tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63648788326868034792024-03-12T20:04:56.476-05:00To Know HimFor my determined purpose is that I might know Him, that I might progressively become more deeply and intimately acquainted with Him, perceiving and recognizing and understanding the wonders of His person more strongly and more clearly. Philippians 3:10Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03876113486170082394noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-45399975314536699482014-05-16T20:27:00.003-05:002014-05-16T20:27:36.639-05:00To Call Nashville Home AgainIt's a gorgeous Friday evening. I'm listening to the crickets and birds sing their evening song, inhaling the sweet honeysuckle that has overtaken a portion of my Mom's porch here in Georgia. It's one of those nights that I wish I could bottle up and give back to my heart on a dreary day. Pure southern perfection, honey.<br />
<br />
I've started mentally preparing myself for what happens in the next 4 days. Just four days and our world shifts. And I count in my head...one, two, three, four. That's it. I consider the dates too...16th, 17th, 18th, 19th.<br />
<br />
It's time.<br />
<br />
Nate and I will begin a new season in four days. A new adventure. A chance to 'begin again.' A slow walk of unknowns.<br />
<br />
It's time.<br />
<br />
We will drive 10 hours northwest and begin life (again) in Nashville. It's been a whirlwind the past couple of years and neither of us knew when/if we'd ever return to Nashville. We love that city and the people there so much, but God had to kick us out of life in the comfortable United States to teach us a few things. Guess we were 'dumb & dumber' in a way - too stubborn to learn some of the things He was trying to teach us while we lived in our insanely busy, rather comfortable way of American living.<br />
<br />
It was time for a change.<br />
<br />
I could just blubber myself to an ugly mascara cry if I paused long enough to reflect upon <i>all </i>the things the Lord did for us during our time away. Our move to China was indescribably hard for me. When we knew it was time to leave, our move back to the states was indescribably hard for me in <i>other </i>ways.<br />
<br />
It was time for a change though - <i>again...</i><br />
<br />
I consider our remaining suitcases. I think I can make the belongings we've lived out of for the past three months fit into the shells that remain. The rest of our items we had shipped from Beijing three months ago and they sit in a warehouse in Nashville. I cannot wait to open them. I think it'll feel like Christmas when I see their contents again.<br />
<br />
What does <i>this time</i> in Nashville hold for us?<br />
<br />
We have a lovely little rental home waiting on our feet to walk its floors. Hudson has a large back yard to enjoy. I see him in my mind, pacing through it, nose in the air, tail wagging, squirrels running as he chases after them. There's a guest bedroom where I hope friends and loved ones come to stay. There's an office that will undoubtedly see late nights of coffee and chocolate binges; my own four walls for research, class work and writing when I'm not doing the coffee-shop-shuffle.<br />
<br />
What will we <i>do </i>with our time? With this <i>new </i>beginning?<br />
<br />
I'm not entirely sure. For now, I'll continue the research, the class work and the writing. Job offers have come and they sit in the air of my mind: I'm not sure what my next step is. Nate will continue being a producer and dreamer, taking risks on those dreams to bring <i>life </i>to people. <br />
<br />
We'll sit at our favorite coffee shops, juice joints and brunch spots. I'll walk Radnor Lake with girlfriends, thankful that the deer who stand feet away from us there don't tell on us and judge us for our raw, vulnerable conversations.<br />
<br />
And I can't wait. And yet in this time away, I realize more than ever, how much I <i>needed </i>to wait. That a time of waiting is a gift. That a time of waiting is perhaps exactly what we need. That a time of waiting does not always mean inactivity, but preparation for the next thing.<br />
<br />
Four more days.<br />
<br />
And we will call Nashville 'home.'<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-12953304968965175762013-09-13T13:03:00.001-05:002013-09-13T13:03:27.694-05:00Meet and Greet: Sorrow & Joy
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The sun’s heat pressed in closer on my skin. My feet found
their rhythm and pounded the pavement. My thoughts raced faster than my running
pace and I took in the morning’s surroundings. The ocean glimmered, reflecting
the same summer sun that pressed in on me, my skin glimmering too. The birds
squawked, trilled and chattered, signaling the new day. A fish jumped and I turned
in time to see the rippling effect of its presence on the ocean waves. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It was stunning, a beautiful morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In my mind, I could hear the praise. The songs of the birds,
the lapping of the ocean waves and the splash of the fish joined in the
unending cry of ‘<i>Holy Holy Holy’</i> in ways
that only they could. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And I joined in the speech too. That speech that pours
forth, day by day, declaring His glory (Ps. 19). I whispered His Name quietly
under my breath. I spoke it over my wounded heart and up to the Heavens. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Out of sorrow, I could participate in the holy. Beautiful
creation amid my journey of pain. Marvelous glory surrounding my run this
morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I wasn’t entirely surprised by this wound, but it was raw
nonetheless. I felt it <i>deeply</i>. It
hurts more than the mile I’ve made it to. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We've met before. Sorrow that is...<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But “<i>in this life</i>,
we <i>will have trouble</i>” won’t we? And
we should not be “<i>surprised at the fiery
trai</i>l” that has come our way. And sin is arrogant isn’t it? (Ps. 19) It
deceives, blinds, destroys and separates. And we feel the weight of hurt and
suffering as we groan for something greater (Romans 8). <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And yet joy is ours (John 15:11). And we can live compelled
by love, not a toxic dose of fear (2 Cor. 5:14). We can dare to hope again (Ps.
25). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We experience them both. And some days, in our prideful sense of entitlement, we act surprised by the sorrow that comes our way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorrow and joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes they seem to go hand-in-hand. Joy can be experienced alongside of, in the midst of, and sometimes, dare I say it, even
because of sorrow. Its presence is a reminder that we are fragile beings in
desperate need of rescue and redemption in a broken world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see the two actors play in my life, tension over which character wins the applause before the curtain falls on my day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like the day I listened to a loved one share his dreams that
had become reality. And a phone call later, I listened to another loved one
share her dreams that had shattered, hopes vanquished in despair. Sorrow and
joy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like a couple of weeks ago when my sister and I played like
children outside, laughing until it hurt. And it felt good. And we meant it.
And I didn’t want the moment to end. And right smack in the middle of that warm
summer evening, text messages appeared from several loved ones, the jarring
reminder of pending divorces and addictions. And I clutched a hand over my
stomach to make the pit in it go away. And I cried. Sorrow and joy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see it in your life too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A dance of heights and depths, lows and highs, feet stepping,
twirling, stumbling. Grace your partner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorrowful, <i>yet always</i>
rejoicing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is what I’m thinking about as I continue running, my
legs feel heavier, and the beauty of creation still there. Like boomerangs circling my heart, joy and sorrow are inevitably coming my way. They are mere shadows of
the One I see in my mind:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“For the joy set
before Him, </i>He<i> </i>endured the cross.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most scared juxtaposition of sorrow and joy there could ever be. A holy cry
of grief set in a context of finalizing triumph. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Glory in the Highest, spirit submitted to the lowest of
lows, unspeakable suffering, joy <i>still </i>before
Him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And He dwells in you. And He dwells in me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And a nail-pierced side of sorrow brings surprise and
delight to a doubting man. And a nail-pierced hand upholds and saves. And the
scars of sorrow mark the deliverance brought to all mankind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deliverance from sin and ourselves, yet sorrow and disappointment and loss still live on. There are still scars. But there is <i>also</i> joy. Right there in front of you and me. And there are promises
awaiting fulfillment. And there are tears to be bottled up and songs of praise
to be uttered from dry lips, needing to taste the Name that is sweeter than
honey. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorrow is not exclusive of the practice of joy. Instead, our
days are mingled with both. So press forward. And remember that the One who endured the greatest suffering
for the joy set before Him is the One who is before you too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-31866578814474628352013-06-18T02:11:00.000-05:002013-06-18T02:11:35.140-05:00A Little Match of Chicken
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I pedal faster, eyes fastened on the driver who is playing
chicken with me on my ride home. I have the ‘right away’ according to the
pedestrian walk light on the corner, yet the local driver dares to pull his car out in front of me. He doesn’t care who he cuts off and
Beijing road lawlessness sees fit to his driving manner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m inches from his front bumper and stare boldly towards
his mirror as I come around the center of his polished vehicle. I’m not
letting him usurp me. Pedals pumping, I continue onward and make <i>him </i>stop. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Winner of the chicken match. That’s me. I grin a bit, catching
my breath, proud that I didn’t succumb in the battle. And I realize in that
moment that something is different. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe it’s that Nate and I ride our bikes <i>everywhere </i>now. No. That’s not it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe it’s that I fought that game of chicken today <i>without </i>my helmet on. (I promise I
typically wear it). Nope. That’s not it either. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh…(pause). It hits me as sudden as I could have slammed in
to that car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know what’s different. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s not the streets of Beijing. It’s not our mode of
transportation. It’s not the lower level of pollution that graced us with its
presence today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s <i>me</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I’m </i>different. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I’ve</i> changed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five months of living overseas have molded me. And after
pondering this new reality, I realized a verity of equal weight - I’m not sure
I’ll ever be the same again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sure, I’m <i>still </i>me.
