I'm here to sing "9 to 5." I had the best evening last week. Just allowed myself to feel the fear and face it down. It wasn't huge, but it was a very good step for me.

"Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen...pour myself a cup of ambition..."

On improv and love

My sweet bundle of boy came crawling into the big bed around 5 am. A solid hour before I needed to meet the world. "Sigh. Really? I just want more zzzz's." I am a champion, grade-A sleeper. But every now and again, when I am awoken this close to dawn, I find it hard to get back to Sleepyville. And then, as God is wont to do, He started whispering.

"Don't block offers, Shelley. Remember your rules of improv."

......................................

I have been struggling lately in my relationship with my child. We can go for a few days without drama, and inevitably some random something will set him off and he screams and melts and tells me he wants to go live in another house with new parents. I am fairly able not to take this personally. He is all emotion at this age. But it makes it difficult sometimes, when you'd just like to have an easy evening and all your interactions feel like an uphill battle. With "battle" being the key word. I am really trying to keep myself even and quiet in my responses. And sometimes I end up taking a mommy time-out to regather my senses.

Recently, I was sharing my struggles of relating to my son with a friend. She had a vision of the two of us on a checkerboard floor, dressed to the nines in tux and a red gown, dancing with one another. Improv-ing, if you will, as neither of us has been to foxtrot class lately. It was a beautiful picture for me. Enjoying each other, dancing, wearing an awesome red ballgown...such promise and hope. In real life, though, I'm having a bit more trouble connecting what I know is God's vision for us and our day-to-day reality.

Like this. Only with a short preschooler. And no servants...

So, God whispers to me in the wee hours. "Don't block offers, Shelley. Remember your rules of improv."

...................................................................

I used to work with drama and mime and teenagers. Teenagers + drama. Silent teenagers? All the cliches and ironies in the world wrapped up into our few hours a week together.
One of my favorite things was doing improv games and exercises with them. We spent a lot of time on warm ups and prep work, as it really served as much purpose for our time together as the actual preparing of ministry skits and pieces. It loosened us up and shook off our egos a bit. It allowed us to laugh together. I also submit that a lot of what good improv does is teach you how to LOVE each other well. You might have seen improv skits on a show called "Whose Line is it Anyway?" A simplified explanation might be: you set up a few actors with a situation, such as "You're at a party." And give each person a character, maybe a cowboy with narcolepsy, a politician, and a mute circus clown...then let the scene unfold as the characters take it on.

One of the first rules of improv (yes, it has rules!) is "Do not block offers." When another actor or character makes a suggestion or introduction to the story, you run with it. You don't say "No," or proceed with a separate storyline. So, if you're in the middle of a skit and your partner offers you a sombrero to wear, you find a way to wear it. That's where your creativity comes in. You say "Gracias, amigo. My missing sombrero!" Blocking an offer, no matter how silly, can be tantamount to ending the skit or "play."

Another major rule of improv is to make your partners shine. Your job is to make them look good, sound good and succeed. This rule sounds an awful lot like Philippians 2:2-4:

then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

In short, this one is really about abandoning your own agenda for how a scene is going to go. You let it go according to what you make happen TOGETHER. It's not about YOU.

Here are some other rules of improv. If these aren't all good parenting tips, I don't know where else to turn!

• Avoid asking questions- unless you’re also adding information.
• Play in the present and use the moment.
• Change, Change, Change!
• For serious and emotional scenes, focus on characters and relationships.
• For humorous scenes, take choices to the nth degree or focus on actions/objects. 

Thank you, Lord, for reminding me. When he offers, I accept. It's my job to cheer him on through my actions--to build him up--to make him (and YOU) shine. I will play with him and stay in the moment. I will focus on our relationship, which is far more important than momentary behaviors. I am blessed with a funny bone...please help me use it!




Improv games are some of the best therapy for anyone who struggles with control issues. It's a trust game, a free fall into the unknown...so I'm going to dance with my boy with all my heart.

 

Six easy ways to simplify your life...guaranteed!

Dear Real Simple magazine. Thank you for offering me tips all the time about 16 ways to simplify my life with a simple styrofoam cup!! If I had time to read things like that, I'm sure my life would be gloriously more simple.
Meanwhile, here in the real world of working full-time, parenting full-time and doing all sorts of other things with my time, I submit to you a list of actual ways to simplify my life:

1. Cleaning service.
Just someone to keep up the laundry and kitchen. How much laundry can three people generate?? I never fall below 8 loads, and I do at least a load every day of the week and about five-six on the weekends. And dishes. If only we had a fancy white box that we could put dishes into and they would be sprayed with detergent and become clean and dry...we are pitiful, aren't we?
Time savings=26 hours/week

If women ruled the tech world, this would already be a done deal.

