Humility in Houston

So the past month has been CRAZY. From tests kicking in to Spring Break to Houston and now back to Oxford, I have been pretty busy the past few weeks. Not to mention a few big decisions we'll get to in a few posts from now. I have so many funny/awkward stories to share, but as the title says, I found humility in Houston that struck a chord in my heart and is going to resonate until I address it.

This past weekend, I went to Houston to visit the boyfriend, and the last night I was there we went to an absolutely fabulous dinner here:

REPEAT AFTER ME: SHRIMP CHIPPEWA. (I promise you will thank me later.) Back to the story. So  here I am in this extremely nice restaurant (thank you, Andrew) just soaking it all in (along with my entire plate of food and of course I ate more bread than the boyfriend). So as I am waiting on my food, I can't help but observe the family seated closest to us. They appeared to be an overall happy family. They smiled. They laughed at all the right times. They were celebrating a birthday and snapping pictures. They all had their own plate of dessert (my kind of family). Yet, after a few minutes had passed, the conversation turned to religion. I was most likely inhaling an entire loaf of bread when I heard one say,

"I am just who knows/who cares when it comes to religion."

Now, it could have been the excessive amount of butter I had just consumed that caused it, but when I heard this statement, my heart froze. I looked up at the family who had just made my heart smile to now rest my eyes on a moment of pure heartbreak. For someone who seemed so composed from the outside, I couldn't imagine what was roaming in the depths of his heart. I could not imagine someone who, without hesitation, could write religion off as "who knows, who cares." I hurt for the life who hadn't been touched by the power of a prayer. For the soul who hadn't felt the grace of a new day. For the feet that helplessly tried to tread on waters that would soon rise above their head. For the heart who hadn't accepted the most pure and unconditional love. In that moment, I found humility in Houston.

There are two things I think we can take from this story. Just as there are no giants too big to be conquered, there is also no action to small to make a difference in a life and God's will. It does not take traveling to the other side of the world to find a hurting heart. It does not take leaving your town. It merely takes opening your eyes and ears to the people around you. The people you encounter on a daily basis. The people who daily whisper the troubles of their hearts but that we so selfishly tune out because of our own agendas or worries. As much as my heart broke for the man at the table beside me, my heart broke even more because I have not been as aware of the "who knows, who cares" around me. The second thing I think we can take from this is to live by the man's statement. Who Knows, Who Cares. Our goal in our lives should be to live a life where people know who and what we live for, and through our actions, they should know Who cares about them.

Happy Monday!!

Stormchasers

Once again, I have fallen off the radar for over a month after I pinky-promised not to, and once again, I have surrendered to my fickle ways and changed my blog name yet again. Yet, I think this one is here to stay. Because I honestly couldn't picture a better way to describe my life. Don't get me wrong- I am your typical imperfect human who makes countless mistakes on a daily basis. I am a college student who really has no clue what I am going to do with the so-called "real world" and future. I am your stereotypical girl who can be overdramatic, worry endlessly, and ride the roller coaster called Emotions. I have days where when it rains, it pours. HOWEVER, at the end of the day, when all of the chaos settles, I could not be more blessed. I have the most wonderful family in the world- still trying to figure out what I did to deserve them. I have the greatest friends I could ask for and who each make life all the more beautiful. Most importantly, I have a God who promises to hold my hand as I walk out onto the waves of life. At the end of the day, that is all that matters, and at the end of the day, I could not ask for more. THAT, my friends, is the abundant life, and oh, how sweet it really is.

So, now an update on my life would be good. School is kicking back in full swing, and over the past month, I have moved back to Oxford, traveled to Tuscaloosa, gave a speech, and helped with Alabama's recruitment, back to Oxford, transformed into a "big girl" with suit and all to attend my first "Meet the Firms," flown for the first time by myself, and biggest shock of all- actually woke up to eat breakfast one morning at the House.

Now back to the core of my post. This past weekend (Labor Day weekend) I flew out to Houston to see the boyfriend, and long story short, I had an absolutely wonderful weekend. Three highlights of the weekend 1) I found SMORES in a restaurant. S-M-O-R-E-S. (If you know me, you understand). 2). I struck a gold-mine of a negotiation with the boyfriend and told him that if he took me to a Forever 21 that I would watch the Arkansas football game that night (if that's not the real "Great Compromise," I'm not sure what is) and...

