Tis the Season to LIVE

So, I am finally back, and considering I abandoned my poor blog for a while, I felt as if she needed a slight make-over. I am finally starting to understand how to find backgrounds after six months. This is where you clap for me, or let's take it Legally Blonde style and SNAP for me. Thank you. Yet, this new style makes my posts more skinny which also causes them to look as long as the Nile, so if you read these all the way through- you are a champ. I appreciate you.

Back to the point, I have finished my THIRD semester of college, survived finals, started Christmas Break, came home for a whopping two days, and then headed off to the most "magical place on Earth" for a week with the family. It was an absolute blast, and I will definitely add pictures and fun stories from our trip on the next blog. Although this post will deal with Disney World as well, I am going to steer away from Tower of Terror and Splash Mountain in the middle of December (oh yeah, you read that correctly) and share part of the "magic" I learned in the midst of my time with Mickey.

The second night we were in Disney, we were sitting at dinner, when I heard the all too familiar "Happy Birthday to You." Naturally, I looked up from my food to find the celebrated individual and to observe the smiles, laughter, and excitement of the special occasion. My eyes fell upon a baby, and I overheard it was her "first birthday." I was in awe of this precious baby who was at the start of her journey, and I got to experience one of the landmarks. Now, let's fast-forward to the end of my trip. I was boarding the last plane of the night, and as I was searching for my seat, a man dressed from head to toe in his Marine attire was sitting in the row behind me. I smiled at him as I took my seat, and our brief interaction ended. Yet, seconds after I sat down, the pilot announced that we had the honor of carrying the remains of a passing soldier and his escort was riding with us as well. The man behind me was the passing soldier's escort. My heart froze as I grasped the significance of this event. We were carrying an unknown soldier's body to his family. I couldn't help but wonder what his story was, what was his name, where did he live, and could he simply be my age? At the beginning of the week, I had encountered the beginning of a life, and at the end of my week, I encountered the conclusion of a short life.

So where's the magic? The magic is the knowledge that life is short. As I sat on the airplane, I wanted to go find that baby girl and hold her little hand and tell her that life is short, so appreciate every moment. Don't let one minute pass you by. Yet, the even bigger piece of magic, is the GIFT of life. This was the magic I received during my trip to Disney World. For one week, I lived the life. What does this mean? I spent an entire week with the three closest people in my life and the people I love. I made a new friend out of a stranger and shared part of my life with them. I ate two desserts a day without worrying if the jeans would fit the next morning. I acted like a five-year-old and laughed and laughed as I spun around in a tea-cup with my mother. I rode a carousel. I saw fireworks over water. I prayed with my family. I saw soldiers traveling home to their families after they served our country. I did a 195-free-fall ride with my dad. I rode Splash Mountain in the middle of December. I reminisced on the past and wondered about the future. I embraced the gift of life.

Therefore, it is not "tis the season to be jolly," but it is "tis the season to LIVE." Give yourself a Christmas present, and give yourself the gift of life. Live life, and live it abundantly. When I walked into church on Sunday morning, I found it ironic that the sermon was on the "abundant life" after my encounters the previous week. The preacher shared this verse.

"I have come that they may have life and that they may have it more abundantly." John 10:10.

Now, I had a blast with my family in Disney World, and I lived with enthusiasm. Yet, I can live with enthusiam because I have been blessed with the "abundant life." I have been loved and touched by a God who offers this abundance. Therefore, this Christmas season, I hope it is your season to live. If you have the gift of the abundant life, I hope you cherish that this holiday season and share it with others. If you have not opened the gift of the abundant life yet, I hope that it's the first present you tear open this Christmas. It's waiting on you.

-S

When You Wish Upon a Star, Your Dreams Come True

Tell me, TELL ME you are picturing JIMINY CRICKET in your head right now! Ahh. You probably sang the song in your mind too and then smiled because Walt Disney and his marvelous creations just have that effect on humans. I wrote this as the title because I WILL BE in the Magical World of Disney where "dreams come true" in exactly ONE WEEK. Eeek. I cannot wait. Finals will be completed. Stress will cease, and I will get to spend a week during "the most wonderful time of the year" with the three most special people in my life in a magical place that holds so many special memories from my childhood. Does it really get much better than that? I really do not think it does.

