Written Wednesdays

So, as I have hit a gargantuan writing block barricade, I have been stalking other blogs profusely and have found a neat idea behind a few blogs. Letters. We all love letters right? I am all for the convenience of our technologically-advanced world of text messages, e-mails, phone calls, etc., but there is something mysteriously romantic, unifying,delicate, and downright genuine about the conglomeration of pen and paper and an envelope in a mailbox. Although not the first time on this blog (I wrote a letter to myself once before), I thought I would implement the "letter theme" again (even though these are not real letters seeing that they are being typed behind my computer screen and not written on my stationery that needs to be put to use more often).  I can't think of two better people to write to than my parents. So without further ado, Let's give this a go, shall we?

Dear Frito and Pasty (as my childhood friends so lovingly branded you years ago),

            Words could never adequately describe how thankful I am for the two of you and all that you have so selflessly done for me the past twenty-one years.  You are, without a doubt, the two strongest people I know. As I have journeyed through life and my spiritual walk, I have always heard about possessing a Servant's heart and lifestyle, tried to discover what this truly looked like, and have been blind to the fact that the definition of this attitude was right before my eyes and guided me on a daily basis. Your compassion for people and the daily sacrifices you make to help others never ceases to amaze me. Thank you for dealing with my dramatic monologues and daily phone calls of my "crazy ideas." Thank you for supporting me with my second major change at the end of my Junior year of college. Thank you for encouraging me to be the "bigger person" in life while also teaching me how to notice and appreciate the "little things" we miss/take for granted on a daily basis. Thank you for understanding that silence is not one of my virtues and lending me your ears for two decades now. Thank you for setting the bar so high that I will never, ever reach it but will strive throughout life to get to the halfway mark. Mom, thank you for being the kindest, yet toughest, person I know. You really are not human. You are Wonder Woman in so many dimensions and never let the weight of the world keep you down. Thank you for being the resounding voice of reason in my life (even if I sometimes idiotically tune it out) and for giving me such an example of a God-fearing, beautiful woman. Dad, thank you for being the encourager in my life, sending me off to run the bases in search of my dreams, but always pointing me in the direction that leads home. Thank you for embedding the power of prayer into my life and for showing me true dedication to family and faith. Yet, thank you is an inadequate understatement to the two of you. You are one of the greatest blessings in my life, and I look forward to the lessons and years in the future. I love you.

-Shelby

Doler Days

"The only woman I ever loved, I married."- Mr. Doler

Looking at the picture sweeps a bittersweet smile across my face. I miss that smile already. Being back in Oxford and not going to the Veteran's Home is odd. For the past two and half years, I have moseyed down the hallways searching for Mr. Miller and Mr. Doler and their vibrant smiles, and when I would finally lock eyes with them as they were wheeling towards me, I would instantly know that I was learning a lot more than how to play a game of dominoes. I was learning about life. I was learning about love. The roots and depths of companionship. The power of one simple smile. Ultimately, I was learning about myself as Mr. Doler and Mr. Miller helped knock down the domino walls of my heart on a weekly basis and poured their lives into mine. If you have read my blogs from last year, you know that I lost Mr. Miller last November. Last month, Mr. Doler returned home as well. So today, this post is dedicated to my sweet Mr. Doler and the past year I got to spend with you. I love you.

I remember one day that I was visiting Mr. Doler, he told me about journalism students from Ole Miss that were interviewing some of the veterans. He was being interviewed, and as we played dominoes, we talked about some of the questions that he was asked and the story of his life that he gave. When the article was published, Mr. Doler gave me a copy, and there was one line that sent my hopeless-romantic, head-in-more-than-the-clouds-more-like-fairytale, female heart reeling. In the article, he had answered a question, and he stated, "The only woman I ever loved, I married." I am pretty sure I jumped out of my chair and hugged him as soon as I read that line. This also had deeper sentiment to me because I cannot tell you how many times in conversation Mr. Doler would randomly interject "My wife and I would have been married almost 55 years if she hadn't passed away." Each time I would smile like I had not heard this tidbit for the 500th time, and each time it would always touch my heart like it was the first time he said it. Although there are many conversations and memories with Mr. Doler that I remember and cherish, I believe this is the piece of advice that I will hold the most dear from my domino friend.