2. Grocery store shopper/chef/meal planner.
Try though I might, I cannot get this mojo rolling. Something always foils my plans. Like yesterday, when I ran to Publix to get bread and creamer on my lunch break. And came out with $68 worth of stuff, (like fish sauce!?) and NO BREAD. And I had a list on my phone. They hide bread in our Publix. It's like a freakin' scavenger hunt in that place.
Time savings=8.4 hours/week

3. Bedtime Nanny.
Is it just me or does it take an average of 2.39 hours per night to put a four-year-old to bed? I feel like we start bedtime and it never ends. Or I end up falling asleep squished into the side of a racecar bed and stumbling to the big bed around midnight. And please, have her there on Saturday mornings from 7 - 9 am and Sunday afternoons from 1 - 4 pm. That's not asking too much, really.
Time savings=21.73 hours/week


4. Magic box of whatever-toy-kid-is-asking-for-today.
My blessed boy has a room-full of books and toys, but he always asks for the one I haven't seen in a month. Or I hid because I was tired of it. Or took away because he was acting foolishly with it. Or secretly dreamed of putting in the shredder because I couldn't bear to hear the beeps, whistles, and songs anymore...
Time savings=4.2 hours/week

5. Automatic snack maker.
Kidlet just isn't QUITE old enough to fix or find all the snacks just yet. Soon, though. Meanwhile, I'd like a personal vending machine that dispenses fresh fruit, cheese crackers or goldfish in moderation, and the right ratio of juice-to-water in a spillproof cup. While we're dreaming, dish out pizza for breakfast...not too crispy and no drippy cheese.
Time savings=5.9 hours/week

6. A work of fiction.
I'm going to need something to fill my "extra" 66.23 hours/week now! Maybe I could read. A book. An actual book. Oh, the luxury! Of course, after I get another 1.5 hours of sleep/day and add back in workouts, I'm left with a mere extra 48 hours. I think fall TV season is starting. I could watch an actual SHOW, too!

I have worked myself into a state of ignorant, dreamlike bliss.

Boom. Six easy ways to simplify my life.

Jesus and Bacon.

Two of my favorite things.

I was struggling tonight with the idea of temptation. 'Cause sometimes a person could eat a really good dinner of salad with veggies and fresh fruit and be all "go me...eatin' healthy." Then have a particular hunger come upon him/her while watching Project Runway late at night and be all "Dorito's sound awesome" and eat too many and hit a Dorito wall and feel sick and try to chase it with a banana to make the hydrogenated nacho cheese go away. And said person was all "Help me, Cheesus." (based on actual events)

Then feeling guilty, make the pledge for better choices tomorrow.

I wish the temptations weren't so real and unending. I've been through every cycle there is of exercise, eating "right" in various forms, educating myself about nutrition, do a Whole30 challenge and even blogging about it...and then I got a little mad at Jesus and thought, "I bet Jesus never was tempted by food!" Then felt guilty again because the Bible does say that he was tempted in every way we are and didn't sin (Hebrews 4:15).
Then, just to make myself feel better, I pictured Jesus wandering through a Samaritan village and somebody up in there making BACON. There just isn't a smell quite like it. I mean. BACON. Sizzling in all its porky, salty perfection.
And he had to keep walking. Perhaps to meet that lady at the well and change her life. It really helps me to picture Jesus, inhaling the glorious smell, and being all, "NOPE. No cloven-footed, sodium-laced unclean-yet-crispy goodness for me. I have some saving to do."
These are the things I think of. One foot in front of the other, eating my salads and taking some walks. Jesus and bacon and saving folks.

disclaimer: The above was written purely for your giggling pleasure and cathartic outlet by the author. There was no attempt at theology or exegesis. If the post in some way offends you, you are not required to read it again. Close it, and thank Cheesus that you aren't as silly as I am.

Perfect love is singing over me

Faith is rising/I am seeing/You are smiling over me//Perfect love is filling us. Fear is fleeing, fear is leaving. Perfect love is singing over me//Faith is rising/I am hearing/You are laughing at my enemies.// I'm your beloved....I'm your beloved...I'm your beloved.

I'm drinking in this song by Melissa and Jonathan David Helser right now.



Perfect love is singing over me. I recently re-read the scripture this song references. It's in good ole 1 John 4:18.

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love. (AKJV)

When I'm operating out of fear, there is no creativity. Fear tells me I'm not enough, my ideas aren't good enough, my design isn't strong enough, my words aren't compelling enough. Fear becomes torment and turns into "I'm not good enough. I am not enough." Perfect love casts out these fears. Perfect love--GOD'S LOVE--says, "You are enough. You are my child. You are the one I love. The one I made in my image."

As I journey back to the heart of God and find out more of my own heart's desires, I sense that I am just to rest in His love for now. There are no answers outside of Him. "In Him we LIVE and MOVE and HAVE OUR BEING." God is the ultimate in creativity. The desires of my heart were birthed by Him. He is the only one who can peel back my layers of fear with His love. He is the one who is cheering for me. So, in the shadow of His wings...I'll sing for joy. I will find joy in my strong-willed son. I will find joy in my too-hectic pace. I will find joy in every corner. I will find joy in each of you, even when you're struggling to find it for yourself.

Sing. Write. Laugh. Love. That's all I have for now.