However, let me come back down from Cloud Nine and share with you why I also chose this as my title. So, this is finals week. Most students are harbored in an extremely quiet, hidden corner of a library with a pile of books, notes, study guides, and a world's supply of coffee. What is Shelby doing on the Saturday night before finals? Well, I finally did buckle down to type up my psychology notes, but I was jamming out to NSYNC in the process. It literally put me in the best mood, and I couldn't help but smile thinking about how these five boys completely dominated my ten-year-old heart and everyday life. Their poster was on my bedroom door. Their songs were constantly played in my room, belted out in the shower, and pretty much etched into my heart. Not to mention all of the NSYNC paraphenalia I had and still posess. No lie, I have an NSYNC lunchbox, ALL FIVE dolls, an NSYNC video about their tours, a signed picture, every CD they created (even the Bye, Bye, Bye single), and a picture of Lance Bass from when he was little. Yes, as I was sittng in Crosby tonight trying to study for the future, I found myself amazed by the past. I discovered how ridiculously blessed I was, and I discovered that dreams really had come true in my life.

Yes, as you can tell from the previous paragraph, I was slightly obsessed with NSYNC as a child. Well, thank my lucky stars, my mother got a new boss in the MIDST of my obsession. Would you like to know who her boss was? Lance Bass's dad- it would probably help my case to mention that Lance was my absolute favorite. So, I was instantly obsessed with my mother's boss and would spend hours upon hours in his office when I would have to go to my mom's work and ask about Lance, dance for him, just sit and admire the fact this was Lance Bass's father, and probably sang every single NSYNC song for him (like he hadn't heard them before). Well one day, this man made my ten-year-old dreams come true. Thinking about it now, I honestly wish I could go back and watch the look on my ten-year-old face when my mother told me one morning that I got to ride with Lance's parents to the airport to pick him up. I was in shock, I'm sure. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I still remember sitting in shock when the car door opened and my childhood love climbed into the seat beside me. I don't remember much, but I do remember the ONLY thing I could muster to say to him was "I saw in a magazine that you and Shania Twain were dating." Smooth, Shelby- real smooth. I look back now and shake my head and laugh in embarrassment, but at the time, it probably was a huge ordeal in my ten-year-old world. Also, as I look back and smile, I can't help but think a dream came true that day- even if it was just a boy-band obsession.

Yet, dreams are not just for ten-year-olds. Let's fast-forward seven years in Shelby's life. But before we do that, let's take a pit-stop at junior high. I can still picture sitting in a friend's room one night at a slumber party saying that I wanted a boy to throw rocks at my window one day. I am sure this conversation came after we watched A Cinderella Story/Legally Blonde/Sweet Home Alabama where the perfect man does all the right things and completely sweeps the girl helplessly off her feet. I am sure everyone else laughed at my idea- I mean it was so 1950s- but I didn't care. I was determined. It was my 13-year-old dream, and this one remained until high school.

It was Christmas Eve of my Senior year of high school. I had just started dating a boy three weeks before, but for some reason, he had been short in conversation the whole night and told me at 10:30 that he was going to sleep. I remember being so upset that he had been so short with me and was so confused that he was going to sleep so early on Christmas, so I just decided to go to sleep too. I was almost sound asleep when I heard a noise at my window. I figured it was just a branch hitting the window or my imagination, so I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Yet, just a few seconds later, I heard it again. Then, there was a third. By this time, I was out of my bed walking slowly to the window wondering what it could be. When I reached the window, I lifted up one of the blinds, and I could not believe what was staring back at me. A boy in sweatpants and a sweatshirt and an ear-to-ear familiar smile were outside of my window. I literally froze (all for about half a second). The next thing I knew, I was flinging my bedroom door open, sprinting through the living room and kitchen where my mom was "assisting Santa," trying to make sentences to explain to her why I was awake, why I was sprinting out of the house at close to midnight, and why for once in my life I was incapable of making sentences. I finally gave up, continued to sprint outside of the door, around the side of my house until I reached the side of the house where my window is. I can still see myself in my pajamas, standing in complete and utter shock, being 100% speechless for the first and only time in my life (if you know me, you should know this never, ever happens), and just staring at the boy who had just thrown rocks at my window. I seriously could not even speak. Yet, after he said Merry Christmas and handed me my Christmas present, I finally remembered the words "Thank you" and "Merry Christmas to you too." We talked for a few more minutes, but I honestly could not tell you what the conversation was about. I was the little girl sitting beside Lance Bass all over again with no idea what to say, and yet again, one of my cheesy teenage-dreams had come true. You might currently want to throw a block of cheese at me or say that it's a silly dream, but sit beside your childhood idol or let someone throw rocks at your window on Christmas Eve and then we'll talk.