The only woman I ever loved, I married. I know what you're thinking. Come on, Shelby, you've said that three times now. We get it- your mind is frolicking on the set of Sleepless in Seattle or rowing in a boat with Noah in The Notebook- what's the real point?

The real point and lesson to take from my friend is that in our lives, we do not fight and pursue the things we love sometimes. We let all sorts of obstacles hinder our paths- resistance, fear, pride, judgment, others' opinions, doubt, selfishness, (fill in the blank with your excuse), and we watch things and people we love slip through our lifeless fingers like grains of sand. Instead of almost making a 50th year marker, we sometimes look back on our lives with regret and hear bells of what-ifs echoing through our minds. Mr. Doler did not let the world get in his way- when he found the ONLY girl he loved, he married her. When the country he loved was in need, he stepped up to the plate and served. He lived a life fighting for his loves. I remember one day shortly before he died, he told me he hoped that he made it to 90 (he would have been 90 next month). Mr. Doler, I wish you had made it to 90 because I know you would have lived this month with more love than most people have in a lifetime.

So there's the challenge to me and you from that ridiculously adorable face pictured above. Find the things, the people, the beliefs, the places, the relationships, the dreams, the goals, the passions in your life that you LOVE and "marry" them. Fight for them "for better, for worse." Carry them throughout your life "till death do you part." Because when you're 89 and you look back on the years of life, isn't that what you want it to be filled with- love and all of its indescribable experiences?

I love you Mr. Doler. I know that you'll be waiting there one day, and I can't wait to see you again and only hope I can tell you that I lived a life that was full of fighting for love.

A Shoulder-Dusting, Pizza-Cutting Love

Last Sunday night, I sat in a booth at Newks, tired, stressed, confused, and not looking forward to the chaotic week ahead. I figured I would eat my sandwich, have a good conversation with my friends, and then be submersed back into the chaos when I got back to my dorm. Yet, God finds you in the most ironic of places, even from across a cafe. I was minding my own business most likely rambling about how I was going to consume by body weight in candy the next day (Valentine's Day) when an older lady caught the corner of my eye. She feebly stood up, got out of her side of the booth, and stood over a person's plate and began to cut their pizza. I was drawn to the woman instantly as she seemed so weak yet continued to serve this person whom I assumed was a small child. When she was finished, she sat back down, and then I saw that this was not a small child but an old man- her husband. My heart instantly melted (if you know anything about me, you know I have an infatuation with old people especially old couples), and I smiled to myself as I returned to my sandwich and friend's conversation. Yet, a few minutes later, one of my friends randomly stood to get up, so naturally I looked up to see what she was looking at. It was the old woman again. She was pulling the man up to his feet, and she began to zip his jacket and brush off his shoulders. By this time, my heart was completely a pile of goo in my chest as I tried not to tear up which I succeeded in then but completely SOBBED later when I retold the story to a friend. God had sent me a beautiful reminder of a true and powerful love and at a perfect timing.

For in the end, that's what we all want in life- a true love. A love that serves. A love that "cuts your pizza" when you can't find the strength. A love that pulls you to your feet and helps you stand. A love that dusts your shoulders off. A love that conquers time. A love of a best friend who zips up your jacket and protects you from the icy winds of the world. As I watched this precious couple interact, I couldn't help but hope that one day I had a best friend that I could cut pizza for when I was sixty-seven years old or a best friend who would help me get out of a booth because God and I both know that I am most likely going to be as clumsy then as I am now. Although I am most certainly not in that part of my life, I couldn't help but smile as I realized I had my own unique Valentine and "shoulder-duster" in my current life.

When God prepared to send me into the world, I fully believe that He knew that I was going to be one of the clumsiest, most common-sense deprived, most stubborn, and most outspoken of His children, so He had to make sure that I had the closest thing to a saint for a mother. He did just that. I was blessed with the most amazing mother in the world (I am sorry to all of the mothers reading this- I am sure you are wonderful as well but you obviously haven't met my mother), and if you have had the honor of meeting my mom at some point in your life, you know that she is unlike any other person you have ever met and that your life is better with her in it. Therefore, this post is dedicated to the woman (whom I swear is an angel in disguise) that has been the pizza-cutting, shoulder-dusting love in my life for almost twenty years now.