3).Let's just say I was one happy girl :)

Now after my continuous ramble, let's try once again to get to the point. So Saturday night, we were going to Vic and Anthony's in Houston, and when we pulled into the parking spot, it randomly starts raining. Being the girl, I wanted to wait it out, and being the boy, he just wanted to get out before it "got worse." So, in DRESS AND HEELS (new shoes at that), I start running in the rain towards this very nice restaurant. Right as I am passing the HUGE window display of the restaurant I am about to walk into, I trip and fall flat on my hands and knees, in a dress and heels, in the middle of the streets of Houston, in the middle of a rainstorm. Classic, right? Since this is my everyday life, I have learned to laugh, which is what I did on my hands and knees in the midst of a puddle in this street of Houston as a stranger offered me a helmet (no lie), Andrew grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet, and we kept running yet again in the rain. To add to the comedy show, as we finally reach the restaurant door, it magically stops raining. Great, great timing. So needless to say with my wet-dog hairstyle and scraped knees and his shirt completely soaked to his body, we were a sight to see walking in for our reservation. (We literally laughed out loud about this at least five different times during the course of the dinner.)

So what's my point? My point is that in life, you need Stormchasers. You need people who are going to "run in the rain" with you and aren't detered by the thunder. You need people who are going to lift you to your feet during the storms of life and hold your hand through it all. You need people who are going to stay with you until the rain magically stops. You need to know that no storm is too large. Most importantly, you need to know that there is a Stormchaser who can calm every storm.
"And He awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, "Peace! Be Still!" And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm." Mark 4:39.

Update from the Waves

I ABSOLUTELY cannot believe that it has been TWO MONTHS since I have blogged. I am in shock. I am sorry to all of you who so kindly read my ramblings and crazy ideas, and I promise I will not neglect you again. Pinky promise, at that! First and foremost, Happy Mother's Day! I would dedicate this post to my mother, but if you scroll down two posts to "Shoulder Dusting Kind of Love" you can read all about the wonderful individual who I am beyond blessed to call my mother/best friend/cheerleader/backbone, (every other word that represents strength, grace, beauty, and kindness). Now, back to the present. SO much has happened since I blogged last. I could write novels about all that has mingled its way into the paths of my life, but I will try to give you all the nutshell version.

If you read my post in January about "Stepping Out of the Boat and Onto the Waves," you know that a few months ago I was dealing with letting go of my stubborn "control" over my life and the front of the boat and then stepping out onto the uncertainty of the waves and letting Him guide me. Well, here is my update from the waves. Letting go of the boat/my "perfect navigation"/stepping out onto the waves was the BEST thing. It's funny how when you try to paint your pretty, ideal picture of your life the way you want it, God laughs and hands you a Mona Lisa compared to what you helplessly and ignorantly tried to create. Since I have been out in the waves, God has truly taught me how to "ride the waves" and appreciate the tides He stretches out to your grasp and even the tides He pulls back in.

The past four months, I have truly seen God's presence in my life. He opened doors-which allowed me to serve and do something I love-that had been closed in the past. He has presented new and exciting opportunities in my life that I would never even imagine and could only dream of (i.e., I was asked to speak to a group of girls because someone actually liked my crazy ramblings on here- that was extremely humbling/a cherished compliment/ one of my ultimate dreams). He has also sent people into my life that have added their own unique hues and shades to the picture that I could have never created on my own and now couldn't imagine the picture of my life without them. All the while, He has blessed me with the irreplaceable family and friends that have stuck to my side from the very beginning. As this school year comes to an end, I look back on the previous year and all of its struggles, and as much as I tell myself I would never want to go through it again, I know that it was part of the journey to where I am today. It was the lesson that taught me to let go of the boat, have courage, and trust that I could ride the waves. It was a season where I became less and He became more. I became less in control and He became more real than I could have ever fathomed.

Therefore, here is my update from the waves.
The waves are amazing.
(I dare you to come out here and join me.)
Life is good.
God is better.

Cul-de-sac Hero

Once again, it has been too long since I have posted. If you correctly guessed that I am blogging to procrastinate, you know me all too well. I am currently taking a study break to get away from accounting and cost methods right now, so Mom please don't be reading this! Anyways, this week I have a true inspiration for my post. Yet, I see him differently than the rest of the world. To me, it's the six-year-old little boy that lived next-door that I played with for hours upon hours when I first moved into my new home in Brandon. I can still see the day he found a mischievous lizard in one of our yards, but then then the lizard conveniently found Kyle's ear and latched on to it despite my complete and utter six-year-old dismay. I can still picture the talking parrot he had in his room that echoed us whenever we spoke to it (which was a lot). I can still remember the sweet smile that permeated his entire face. He was one of my first childhood friends. Yet, a year or two later, Kyle and his family moved, and time marched on. Kyle and I would grow up in two different states. I would never meet his junior high friends. I would never know what sports he played or what he thought of his high school prom. He would always be remembered as my childhood friend.