So what is the point of my post and cheesy stories? I believe Jiminy Cricket's song about "when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true," but I don't believe he's referring to literal stars. No, I think Jiminy meant the "stars" in your own life. The people who care about you unconditionally. The people who shine for you and pour light into your life. The people who want you to cast your wishes upon them and make those wishes come true. You see, dreams of mine (although small) came true due to the "stars" in my life. I had people who cared about me tremendously and wanted to see me experience my "dreams." I had people who poured light into my life. I had "stars" for my wishes. Although I can only picture how excited I was about meeting Lance Bass, I am sure my mother, the biggest "star" in my life, enjoyed my reaction and providing that opportunity just as much if not more. Therefore, my hope and prayer is that you have "stars" in your own lives and that you constantly surround yourself with even more "stars." Surround yourself with the people who care about you the most and want to shine for you and to see you shine as well. Have a "star that you can wish upon" in your life. Furthermore, be a "star" in someone else's life. You never know when you might get the opportunity to make someone else's dream come true. So, always toss your wishes out to your "stars" and even more, be ready to catch the wish of someone else. Because when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.

-S

Saved by the Anne Frank of Oysters

Freshman year of college. I looked to my right. There was a girl in a sorority that I really liked and would be visiting during Rush just a few weeks later. I gulped, and ten thousand butterflies came rushing into my stomach. I looked to the left, and there was a girl who looked like Eva Mendes. The butterflies began to wave their white flags and play Taps inside Shelby's stomach. I was a goner. Just write "L-o-s-e-r" across my forehead because this was about to be a crash and burn display. I looked back in front of me at the man who was interviewing the three of us and anxiously awaited his question. It, of course, was the infamous, "If you could have dinner/ a conversation with any person in history, who would it be and why?" He excluded Jesus, who was my instant first answer, so now I was stumped. Unfortunately for me, we did not have ample time to discover the perfect answer. We simply went one after another down the line. If I could not mention Jesus, a president was the next answer that popped into my head. Well, obviously it popped into Eva Mendes's mind too because what did she say? Thomas Jefferson. I didn't hear her reasoning because I went into panic mode- mad at the girl for taking my answer and thinking Eva just needed to go back to Hollywood and wondering what in the WORLD I was going to say. She ended her probably perfect answer, and then all eyes went on me.
I took a deep breath, and then something along the lines of this came out at a nervous-Speedy Gonzales rate. "I would talk to Anne Frank. She was only a teenager, yet she had such a tremendous impact on the world. Even when she was facing a concentration camp and being persecuted, she said that, "Despite everything, I believe people are good at heart." I would like to talk to someone who was capable of having a perspective like that even in the midst of struggles."
When I finished, I think I looked to the ceiling in awe at the great, great beams of celestial light and wisdom beaming down on me and mouthed the words, "Thank you." On a serious note, I honestly don't have any idea where that answer came from, but I was definitely Saved by the Anne Frank.
I think that in life sometimes I took the Anne Frank concept a little too much to heart. I mean a teacher told me once that she knew I was going to be just like her. I was puzzled by her statement and asked what she meant. She proceeded to tell me that on her wedding day, right before she walked down the aisle, her mother told her that they did not have to go through with the service. They could cancel it all right now. She did not have to do this. Apparently, she was marrying a man with a "bad boy edge," and my teacher thought I was going to wind up in her shoes. Comforting, huh? I suppose in high school, I was drawn to the boys that had a little rougher edge. I will justify myself by saying that Nicholas Sparks and A Walk to Remember warped my mind, and I expected my own "Shane West" to leave his wild days behind and build me a telescope. Once again, this is a joke.
Although I would hate to be the bride who is marrying someone that my own mother is concerned about, I feel as if we have to take Anne's advice and apply it to our lives. We have to set everything else aside and look at the heart. More importantly, we have to believe that there is good in everyone and that no one is hopeless.
After all, a pearl does lie beneath the ugly, ordinary, and at-first-glance useless oyster shells.
In life, we are surrounded by oysters. Heck, you and I both are oysters in a sense. We all can be ugly and hurtful at times. We can all feel useless and be treated like we are by others. We can be written off as ordinary. We sometimes forget that we have the potential to bear something beautiful- to bear a pearl. So to all of you reading this, if you are feeling more on the oyster side and feeling ordinary, know that you are EXTRAORDINARY and have the potential to foster a priceless pearl. Likewise, we must take this approach as we observe others. I can only imagine what our world would be like if everyone had Anne Frank's perspective and if we looked past the oyster and saw the pearl. Wouldn't it be magical? We have to set aside stereotypes. We have to set aside barriers. We have to set aside comfort zones and judgment. We have to set aside the oyster shells.
So the next time you go to judge someone or write them off as an oyster, think again. Who knows, there could be a pearl lingering beneath their surface. Even better, it could be a pearl that was only meant for you to find. The next time you begin to see the oyster, I hope you are Saved by the Anne Frank of Oysters. After all, He saw past the depths of your oyster shells and saw the pearl. He offered you a saving grace. Extend it to others.
-S