But there are people, sights and experiences I’ve waltzed by, tip-toed through,
and been graced by in these past few months that have shifted things inside of
me. If I’m living with eyes wide open and a
heart open to the unfamiliar, then I don’t know how I could have avoided the
word that feels so unsafe to me -- change. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the acknowledgement that I have been marked by change,
something else that day made me feel lonely. You, my family and friends, don’t <i>know</i> the <i>new </i>me. And that’s not wrong or bad. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just
a jarring reality that I am no longer merely separated by 6,500 miles. I am separated by a way of life, one not superior, but just different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sure. I still send my sister videos of the hysterical moments
of my week. Or I’ll tell a friend about my latest ‘China moment.’ (A ‘China
moment’ is an event that shocks the American culture right out of you and must
result in unspeakable frustration, momentary disdain or stress regarding a
certain aspect of China norms). And yes, I try to capture the beauty of the
city within the borders of a photo so that you too can see what I behold. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But these things fall so short.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve motor biked through the streets of Vietnam where Agent
Orange still mars individuals in the population. And my heart ached with pain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve shared frequent meals with Germans, South Koreans, New
Zealanders and Austrians and listened to their stories. We’re all unified by an
unspoken ‘outsider’ status in Beijing and our lives sway to a dance of both
fear and triumph. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve walked the grounds of the Forbidden City, built in 1420
and home to 24 emperors, in awe of its grandness and architectural beauty. And
then I’ve walked in the opposing direction towards the grounds of Tiananmen
Square where statues and structures represent a polar opposite take on the
dynastic period of China. Its very existence stands as a loud juxtaposition
against the emperors’ rule – that it was not one of beauty and grandness, but
of dislike and captivity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve sat near Pakistanian refugees and heard their stories
with such a lump in my throat that I dared not blink for the longest time
because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop crying if I started. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The people have changed me. Their eyes have beckoned me to
see things in a different light. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve played a game of chicken with my successes and goals as well. Things I would have
considered puny or ridiculous in the past are now my worthy victories: like
when I can order my own food, or when I manage to get myself from point A to
point B, or when I get flowers at a great price after a lot of (expected)
arguing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I <i>feel </i>like a strange unrelatable girl to friends back home. My inside-jokes stopped with you around January 2013; that makes me sad. I
don’t have a clue about the latest popular television dramas. I keep seeing
‘Chevron’ as one of the latest fashion trends but it holds zero weight here in
the land of shiny + animal print + baggy britches. It’d be outright
embarrassing at times to tell y’all the highlights of my day while you are busy
closing deals, paying off your car loans, teaching your baby sign language and
making new recipes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even my worries are redefined, completely
alien to my life back home. I deal with things like foregoing consumption of chicken for <i>extended </i>months to avoid bird flu. I
worry about my dog eating grass as a nutritious pick-me-up because there’s no
regulations on the insecticide they spray in the spring; I’ve had friends of friends lose their dogs as a result. I deal with the inconvenience of not getting to open my windows
for fresh air or take a revitalizing jog outside when the days of high
pollution hover over the city like a cage. I find new heart-rewarding
friendships and find out weeks or two months later that they are moving;
Beijing is an <i>extremely </i>transitory
city. There is a constant reminder to <i>engage
</i>in all things life here at the venture of it going away at any point.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thus the city has changed me. Its culture has demanded me to
redefine my standards, expectations, risks and items of gratitude. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I’m different. And most of me is so grateful for the
change because I needed it. I needed to learn to risk and see the world outside
of my safe, comfortable, beloved Nashville bubble. I needed to see God operate
in this world, His kingdom work expanding <i>far</i>
greater than one I had limited Him to on my prayer list back home. I needed to
be asked questions I didn’t know the answers to. And in these things, change
has been so good. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The part that causes the ache is the increased gap of
separation I feel from you, which is partially why I write. Because you are so
dear to me. Because I think about you often. Because I still love jeans and
wear my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head and I want to make sure you
know that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s just that these days, my messy bunhead bobbles a bit
from the pace I keep on my bike, playing chicken with local Beijing drivers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been my honor Beijing. Thank you for the constant chicken matches that force me to change.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-76457178349018298102013-05-11T10:02:00.001-05:002013-05-11T10:02:55.880-05:00Mother's Day and a Bouquet of Buttercup FlowersIn less than a day, America will celebrate a national holiday instituted over 100 years ago. Cards will be purchased in a last minute frenzy. Others will be crafted by tiny hands that end up covered in glue stick stains.<br />
<br />
I support Mother's Day. Moms deserve a heap of praise and gratitude. I have certainly fallen short in expressing such to my Mom over the years. I'm the first to buy in to the commercialization of the day with no regrets and a wish that I could lavish so much more than I do.<br />
<br />
But this week, the impending holiday has weighed heavy on my heart. For every joyful mother-child relationship to be celebrated, I have seen equally, if not <i>more</i>, ones full of havoc. As I've reflected on the latter instances, I've felt an urge to put a temporary bandaid over those relational wounds. I envisioned brightening their day with a stunning bouquet of lily's and hydrangeas. Because surely that would make it all better. But in reality, when I really considered the dynamics, I saw instead a buttercup flower bouquet. A puny fist full of mere weeds whose weak stems droop in m<br />
y hand as I imaginatively gathered them together in my attempt to solace.<br />
<br />
This Mother's Day my heart goes towards those whose folded hands hold a fictitious bouquet of vibrant yellow weeds denoting a strained, broken or perhaps just a less than beautiful mother-child relationship. In the midst of upcoming social media that highlights the joy of the weekend, my heart looks at the ones who will likely remain quiet.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5qXTLp65WTN1GXNQpQN63fH9OWqtev3v_hpIddKDRvdIN546UjfcN0Hd_NClfLu9ckqBhbAJ7IK4VbGj36K03qX6I_ngTyfPYktYECFkiYlAyd9xjL3O8zgIzn0YrNq5jKVC0PUqAyk/s1600/buttercup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5qXTLp65WTN1GXNQpQN63fH9OWqtev3v_hpIddKDRvdIN546UjfcN0Hd_NClfLu9ckqBhbAJ7IK4VbGj36K03qX6I_ngTyfPYktYECFkiYlAyd9xjL3O8zgIzn0YrNq5jKVC0PUqAyk/s320/buttercup.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Maybe it's you.<br />
<br />
Via text, a new friend shares with me words that have not audibly left her lips since she's been in Beijing. Her young sister passed away a few months ago. Her sister's birthday is the day <i>before </i>Mother's Day. She doesn't know what to say to her Mom, a Mom who has faced what no Mother should have to face. Broken buttercup.<br />
<br />
Another friend stands up in church while tears wash silently down her cheeks. In a whisper, she barely manages to share that she just had her fourth miscarriage. There's a newborn near us that lets out a soft whimper as she shares and my insides tumble. A blatant reminder of the injustice for a woman who would give anything to be a Mom. Heavy-laden buttercup.<br />
<br />
To the one wounded so deeply in the mother-child relationship that communication has been nonexistent for years. Toxic habits and devastating words have left too many wounds. She's still healing. Trampled buttercup.<br />
<br />
To the Mom whose child wanders along on their own destructive path, a path opposed to the ways of God. For years, that Mom has bowed knees to the earth over that child and the life he or she will live. But now, the piece of her heart that walks outside her body in that youngin' is headed in a direction opposite goodness and mercy. The decisions break her heart. Shattered buttercup.<br />
<br />
To the Mom whose child has been wayward or self-absorbed for so long that the holiday is one of anticipation. Fearful to hope for a gift because what if one isn't given. Preoccupied with whether a phone call from said child will come. She wonders if it is her fault, re-playing scripts from times past, punishing herself for what is not. But it's not her fault. Spiritless buttercup.<br />
<br />
To the daughter and mother who are spending their Mother's Day apart. Maybe plane tickets were just too expensive. Or a job commitment prevailed. Or sickness has claimed the freedom and ease of being together. Single buttercup.<br />
<br />
For those whose mother-child relationship will resemble a more elegant bouquet this weekend, let there be sincere rejoicing. Laugh, honor, and delight in one another. Bless one another. Have fun and soak it all in. You <i>absolutely </i>should.<br />
<br />
But perhaps, in the midst of lunch dates and coffee chats, you can keep an eye open for the less lovely bouquet that may be planted down the road from you.<br />
<br />
To you dear buttercup, my heart is so tender this weekend. To you, the Son has come to bind up your wounds. Your hope is in Him and it shall not prove vain. Your wait is in Him and you shall <i>not </i>be ashamed (Psalm 25:3). Rise up mother. Rise up daughter. For you belong to the Kingdom of God.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Though my mother and my father have forsaken me, the Lord will receive me." Psalm 27:10</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us..." Ephesians 3:20</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll -- are they not in your record?" Psalm 56:8</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." James 1:5</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him." Psalm 62:5</div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-49579147735341463352013-03-24T20:40:00.000-05:002013-03-24T20:40:52.908-05:00Heart of a pilgrimLast weekend, Nate and I took a brief trip to Hong Kong. We left our goose down jackets and face masks at home and boarded the plan for a three hour trip south. Upon landing, we practically skipped through the airport to beat the masses at customs. Thirty minutes later, I found myself in a taxi that drove on the opposite side of the road thanks to Hong Kong's 150 years of former rule as a British colony. <br />
<br />
I traded in our Chinese money for the Hong Kong dollar and considered it a joy to work with multiples of seven instead of six in terms of converting against the US dollar. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWDYJpb-gI-mPz0RfBY2yos9_QhjO0DVkQuZiadF0O6uiqrJ5Ud-NPQWTLmDb5JBPmNZFAzcXjEPE6vCknK0mhnUaW1ulCQmOcikAQYA0e_QxO2hg4T858cPMInwo_x9hzd5xNqol2qQ/s1600/DSC_0320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWDYJpb-gI-mPz0RfBY2yos9_QhjO0DVkQuZiadF0O6uiqrJ5Ud-NPQWTLmDb5JBPmNZFAzcXjEPE6vCknK0mhnUaW1ulCQmOcikAQYA0e_QxO2hg4T858cPMInwo_x9hzd5xNqol2qQ/s320/DSC_0320.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Beautiful park </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For those of you who haven't been to Hong Kong, I regard it as a union of LA and NYC, <i>condensed</i>. Skyscrapers abound to such an extent, that if you are down below in the concrete jungle, it is hard to find that blue sky. Individuals in Beijing lack the practice of personal space, but in Hong Kong, it is not<i> </i>even an <i>option</i>. The island demands to be walked if you want to capture the alleyway boutiques, captivating art galleries and incredible food. The city is a winding maze of steep hills, street-side fruit markets, and inundated with a lively young professionals scene. Grab some fish balls on a stick, stinky tufu or pineapple buns and go explore. We opted for crepes, tacos and roasted chicken instead.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8hJAZ_p7ZPav69YGqMXyVsK_0GKUg1O5LRDozW2xdHoRPeemVSCQBl5uTN5fVTxjeRuhyprdqhkIPU_qLyaFEBgLfRpsJxrx2KMLmDVBUnvjL_Mgzk55_whei-3F2t8DJB-CONDXkh4/s1600/DSC_0298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8hJAZ_p7ZPav69YGqMXyVsK_0GKUg1O5LRDozW2xdHoRPeemVSCQBl5uTN5fVTxjeRuhyprdqhkIPU_qLyaFEBgLfRpsJxrx2KMLmDVBUnvjL_Mgzk55_whei-3F2t8DJB-CONDXkh4/s320/DSC_0298.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Street in the Soho district</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Our final evening there, as weariness from the day's worth of <strike>stair climbing</strike> walking through the city beckoned me to sleep, tears began to quietly fall to my pillow. My silence clued my man that something was wrong.<br />
<br />
I was smack in the middle of a mini-vacation, but for the first real time, I was homesick. And my heart ached.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was that I experienced yet <i>another </i>cultural shift. I'd just become used to the Chinese yuan and now I was handling another currency. Perhaps it was that I'd just wrapped my mind around some Mandarin sentences and now I was hearing Cantonese on top of Mandarin. Perhaps it was that I was becoming accustomed to being rejected by taxi drivers in Beijing while here in Hong Kong they drove on the 'wrong' side of the road.<br />
<br />
It was a lot of change all at once. <i>Again</i>.<br />
<br />
And it made me want the West. I wanted to be understood. I wanted to have knowledge that a restroom (<i>with </i>an actual toilet even) would be in proximity. I wanted to go to dinner with our friends back home. I wanted to sit across the table from one of those rare girlfriends where knowing the other is a mutually shared privilege. I wanted <i>salsa</i>, not diced tomatoes.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8hdcbleZZLDVE3Ai-5SWwwHDzw5X-8VIeRT9aG3JSo4zwFAf0-X_YyScXcki-Wsn6HN5jhpneu_sMfQlPGZBkEEhoZcrZYd4LkRf451E_pTF40j4wx5O_uzg5xV0wu9E12RKnJW93Cg/s1600/DSC_0311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8hdcbleZZLDVE3Ai-5SWwwHDzw5X-8VIeRT9aG3JSo4zwFAf0-X_YyScXcki-Wsn6HN5jhpneu_sMfQlPGZBkEEhoZcrZYd4LkRf451E_pTF40j4wx5O_uzg5xV0wu9E12RKnJW93Cg/s320/DSC_0311.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love this door. And that man.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wanted home.<br />
<br />
On <i>that </i>day, the East reminded me with an intense emotional gravity that I was not at home. I was <i>here</i>, not <i>there. </i><br />
<br />
When we landed back in Beijing, a heavy blanket of smog greeted us on the tarmac. As I took a deep breathe still inside the airplane, deciding recycled germ-filled cabin air would be better than what I was about to walk into outside, the truthfulness of it all soaked in my bones.<br />
<br />
Ever so tenderly in my spirit, I was reminded that I am not at home. That the West nor the East will every truly satisfy my longing for dwelling.<br />
<br />
Because I'm made for something more. And so are you.<br />
<br />