Yet, to the rest of the world, and to my new perspective, Kyle is a hero. I remember in November on a weekend I was home, my mom told me that Kyle had been injured in Afghanistan. I was shocked. This was my six-year-old friend whose biggest worry was the mischievous lizard and trying to convince our parents to let us watch Jungle Book one more time- not an injured Marine who courageously and selflessly protected others even when pain and harm were the aftermath. After this, I found the group on Facebook that tracked his journey and progress, and I checked it on a regular basis to see how he was doing. I was amazed by the faith and compassion of his family, his friends, and all of those who my sweet childhood friend had impacted in his life since the days of Jungle Book and talking parrots. His story is beyond the realm of inspiration. It's love and hope in it's truest form. I have been blessed by his story already, but here is a glimpse of his homecoming and the heart behind him and his family.

http://www.wistv.com/Global/story.asp?S=14081017

I was so moved by this video, but the kicker for me was the ending. Despite his circumstances, Kyle said he would do it all over again for the people he loved. I couldn't help but think of John 15:13 "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." I couldn't help but think that Kyle had beautifully demonstrated the attitude of Christ. For despite His circumstances, Christ looked at us, loved us unconditonally and said, I would do it all again. He laid down his life for his friends. Yet, what does this look like for you and for me and our daily lives? I think this calls us to selflessly serve and to live for others and not ourselves. I think it calls for love and love at its most pure and unconditional form. I think it calls for our lives to be a daily sacrifice for others where we lay aside pride, our selfish desires, our worries, our "five-year-plans," our wishes, our time frames, and lose ourselves in the service of others.

Therefore, to my sweet childhood friend, thank you for your servant heart and for serving our country. Thank you for such an inspirational story and a steadfast example of faith. Thank you for your love for our country and your even bigger love for its people. Ultimately, thank you for laying down part of your life for your friends.

Angels and Contemplation from Country

"Don't forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it." Hebrews 13:2.

This verse is so incredible to me. Like seriously and completely incredible. As a girl and especially as Shelby McKenzie, I have always analyzed situations and people and have always asked the infamous "What ifs?" and "I wonders."For example, in junior high, I would constantly wonder who my prom date would be in high school (funny thing is, my first prom date would be the guy I was currently "dating"- which means who you smiled at and waved to from your locker and who you definitely talked on your HOME phone to or if you were lucky your cell phone- in junior high). So precious right? Then some days after I had probably watched The Notebook or Father of the Bride (I mean her last name becomes MCKENZIE for crying out loud) a few too many times, I would wonder if I knew my husband or had ever seen him before. I am quite sure however he was not roaming the halls of good old BHS, but life could throw that massive curve balls someday. Back to the point, then there's always been the chilling question of what if I have seen an angel before? Although to some people that seems radical and extreme, the verse above suggests it might be possible. I am not sure in what dynamic or experience that verse means or encompasses, but it is neat to think that it is truly possible.

So what do I think of when I think of this verse? Yes, my name is Shelby McKenzie, so my mind goes to country music and a particular song at that. "What if She's An Angel?" You might write it off as a cheesy country song, but have you ever really contemplated the lyrics?

"What if she's an angel sent here from Heaven, and she's making certain that you're doing your best to take the time to help one another, brother are you going to pass that test?"

Once again, the suggestion to show hospitality to all who you encounter on a daily basis. The verse and the song above both always just hit a certain spot in my heart and mind. I just want to know if I have ever "entertained an angel," and if I did, did I "pass that test?" In the hustle and bustle of this crazy world and life, I know there are countless days when if I did encounter a stranger in the middle of my "so important schedule and tasks" I honestly probably wouldn't pass that test. It really does make you stop and think about how you treat the people who weave their way into one day of your life and people that you may never see again. How did you impact them, or did you even take the time to recognize them?

Once again, you are going to read the following and say I am being extremely cheesy or just totally off my rocker, but I can't help but WONDER. This past summer, I was taking classes in Oxford, and one afternoon I went with a friend to Kroger and had to wait in the car with the puppy we had just adopted from the animal shelter (yes we became foster parents to a dog- didn't even know that was possible) as she ran inside. As I was sitting in the car, this old lady came out of the store carrying a TON of grocery bags to the car beside ours. Now, we were parked right outside of the entrance, but this lady looked like she had seen quite a few decades of life and like she was about to literally break in half. The next thing I know, I am opening the car door, getting the dog situated in the seat, and then approaching this elderly lady and asking her if she needed help with her bags. It took her a second to consent- I think she thought she was fully capable of carrying twice her body weight in bags- but she finally handed me the bags as I loaded them into her car. I don't say this to toot my own horn because I was most likely searching for a way to get away from the overly-hyper dog for a few minutes, but I say this because of the woman's reaction. When I put the last bag in her car and shut the door, she smiled at me as she turned her head to the side and said, "Well, you got your brownie points today didn't you?" Something about what she said and the way she said it stuck with me. I am not suggesting that this old lady was an angel and hid her wings underneath her little-old-lady sweaters, but there's always the "What if."

Maybe that's how we should approach people in life and how we should interact with the people we encounter throughout our daily routines. Maybe, just maybe, we should act as if everyone we encounter is an angel. We should prove to everyone that we are capable of taking the time to help others. We should prove that we are capable of putting others before ourselves. We should prove we can set aside our busy schedules, pride, time, resources, etc. etc. and "pass that test."