"Big Mac is Coming to Town"

If you read the title, you probably think that it's a terrible slogan or jingle for McDonald's, but it is actually a phrase that I heard and said repeatedly as a child. I can see myself as an eight-year-old little girl laughing on the phone with my grandfather (or as we lovingly called him Mac Mac) when he would tell me to tell my dad that "Big Mac was coming to town." I can still see the twinkle in his eyes that also resides in my own father's brown eyes. I can still see the sticks of Juicy Fruit coming out of the top of his pocket that I would always reach for or that he would constantly disperse. I can still picture riding beside him and him telling you to "put on the air brakes " as he would multi-task and include the associated sound effects. I can still picture myself in his living room in Evergreen, Alabama, holding his hand as my dad prayed for him and hugging him good-bye for the last time. Yesterday marked the third year since my grandfather's passing, but there's not a day that goes by that my life is not affected by "Big Mac" somehow.

If I could reflect on one aspect of my grandfather's time on Earth, it would have to be his vivacity and zest for life. When "Big Mac came to town," everyone knew. He did not live life quietly. He was either instructing you on "air brakes," or he was "stealing your nose." He was extremely opinionated (I probably got this from him) and would easily tell you what he was thinking. Personally, I feel as if he owned stock in Waffle House, for this was a daily ritual in his life. No matter what arena or "town" my grandfather was in, his voice was heard.
One thing that stands out in my mind the most about my grandfather's funeral was a certain flower arrangement that he received. It was not a distant relative, a co-worker, a family friend, or someone who had been closely connected to my grandfather's or my family's lives. No, this flower arrangement was from the workers of my grandfather's beloved Waffle House. They had been touched by my grandfather's life on a daily basis over the years, and he had meant something to them. This was not a signifcant place for my grandfather where he spent the majority of his time. This was just a meager Waffle House where he got his coffee. It was a pit-stop in his day-to-day life. Yet, even at the pit-stops in my grandfather's life, he made a difference. Like I said, when "Big Mac Came to Town," everyone knew. Even the people at the pit-stops.

I will always cherish the memories that I had with my grandfather and the impact that he had on my life. They are irreplaceable and eternally sweet. Yet, it is almost sweeter to see the impact that my grandfather had on others- especially the people at the "pit-stops." I can only hope that when I leave this Earth and return home one day, that I have touched and impacted my own "Waffle House" and the people who simply provided me with my "cup of coffee" (whatever situation that may be). I hope that I live a life where even coffee breaks provide a place to leave a legacy. Mac Mac, I love you and thank you for living a life where when you came to town, it mattered, and when you came to town, you impacted everybody.

Therefore, I think that we should all live with the motto that "Big Mac is Coming to Town" (fill in your own name). We all need to live a life where when we come to town, everyone knows. We do not need to quietly go throughout life. We need to be heard. We need to make the pit-stops count. We all need to have our own "Waffle Houses." We all need to leave an impact on those we love and hold dear, but we also need to love and impact those who "pour our coffee," those who sit beside us in class, those who we work beside, those who we encounter but do not acknowledge, those who seem so simple yet need so much, those who go unnoticed, those who need to know that WE ARE IN TOWN.