That you too look forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God, whether you are cognizant of it or not. A residency of perfection, where you are fully known and community flourishes, held together by the Godhead. A place where the unknown becomes known and the shadows become breathtaking light. Pain is gone: decay, death, loss, and tears are no more.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityRZ_tSL-Zxf6CtRYiaiTZaClad301FahVgLIS8Jm3CZzXr1ai0HLKSpFZl6cPnxyXb-ZQehrrt8fDQaFG6dQ8JwP2zWjG9aH7cPvOQirNfN8SGNU_n39njYhvs_VTWJxOMF7Y_wlwec/s1600/DSC_0295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityRZ_tSL-Zxf6CtRYiaiTZaClad301FahVgLIS8Jm3CZzXr1ai0HLKSpFZl6cPnxyXb-ZQehrrt8fDQaFG6dQ8JwP2zWjG9aH7cPvOQirNfN8SGNU_n39njYhvs_VTWJxOMF7Y_wlwec/s320/DSC_0295.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">I could not keep from staring at these roots</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
You've searched for home too. Amid the joyous moments and comforting belly laughs of friendship, you've wondered. Settled in to routine and content in your season, your spirit has whispered quietly to your soul. Right there in your apartment. Right there in your beloved house of 20 years. You've observed the surrounding hurt and pain against the backdrop of a ticking clock and somewhere, deep down, you ache for something more. Something greater.<br />
<br />
As you should. Because you aren't meant to feel too comfortable here. This Earth and its beings aren't meant to go on and on, void of imperfection or difficulty. It's <i>meant </i>to remind you that you're a pilgrim here. It's <i>meant </i>to be so blatantly obvious that this is temporary. It's <i>meant </i>to admonish us for emotionally responding as if this is <i>it</i>.<br />
<br />
We're pilgrims here, feet called to walk the soil of this Earth, but hearts bent towards something upward. That innate longing is a beautiful propensity to discover the God who does not change, the One whose kingdom is in heaven.<br />
<br />
Our very existence here points to our having purpose on this Earth and plans for His glory. I sure don't want to miss that. Our time here is of paramount significance and weight.<br />
<br />
But in the meantime, on those days where I'm tired of fumbling with my chopsticks or fail grotesquely in my Mandarin pronunciation, I'll recall, unspeakably grateful, that a better country awaits (Hebrews 11:16).<br />
<br />
Thank you Hong Kong for the reminder that I am but a pilgrim...<br />
PS - In case you were wondering, I am no longer aching for the West...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A few more pictures from the trip:</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57n-xVlfjwUdIHFi3mk-YyCkDHrqfgPMTakV_jfMp7gVDt53SteiURGKk641hMbVZCOv6h-GGihwdK1ffAq2KXBwQ7waDFWFPkN6NsFzmhRO1dF90kAA6lGBkBMUymlY743UoJQvF3Q0/s1600/DSC_0290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57n-xVlfjwUdIHFi3mk-YyCkDHrqfgPMTakV_jfMp7gVDt53SteiURGKk641hMbVZCOv6h-GGihwdK1ffAq2KXBwQ7waDFWFPkN6NsFzmhRO1dF90kAA6lGBkBMUymlY743UoJQvF3Q0/s320/DSC_0290.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have to get used to this sight. Or run from them like I do.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKt0Mz0qQwIY4IFBznWRgaJ19G3RXQpUPdx5RLsHyycPjDYD7m6w4TzzaEZyWte-ttbqzA35cTNBXV179vhjE4PohelGMcUaVvjbfLitaiWv3fPoXKjmVbf0Bs6O7B6Nm-UlqlBMMk7E/s1600/DSC_0327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKt0Mz0qQwIY4IFBznWRgaJ19G3RXQpUPdx5RLsHyycPjDYD7m6w4TzzaEZyWte-ttbqzA35cTNBXV179vhjE4PohelGMcUaVvjbfLitaiWv3fPoXKjmVbf0Bs6O7B6Nm-UlqlBMMk7E/s320/DSC_0327.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My man at Victoria Harbor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSPLt9jm_ktWH7uhlWiMt9Kz8fxjb01sCMBihPqfH25NUoZNxZCQM-zmqlp4U7gv3HKYZQuIwfIbhfx_jv6gbMuZ5e1hYEM8cPOIIfANk53oob7Pk1IZUYlsY-4s1I5kq5lMb1qfWlOk/s1600/DSC_0294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSPLt9jm_ktWH7uhlWiMt9Kz8fxjb01sCMBihPqfH25NUoZNxZCQM-zmqlp4U7gv3HKYZQuIwfIbhfx_jv6gbMuZ5e1hYEM8cPOIIfANk53oob7Pk1IZUYlsY-4s1I5kq5lMb1qfWlOk/s320/DSC_0294.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brief pause <strike>b/c of steep hill</strike> for photo opp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozQURQhPAmxc_zcacRMcmJByoBVSEtl-GR5LLaRLyW6-B4-eRSYYcvT1lqfpOZpPZ9RaC1wwx6Be1zWckK7jO-EPQDEaJbePtmEVORWf6DWzKFcvLYDaa8oh4IYkJ5Tvd3eNZrEaTsBw/s1600/Us+under+Hong+Kong+arc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozQURQhPAmxc_zcacRMcmJByoBVSEtl-GR5LLaRLyW6-B4-eRSYYcvT1lqfpOZpPZ9RaC1wwx6Be1zWckK7jO-EPQDEaJbePtmEVORWf6DWzKFcvLYDaa8oh4IYkJ5Tvd3eNZrEaTsBw/s320/Us+under+Hong+Kong+arc.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arches. Can we please incorporate them more into American architecture?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-17476337399235297562013-03-03T08:40:00.002-06:002013-03-03T08:40:28.563-06:00Similar and Dissimilar: Life in Beijing<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Six weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Through days of inadequate sleep and conversations based on my use of charades, I've blinked and six weeks have passed by. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Six weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It's hard to believe. My mind feels like a library bursting at the shelves with unorganized facts, cultural tidbits and some basic Mandarin. I cannot presently synthesize all of it and I am reminded of my uniqueness here. My newness. My 'whiteness' in this city called Beijing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The city is both similar and dissimilar to the ways of life back home. Altering my presuppositions, some of the things I imagined unattainable or hard to come by are within easy reach or the everyday norms of my days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For instance, we have met two American couples that live in our complex. We take our dogs on play dates at least once a week and bond over the ease of English conversation and understanding of the unspoken. There is also a grocery market that I walk to which carries Western products. I have nearly all the ingredients I need for a lasagna for instance, though I cannot seem to find ricotta cheese for the life of me. And to transform a common misconception, there are so many non-Asian restaurants here, I could eat at a different one every week for a year and still not come close to repeating one. Similar to life in the states, shopping options abound, coffee shops and Starbucks are nearby for comfort, and we seem to have found a beautiful church home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If I close my eyes for just a moment, I believe that life here isn't too different. Maybe just a <i>little</i> different. And then the naive equation of two entirely unique countries flees as quick as the crazy drivers here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Because there are moments and experiences that are entirely foreign to my Georgia, Massachusetts, and Tennessee ways of life. I've lived in small towns, on the beach and in two major cities. None of them parallel life here, where cultural differences strike upon me like a Chinese tanggu drum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">These paramount difference I love, abhor or have not reached a conclusion for yet. Some differences are of minute size while others impact every single one of my days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Who likes lists? In this season of my life where the learning curve remains steep, I cling to them like a bff. So here is a list of what is different <i>for me</i> with life in Beijing: </span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I no longer drive a car. I miss the freedom that those times provided. Instead, we have a 'driver.' His name is Mr. Lian. I love his smile. I also love that I have no idea what he is saying to me and vice-versa, yet we have entire conversations as if the other fully comprehended. It is quite entertaining. He gives me a big nod and smile when I speak my newest Mandarin word of the day. I'm pretty sure I'm slaughtering its pronunciation, but he makes me feel good for trying. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">How do I say this one without grossing you out? I'm not really sure that it can be done. To be blunt, people spit all the time. Everywhere and anywhere. And they are very engaged and work hard at their spitting. And while I'm on it, don't be surprised to see parents holding their toddler up in their arms for a public restroom moment. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I no longer work an 8 am to 6+ pm gig anymore in corporate America. I work from home on a project basis for several different people and companies. And I love it. The hours are flexible as long as deadlines are met. And let's be honest. I can work in my sweats with no makeup and do what I love. Win, win and win.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am frequently stared at by locals. Nate too. There is certainly a prevalent expat community here, but I suppose the ratio isn't enough to spread us around. We're foreigners. We're different. And I can't go out without being unapologetically looked upon. I've heard you get used to it. But I still get the heebie jeebies. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I take two gym classes that are led strictly in Mandarin. Y'all should see me trying to keep up with the Pilates class, straining my neck to look at the instructor in order to follow. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Have I mentioned I witnessed an all-women's sword fighting class at the gym? I <i>so </i>desperately wanted to go join them. I held myself back because y'all know a Southern girl with a sword who doesn't understand Mandarin would surely end up going the wrong way at some point. And well...that would be bad. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We get two English channels on our tv. T-w-o.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I blame their pictographic and ideographic-based language, but the Chinese here do not seem to bond with linear thinking or movement. They don't know what personal space is. They don't stand well in lines. They don't mind stopping smack dab in the middle of their walking, totally unaware that you may be behind them. You are pushed over with no apology. It is their norm. And it's okay to get used to that. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Golf and karoake are <i>big </i>here. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My number of spoken languages pales in comparison to those here. <i>Most </i>all of the educated Chinese I come across are fluent in a minimum of three languages. That's fine: I speak Southern, ten minutes of Spanish, read a couple of other languages and know about 15 words in Mandarin. I'm totally on par right? (<i>Not</i>)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Taxi drivers, which we depend upon two days a week, could care less about driving you anywhere. I've learned to go ahead and get <i>in </i>their car before they have a chance to tell me no. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You can have restaurant food and your groceries delivered. It is the oddest thing.</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So life is different half way across the world. Its moments of beauty are captivating, while its context for humility and feelings of insecurity demand to be embraced, accepted and appreciated. They must be to survive abundantly and joyfully. So I am here, with my man, called by our God for this present season to life in Beijing. And despite the chopstick mishaps, peking duck overload and smog, I wouldn't trade it.</span>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-19277686470264804092013-01-28T05:06:00.001-06:002013-01-28T05:06:32.445-06:00What was once routine, I now find novel
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 14pt;">Nín hǎo</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 14pt;">Is ‘hello’ in Mandarin. It’s one of the four words I know thus
far. Where I come from, you smile, make eye contact and say hello to most
everyone you meet. It’s what we
Southerners do. Do Beijingers do the same? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 14pt;">I’m not sure. So for now, I walk in my ways and say Nín hǎo to most anyone who <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">will look my way. I’m Southern, in need of friends and hold
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
have been in Beijing for only a week and can already see the propensity for
being lost in translation, both in language and culture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">This
week, Spanish came readily to mind as I tried to talk to Beijingers. As if that
would help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
tried to read Hebrew characters in the Mandarin characters. </span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Presumptuously,
I tried a few introductory English remarks to a couple of individuals I came
across. Nope. One was German and another was French. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">If
anything, this new beginning is a season of learning and adventure. It is
strange, fresh and exciting. Not a day goes by where I do not experience being
utterly helpless or inept for a task, even those which were most commonplace in
my life in the states. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Like, doing the laundry.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> Because who can tell me
which of these buttons means wash, dry, delicates, start, hot or cold? Do not
fear about the Griffins having an unkempt look though; I simply make some best
guesses and wait to make sure the machine turns on. Did I mention I can only fit
about 10 pieces of clothing in it per load? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Or like going to the
grocery store.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">
Because I now walk to mine, which means I budget meals for two to three days rather than a week as I did back in the states. This is because sister can only carry two to three days worth of grocery bags back to her condo. And it took me 10
minutes to decide what kind of boxed milk to purchase. And then I paid for
my new groceries in the currency that I still cannot convert easily in my head.
This inability to quickly convert yuan to USD nearly took my breath away when I
saw my bill of <i>hundreds </i>of yuan ring
up on the register. Oh wait, that’s 80 USD. Okay. Color seeps back to face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">And then there was that time we went out to dinner.</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 14pt;">
One of Nate’s business partners graciously took us out and treated me to my
first authentic Chinese dinner. Nate and I were the only two Americans in a
restaurant of over a hundred people (Standout moment one). The setting was
beautiful and I regret that I did not snap a picture of it. It buzzed with
energy, both in conversation and the constant clink of chopsticks against beautiful
ornate bowls of all sizes. Paul, Nate’s business partner, did the ordering. I
kindly requested a Sprite in advance of the meal to settle my stomach from the
unique smells around me. (Standout moment two because here you are served no beverage,
hot water or hot tea).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB7NW9_2r7z_REOzkkj-jxHL_k4IgNucH5Qn2wzaPO1XGJfy484NG_dAD-A9MpM5wIBOXEO9RwhDUB58SbYF28xaAiAOXbwULLr6xcsccYP7hBOLLDw3jfPoPu75Vhkw7us8750mU67I/s1600/0-9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB7NW9_2r7z_REOzkkj-jxHL_k4IgNucH5Qn2wzaPO1XGJfy484NG_dAD-A9MpM5wIBOXEO9RwhDUB58SbYF28xaAiAOXbwULLr6xcsccYP7hBOLLDw3jfPoPu75Vhkw7us8750mU67I/s200/0-9.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Do
you see how many bowls of food ended up on our table? It started with pig feet,
the “appetizer” came out as the 3<sup>rd</sup> dish, followed briefly by the
“dessert” and then the rest of the dishes came. Here, they bring out whatever
is ready first. Works for me; I’ve always loved my sweets. Oh, except this
sweet was a bean-based broth. Score. I love beans too. That’s fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had a noodle-based soup that was warm to my soul. And a turnip dish that
actually made me feel like I was down in Georgia eating some splendid greens.