Because at the end of the day, what if he/she was an angel?

And at the end of the day, can you look back with a smile on your face and a servant heart and say I passed that test?

Letting Go of the Boat and Stepping out on the Waves

So I try to include a Lucy moment in each blog, but I easily think this ranks in top 10 at least. I am actually a little mortified that I am seriously including this in the post, BUT I had no choice. I was basically told I had to share this blog with you (I will get to that later). So yes, unfortunately, that is me in this picture. I am sure if my friends are reading this, especially friends that have never seen this picture, you're laughing at me right now. Jerks. So this was my Sophomore year of high school, and our Homecoming theme that year was movies. My class had Pirates of the Carribean, so obviously our float was a pirate ship- and an amazing, float-winning pirate ship at that. So, one night when we are building the float, someone said we needed someone to be the statue on the front of the ship- like how old pirate ships/ships in general had things carved into the front of the boat. Well, everyone's eyes turned and looked straight at me; I guess they knew I was the retard who would go along with this idiocy. A few days later, my entire body is painted gold, my hair in balls on the side of my head, and I held that pose for a good thirty minutes throughout an entire parade where the entire town could see me. Pretty tragic, I know.

So you might be wondering where in the world I am going with this day of humiliation? Well, let's fast-forward four years. Once again, I am a Sophomore, and once again, I am the statue on the front of the boat (but thankfully only on a figurative level this time.) You see, I am the statue on the front of the boat again because for a while now I have been trying to navigate the ship of my own life. I have been trying to handle every situation on my own, and I have been trying to find all the answers and fight all the battles how I thought I should. Don't get me wrong, I had good intentions and did not waver in my faith, but I was not fully letting go of the wheel. I was scared of the uncertainty of the waves and how the waves might change the direction of my ship. Where did this leave me? It left me not behind the captain's seat but clinging to the front of the ship with all that I had. I was so close to the waves but did not want to let go. I tried to embed myself into the ship and be that statue.

Yet, God does not let you stay in the comfort zone and safehaven of the ship all the time. There are times when He calls out to you from the waves and all of their uncertainties, and He is asking you to trust Him despite the uncertainty. The past few weeks, my ship has not gone in the direction I wanted it to go in, and it was not until this past week that I finally heard a voice calling out from the waves to my heart. It was a voice that was saying, "Are you done yet? I have been here watching you try to navigate alone this whole time, and although the gold paint and ridiculous hair looked awesome a few years ago, why don't you come off the boat for a little while? Join me out here on the water." For the longest time I have said "Nope I am good. I have got everything under control here. I like where my boat is going, and I know this is what I need to be doing. Look at those waves anyways. They're huge. No way I am coming out there. Not happening." Yet. this past week, I finally let go of the front of the boat. I finally let go of my pride. I finally let go of my thinking that I was the perfect navigator. I finally started to say, "Ok, I am surrounded by the uncertainty of these waves, and even though I have no idea what you have in store for me, I am still going to let go of the boat and step out on the waves."

Can I tell you that I had an instant feeling of peace like I had never experienced before- or at least in a while, and that was with only one "boat" in my life! Although I have no idea what direction the waves will take me, I know that there's a God who teaches me how to walk on top of the waves and who leads the way. He provides peace in the midst of uncertainty and promises hope despite the uncertainty.

Now, you might be wondering why I said earlier that I was basically told to use such an embarrassing picture in my post or why in the world I am comparing myself to a statue on the front of a boat and so excited about stepping out into the "waves" of life? I had thought of writing this post a few days ago when I was so excited about my new peace. Yet, over the past few days, the peace had begun to wear away and the uncertainty began to set it, and I was not as enthusiastic. However, today I was listening to the radio in my car, and I switched the station to K-love. I did not know the song that was playing, so I went to change it to another station when a voice in my head told me to wait. So I let the song play through, and then the next song started. Do you want to know what the FIRST lines of that song were?

"Oh what I would do to have the kind of faith it takes to climb out of this boat I'm in onto the crashing waves.To step out of my comfort zone, to the realm of the unknown where Jesus is, and He's holding out His hand."

My heart froze. I had thought of this post a few days before, and now I was pretty much receiving the confirmation that I had to share this. More than that, I was receiving the confirmation that God knew I was scared of the "realm of the unknown." He knew that I had been seeing it as "letting go of the front of my boat." He knew that I was still nervous as I tried to learn how to "walk on the waves." Yet, he sent me a message today saying that peace was real. He sent me a message saying that He had a plan for the realm of the unknown. He sent me a message saying that He was holding out his hand. He sent me a message saying you let go. Now just step out. So that is exactly what I am doing.

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.

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 In-Between of Two Halloweens.