"Therefore, GO and make disciples of all nations."- Matthew 28:19.

To me, this means: GO and let people KNOW YOU ARE IN TOWN. Do not stop until your voice is heard. Reach every part of "town." Even the "pit-stops." Let them know about me and that "I am coming BACK to town."

Do people know when you are "in town?"

Do you impact the pit-stops?

And most importantly, is your voice and life declaring who is ultimately coming back to town?

So, as you travel down the road of life, "put on your air brakes," don't miss the "Waffle Houses," and let people know who's in town.

Some Things Never Change

You know how people say there should be a theme song for their lives? Well, if there was a concept of a "theme picture" for my life, this would COMPLETELY encompass at least four days of my week. Actually, this picture is my future goal because this man fell correctly (if that's possible, maybe he's a professional goob too and knows how to minimize the pain) and did not nail his head like I have done THREE times now. Yep, you heard me. I just drew one more point on the scoreboard of Shelby's head-games with the floor. If you're keeping score at home it's Shelby's head- 0. Tile floors, brick floors, and bathroom sinks and possible towel rack- 3.
Before we get to the THIRD attack on Shelby's skull, let's get to the serious part. I should at least postpone you laughing at me as long as possible, right? Good, I thought so too. So last Tuesday, I was sitting in class when I got a text from my mom. It told me to call her as soon as I got out of class. Automatically, my stomach went into turmoil mode because my mother never has to tell me to call. I call her at least a THOUSAND times a day to discuss pathetically simple things that I should be beyond capable of handlling at twenty. The ladies at her work laugh at the amount of times that I call- it really is absurd. Back to the point, I was a nervous wreck. When I got out of class and called and asked my mother what was going on, she just casually says that her and my dad were at the hospital since three that morning. I know she said it this way to comfort me, but my goodness mother you weren't taking a stroll through the park to "One Fine Day!" (I am much more dramatic than my mother). She proceeded to tell me that they were at the hospital because my dad had woken up in the middle of the night with chest pains. They were running tests to make sure it wasn't his heart. She kept going, but I was already in another world of whirlwind.
I was in disbellief, and to be flat-out honest,I was a little angry. I thought to myself, "God, have you not seen my past month? Did you forget that I have already had my fair share of rain lately? Sure, I made it through the two concussions, the end of a two-year relationship, and then losing Mr. Miller, but THIS IS MY DAD. I can't handle this one. I made it through the others, don't let this happew now too. It is not fair." I was being selfish, and I was Peter who was hesitant and scared of sinking through the waters instead of listening to the One who was and is trying to teach me how to walk.
Thankfully, my dad's problem was not his heart, and my selfish desires were answered. Yet, God still had a lesson for me the next day. Wednesday, I was so excited because Allison, one of my best friends from high school, and Lindsey were staying with me. This sent me on a mission to find an air mattress that I could sleep on, so I took it upon myself to skip/run down the halls as I was searching. Well, unfortunately for me, my sweet neighbors didn't alert clumsy me that they had sprayed Raid in their doorway. Raid on a floor+Shelby running= a reaction that I am sure you can easily predict. Yes, as I ran into their room, I slipped on the Raid, and I successfully hit my head on the tile floors of Crosby.As I laid in the middle of my friends' door, I quickly pictured the male nurse with his female-function questions, and I quickly stood up and told everyone I was fine. No hospitals for me. But where was my sweet best friend?
I could hear her snorting and laughing from my room. If you know Allison, you appreciate this situation tenfolds more because when Allison laughs she has, well she has some issues. Yep, as my newer friends asked if I was ok, my old friend was sprawled out on my dorm-room floor( hadn't even moved to see if I was alive) rolling in laughter. Maidee Parker, my other friend, was standing in the hall between the two of us, shaking her head, not able to choose which one of us was more idiotic as she always had in high school with every other embarrassing situation we put her through. Although I had just humiliated myself for the 394985985 time in my life, I couldn't help but smile because some things never change. No matter how old we got, no matter how many miles we were apart, no matter what university we went to, no matter WHAT, I was still the clumsy girl that fell while Allison was the one who laughed hysterically and had her issues while Maidee Parker would run and hide or stand in the middle of us and do nothing but shake her head. In the midst of our crazy lives, we were still the same. Nothing had changed.
I believe that if I had listened a little closer to my other Friend the day before, He would have told me the same thing. He would have said, "Hey, I know it's been crazy the past month. I know you think I haven't been listening or haven't noticed. I know you're scared. I know you're tired, but why are you questioning me? I haven't gone anywhere. You're still the one who has to learn, and I am still the one who has to teach. You're still the one who doubts and fears the waves, and I am still the one reaching out my hand. You're still the clay, and I am still molding. You're still the one who sometimes gets off track, and I am still the one who will be here waiting every time. I will never forsake you or leave you. I love you."
Basically, He was saying, "Some Things Never Change."
Although it is comforting to know that my friends and I are still the same retarded people and nothing has changed, at the end of the day, it's a thousand times better to know that there is a God who loves you beyond reason, will never leave you, and will never quit reaching out His hand to you in the midst of storms. So as you go throughout your week and approach Thanksgiving, be thankful that "some things never change."