Only they weren’t green. And I didn’t hear “darling” anywhere near me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JVwjIR6yvZc2livKkCbm2y0IACJnfxpja8midGaXLUDyP449ZkAwi9em9YGlV4Iw_eNmPwr8_7ApxR2tgB2orRAOUnSdPnkP9x5SMWHfp7dyOXiE5nqNL1C4HS1v5CjZl-rWY1Fhr3I/s1600/0-11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JVwjIR6yvZc2livKkCbm2y0IACJnfxpja8midGaXLUDyP449ZkAwi9em9YGlV4Iw_eNmPwr8_7ApxR2tgB2orRAOUnSdPnkP9x5SMWHfp7dyOXiE5nqNL1C4HS1v5CjZl-rWY1Fhr3I/s320/0-11.jpeg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">My
first week in Beijing has passed. I still deal with jet lag each day. I’ve
started experiencing culture shock. I’ve started taking baby steps to explore
the city. Like the time we went to Walmart and I saw the dried fish, eel and
chicken feet on display. Or the other time that I got an amazing
1.5 hour massage for 10% of what it would have cost in the states. I believe Beijing will be a wonderful blend of challenge and
beauty. Of pollution and beloved days of sunshine. Of simplicity and complexity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Until
next time, I’ll be working on unpacking our house and making it a home. </span></div>
<br />
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-91469619795198868172013-01-17T15:03:00.000-06:002013-01-17T15:03:16.838-06:00Expat, Unemployed and Climbing the Hill!Okay,<br />
<br />
So I know back in October I said that I would be able to blog at least once a month moving forward. But that was my overachieving persona speaking. I failed to consider what it would take to pack my house for an international move and prepare for it.<br />
<br />
In less than four hours, Nate and I will hop on a plane out of Chicago and embark to Beijing. Action packers are packed. Suitcases have been sat on by yours truly to get them zipped. And Hudson has been picked up for his own travel adventures that begin later this week. I cried like a baby when I had to let him go this morning. Right in the middle of a packed hotel. Didn't even care.<br />
<br />
2013 signifies <i>change </i>for us Griffins in nearly every capacity. Nate is moving forward in the world of film production, in a culture where the meetings take five times as long due to translation needs. I turn 30 in three days. I'm pretty sure my meal production will take on a whole new turn. And in Beijing, I'll start carrying toilet paper in my purse at all times because...well....because it's hard to come by in public places.<br />
<br />
Change.<br />
<br />
I don't even like it. I'm not that great at it. But I think that's part of the point for me at this present moment of holy tension. I'm beckoned to draw near to the One who does not change.<br />
<br />
Plans we <i>had</i> for ourselves this year were set aside when we made this decision. I've said goodbye to loved ones whom I can't stand out of my sight. And if I ponder on that one more second, I'll have an(other) ugly cry.<br />
<br />
With this move, I stepped down from the corporate ladder that I both loved and hated. And with that, I've <i>just </i>recently started picking up the writing task to which God is calling me to for 2013.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2CyR92tgHhWjLJKQOvBscs_L5Cv51Iyqe5WLfo7mn-lLbqGu5YhzFOp9RWRNJOIEFevkHL615uRwodZXj2cqtwynsjK6tAw66rUEKbfeXXR46LixG_OpwDQQjapT4LS80IWLWcjf7Zo/s1600/0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2CyR92tgHhWjLJKQOvBscs_L5Cv51Iyqe5WLfo7mn-lLbqGu5YhzFOp9RWRNJOIEFevkHL615uRwodZXj2cqtwynsjK6tAw66rUEKbfeXXR46LixG_OpwDQQjapT4LS80IWLWcjf7Zo/s200/0.jpeg" width="200" /></a>I thought I'd celebrate turning 30 in Nashville, a city that has become so dear to me, with a small circle of friends who are even more dear to me. Instead, I will celebrate turning 30 in Beijing with my man and my dog. Now that I think of it, that is exactly the way I'd prefer it right now. To celebrate the redemptive work God has done for me these 30 years in a city that will likely remind me I'm made for something more...that this is not my home. To proclaim to the LORD His goodness for <i>this </i>year. To confess unto the Lord how much I love Him, to tell Him what He has done for my soul (Ps. 66:16), though I know He already knows. To be <i>with </i>my man, instead of us being separated by an ocean. That is the best birthday gift for this girl.<br />
<br />
I'll post again when we get settled. For now, I'll close with some logistical items on how you can keep in touch with us!<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>For those with a smart-phone (i.e. - iPhone), you can download '<u>What's App</u>' from your App Store for $0.99. It's a one time purchase fee that allows for unlimited international texting of messages, videos and photos. Send me a text if you hop on there so I'll know.</li>
<li>My email remains the same. </li>
<li>If you'd like our address, message me and I'll send it to you!</li>
</ul>
<br />
PS - We would love your covering in prayer these last few days in the following area. It would mean so much to us.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Safety in our travels as well as Hudson's. He flies on a separate flight with an overnight stay in Amsterdam. We pick him up in Beijing on the 22nd. </li>
<li>Discernment, wisdom and favor for Nate in work. He's a brave man in tackling business in a foreign environment. </li>
<li>Sleep! </li>
<li>Discernment, grace and wisdom for me in closing out this season and starting a new one. There's something so powerful about a new season. The mystery that looms over it sparks my curiosity and increases my anticipation for His presence. </li>
</ul>
<div>
We love you all so much!</div>
<div>
Nate & Shelly</div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-61020399352333200802012-10-06T10:43:00.001-05:002012-10-06T10:43:28.828-05:00I interviewed Nate: "So what are you going to be doing in Beijing?"<br />
Ladies & Gentlemen,<br />
As I shared <a href="http://www.shellyelizabeth.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-griffins-new-adventure.html" target="_blank">earlier</a>, I will provide updates on our new season of life through this blog. In case you missed the former post, we're moving to Beijing! This post shares some of the detail about Nate's work in Beijing. I proposed the questions and the answers are all his! <br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<div>
<b>1) What is the name of your company?</b> Rapid River Picture Company </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b></b></div>
<div>
<b>2) What will you be doing? </b>We
are a full service production and post production company working with
both Chinese producers and global branding agencies to produce top
quality commercial and entertainment content. </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>3) Will your current company <a href="http://gi-brightidea.com/category/film-music/" target="_blank">Grateful Inconvenience, Inc</a>. still exist?</b> Absolutely!
Gi Inc is going strong and thriving in the capable hands of a full team
of producers and art directors. My plan is to bring many of the client
and production relationships from gi inc. into play here in China. While
RRP Company is a completely new venture on paper, I very much look at it as a
continuation of the gi inc. vision that inspired us to start the original
company. Our desire has always been to develop a global network of
talented individuals and companies from all walks of life and be a part
of positively influencing culture around the world<b>. </b></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Zy38w1Ffys3rJZM6tFhslYbm49rGFfpHX3BXM8fmZLCA3TLHpG5TLAJE1_6RGQhxXhKfT4OjJll1bG9yGUvlM6D6WF4ffFLpCcldLoa6scDV9Wu2JKRcKJXC5qmvOxI-AZ_xBROTX3c/s1600/china-mong-great+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Zy38w1Ffys3rJZM6tFhslYbm49rGFfpHX3BXM8fmZLCA3TLHpG5TLAJE1_6RGQhxXhKfT4OjJll1bG9yGUvlM6D6WF4ffFLpCcldLoa6scDV9Wu2JKRcKJXC5qmvOxI-AZ_xBROTX3c/s320/china-mong-great+wall.jpg" width="320" /></a><b> </b></div>
<div>
<b>4) Will the new company be solely in the Asian industry? Or involve those back here in the states? Or other countries?</b> We
are basing this company in Beijing, China and the initial phase of
development will focus on the China/Asia market. Ultimately my goal
is to create a template that in some version can be replicated all over the
globe. </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>5) Are you building a team there or bringing individuals from the states? Or do you even know yet? </b>Our
in-house team will be a mixture of both Chinese and Westerners. A huge
part of what will determine our success here in China is our ability to
understand the mindset and needs of our Chinese clients. The vast
majority of companies in our field fail in China because of a consistent
failure to adapt to the Chinese way of thinking. It is incredibly
important to take the time to invest in cultivating relationships for
the sake of relationships and for that to be a foundation for profitable
work opportunities. Always the relationship comes first! </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxurs16X9uQl9DYHuGdLFZ2OkZBe7qIBB9UzYE6jTt8nBMzF4DFcyZBp7ZXjhWXVGTrN3enBCdMFZAfOk_A7payM3wC2bN3zKpI_ejpCxF4h4LM_qirOTTFAfwaLHt0SUc3xRBwikPTo/s1600/little+girl+peace+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxurs16X9uQl9DYHuGdLFZ2OkZBe7qIBB9UzYE6jTt8nBMzF4DFcyZBp7ZXjhWXVGTrN3enBCdMFZAfOk_A7payM3wC2bN3zKpI_ejpCxF4h4LM_qirOTTFAfwaLHt0SUc3xRBwikPTo/s320/little+girl+peace+sign.jpg" width="213" /></a><b>6) Thus far, what has been one of the biggest challenges in building the business there in Beijing?</b> A
huge part of the culture in China is what we call '<i>face</i>'. Everything is
determined by how it will make an individual appear to their peers,
friends and family. This culture of <i>face</i> applies in every area of society
from business to law making to paying your bill at a restaurant to
opening a bank account. What is far more important to the Chinese mind
than any contract or license or legal document is your willingness to
engage in relationship with them and what benefit their being in
relationship with you is going to provide them. Signing a contract here
is only binding as long as the terms of the contract remain agreeable to
the other party. It's all about relationship! </div>
<div>
The Chinese mindset is always to tell you a
version of what they think you want to hear while always leaving room
for their answer to change without having to directly tell you yes or no
lest they risk embarrassing you or themselves. Our lawyer put it best
when she said "'Maybe' is a good word! Then you can always change your
mind!"</div>
<div>
In the states we walk into a meeting with the understood agenda
of getting definitive yes or no answers on a determined list of matters; we expect those answers to pretty much stay the same. In China,
we enter a meeting with the same list of questions and after a good
period of socializing we present our list of questions through a
translator who sort of speaks English. We think they understand what we are asking, but just to make sure, we go over it eight more times. Once we've determined that there's at least 90% understanding, we are
told that there are quite a few different answers to that question depending
on what the law is that week and who picks up the phone at the
government office or any answer they think will best
fit what we are asking. It could change at any moment! Doing business in
China is like pealing an onion. There are many many layers and the
process of getting from one layer to the next is almost guaranteed to
make you cry. </div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4jtsf1JY11h9zSOYJo05NcYyvYfg80vufDiAfNEo2f7GaNkAP9TEsTgJ0qo8REQq_SyrBdWQs0uDhZRWm3vP6pmoVxvd21GjJqUXL3rIb7dLDroh001oQlXdET01qmB0ws_b4itrWSk/s1600/china-mong-Nate+&+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4jtsf1JY11h9zSOYJo05NcYyvYfg80vufDiAfNEo2f7GaNkAP9TEsTgJ0qo8REQq_SyrBdWQs0uDhZRWm3vP6pmoVxvd21GjJqUXL3rIb7dLDroh001oQlXdET01qmB0ws_b4itrWSk/s320/china-mong-Nate+&+lady.jpg" width="213" /></a><b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>7) What has been the most exciting thus far?</b> Being
here! Seeing a dream and vision that was birthed years and years ago in
a time and place completely disconnected from here. Now, it is actually
unfolding. Meeting new and extraordinary people. The incredible
challenge of creating something new that doesn't exist here right now.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<b>8) How did you know God was leading you to Beijing to do <i>this</i> in this season? What events in the past were an impetus? </b> </div>
<div>
There
have been two times in my life when I have directly put out a 'fleece'
and asked the Lord to make it miraculously obvious what the answer was.
Working in China is one of those. </div>
<div>
Several years ago, before starting gi
inc., I was living in Papua New Guinea. My mom sent me a book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heavenly-Man-Remarkable-Chinese-Christian/dp/082546207X" target="_blank"><i>The Heavenly Man</i></a> written by a Chinese pastor who had experienced incredible
suffering and opposition as a result of his faith. I've had a life long
fascination with China, but for some reason that book struck a cord within
my heart. I read this book along the same time that the Lord was
stirring a vision in my heart for creating a global network that
bridged ministries, businesses and entertainment companies around the
world. This vision ultimately became the foundation upon which we
started gi inc. After finishing <i>The Heavenly Man, </i>I literally got down
on my knees and said "<i>Lord, if China and I have anything to do with
each other in the future than I want to meet and pray with Brother Yun (
the Heavenly Man)</i>." This seemed like an absurd request, where if it somehow came to pass, than I would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that China and I were inexorably bound together.</div>
<div>
A few month after praying
this prayer, I found myself in southern Australia for a couple of weeks
before heading back to the States after two years of living in Papua New
Guinea. Shortly before my last night in Australia, I was speaking at a
youth group. An announcement was made that a Chinese pastor who had
recently escaped from China was going to be telling his story at a local
church and any one who wanted to come was invited to hear him speak. I almost fell on the
floor when I found out that this pastor was Brother Yun from <i>The
Heavenly Man</i>! I ended up getting to hear him speak. Afterwards, I was able to meet and pray with him! Needless to say, that kind of sealed it
for me. </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>9) What is your dream for this?</b> </div>
<div>
My
dream is to experience God doing something extraordinary here in China
and to be a part of that. We have an opportunity to develop a company
unlike anything that exists here both in how we operate internally and
in how we do business externally. I believe that it is a waste of time
dreaming about doing things that we can accomplish in our own strength!