This is my fall picture for the one or two devoted readers I have out there in Blog World. Yet, if I am completely honest, this picture is for me. Sorry, but hey, honesty is the best policy right? You know the scene in Mary Poppins where they can jump into the chalk drawings and make it a reality? Well, I wish I could jump into this picture, climb the fence, sit on the rail, feel the breeze against my face, and just think. It seems picturesque (pun intended).
So, here we are at another Halloween. I personally love Halloween and always have. Yet, once again, if I am completely honest, the past two Halloweens have been more of an emotional roller-coaster for me. I posted a few weeks ago about everything happening for a reason and there being a time and season for everything. Well the In-Between of Two Halloweens has made me realize this even more.
Last Halloween, I was at home for the weekend and thought I would get to spend my night passing out candy to all of the adorable trick-or-treaters in my neighborhood, and I was SO excited about this. (I am a grandmother trapped in a 19-year-old body I know, I know.) Yet, soon after the first few trick-or-treaters, my dad got a call from the hospital about my grandmother, and the doctors told them they needed to come as soon as possible. I tried not to worry, but is this ever a comforting call? So, I kept passing out candy and smiling as my mom and dad left, but not much time had passed before they were calling my sister and me and telling us we needed to come too. I was a nervous wreck the entire way to the hospital and was not ready for what I would come face-to-face with when I got there. I can still picture waiting outside the room and my heart in complete turmoil. I can still picture walking into the room, and tears instantly filling my eyes. My goofy grandmother, who played soccer with me in the halls as a kid, helped me successfully knock a few picture frames off the wall, and caused me to bend over laughing when all 4'11" would come sprinting at me trying to kick the ball and completely miss, now looked so lifeless in the hospital bed. I tried to hold her hand, but that sent the faucets full blast. I had to leave the room and spent the rest of the night crying on my best friend's shoulder in the waiting room. I was weak. It was a time of weakness.
Now, let's fast-forward to today, this Halloween. Once again, I was visiting someone who had my heart in his hands. Last Monday, I walked into Mr. Miller's hospital room, and yet again, the tears came rushing forward. The once bright-eyed 83-year-old man that beat me mercilessly in dominoes every single week, constantly joked about finding out my ring size, and told me that 83 and 19 weren't that far apart, looked so lifeless and tired. But this time was different. I didn't have my family with me. I didn't have my best friend's shoulder, and unlike my grandmother, Mr. Miller was staring back at me watching me. I knew I couldn't cry because that would just upset him even more. As I tried to look away and wipe a mischievous tear, I saw another plaque on the hospital wall (if you read my post about the other hospital visit you know what I am referring to). Once again, this plaque perfectly applied to my current situation:
"Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might."- Ephesians 6:10
My heart stopped again. I wanted to cry harder, but of course this was not an option. I wanted to say, "Be strong? God I cannot be strong right now. It's impossible." This wasn't an option either. So with His encouragement again, I stopped the tears and held Mr. Miller's hand and was strong when I thought I couldn't be. Today, on Halloween, I went to see him again, and my sweet friend looked so weak again. Again, I felt the tears coming. Be strong. So I sat on Mr. Miller's bed and did the unthinkable- I acted just like my dad. I took that 83-year-old hand in mine and made him look me in the eyes and repeat "I will get better. I want to get better." I did not let him quit saying it until he said it loudly and confidently. Then the Jamie McKenzie moment came tearing through as I told Mr. Miller he had to growl at me. If you read the post about my dad, you understand the growl thing. So, I sat on nursing home bed holding my friend's hand and smiled as he growled at me. I am sure it looked crazy from the outside view, but I was being strong and forcing Mr. Miller to be strong too. It was a time for strength.
Honesty one more time. I am ready for this emotional Halloween to pass and hope next year's Halloween's only concern is how much candy I will consume. Yet, if it's not, I will be ok because I have a God who is constantly sending me reminders and encouragement (even through hospital decor). I will be ok because when I am weak I have family and shoulders to cry on, and when I am strong, I can help others find their own growl as well. Finally, I will be ok because I have learned there is a time and season for everything, and I will be ok thanks to the In-Between of Two Halloweens.

Will You Dance with Me?

Boys lined one side of the gym. Girls lined the other side. The Great Wall of China, the Nile River, and the Grand Canyon separated us from one another. We didn't dream of trying to mingle. Oh yes, I am referring to a sixth-grade dance. I was talking to my friends, giggling, in my complete and utter comfort zone when I heard girls whisper and start pointing. Apparently, a boy was bravely making his way across the Great Wall of China, the Nile River, and the Grand Canyon to the girls' side of the room as everyone else watched in horror. I turned around just in time to see that, oh yes, the only boy who is making his way to the girls' side of the room WOULD BE MY DATE. My twelve-year-old heart began to beat wildly as I wished with every inch of my body that I had Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. WHY was he coming over here? Everyone was watching, and of course, he was heading straight towards me. Don't get me wrong, I loved my date. He was a great friend and usually highly intelligent (I suppose he had a brainfart when he decided to walk across the room), but I certainly did not want to be the only boy and girl talking. When he reached me, I am sure my face was the brightest shade of red on the color wheel, and with absolute horror, he said the words "Do you want to dance?"