First of all, my mother has been the pizza-cutting love in my life more than any other person I have ever encountered. Frieda McKenzie means selfless and service in the truest form. Even in times of weakness (which are rare), my mother is still "cutting pizza" for someone else. She always has a smile on her face and an outstretched, open hand. On another aspect, my mother has an indescribable gift to take a huge pizza and cut it down into smaller pieces. She takes the huge obstacles in your life and breaks them down until you can conquer them. When my mom gets the phone calls from the drama queen on the brink of anxiety attacks and mental melt-downs over a test or meager assignment, she brings me back down to reality and shows me my huge pizza-problem is just a small piece that I can handle. When she gets calls from the arsonist who just wants to blowtorch someone's car, she reminds me that there's a whole pizza beyond the bad, little piece I am dealing with right now. When she gets calls from the dreamer who has her 343434588th crazy idea, she laughs at each one yet reminds me that it's your pizza to design and to chase after the toppings I want.

Besides her servant-heart, the other arena that my mother completely dominates is forgiveness. If there's one phrase that will always resonate with my mother, it is "Kill them with Kindness" to which one of my friends once replied, "I'm trying Mrs. Frieda but they don't ever die." My mother has an incomparable capacity for forgiveness, and when I find myself in a mistake, she is always there to "dust off my shoulders." When I have trouble forgiving others, she is there to show me (and a lot of the time prod me) how to extend grace and dust their shoulders off as well. For you see, my mother doesn't see the dust on the shoulders, she sees the heart. She sees the joy. She sees the rainbow in every storm. She sees the diamond in the rough. She wipes away the dust and helps you shine. She dusts off your shoulders and sends you out into the world as a better person.

I accepted a long time ago that I will never be like my mother. This is the mom who found a way for me to not only meet my childhood idol multiple times but to ride in a car with him. This is the mom who still holds my hand even as an almost twenty-year-old everytime I encounter a needle. This is the mother who drove 180 miles in right under two hours just to watch me while I slept after my concussions. This is the mother who still let me get my drivers license after I turned into incoming traffic at the busiest intersection in Brandon:). I could strive my whole life to be half the woman, the servant, the giver, the heart, the friend, the encourager, the provider, and most importantly the example of Christ that she is, and I would never even get close. Yet, I can smile knowing that I received a blessing that I never ever deserved. I can smile knowing that I am the child of the most amazing woman. I can smile knowing that my life has been molded and guided by such a wonderful and beautiful individual. I can smile knowing that I have impossibly large footprints to fill but that I will chase after full-heartedly for the rest of my life. I can smile knowing that I am related to a woman who "kills with kindness" and has impacted hundreds of lives and continues to do so on a daily basis.

I can smile because I have the unconditional love of someone in my life who cuts every pizza and dusts off every shoulder.

ALOHA

ALOHA. I have been absent from the blogging world for a few weeks now, so I am starting off my new post with a terribly cheesy pun. Just go with me. Aloha- hasn't it been stated before that it is the Hawaiian lingo for hello AND goodbye? Well, if this is true, then ALOHA would be the perfect one-word description for New Years as we say farewell to one year and warmly welcome the clean slate and fresh pavement of a new one. So ALOHA 2010 and ALOHA 2011. Extremely cheesy, but you know you smiled, or you at least had a sympathetic shake of your head for me. So thank you. (SPOILER ALERT: THIS IS LONG.)

As everyone routinely reflects on the previous year when New Years rolls around, I have looked back on the past year and have struggled to find a way to sum it all up. Hence, this is why the post is January 8th not January 1st. Yet, I finally have found the most accurate nutshell for my 2010, and this is what my nutshell would be:

"And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1 Cor. 13:13.

I say this because when I look back at the past year of my life, my year was full of change and full of growth, but the one factor that never diminished or changed was love and love on so many aspects and levels. 2010 was permeated with love, and this love came in the form of an eye of a storm, a flashlight, and a maid. (I would love to see half of your faces right now because I am sure some of you are completely in bewilderment, but I do have a train of thought here- so at least get on the caboose.)