Our prayer since founding gi inc almost 7 years ago was that God would
give us 'insane favor' within the industry and that we would be
positioned to be a 'voice to the voices' that are influencing culture
around the globe. I fully expect God to do miracles here! </div>
<div>
The
first time I came to China, several years ago now, I had a conversation
that profoundly impacted me. I was standing on a street corner with a
young man who was my translator for the music tour that I was producing there. His father was a very high up member in the Communist
party so the natural progression for him would be that he would
eventually end up in a position of influence. I asked him, <i>'What's your
opinion of God?</i>" He was holding his smart phone and after thinking for a
moment he held it up in front of my face and said, "Nate, for my
generation of Chinese, this is god." That simple statement blew my mind.
I've never forgotten it. Nearly a billion people in China are accessing
content every day on computers, phones and television. If I have opportunity to in any way positively influence those responsible for
creating and distributing that content, then that is a charge that I take very
seriously.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's impossible for
me to talk about China and the sense of calling that is attached to it
for me without stating also that it is very hard. Knowing that you are called
to something or that the Lord is clearly opening a door does not
automatically make something easy. On the contrary, along with this being
a very exciting time, it has also been an extremely difficult time. I
think those times when the Lord chooses to make something very clear to
us are sometimes meant more than anything to give us something to cling to in all the
times of uncertainty, frustration and fear that will always be a part
of life as we participate in what God is doing around the world.
Shelly and I have been apart for much of the last four months and it's
been a big strain on us as a couple. I have a very hard time balancing
my attention to work with my responsibility as a husband. I'm still
trying to figure that out. I could not be doing any of this without
Shelly's participation and support.</div>
<div>
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<div>
</div>
<div>
Stay tuned for future posts on any of the following topics: What will <i>I</i> be doing in Beijing? Do we have space for visitors? (<i>Yes!</i>) Do you know Mandarin? And more significant and insignificant meanderings of my soul. </div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-87652258232986613292012-09-16T14:39:00.001-05:002012-09-16T14:44:28.318-05:00The Griffins new adventure<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That's right. Adventure. I don't know a more appropriate word to define the new season in which we we have entered. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Webster's defines it as "<i><span class="ssens">an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks." </span></i><span class="ssens">Unknown. Risks. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ahuh. Both of those words tend to make me cringe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I married Nate on February 14, 2009, I knew from day one that my man is a dreamer, a visionary, a risk-taker, a maverick. I am a planner, finite in vision, afraid at times to dream too big, lover of excel and my calendar. Lord knows we've needed the others strengths in desperate ways and that area has been one of them. Nate's propensity to literally run after where God is leading, straight in the midst of risk, has been the iron against my soul in our 3.5 years of our marriage. And my propensity towards the sin of control has come face to face, again and again, with the beauty of the way my husband lives out faith. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And now, that beauty has brought us to a place I never imagined. We are moving. To Beijing. A city with a population of approximately 24 million, a 12-14 hour plan trip away and 13 hours ahead of the central time zone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A city where Shenism-Taoism, Buddhism and Confucianism are the primary, budding religions. A city where The Great Wall takes my breathe away. A city where the fashion and shopping are as extravagant as the pollution. A city where I can walk to get my groceries. A city that will become my new home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">No single post can capture all that I want to share, so I'll fill you guys in on the details in phases. (Let's be honest, I'm still processing).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For now, I'll close with the standard:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u>Who is moving</u>? Nate, me and our 65-lb boxer mix Hudson (that was part of my 'agreement'...ahummmm)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u>Where</u>: Beijing, in a district known as the Upper East Side, in the 4th ring of the city </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u>When</u> are we moving? January. Nate is back and forth until then. I'll wrap up work at the end of October and give myself some down time to pack, visit friends and family, and take care of the logistics. I'm wanting to get in as much girl time as I can squeeze in before I land on a new continent, so I'm working on a state-hopping route. Slumber party anyone? Grin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u>Why</u> are we moving? B/c I
love my husband and my God and that's where He's sending us. Practically
speaking, Nate is opening a production office there. I'll expand upon those details in a later post. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So who wants to come visit? :) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My God does things beyond my imagination. And I love Him for that. The great cloud of His presence for the Griffins is moving across an ocean this time, and I'm not going to miss it for the world. So onward I go. Because He is faithful. Because His mercy and goodness will follow us all the days of our lives. Because I can't <i>not</i> go where He is going to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXt6H5xQl_5LmoChQsv18MCc_kU-Ps2FX_wEGkQEikTyROW1ykvLdN8rTonHIb7iGqt1o1Zw4VP6cz70_cORWH0RwySJ-lEpZFOQp1OV3HfA2avmCAEwx641c-E7lxqp-R7ErEeUnqI4/s1600/Hudson+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXt6H5xQl_5LmoChQsv18MCc_kU-Ps2FX_wEGkQEikTyROW1ykvLdN8rTonHIb7iGqt1o1Zw4VP6cz70_cORWH0RwySJ-lEpZFOQp1OV3HfA2avmCAEwx641c-E7lxqp-R7ErEeUnqI4/s200/Hudson+and+me.jpg" width="200" /></a>Our 'child' that will be coming with us. We're pretty sure he won't have the same language barrier as we will. English bark and sniff translate very well to Mandarin bark and sniff. Grin.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our new 'compound,' composed of about 20+ high rise towers. It's essentially an escape from the hustle and bustle of Beijing, gated with pretty green space inside. Respite for my soul.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmPep0kQdx5PAWm1_srd5MTRK-y1HlocVZa8oZoueToXkhnU2xcuA10TbV5rR-hoPwc0PbHPMekeGPGFwrt9UkZW4XvP_lsveWKbSJMyLs__nDMT7G7WXfJiAJCxGNOZJOA7g_aG9_5s/s1600/Beijing+apt.+building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmPep0kQdx5PAWm1_srd5MTRK-y1HlocVZa8oZoueToXkhnU2xcuA10TbV5rR-hoPwc0PbHPMekeGPGFwrt9UkZW4XvP_lsveWKbSJMyLs__nDMT7G7WXfJiAJCxGNOZJOA7g_aG9_5s/s320/Beijing+apt.+building.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-74509812305003254132012-04-15T15:38:00.002-05:002012-04-15T15:38:22.779-05:00Fashionista goes bashinistaI struggled to open the large glass doors that were twice my size. Managing to awkwardly wedge half my body between them, I squeezed myself in and let the weight of the doors shut behind me. I was on a mission to find the nail salon for which I had purchased a groupon. This girl was getting a 50% off mani/pedi and to say that I was in need of one was a massive understatement.<br />
<br />
I have not permitted myself to wear open-toed shoes yet. Nor have I taken my socks off in pilates class at the gym. No way. They would have called me Wilma Flintstone with the atrocity that was the current state of my toes. And today was the day of bringing beauty to that which was lost - the polish on my toes.<br />
<br />
I found my way to the salon and endured the foot scrubbing. I hate it because I'm extremely ticklish; the nail technician probably hates having to deal with my leg convulsions even more as my uncontrollable leg jerks away from her hand anytime she reaches for a heel scrub. While she trimmed the cuticles, I gripped my magazine so tightly that I creased it. I don't even enjoy the process of getting a mani/pedi. It hurts and I'm ticklish. But no pain, no beauty gain, right?<br />
<br />
The mani/pedi was complete and I was quite pleased with my <i>Frair Frair Pants on Fire</i> OPI color choice. Happy that I had endured the scrubbing and pricking, I decided to venture out around the mall with the extra time I had on my hands and see if I could find a shirt for work. The dress for my office is business attire. Let's just say I weekly cross the line of what should be considered business attire as I mix and match clothing articles I wore in college. I throw a thin belt around a shirt and some heels on and voilà!<br />
<br />
There were two stores in which I was interested to see if they would have a cute button-down collared shirt for my budget of $1.50. Grin. In the first store, I tried on several pieces of clothing and put them back. The second store I wanted to check out was on the complete opposite side of the mall. By the time I'd made my way there, I was completely disinterested in trying anything on and couldn't even make myself walk through the store. I was <i>done</i>. <br />
<br />
<i>D-O-N-E. </i><br />
<br />
Perhaps it's because I haven't stepped foot in a mall in many months. Perhaps it's because I'd spent that afternoon in solitude. I turned on no television. I called no one. I text no one. I wrote in my journal. I sat outside with our 65 lb. boxer mix Hudson and watched the birds. I spoke aloud to the Lord. I jealously guarded this rare Saturday in which I was by myself with the Lover of my soul and had little responsibilities.<br />
<br />
There are likely a myriad of reasons involved in why yours truly, fashionista, went all the sudden bashinista on the mall. I walked slowly back through the mall to get to my car. Overstimulated with sounds and sights, I got the heebie jeebies there in the midst of the women's makeup section. It was just too much. (Mind you, this is coming from a woman who <i>loves </i>makeup). The larger-than-life posters on display that tried to tell me I wasn't pretty enough. The beautiful clothes every inch around me that tried to tell me I needed them in order to be in style. The individuals in the mall decked from head to toe whose mere hipness contrasted against my Saturday favorites: a white v-neck tshirt and a boyfriend style pair of jeans with holes in them (on the knees of course). The mannequins and employees alike whose proper appearance and form marketed that thinness was in and anything else was not. The absolute excess of all things that advertised one would need <i>more</i> to be happy.<br />
<br />
As much as I <i>love</i> clothes and style, I got out of that mall. A battle had taken place in my mind where beauty, form and excess took an unforeseen jab at my spiritual gut. And I briefly fell victim to its power. That's when I made a u-turn in the mall and headed to my car. With each step back, I declared my lack of agreement with what I saw. I looked at certain store signs and window displays and quietly told them how much I did not need them, how beautiful I was, how pursued I was. Under my breathe, I spoke to inanimate objects to be sure they knew I had been beautifully and wonderfully made. (Don't tell me a particular poster or image hasn't shouted back at you in the mall before about how not good enough you are.)<br />
<br />
I understand this sounds so completely hyper-spiritual. You must know that I am too girly at heart not to love shopping, good clothes and fashion. I <i>love</i> it. But what I don't love is that our fashion and shopping culture too often dictate the impossible, either in image, worth or financial stewardship. And during my unsuspecting stroll on Saturday, the enjoyment of that which can be good turned into a battle of ugly.<br />
<br />
I'm sure I'll be back at the mall before I know it. But one thing is for certain, when I'm older and grey, I don't think I'll join the ladies' walking group that makes laps in their local mall. Nope. I'll take my sweatsuit into the great outdoors amidst the beauty of a creation that still doesn't reflect the beauty of God like you and I, who were made in His image.<br />
<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-26484359308108689212012-04-02T20:56:00.001-05:002012-04-02T20:56:23.052-05:00Emma and the unanticipatedI couldn't sleep. I was restless, tossing into excitement and turning into nervousness. Four hours away from me, a miracle was to embrace the world any moment. And it was such an unspeakably timely miracle.<br />
<br />
My younger brother and his sweet Lindsey were expecting the birth of their baby girl. It would be the first baby on my side of the family and we were all about to burst at the seams with excitement. I remember the day I found out about their pregnancy. I thanked my brother for 'taking one for the team.' My Mom has been unashamedly asking for a grand baby since Nate and I said 'I do.' But since that's not quite our season, I gave a big grin to my brother and thanked him for taking the attention off of us. <br />
<br />
The months prior to Emma's arrival, I climbed in and out of the invisible vortex that exists in baby clothing aisles. I had to create a budget that I wanted to break every day for a child that wasn't mine. Something about the firstborn child on our side of the family had melted my heart. I was becoming that crazy Aunt and in complete acceptance of it.<br />
<br />
At 4 am, I received that long-awaited text letting me know that Lindsey had begun labor. Relieved with the idea that finality was approaching, I went to sleep. I arose a couple of hours later and went to work, mentally preoccupied with anticipation of Emma's birth. I tried to busy myself in excel charts and analysis, the world in which I typically am lost in from 8 to 5 p.m.<br />
<br />
I got the message that she had been born late afternoon. And that's when the unexpected emotional reaction hit me. That's when the overwhelming weight of the sweetness, mercy and redemption of her birth flooded over me in such a way that I sat at my desk and sobbed. I cried out of pure joy. I cried out of relief. I cried out of the privilege of being able to partake in her life as an Aunt. And I cried over the piece of healing being offered to me that I didn't even know I needed. <br />
<br />
The present season I was walking in at that time begged for His glory to show up. It was challenging, unfair and hard. The unlit stage was set for the light of His glory to come fill the place. Around me, and within me, I saw varying levels of emotional death. I believe some of it was the enemy coming to steal, kill and destroy and some of it was the death necessary to experience resurrection life. Either way, it was not pretty.<br />
<br />
And there, in the midst of the unfair, stripping, demoralizing season that I was seeing all around me, Emma came. And she came as Emma Presley Bland. <i>Bland </i><br />
<br />
My maiden name. The name I cling to on those quiet days when I secretly and internally ache so deeply for my Dad. It's a last name that still exists through my brother and sister, but something happened when there was <i>new</i> life attached to that name. And it was new life in the midst of emotional darkness. It was light bursting forth, unrivaled by any looming shadow. It was healthy, strong, unshakable, undeniable. And lastly, it was a small living piece of my Dad.<br />
<br />