"DO I WANT TO DANCE?" Was that even a logical question? I was only twelve years old. The only thing I had ever danced around with before was the vaccuum, a broom, or my friends when we made our 1000th Nsync or Backstreet Boys dance routine. Did I want to dance? SURE, let's dance in the middle of the Great Wall of China, the Nile River, and the Grand Canyon while NO ONE else is dancing and EVERYONE is watching. Grrreeaatt idea. That'swhat I should have said. Yet, I couldn't say no after he had voyaged this great, long distance to come ask me, so with the world's population of butterflies residing in my stomach, I weakly said "sure." Yep, that's right folks. SHELBY MCKENZIE, the girl who would two years later fall on the floor at the middle of an eighth grade dance (these were much more lively than 6th grade) trying to bust a move, the girl who tried to do a hitch-kick for a cheerleading dance and literally landed flat on her back trying, and the COLLEGE FRESHMAN whose date party date spun her so fast she fell flat on her bottom on a BAR FLOOR, was the FIRST person to break the ice and dance at the FIRST DANCE. You should be real impressed if you haven't caught on yet.

So, as everyone else watched, my date and I made our way to the center of the room. When we got there, I thought the terror was over. I looked up at my date (he was much taller than me unlike the rest of the boys in sixth grade who were shorter than their dates) to see how he intended to start this ceremonial dance, and then these words came,

"Shelby, I DO NOT KNOW how to dance."

YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DANCE? I was enraged. This was an almost as tragic as Nsync splitting up- I wish I could disappear straight through this floor right now-why in the WORLD would you ask me to dance with you and be the only person out here if you have no idea how to dance- ASHTON KUTCHER WHERE ARE YOU, I WILL GLADLY SAY I AM BEING PUNK'D-situation. Once again, these were the thoughts I had running through my head, but once again, I couldn't have this breakdown in front of the entire sixth grade. So I took a deep breath and said, "just put your hands here, and slowly move back and forth." So right there, in the center of the room, my date and I started the first dance, and of course, we were at complete arm's length apart and quite possibly could have just been touching each other with our fingertips. Thankfully, some of my date's friends follwed suit soon after we began, and others started dancing, and at the end of the night, I do believe it was a success. If you are laughing right now, you are welcome for the Lucy moment. I'd love to share my painfully humiliating experiences with you again just to make your day a little brighter.

So, what's my lesson from this day of the life of Lucy? Although most of you think you have never and will never experience the situation I just described, I promise you at some point in your life you will. No, you won't be twelve-years-old, and a boy won't be gliding across the room to ask you to dance. However, when you're in the middle of your comfort zone, God is going to come gliding across the room, and He is going to ask you to dance. You, like me, are going to panic and wonder if he's really serious. You can't be the first one to step away from the comfort zone. You're only "twelve-years-old." (Fill in with your own personal justification) You're not capable of doing what He's asking. What will everyone else think and say? Please just ask someone else. But, He IS going to ask you, and most likely, if you say no, He's going to ask again. Who knows, maybe He's asking you because he knows others are watching, and He knows people will start dancing if you do. He also may be asking you to dance so you can teach other people how to dance. The point is, you have to be willing to step out of your comfort zone and go to the center of the room with God when He asks you to dance.

Secondly, just as my date made his way across the Great Wall of China, the Nile River, and the Grand Canyon to ask me to dance, God voyages across even longer distances to reach you. The segregation of the room did not stop my date from coming to ask me to dance. Likewise, no separation is going to stop God from seeking you. I don't think that registers with us sometimes. God, the creator of Heaven and Earth, is WILLING and DESIRES to voyage past the Great Walls of your heart, of your sins, of your doubts, of your fears, of your resistance to be with you. He voyages past the separation as long as the Nile. He bridges the Grand Canyon through the cross and comes just to meet with you. If you don't feel humbled and honored and completely in awe of that thought, then I don't know what else to say to you. I know I take that for granted all of the time, but when you think about it, it's life-changing (literally).

So, as you go throughout life living in your cozy little comfort zone, be ready for when God comes asking you to dance. I hope you don't miss out because it just might be the best experience of your life. And more importantly than that, live in the peace and love that comes from a God who will travel any distance just to be with you. Just to dance with you.

"The Spitting Image of my Father"

"Rosemary's granddaughter, the spitting image of my father.... it's all a part of me, that's who I am."

From a very early age, I could easily tell that I did not resemble my mother, and my older sister was an exact replica. My compassionate, compassionate sister realized this as well and mercilessly tried to convince me that I was adopted from Africa (this is really a post for a completely different day). So that left dear old dad for me to resemble, and although we were both the same skin tone and had the deep brown eyes down pat, I vowed that I was nothing like my dad. I mean, he was just a goober. I was much cooler than that. Oh, how time tells you differently.