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."

Undone Puzzles and Stop Signs

Lucy moment for you before I begin my serious train. Yet, this Lucy moment has no relation to the rest of the post, but it's oh so good not to share. For those of you who don't know, I work at my school's radio (I tried out on a complete whim this semester and to my complete shock I made it). Whoever thought giving Shelby two hours a week on a live radio station to say whatever I wanted without supervision was not the wisest person on the block :). Obviously, I have entirely too much fun with it. So tonight, I was working and was reading that it was Matthew McConaughey's (one of God's most beautiful gifts to Earth) birthday, and I was going to share this with my listeners. It was talking about Matthew McConaughey's accomplishments along with his 1993 arrest for "playing the bongos nude and in the possession of cannabis." My first thought was "How stupid are the people who write these news clips? They obviously meant to say cannibals." Of course this made sense to me- bongos, nude people, and cannibals. It sounded like he was in an exotic rain forest country or something. So I confidently got on air and told a 40-mile radius that Matthew McConaughey was arrested for nudity while playing the bongos and in the possession of cannibals. Cannibals. I was proud of my interesting news clip and turned around to see my boss and another grad student (both are boys) staring at me with mischievous yet confused looks on their faces. I asked what was wrong, and they, in return, asked if the sheet said cannabis? I said yes but that clearly was a mistake and meant to say cannibals. They then proceeded to tell me that cannabis was another word for weed. So instead of having weed, I told the radio world that Matthew was with cannibals. Aren't I just the yellow in the crayon box? I fully blame my mother and my school district for not properly educating me on drugs. I mean Shelby does mean "sheltered village" for a reason. (No lie- that's the meaning of my name). I feel like a lot of you are probably laughing right now- and at my expense- I guess I can swallow that horsepill.

So, that Lucy moment took a lot more space than I thought so my serious train might just have to be a caboose instead of the Polar Express (Christmas reference woo hoo!). Back to the picture. I feel like this has been my life lately. I am constantly on the go, constantly trying to run my own life, constantly asking questions like WHY and HOW, constantly trying to stop things from happening, constantly analyzing every teensy-weensy situation, constantly praying for change and for things to go my way, CONSTANTLY TRYING TO PUT THE PUZZLE TOGETHER WHEN ALL I CAN SEE IS ONE PIECE. And God throughout all of it, is screaming

STOP! The light is RED. You have to STOP.

Stop trying to run your own life because I am waiting to guide you. Stop asking questions because I am going to explain it all one day. Stop trying to prevent things from happening because I have a plan and a good plan at that. Definitely stop analyzing because you will never figure it all out. STOP TRYING TO PUT THE PUZZLE TOGETHER WHEN ALL YOU CAN SEE IS ONE PIECE BECAUSE I AM THE ONE WHO LAID IT ALL OUT AND CAN SEE THE ENTIRE THING. I know you don't understand your current piece, but the whole picture would not be complete without it. I gave you all the right pieces. I don't make mistakes.

This is my life right now. Do I have it all together? Heck no. Have I been pedal-to-the-metal trying to run my own life. Sure have. Yet, lately, I have witnessed the extremely challenging yet ultimately beautiful message of God saying,

"Be still, and know that I am God." -Psalms 46:10

So, as hard as it might be, I am leaving the puzzle undone, and I am learning how to stop.