Two weeks passed before I was able to go see Emma. And as God would have it, for reasons I can't actually recall, I ended up holding her for the first time while everyone else had stepped out of the room. She slept while I let my tears drop down on her teeny little frame. She had no idea what her life had done to my heart. And I had no idea that God would use the event of her birth to bring further healing to mine.<br />
<br />
He's so good in that way - offering a sweet balm of healing when perhaps, in my tough-girl mode, I'd become unaware of a hurt that had lingered. But not Him. He wrapped His arms around me and whispered into my spirit how He loved me so.<br />
<br />
And I breathed it in, allowing my soul to be stilled and quieted by His presence. And there, in my arms, I stilled and rocked Emma who I don't think will ever know how much I love her. I suspect our God thinks the same towards us.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To know this love that surpasses knowledge (Eph. 3:19)</div>
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-81938716943453859602012-02-26T19:11:00.000-06:002012-02-26T19:11:40.939-06:00Sent here<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="text Gen-45-4" id="en-ESV-1363"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>So Joseph said to his brothers, “Come near to me, please.” And they came near. And he said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt.</span> <span class="text Gen-45-5" id="en-ESV-1364"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here,<u> <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-1364B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup>f</u><u>or God sent me before you to preserve life</u>.</span> <span class="text Gen-45-6" id="en-ESV-1365"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>For the famine has been in the land these two years, and there are yet five years in which there will be neither <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-1365D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></sup>plowing nor harvest.</span> <span class="text Gen-45-7" id="en-ESV-1366"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>And <u>God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors</u>.</span> <span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup><u>So it was not you who sent me here, but God</u>. He has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt</span></i><span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">. Genesis 45:4-9</span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">It's a little uncomfortable here. I feel alone on this path, cautiously placing one foot in front of another, listening intently to hear the Voice behind me saying '<i>This is the way, walk in it</i>.' The steady pounding of my heart ricochets back to me, quieting down only when my heart is still before the One who directs my steps. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">A myriad of circumstances and people brought me to this present season of my journey. And I confess, I don't know that I would have foreseen or initially chosen this present place in which I am standing. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">Joseph was the preferred child amongst all of his brothers and was not shy about exalting himself as the favored one. Perhaps he even acted a bit bratty in that gorgeous robe that he wore proudly in front of them. Envious and angry with their youngest brother Joseph, his brothers' plans to kill him were circumvented only by a group of passing merchants who agreed to buy him as a slave. A grim journey, Joseph was then sold in Egypt. In a way that only God could engineer, Joseph becomes a trusted overseer in the house of Pharaoh and later, lord over the land of Egypt, preparing its people for the great famine that would strike. A beloved child. A hated sibling. A nobody. A slave. A man whom "the LORD was with." A servant. A favored lord. A wise steward. A vessel of life. A forgiven man who forgave others.</span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">Perhaps I've been favored by another and that's what landed me here. It's not their fault nor mine. But I've been placed in a position of favor and grace, called to humbly wear my own robe of sorts. It's what God has for me in this season. Or perhaps my own sin has led me to this place. He is a holy God who allows me to experience the consequences of my sin. Or perhaps, like Joseph, another individual's sin has led me to this place. I didn't want to be here, purchased as a slave and brought to a land in which I don't belong. But the soil I stand upon bears the footprints of one whose poor decisions left or directed me here. I don't know this land. It's not my own. Though not despondent, my heart aches. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">So here I am. In a place I didn't have saved in my spiritual GPS. A place I didn't set out pursuing. A place I didn't choose for myself. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">And that's where Genesis 45:8 knocked the spiritual breathe out of me two mornings ago during my study time: "</span><i><span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">So it was not you who sent me here, but God.</span></i><span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">" The LORD God who directs my steps (Proverbs 16:19) brought me to this place. No person, thing or circumstance ultimately got to dictate my present season without the Almighty Omnipotent One first giving it a nod of approval. No road do I take unless the One who works all things together for good first said 'Yes.' No consequences of another individual's sins are allowed to affect my life without the protective right hand of my God working out His love for me. No one can send me <i>here</i> without it having been orchestrated and approved by God, a platform for His glory and my good. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">And the same is true for you. No pit that another shoved you in was permitted without a miraculous plan for your escape and redemption. No slavery that you found yourself hurled into was given a 'Yes' without a greater purpose of life on the other side. </span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">Joseph was sent ahead of his brothers to preserve life. And I can't help but cling to the reality that the same must be true for myself and anyone else experiencing a present Joseph-like season. That the One who has come to give us life and life to the fullest will see that His purposes are accomplished. That when the path is not of your choosing, it doesn't mean it's not of His. That the One who spoke the world into being has spoken spiritual blessing and life over you.</span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367">And maybe, at the end of the day, it's worth considering that though the present path on which you step is not one you initially choose for yourself, it is meant for the preservation of someone's life, even your own.</span></div>
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<span class="text Gen-45-8" id="en-ESV-1367"><br /></span></div>
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<i>For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to
prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</i></div>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-66528661215379174082012-02-12T21:39:00.000-06:002012-02-12T21:39:28.710-06:00Top Ten Indicators that my man is out of townMy peeps,<br />
<br />
Nate has been out of the country for the past 19 days and I have two more looooong days to endure apart from him. He takes three to four international trips a year and this constitutes nearly all of his travel time on an annual basis. I love what he gets to do on these trips and wouldn't trade his being able to go for anything. This recent journey has included Dubai, of the United Arab Emirates, Chiang Mai, Thailand, and lastly Hong Kong. But no worries, I'm living it up in Nashville, TN, so don't be sad for me. His trip itself deserves a blog post of its own, but I'm using this one as a platform for the light-hearted self-awareness I gained during these 3 weeks.<br />
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For you see, a girl has to keep moving forward when her better half is across the ocean and even out of telephone reach. And I began to observe that I do things a little differently when he's gone. So I started a list of what those variances are. I did so partly because it leaves room for me to laugh at myself. And partly because it helped me for some strange reason. There's a gray line between keeping a softened heart while he is overseas: too soft a heart out of my love for him means I'm a blubbering mess most of the time because I miss him. But too protected a heart out of the desire to avoid a daily pity party leans itself towards a propensity of unhealthy independence rather than interdependence/dependence with my man.<br />
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So recorded below are a few of the things I recognized as the Top Ten Indicators that Nate-the-great is gone:<br />
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1) I sleep on Nate's side of the bed when he's not here. I don't know why. I don't even like his side of the bed. But it helps me for some reason. Don't judge me.<br />
2) I also let our 65 lb., 2 year old boxer-mix (Hudson) join me. And he can hog the bed and I don't care. He keeps me warm.<br />
3) In the mornings, I turn my praise music on <i>loud</i> while I put on my mascara. When Nate is in town, he's able to sleep a little later than I am, so I don't bust the praise as loudly.<br />
4) I become completely obsessive about making sure the doors are locked. It's actually ridiculous how bad of a scaredy-cat I can become.<br />
5) My frequency of cooking is disorderly and atypical. First, I start off cooking all the things that I love maybe a
little more than Nate does. I become a Julia Child wannabee. I purchase
more groceries and make more meals the first week than I can even
consume. And then, somewhere around week two, I ask myself, "<i>Self, why
on earth are you cooking up a storm when you could be relaxing tonight
and rockin out a piece of toast with peanut butter and a banana?</i>" And so thyself starts eating like a college student again.<br />
6) I become an employee for Nate's company, <a href="http://gi-inc.org/">Grateful Inconvenience, Inc.</a> No matter how much he prepares, when your husband owns his company and he is out of the country for three weeks, you may find yourself becoming an unofficial employee. I take phone calls. I make sure his invoices go out. And as he told me, there may be three or four packages coming in from Australia that he would want me to bring inside. Yep. A few packages. Or try over 30 large boxes that I came home to one evening and had to haul inside by my lonesome. The CEO of Grateful Inconvenience will be receiving an invoice from me. Grin.<br />
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7) And since Nate is Nate, there's got to be some drama for God to bring along the way. Like the text I got from him while he was in Dubai, at 2 a.m. my time, letting me know that he had lost his wallet or that it had been stolen. So he needed my immediate help in canceling all of his cards. <i>Sure enough baby love</i>. We both prayed that the individual who picked it up would need the cash that was in it more than he did. It took a few hours for the knots in my stomach to unwind. Nate reached hope a little more quickly than I did. I knew it for sure when I got the following picture and text from him: "<i>Baby love, don't worry about the money we lost. I'm just going to belly dance over here in Dubai and get it back</i>." (Yes...that's my man's version of belly dancing. My man who I can never get on the dance floor).<br />
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8) I get flowers. And it's typically quite the scene because he is sending me flowers for my birthday as he's not here. And the sweet lady at the front desk calls me downstairs to come get them. And then they're so big and heavy that I can't lift them. And I love them. Every year. And I try to make them last for as long as he is gone. And I do. I have two cherry blossoms and a beautiful orchid left from this.<br />
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9) Speaking of # 1 and #2, I'm not the only one who doesn't sleep well the first 5 nights he's gone. Our dog Hudson looks out our front window every night waiting for Nate to come home. He cries until I finally convince him to come to bed. He'll sleep for a few hours, wake up and realize Nate isn't here, and then go back to the front window waiting and looking for him. It breaks my heart and my sleep pattern in such a bad way that I'm puffy-eyed for days.<br />
10) I jealously guard my weekend time to be still before the LORD. Yes, I get lonely. Yes, I miss my man like crazy. Yes, I have scheduled play dates with my close girlfriends and have an absolute blast. But when my husband is gone, I tell Jesus every time that I look forward with great anticipation to what He has just <i>for me</i> during this time. It's my time with Him. And His time with this child of His. And I long for it, guard it, and love it.<br />
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And before I close, if you're still hanging in here, you may need a little reminder that our God is a God of miracles. Forty-eight hours after Nate's wallet was missing, he received the following email:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Nate, My name is Jeff. I am in the US Navy and I found your wallet in</i><br />
<i>a taxi in Dubai on Friday, January 27. I caught the taxi from the Dubai</i><br />
<i>mall and saw it on the floor in the back and thought it best to NOT to</i><br />
<i>hand it over to the cab driver. I saw that you are from Tennessee (US)</i><br />
<i>and figured it would be best to get it to you myself. I did go through</i><br />
<i>the contents to find out your info and left a voice message on the</i><br />
<i>number off of your business card. I can assure you that all its contents</i><br />
<i>are accounted for...</i><i> I will be in Dubai until about 2pm</i><br />
<i>today and then we leave. I was hoping to get it back to you before we</i><br />
<i>leave. My office number is <a href="tel:%28808%29653-7644" target="_blank" value="+18086537644">XXX-XXX-XXXX </a>. </i>Hopefully you get this message soon so you at<br />
<i></i><i>least have that bit of peace of mind</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Nate and Jeff are buddies now. When he received Jeff's email, Jeff was out at sea so they were unable to connect. Jeff mailed Nate's wallet out on the first shipment and I received it two weeks later, all contents contained therein. </div>
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</div>
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<i>Only </i>God. </div>
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He loves Nate.</div>
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And He loves this married woman lavishly so in the absence of Nate's presence. </div>
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<br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-52028782286164361662012-01-29T12:53:00.000-06:002012-01-29T12:53:03.198-06:00The opportunity of provocation<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He (Elkanah) had two wives. The name of the one was Hannah, and the name of other other, Peninnah. And Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children. And her rival (Peninnah) used to provoke her (Hannah) grievously to irritate her, because the LORD had closed her womb. So it went on year by year. As often as she went up to the house of the LORD, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat...She was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD and wept bitterly."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
1 Samuel 1</div>
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Hannah knew provocation. She lived a life of maternal barrenness next to the woman with whom she shared a husband - Peninnah, who was nothing <i>but </i>fruitful. And Peninnah took full advantage of Hannah's barrenness. She provoked her about it. She sought much to irritate her. Every year, continuously, Hannah heard words that grieved her. So much so to the point that she was deeply distressed and wept bitterly. She was unable to eat. Her broken heart weighed her down. She was worn and anxious from the incitement. </div>