Love as a an eye of a storm- This love is the description that has encompassed my friends for the past year. Whether it was new friends in May made through the chaos of changing my major and having to take summer classes or the friend since Kindergarten that spent five hours in a hospital with me when I was scared with two concussions in October, my friends' love the past year has been the eye of a storm. No matter what chaos or bad time I was experiencing, they were the peace and the calm wedged in the middle of it. From being a shoulder to cry on to a card that had Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson's picture pasted in it (weird obsession that no one but a few people would understand) to being locked in a bathroom with a hair straightner as a weapon when I was convinced someone was inside of Tara's condo, my friends have truly made every storm the past year seem like a rain shower and have danced with me in the rain.

Love as a flashlight- This is the love of my family. The past year has been full of changes for me, but they have always been there to shed their guiding light on every situation and have been a source of light in my daily life. My parents supported me in May when I decided to change my major on a whim- even when I had absolutely no idea where that was going to take me. My mom answered the 3934545 phone calls in the spring when I was about to have anxiety meltdowns over chemistry tests. In the fall, when I had a completely broken heart, my mother was there with a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, and of course boot shopping :). When I had two concussions in a span of two days, my mom drove like a maniac and brightened my day even when I was scared. In November, when I was holding Mr. Miller's hand while he was in the hospital, my sister was on the other side of the bed holding his other hand. No matter what, my family has always and will always be the light in my life.

Love as a maid- Last and certainly not least, the love from a Heavenly Father has been the maid in my life the past year. I have truly learned this past year that no matter how messy you make a situation, He will always clean it up. When the "spaghetti comes rolling down," He'll clean up every lost noodle. When your heart breaks, he reassembles every piece. He takes your trash out so to speak. He makes the ugly beautiful and makes the dirty clean. He washes out every stain. He is the example of a servant heart.

So that is what I have grasped from 2010. Love and its abundance. Heartbreak hurts. Death brings grief. Uncertainty reaps fear. Yet, love conquers all. It is the eye of the storm. It is the light to a darkened path. It is the maid who takes away your mess. IT is the GREATEST of these. I wish you all a happy new year and a 2011 that is full of love.

The Hand

"I thank my God everytime I remember you."-Phil. 1:3

When my sister was in college, I always heard about Mr. Miller, the man at the Veteran's Home she went to play dominos with each week. Yet, soon, Megan was graduating, and it was my turn to venture off to college which meant I inherited domino days with Mr. Miller. I was only blessed with one short year with Mr. Miller, but the silly man completely stole my heart. I still remember my sister warning me at Christmas, that when I left for the break, he would most likely cry. Well last year, before he could even shed one tear, I was sobbing my eyes out. I never knew you could become so attached to someone in just a few months, but it happened. He was no longer Megan's Mr. Miller. He was MY silly man and a major highlight of my week. Mr. Miller was a gift from God that I did not deserve, and I am so thankful for the past year I got to share with him. Today, my sweet gift and friend returned home, but a part of Mr. Miller will always be with me. So, Mr. Miller, this post is for you. I "love you more than you know."