Yes, throughout the past few years, I have come to realize that I am 100% Jamie McKenzie's daughter and "the spitting image of my father." Yet, I am not referring to an external spitting image but an internal spitting image. There's three aspects of my father that I encompass to the bone. His extreme goofiness, his tough facade but huge heart, and his passion for prayer.

First of all, I am Jamie McKenzie made-over in the sense of goofiness. For crying out loud, my blog is named after Lucille Ball, and I write about "Lucy Moments." Obviously, I am extremely goofy. I can still see my dad dancing around with his obnoxious Auburn Tiger whenever Auburn would score a touchdown when I was little. I see him picking me up, spinning me around, shaking me upside down, and making me growl at him before a soccer game when I am eight years old. I see him, the man with no millimeter of vocal abilities, singing "Layla" and "Don't Stop Believing" when he would drive around and his obnoxious need to control the radio at all times (which I also inherited). People can often poke fun at him, but he has learned to handle it like a champ. Likewise, I am the girl who dropped a shoe in the school toilet my first day of eighth grade, ran into a locker door staring at the boy who I thought was responsible for hanging the moon when I was thirteen, and face planted outside of a Casting Crowns concert in Jackson my sophomore year of high school. Yes, I am just as goofy as my sweet dad.

Secondly, my dad tries to come across as tough, but he has one of the biggest hearts in the world. He might have a temper at times, but he would give you not only the shirt off his back, but his pants, his shoes, and probably even his socks. I smiled last Christmas when we were playing with a family friend's baby, and just when I get to hold her, my dad comes up behind me, practically takes her from me, slowly twirls around with her, and starts talking to her. My other personal favorite is how he rants and raves about our sweet dog, but when he thinks no one else is watching, he will share his peanut-butter crackers with Ellie and talk to her in the mornings. I try to say I didn't get this from him, but I know that I also can put up a tough front and have a temper at times. I try to be a fighter, yet at core, I am the one who in secret is sharing crackers with a dog. Yet, my dad's tough front has also taught me to fight for the important things in life and to never compromise who I am, so even toughness has its perks.

Yet, I cannot even think of my dad without thinking of prayer. The most fond memory of my

dad, so far, is rather simple but has meant the world to me over the years. Every single morning when my dad would drive me to elementary school, he would make me pray. Now, the toughness I just mentioned would come out as I yelled at him and asked "Why aren't you closing your eyes? I have to close mine." Oh, how smart I was to think my dad could drive with his eyes shut. Yet, every morning, we prayed, and this has been a constant theme with my dad. No meal is started until a prayer has happened. I can never leave to go back to Oxford until he has prayed. Two of these times fondly stand out in my mind and are making me tear up as I write this. The last memory and time that I ever saw my grandfather (my dad's dad) alive, we were about to leave Alabama to come back home. I was halfway out the door, and my dad called me back in to pray with my grandfather. The three of us held hands as my dad and I prayed, and less than a month later, my grandfather was gone. I would not have this beautiful memory if it had not been for my dad's faith. The second was one night last year when my dad came to eat with me. We had already said goodbye, and I was about to drive off when I saw my dad come running and knocking on my window. If you know my dad, you know he does NOT run, so I knew this must be important. I rolled down my window, and he said, "I forgot to pray for you." My heart broke instantly. As soon as I rolled my window up, I burst into tears. From a very early age, my dad taught me the power and passion of prayer, and for that, I will be eternally grateful (literally).

Now that I have recognized I am a spitting image of my earthly father, I should also strive to be a spitting image of my Heavenly father. I mean is that not our goal in life and purpose in life- to be the spitting image of Christ. Now obtaining this completely is impossible, and we fail on a daily basis. Yet, I think my three characterizations of my dad could apply to this as well. We should show the world the "goofy side" of our Heavenly father. So many people have a misperception of Christ as restrictions and rules and boundaries. Yet, God is the one who created laughter. He created smiles. He even has a sense of humor. Trust me. Also, although God is tough and disciplines like a father, he is the heart of humanity. He is love. He gave more than the shirt off his back. He gave his SON. Finally, God wants to teach you the power and passion of prayer. He wants to hear you pray every single day. He wants to talk to you. I love my dad more than anything in the world, and God knew exactly what he was doing when he planned for Jamie McKenzie to be my father. However, I hope that one day when I get to those big gates, I hear my other Father say, "Well done, thank you for being faithful and striving to be a spitting image."

Who will you be a spitting image of?