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And one day, in her deep distress and ongoing weeping, she prayed to the LORD. She vowed that if the LORD looked on her affliction and gave her a son, that she would give him to the LORD all the days of his life. And in His great purposes, He did just that. The LORD who had closed her womb, opened it. Hannah conceived and bore a son, whom she named Samuel.</div>
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Samuel, who is from the LORD, becomes the last of the judges and the prophet who initiates the beginning of the monarchy, anointing the first two kings of Israel: Saul and David. He stressed the importance of following the LORD's commands to both the people and their king in order for it to go well with them. He prayed constantly for them, instructing them in the way that was right, and walked before them all of his days. </div>
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Samuel existed because of the LORD, birthed from the context of a broken heart. Samuel came to be out of the prayer from a woman who endured words that said Samuel was not. Samuel's life was one of paramount purpose, bringing restoration to a woman's life that had been mocked to the point of deep distress.<br />
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And here in a late season, the reality that God's saving plan is fulfilled in the ongoing day-to-day lives of human beings has hit me afresh. For I've been provoked. It's been continuous, year after year, but the present moment has weighed down my heart . And I've had myself a good cry. And I've wept. The kind, for instance, where you have to leave church before the very end so as to avoid contact with anyone: my mascara was not waterproof and I could not get myself together. I'm worn from the provocation. <br />
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And though my form of my barrenness may differ, I too have dropped myself before the LORD and cried out for Him to remember me. And I know that He does, because He is with me at this very moment. And I too have asked Him to look on my affliction, and I know that He does because He is my El Roi. And I have vowed that I would allow Him to use this area of affliction for His glory, entrusting it to Him all the days of my life. For I believe His intent is to bring forth life from the circumstances that have set a tone of provocation. And I believe that He will birth in me something for His kingdom purposes, just as He birthed in Hannah a judge and prophet who marked the history of Israel in profound ways.<br />
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You may be far from a "Hannah" season. There may be no person, circumstance or thing inciting such frustration, heaviness and weeping in you that you're presently on the floor before the LORD. But if you are, I pray that He strengthens your inner being with courage to believe that He brings forth life from death. So hold on sister, for blessed are all those who wait for Him. </div>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-5461158441067969702012-01-22T15:07:00.002-06:002012-01-22T15:07:55.235-06:00Sin of omission<br />
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<i>For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. </i>(Ephesians 2:10)</div>
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I've got a soft spot for my boy Gideon. He's a scaredy-cat, plagued by fear and unbelief, yet not necessarily paralyzed by it. At the very beginning of the introduction of his character, two examples of Gideon's lifestyle of fear appear. First, in Judges 6:11, we see Gideon threshing out wheat in a winepress, hiding himself and his sustenance from the enemy. Later, in Judges 6:25-27, the LORD asks Gideon to destroy the altar of Baal that his father has and to instead build an altar to the LORD on top of it.</div>
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In both instances, Gideon is afraid. He is afraid of his enemy the Midianites, others' perception of his actions and perhaps even the reaction of the idol he has established in his life. What would Baal do to he and his family? What would his father do to him? What could the Midianites do to him? Even further, what could this LORD do to him?<br />
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In spite of his fears, he goes forth and does the thing. He walks in that which God called him to walk in. He threshes the wheat, even though he is hiding from his enemy. And he tears down the altar of Baal, establishing an altar of God in its place, despite the fact that he does it at night, too afraid of his family and the men of the town to do it by day (Judges 6:27).</div>
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I see so much of myself in his story. Yet in a recent season, mine has an added dose of sin. Unlike Gideon, I did not go forth and do the thing. Gideon hid himself in the cleft of a mountainside or under the covering of a dark night sky, yet he still responded to God's call. On the other hand, I allowed myself to be paralyzed by fear and flat out failed to respond. I froze and my standing still equated itself to the sin of omission. Delayed obedience meant disobedience this time. <br />
<br />
Gideon learned to function in his lifestyle of fear. He's got the act of
threshing wheat in an awkward environment down pat. He's got the Baal
worship thing down, surely established as a pattern of worship early in
his life. It may or may not be working for him, but he's still doing it. Yours truly however, can't even claim that I was functioning well in this particular area. I wanted to be a functioning fearaholic at best, but God in His mercy, wasn't going to allow that either.<br />
<br />
God speaks to Gideon early on: "I am the LORD your God; you shall not fear the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell" (Judges 6:10). And He has firmly, lovingly, spoken a word to me a few weeks ago: "I am the LORD your God Shelly, you shall not fear ..." That my friend, is a command, not an option, based on who my God is.<br />
<br />
I am His, created and equipped to do the good works He has called me to do. And the same is true for you sister. You were created in His image, called to bear much fruit in areas that He has prepared in advance for you. Things He has called just <i>you</i> to do. Giftings He has given <i>you</i>. Resurrection power working in <i>you</i>, in this season, at this moment, for <i>His </i>glory.<br />
<br />
He doesn't need me to make His name great. He doesn't need you either. But we are given the unspeakable gift of participating in His Kingdom purposes. Lord, in your mercy, I sure don't want to miss it.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to go forth and do the thing, even if I do it afraid for a little while. For soon, I will walk more boldly in the spirit of power, love and discipline He has given me, realizing that He has not given me a spirit of timidity (2 Timothy 1:7). <strike></strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike><br />
I'll do it afraid then, backed by the power of a God who is more than able.</div>Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-86638831480710499252012-01-15T14:55:00.000-06:002012-01-15T14:55:17.918-06:00You are beautiful to meThey are appalled<br />
Your laws believed to be confining<br />
Your truth believed to be irrelevant<br />
Your life believed to be merely that of a great spiritual man<br />
<br />
They are appalled<br />
Your words believed to be heresy (John 6:52-54)<br />
Your ascension believed to be unreal<br />
Your existence believed to be finite rather than a living, continuously involved, intimate God<br />
<br />
They are appalled<br />
Your appearance so disfigured, beyond that of any man<br />
Your form marred beyond human likeness (Isaiah 52:14)<br />
Your kingship questioned and mocked <br />
<br />
But I am in love<br />
Your laws my freedom<br />
Your truth my delight (Psalm 119:14)<br />
Your life perfect, the atonement for my sin<br />
<br />
And I am in love<br />
Your words, divine revelation of the wonders of your Person<br />
Your ascension, now at the right hand of God, ruling over all (1 Peter 3:22)<br />
Your existence, with the first thru the last of all generations (Rev. 1:8)<br />
<br />
<br />
And I am in love<br />
Your appearance, robed in majesty and armed with strength<br />
Your form, a slain Lamb at the center of the Throne, a Spirit, omnipresent<br />
Your kingship, the Holy One of Israel, besides you, there is no God (Isaiah 43:15)<br />
<br />
My zeal consumes me<br />
Show us your beauty LordShellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03876113486170082394noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-72928344529394114422011-09-27T21:51:00.002-05:002011-09-27T21:51:37.810-05:00Because He said so<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>When the Israelites cried out to the LORD because of Midian, <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-6663">8</sup>
he sent them a prophet, who said, “This is what the LORD, the God of
Israel, says: I brought you up out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.
<sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-6664">9</sup> I rescued you from the
hand of the Egyptians. And I delivered you from the hand of all your
oppressors; I drove them out before you and gave you their land. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-6665">10</sup>
I said to you, ‘I am the LORD your God; do not worship the gods of the
Amorites, in whose land you live.’ But you have not listened to me.” <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-6666">11</sup> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The angel of the LORD came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that
belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, <b>where his son Gideon was threshing
wheat in a winepress to keep it from the Midianites. <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-6667">12</sup></b> <b>When the angel of the LORD appeared to Gideon, he said, “The LORD is with you, mighty warrior</b>.</i> </div>
<br />
The account of Gideon is at the center of a seemingly carefully constructed story of the twelve judges. Just like the judges before him, he is walking in a season which bears the weight of sin. The Israelites failed to destroy the Canaanites and their gods. Thus, a pattern is established. A Deuteronomic cycle is initiated. The Israelites cease serving Yahweh. He abandons them to their enemies. They eventually cry out for help. And God answers them by raising up a judge who will lead them into victory over their oppressor by His Spirit. At some time later, the cycle repeats itself. <br />
<br />
Gideon is living in the beginning stages of such a cycle. God's people have not served Him. God has given them over to the Midianites. The Midianites ravage the Israelites' land, taking their crops and their livestock. The Israelites have to seek shelter in mountain clefts and caves for protection (6:1-6).<br />
<br />
And there Gideon is. Threshing wheat in a winepress in the attempt to safeguard that which is sustenance for he and his family. Working in a place not conducive to his work. Hiding himself, his life and his food from the enemy who steals.<br />
<br />
And there the angel of the LORD appears. Speaking a name over a man who does not reflect such an attribute yet. Calling forth life over those things which dwelt in the bay of fear and death. Empowering an available spirit to do that which He had called him to do.<br />
<br />
<i>"The LORD is with you, mighty warrior</i>."<br />
<br />
We aren't provided with a prior account of Gideon, but I'm going to make the safe assumption that Gideon didn't feel very mighty or like much of a warrior. Now I will certainly give him some credit for being out there threshing wheat. He's being obedient to his call at that point in time. He's doing the small thing in the midst of challenging circumstances. <i>But</i>, when He hears God's call, his response is somewhat of a respectful 'Pardon me?' His lack of God-centered confidence continues: '<i>But I am the least in my family</i>.' It gets worse, bless his heart. He asks for three different signs from God before he attempts the first battle and works in the night on one occasion out of fear that others may see him. <br />
<br />
Maybe that's why I love my boy Gideon so much. Maybe that's why I love my God so much more. I can relate.<br />
<br />
For when God speaks, words do not come back void. When God speaks, He accompanies it with action. When God speaks, heaven and earth are created out of nothingness. When God speaks, it is so.<br />
<br />
It is a done deal for Him. Because He can see His purposes to completion.<br />
<br />
And He does.<br />
<br />
"But the Spirit of the LORD clothed Gideon, and he sounded the trumpet." And the Midianites were defeated with Gideon and his 300 men (Judges 6:33 - 7:25)<br />
<br />
A man going about his ordinary business called to something extraordinary. A man lacking belief in what God said he would do, even after the signs, who was not just <i>called</i> to something extraordinary, but deemed something extraordinary.<br />
<br />
A mighty warrior you are Gideon. Not because you have acted as one. Not because you have won a single battle. But because I say you are. And I watch over my Word to see it accomplished (Jeremiah 1:12). <br />
<br />
The LORD God calls those things which are not, as though they are (Romans 4:17).<br />
<br />
God calls you by name child. Dare to believe you <i>are</i> who He says you are. For even if you do not feel it is your present reality, the God who speaks can make it so. And you'll know it was all Him. Go forth, mighty warrior, in the empowering Spirit of Christ who is with you. Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-58542969989936274182011-09-18T19:18:00.001-05:002011-09-18T19:18:59.536-05:00My olive oil was MIA<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<sup class="versenum" id="en-ESV-22786">17</sup><i>Though the fig tree should not blossom,</i><br />
<i> nor fruit be on the vines,</i><br />
<i>the produce of the olive fail</i><br />
<i> and the fields yield no food,</i><br />
<i>the flock be cut off from the fold</i><br />
<i> and there be no herd in the stalls,</i><br />
<i><sup class="versenum" id="en-ESV-22787">18</sup> yet I will rejoice in the LORD;</i><br />
<i> I will take joy in the God of my salvation.</i><br />
<i><sup class="versenum" id="en-ESV-22788">19</sup>GOD, the Lord, is my strength;</i><br />
<i> he makes my feet like the deer’s;</i><br />