For the past five days, I have sat by my sweet friend's hospital bed and watched him fight for his life. I have cried. I have laughed. I have prayed. I have smiled. I have even growled at the man (reference to previous post). Yet, most of all, I held Mr. Miller's hand. Whenever you were near Mr. Miller, he always stretched out his hand for you to hold. It has always been that way, and this week was no different. So with tears in my eyes yesterday, I watched as Mr. Miller stretched his shaking hand out for me to hold. Even when he was weak and near the end of his battle, he still stretched out his hand for me to hold.
I held his hand. I held the hand that taught me to play dominos. I held the hand that always waved goodbye as I drove away from the nursing home. I held the hand that gave the most uplifting and sincere hugs a person can receive. I held the hand that had held my sister's hands at one time. I held the hand that always poked me when he told a joke. I held the hand that once selflessly and courageously fought in a war way before my time. I held the hand that proposed to his wife of over fifty years after he had only known her two months. I held the hand that had witnessed 83 years of life and impact. I held the hand that was always waiting for me when I got to the Veteran's Home every week. I held the hand that taught me how to love.
Because in the end, that is what Mr. Miller was- he was a bold and brilliant example of love. Mr. Miller loved with everything he had. He gave you his heart and asked for nothing in return, but you couldn't help but lose yours to him along the way. You did not leave Mr. Miller without saying "I love you," and no phone conversation was complete unless he told you a thousand times. When you visit Mr. Miller, you are told how sweet you are, how pretty you are, how much you mean to him. He lays it all out there on the table for you and beats you mercilessly at dominos at the same time. Mr. Miller constantly told me that "83 and 19 weren't that far apart" and always asked me what was my ring size? He had the biggest sparkle in his eyes when he saw you, and his smile instantly brightened your day. You were his sole priority and attention the entire time you were with him. I can still the twinkle in his eyes, and I can still hear the way he would always say "Bye doll."
Yesterday, I held Mr. Miller's hand for the last time. Yet, this time, the twinkle was gone, and I had to fight to pull out that beautiful smile. Yet, with time, I got that beautiful smile out of him. Right before I left, I looked my sweet, silly man in the eyes and told him I loved him. With all the strength he had, Mr. Miller uttered out "Love you so much. Love you more than you know." Then, as tears began to fill my eyes, I watched as he lifted my hand to his mouth and tried to kiss it one last time. I was the last person that Mr. Miller talked to. Even when he was dying, Mr. Miller loved with all that he had. I wish that I could live half the life that Mr. Miller did, and I only hope that even when I am dying, I can love with all that I have. Mr. Miller told me last week that he did not know what he had done to deserve someone like me, but Mr. Miller, you are completely and totally wrong. I have no idea why God thought I deserved such a beautiful gift, but I am eternally grateful that I received a year with you.
So Mr. Miller, thank you for the hand that taught me how to love. Thank you for loving until your literal last moments here on Earth. Thank you for a smile that constantly made my days so much brighter and that will be permanently etched into my heart. Thank you for the beautiful life you lived that impacted so many. When the right day comes, please help the right guy figure out the ring size like you always wanted, and I only hope he has half the capacity of love that you did. Know my life will forever be changed because of your presence and that a part of you will always be in my heart. Know that I cannot wait to reach those gates and see your smiling face. (I know you'll be there waiting). Know I am ringing a wretched, wretched cowbell for you whenever I find one. Know that our picture is now beside my bed like it was yours.

Most importantly, know that I "love you more than you'll ever know."

Slaps on the Wrist, Blessings,and Reason

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under Heaven." -Ecc. 3:11

This is the constant echo of my day today, and it has always been one of my favorite Bible verses. It says to me that everything happens for a reason, and the past five days of my life have proclaimed this verse in so many different ways. So this is what the blog is about today. I hope you can find inspiration from it and accept it in your own lives as well.

1) Friday morning, I was in the shower and started feeling dizzy. Yet, I am stubborn as a mule and HAD to wash out the shampoo and conditioner. So I finished washing my hair, and when I stepped out of the shower, my world was literally SPINNING. I reached for the door, but instead, I fell into the door, knocked our shower rack off of the door, sat on the ground, heard my roommate yelling my name, and I assume I tried to stand up. The next thing I know, I am waking up underneath my sink in my bathroom (I obviously hit my head either on the sink, the towel rack, or the good old tile floor on my way down and completely knocked myself out),wondering how I got there, and looking down to realize I am stark naked and fully exposed to anyone who opened the door. It is never a delightful situation to realize you passed out, to not know how long you have been out, and to be laying NAKED for the whole world to see "Shelby's Anatomy." I wearily crawled to the door, and when I opened it, my roommate was staring in confused concern. I immediately burst into tears because I knew where I was going. I was going back to the hospital.

I cried the entire way. I must confess, I wrote all about giving your messy plate of spaghetti to God, but I was not ready to hand over my plate anymore. I could not practice what I was preaching (or blogging). I was not ready to accept the possibility that something might be wrong. I was not ready to say, "Hey, I trust you with everything. Here is my completely broken and terrified plate." I honestly don't think I have ever been so scared in my entire life. As I sat in complete fright and anger and confusion in the ER for the second time in two days, I looked over at the walls, and this is what I saw hanging on the wall,

"My help cometh from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and Earth."

It was a huge slap on the wrist. God was yelling out to me in the middle of my storm, "Hey, chill out. Have you forgotten who I AM? I am right there with you. I made Heaven and Earth, and you think I can't handle a clumsy girl knocking herself out on a bathroom floor? I got this."

There is a reason that sign was in that emergency room.


2)

There is a reason I was placed in myKindergarten class fourteen years ago. I think over the years, we fabricated the story into an event that most likely didn't happen, but according to our story, I walked up to a little girl in a sailboat dress and asked her to play with me. She responded by slamming my fingers in the toy box and introduced herself as Maidee-Parker. Ever since, Maidee-Parker has been a dominant figure throughout my life. I've always heard God sends you the people you need in life, and He definitely did this through my sweet Kindergarten friend. I know this picture is goofy, but I felt that it represents our friendship. If we have been friends for fourteen years, of course it is common knowlegde we have had bumpy times, but when you are Maidee Parker's friend, she puts you in her box and does not let you go. She protects you and fights for you when you can't find the strength to do it for yourself. For the past five days, Maidee Parker fought for me when I was scared out of my mind. She comforted me; she made me laugh. She cried with me. She stayed in the ER two different times for over five and a half hours with me. She reassured me. She put me in her box. There is a reason Maidee-Parker was put into my life.

3) There is a reason God made love the strongest emotion, and there is a reason He gave love hand-in-hand with free-will. Love was made into the strongest emotion because it conquers everything. It conquers walls. It conquers burden and baggage. It conquers others' opinions and cast judgments. It conquers trial. It conquers fear. It conquers selfishness. It conquers pride. It conquers the heart. But, there's a but. Isn't there always a but? Love comes and conquers at free-will. One must find love on their own terms and has to enlist in its numerous battles on their own desire. They cannot be drafted into battle. It's a choice. God set up this kind of love when He sent His love to conquer the World. In a sense, He held a boomerang in His hand. We were the boomerang. He threw us out into the world and knew that if we discovered His unfailing love, we would come back to Him. Likewise, when you love, you're throwing a boomerang. You don't know if it will come back, but if you have love, you have to set it free no matter what the consequences are. If love is found along the way, it will come back. That's the free will of love- the course it takes.
So what have I learned from two concussions, a fear that I have never experienced before, a friendship that most would envy, a rough weekend, and a God that calls out to me through it all?

That there is definitely a reason for everything.

A Lasting Love.

I seriously feel like I have been on a Lucy/Stupid-train ever since I returned to Oxford. I am going to blame it on the euphoria of being back in my beloved secondary home, but it is beginning to get a tad bit ridiculous. I have said the most off-the-wall absurdities lately- including the one I am about to share. If you know me well, you know I am obsessed with old people and the obnoxiously cute things that they just naturally do. My heart seriously turns into mush when I see an old couple like the picture above. Well, today I was riding in the car with Tate, and we passed by the Square where I saw an elderly couple walking down the street. My heart began its pitter-patter, and I proclaimed,

"Oh my gosh, they are so precious. I want to be like them when I am that old."

Normal reaction right? Maybe a little over-dramatic, but still normal. Well, apparently the money my mother shells out for my contact lenses is going to schmuck because of Tate's reply:

"Shelby, that is two men...."

I tried. Who knew the man just really liked colorful plaid shirts? So, I guess I should say they were precious friends.

My whole point here though is that I saw (or what I thought I saw) a lasting love. A love that had conquered all. A love that persevered in times of trouble, rejoiced in times of triumph, danced in times of celebration, and lasted throughout all of these. The kind of love that changes your life completely.

Although my "cute couple" turned out to be two old men, I was introduced to the true form of "lasting love" this past week as well. As I was reading my Bible, I came across this verse:

"By this, all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have LOVE for one another."- John 13:35.

This is THE lasting love. Our lives are molded and designed to carry out one simple task- LOVE. We are simply asked to love one another. (Yet, this can sometimes be a great challenge- but nonetheless, a wonderfully powerful one). This verse suggests that people will know we are HIS by our LOVE.

And what kind of love were we given that we are now asked to give?

A lasting love. A love that conquers all. A love that perseveres in times of troubles, rejoices in times of triumph, dances in times of celebration, and lasts throughout all of these. A love that changes our lives completely.