<i> he makes me tread on my high places</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Habakkuk 3:17-19<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Habakkuk has challenged my prayer life lately. Though my preference would be to expound upon those three verses for three weeks, I don't think that's wise seeing as I haven't blogged in a year <i>and </i>I'd be boring y'all to tears. Instead, I'm going to note those seven words that have struck my spiritual core: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"<i>Yet I will rejoice in the LORD</i>"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm stubborn enough in my faith to believe God for the impossible; I know He delights in it (Genesis 18:14, Jeremiah 32:17, Luke 1:37). On top of that, I'm learning to consistently ask Him to exceed my expectations when I believe those things for which I'm asking are in accordance with His purposes and glory in the church and in Christ (Ephesians 3:20-21). My intent is not to come before His throne in an over-confident manner, but I do believe we can approach it boldly, as a daughter who acknowledges her God's authority and power.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'd like to call a recent season of mine "lack.' Not like Habakkuk's where he experienced the depletion, failure and absence of those things which were life-giving to him. But a lack nonetheless. A little spiritual, emotional, relational, material vacancies of some things that caused me to walk through 'Lack.' Now if I'm in Lack, I'm bound and determined to not miss out on what God may have for me there. Perhaps Lack and I need to be friends so that I can know God to be my Provider. Or maybe I've got Lack because there is an area of sin in my life that has put up a wall between the blessing and favor of my Father, who may withhold out of loving discipline until due time. Perhaps I'm bonding with Lack out of deep emotion over a loved one who is walking through a challenging season and I'm just not quite okay when they're not walking in the 'more' that I want so badly for them. So I've got some lack. The blossoms aren't there and the olive has failed to produce. And I'm not seeing the cattle and I even live in Nashville.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So one early morning, I prayed. I declared the promises of His 'Yes' over some things. I told the Lord how I knew He could deliver the impossible. By His grace, I truly did believe Him. I believed His Word. And I trusted His timing. I was <i>all</i> for whatever He wanted to do. And then I stopped my mouth long enough to listen and turned to my reading for the day.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And there, in those seven words, my spirit was stilled when I realized it wasn't more faith or perseverance that He was calling me to, but some joy. And not just a prim and proper clap of praise, but some serious celebrating. A flat out exultation in my God.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not to ask Him for the 'more' I knew He could meet. Not to press in and let Him meet those 'needs' of mine. Not to believe by faith that those 'Yes' responses were mine in Christ. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And not that those aren't right. But I'd missed it. I was about to walk with 'Lack' as a martyr instead of a joyful child of God. Ain't right I tell you. Just ain't right.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Maybe each of those lacks have not been met yet. Maybe the circumstance hasn't changed. <i>But</i>, when I lift my gaze to the God who strengthens me, and He lifts <i>me</i> to tread on the high places, joy cometh. A little smile, a nod of who He is in the middle of the day and perhaps a flailing hand of praise in the middle of a jog. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Choose joy in the God who never fails you. For the fruit may not yield. That person may disappoint you. The job interview may not come yet. The child may still be a prodigal. Or the dream may wait. But your God is One worth celebrating. You may be surprised to find that you, who are willed to do so, can still bear much fruit when that which around you is barren. The joy of the Lord is your strength (Nehemiah 8:10).</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-44435690307825387192011-09-18T17:57:00.000-05:002011-09-18T17:57:20.059-05:00Stirrings in my soulSomething is stirring in my soul. It has been for quite some time now, with the weight increasing over the last several months. So here, back in the sweet blog-land that I've missed, I will walk forward in one way that know how and write.<br /><br />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-88753357525019452992010-09-04T13:13:00.000-05:002010-09-04T13:13:44.720-05:00Hanging up my capeI'm not Superwoman. Nope.<br />
<br />
Throughout the week, I long to connect with my siestas. I long to pour my heart out on these url-tagged pages in typical long-winded fashion over my dear Jesus. I ache when I cannot seem to find the time to express the beatings of my heart.<br />
<br />
But for this season, I can't seem to make it happen. I have a new job that I started about a month and a half ago that requires me to rise and shine at 5:15. I jog after work (for a number of reasons) and don't get home until 7:15'ish pm. Thus, by the time I eat dinner with my dear man, shower and prepare for the next day, it's time for yours truly to hit the bed for some needed beauty rest again. Grin.<br />
<br />
It's all I can do to keep up with the laundry, my house, a phone call or two to my immediate family, a text or two to my near and dear buddies here in Nashville and my church world. There are a list of things that I have had to take off my beloved to-do list for this season because I simply cannot maintain the unrealistic expectation that I can be Super-wife, Super-employee, Super-daughter, Super-sister, Super-friend, Super-stay fit and eat well girl and Super-blogger (to name a short few). I'm not much of a Superwoman at all actually.<br />
<br />
In the sleepy hours of the early mornings, I cry out first to be God's alone. He's my Hero, and as I see it, that's all I really need anyway. Anything else as a need in my life must be an overflow of His Spirit working in me.<br />
<br />
For His superior reasons alone and for His glory, I can't write as I would like to right now. I feel like I'm not fully alive when I can't, but I trust Him.<br />
<br />
If any of you have some wisdom about juggling the demands of this life we live, I'll gladly receive it and take it to the Throneroom to ponder. Until then, know that I love you dearly and think of you frequently during my week, even in the early hours of a day while the stars are still twinkling in the sky.Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-55260931059477964922010-01-23T11:32:00.000-06:002010-01-23T11:32:13.611-06:00Nate the greatSisters!<br />
<br />
I've got so much to catch you up on, but I don't know quite where to begin. I've got some Jesus thoughts, some new temporary job thoughts, some of my recent birthday thoughts, and some pouting thoughts that I'm not in Houston this weekend for the Scripture Memory Celebration :)<br />
<br />
I got a recent spirit reminder to 'be diligent' (it was a loving command, but a mighty strong one), so here I am, hoping to discuss each of the above mentioned topics throughout the next couple of weeks. But to start things off, I just wanted to invite you to join me in prayer for my husband as he leaves for Thailand tomorrow for two weeks. He and his business partner (Stephen Proctor) are going to lead visual worship at a conference as well as serve those who have labored for the Gospel in Asia, many in 'closed countries.' [Nate will also be doing some live art at the conference like he is able to do at the Deeper Still events...I'm his biggest fan when he does those things. Actually, a total dork about it. Grin]. It is usually a time of intense joy and spiritual battle for them as they take hold of this privilege. Below, is a short letter from Nate about the trip. And below his letter is a link that shows a short video from Stephen. I humbly beseech your prayers upon them and upon the thousands who will be gathered together for one purpose - His Name and His Reknown. <br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Hey friends,</span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">I find it extraordinary that we continue to find ourselves in an international terminal headed to various nooks and crannies of the earth. It’s still hard to reconcile the fact that I couldn’t love more what we do and the continual clear leading of the Lord to do it! For however long we are allowed to keep engaging with people around the world we are going to do it, and I wish all of you could come along! </span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
</span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">It continues to be so clear that God is present and working all over the globe! It’s often tempting to think that when we go to foreign countries in any sort of missions capacity we are somehow bringing God to that place. The more we travel and see our lives woven together with men and women of other cultures, we discover crystal clear evidence that God is fluent in every language; He knows the nuances of every culture, He speaks to anyone who will listen. He is there when we get off the plane and He is there when we leave no matter how spiritual we feel we’ve been! </span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
</span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Soon, we’ll be headed back to <span class="il">Thailand</span> and Hong Kong. We’ve already got so many friends over there. People who are passionate about their pursuit of the Lord. Our desire is to take a few steps with them and perhaps encourage them a bit along the way. As much as it would be wonderful for all of you to be along with us, we know that isn’t possible, so we’ll do our best to give you a window into their world. Please pray for us. We need it all the time. </span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
</span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Love you guys,</span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Nate</span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1264266695159"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"> <br />
</span></span></span></i></a></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://worshipvj.com/on-mission-to-asia/"><span style="font-size: large;">Ste</span><span style="font-size: large;">phen's words about the mission trip</span></a><br />
</span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><br />
<br />
Love y'all,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54485/235/83B340D29C6E6605A8E0E4DDD5465DCD.png" style="-moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous; -moz-background-origin: padding; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; border: medium none;" />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-20601450987183644252010-01-08T15:34:00.000-06:002010-01-08T15:34:05.637-06:00YouMy sweet sisters,<br />
<br />
I wanted to check in and let you know that I'm alive! Nate and I have been hiding, so I've not been on the computer in about a week. I've been sitting still, both physically and spiritually. Rest...sweet sweet rest. And time for two lovebirds to have some long overdue extended face time together.<br />
<br />
There have been some messy events happening around he and I recently. Life really. Not really over our own personal lives, but over some of our dearest loved ones. Just the pure difficult reality of life. The battle is fierce and unrelenting. And so is the purpose of our God for His people and His glory.<br />
<br />
I'll reconnect here in blogworld with you soon. But as I thought about you in the dwindling days of our vacation, I wanted to leave you with a youtube clip. It's a prayer, rooted in the African American spoken word, which I love. I was actually present at this church during its evening of worship back in 2001. The Spirit used her words to alter me and I have not forgotten them. I pray their power and life still you in your busy day and cause your heart to seek His face.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Psalm 27:8 "My heart says of you, 'Seek His face!'<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Your face, LORD, I will seek."<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rmWAoiAJ3nY&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rmWAoiAJ3nY&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
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<img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54485/235/83B340D29C6E6605A8E0E4DDD5465DCD.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" />Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-17494913163244417442009-12-29T15:08:00.000-06:002009-12-29T15:08:40.762-06:00Short and sweet, looking for a retreatHi my sisters!<br />
<br />
I've been rather wireless here over the holiday season, and unfortunately, I only have a wee moment here on this one. Also, I just ate five slices of pizza and a cinnamon role and they're making me rather sleepy, so I'm pondering an afternoon nap. Grin.<br />
<br />
To forego all the things I'd love to blog about, like my first married Christmas and my Jesus, I'm jumping right to my reason for this brief blog, however direct and presumptuous it may be. In short, Nate and I are researching our get-away from the world options. He's got the rarest commodity in the Griffin household beginning around Jan. 1st/2nd and it will last for nearly a week. It's called time. And it will be his first break in 10.5 months. No exaggeration. The man needs to get away. And I, of course, would love to join my man for his mental break.<br />
<br />
All that to say, if y'all know of anyone that has a cabin, a rental, a vacancy, or something along those lines, could you let me know? We are willing to travel. Or at least do our best :)<br />
<br />
I apologize if this seems so impersonal. I noted it on facebook, and I felt like the word 'gumption' was written all over my forehead. It's a little much gumption for my personal comfort zone, but nonetheless, I'm desperate. So in the name of keeping my wonderful marriage wonderful, I thought I'd give y'all a shout-out.<br />
<br />
My love to you all<br />
PS - I pray you continue to ponder His birth. It has taken me over this Christmas like none other. I want Him so much more for all of us.Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6364878832686803479.post-17688416650990533332009-12-08T15:34:00.000-06:002009-12-08T15:34:14.786-06:00My body hates meDear fellow bloggies,<br />
<br />
I've had high goals of posting about a week ago, but shortly after Thanksgiving, I fell off the face of the planet. I'm not sure I've mentioned it, but November has been a bit of a rough month for me. For whatever reason, my body has become my enemy. Early in the month, I got your basic miserable cold. It then transgressed to a basic miserable sinus infection (prior to, during, and right after Thanksgiving). After four days of feeling normal and pretty confident that I had kicked all germs in the gluteus maximus, something really ugly overtook me late this Friday night. <br />
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Nate had left Thursday morning for the last Deeper Still event of the year. I had connected with one of my favorite single gals here in Nashville on Friday night, and returned home around 10:30 pm (b/c I'm old and I'm allowed to be in bed by then without feeling guilty!) And then it happened...baaah!<br />
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Not that you need to know the details, but since late Friday night, I've had a fever ranging from 100 - 101.5, a sore throat (understatement of this entire post), a 20 hour a day sleeping pattern, and I've been leaning over my porcelain bowl in such frequency that I have now noticed its brand is called 'Church.' Only in the midst of a raging fever, chills, and vomiting (excuse me for the gross factor), would yours truly begin to make a spiritual analogy over the fact that her porcelain bowl is branded 'Church.' But the analogies game...yes they did. And for your sake, because I love you, I'm going to spare you my hyperspiritual attitude.<br />
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To keep you siesta Mamas' fear at bay, yes I did go to the doctor. And yes, they did rule out strep and swine flu. Unfortunately, he never concluded anything else. Sweet.<br />
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But I am on an antiobiotic and I have returned to the land of the living, albeit only for a couple of hours at a time.<br />
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Other than that, HGTV is my very best friend when I'm awake. It requires me to say nothing (which makes my throat happy) and there are no food items or restaurants advertised during commercial breaks (which makes my tummy happy). Additionally, it requires zilch mental stimulation, so its rocking my present mental status.<br />
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I do miss you. I've wanted to read the blogs and connect with you in your Christmas seasons. It's always a tender, sometimes tough, but joyful time for me. I hope to return soon - with more words than my latest bah-humbug sick status.<br />
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Love y'all.Shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17090350558631041000noreply@blogger.com17