Pearl Bump Fever

When I was in high school, we were rather limited to what we could do for entertainment on the weekends. Yes, there was high school football games, the movie theater, and the INFAMOUS McAlister's parking lot (yikes), but what did you do during the winter or on a less eventful weekend? Well you see, my friends and I were fairly easily amused in high school, and we discovered THE Pearl Bump as we lovingly labeled it. Yes, right before you left Pearl High School to turn back onto Highway 80 there was a HUGE (or at least we thought it was) bump, and when we were bored on the weekends, we would all pile into someone's car and go zooming over the bump. (See my picture above :) ). It was even more fun to take someone who had never been and watch their confused expression and alarm when we all began to reach for handle bars or prepare for the launch and to watch as they would helpless fly a few inches into the air and slam back down into their seat. For all you parents who might be reading this, no one was harmed in the process- I promise. Now obviously, we did not get as much air as the lovely DOH car above, but if you loved the Pearl Bump as much as we did, it felt like you were flying every single time.

Here's my Lucy moment for you: Now as you can probably tell, I was extremely fond and proud of my Pearl Bump. So were all of my other retarded friends. Yet, I think you had to be in close connection with the bump to fully appreciate its value. So one night in high school, I was hanging out with a boy that I had a crush on at the time, and I felt the absolute need to show him the Pearl Bump. I ranted and raved about how WONDERFUL and hilarious it was and how I could NOT wait to see his face. I mean you would have thought I was taking the boy to see the Superbowl or the World Series I was so stinking excited, and clearly, I built his expectations up a little too high. As I raced towards the intersection with a huge smile on my face, I am sure the boy thought I had absolutely lost my mind considering the light was most likely turning yellow or red but that NEVER stopped you at the Pearl Bump. Then, we RAMPED (more like eased) over the bump, I screeched with excitement, and he looked at me like Elmer Fudd would look at a two-headed Bugs Bunny.

"That was it?" "That was the thing you have been so excited about this whole time?"

Yeah, he didn't like the bump too much. I was, of course, devastated. How could you not like THE Pearl Bump? I was in shock. All I wanted was for others to see my excitement and share the same excitement as well.

In life, I feel like we have a lot of Pearl Bumps. We have things that we are so passionate about and so excited about, and all we want is for people to share the excitement of the Pearl Bump with us. Basically, we want everyone to get "Pearl Bump Fever." Yet, no matter how hard we try, some people just don't get the excitement of the "Pearl Bump." They don't see the fun in it. They don't want to miss out on the bigger, more risky bumps. They don't want to be bored. They don't want to be limited to just one bump.

This is the hard part in life- when people don't share your same excitement. When you try so hard to infect others with your excitement and to let them see that the life of "pearl bumps" has so much to offer, yet, they still choose a road with bumps that have a lot more consequences than flying off your seat a few inches. They feel like they will be bored with the pearl bump excitement and trade it off for an excitement that is only temporary and leaves not just the gas tank empty but the soul as well. It's extremely hard to watch people abandon the "pearl bump" for their wrong perception of excitement, but you just have to keep your "pearl bump" light shining.

In life, God is the "pearl bump." Those who find Him and are, like I said earlier, in close connection with Him are the ones that find His irreplaceable value. They are infected with Pearl Bump Fever and just want everyone else to share the same excitement. They screech with elation while others who don't fully understand are the Elmer Fudds. Those who find Him completely and fully know that no other road can ever give you in a lifetime what the Pearl Bump offers in a single day, but to those who don't understand, the Pearl Bump seems restrictive and boring. Yet, when you reach the end of your life and you look back on the roads you traveled, do you want to see a life full of the Pearl Bump and the endless excitement that it offers and the eternal joy that it pours out, or do you want to look back on the risky roads that seemed to offer so much more joy and excitement but that left you with dents in your fender, holes in your tires, and no fuel in your tank? Will you listen to the voice who calls out to you and says "Hey, I love you. Follow me, and you will never want again"? Or will you hear the roar of your own selfish engine that says "You have all the time in the world to figure that out. Make that right choice another day. Come joy-ride with me a little while and worry about that later."
Which road will you choose?

When the Spaghetti Comes Rolling Down

Spaghetti. It has ALWAYS, and I mean always been one of my favorite foods. So no doubt about it, when I heard we were having it for dinner at my sorority house last night, I was 110% there. Who knew I would soon find significance and depth in lifeless noodles and meat sauce? I had just finished eating my truckload of food and talking to some friends when out of nowhere I saw and felt NOODLES and MEAT SAUCE rolling down my body.

I am NOT kidding you. A friend had dropped an entire plate of spaghetti down my shirt. Imagine your horrifying scences from a Lizzy McGuire, Boy Meets World, Amanda Bynes, Amelia Bedelia, LUCY RICARDO movie/episode/book and that was me. I think I even pulled a noodle out of my tennis shoe. Yet, these events are everyday life for me, so I laughed it off and said, "IF THIS IS ANY INDICATION OF THE REST OF MY NIGHT, I NEED TO LEAVE NOW."

I should have hit the ground running. Oh, how I LOVE irony.

After dinner, we had practice just like every other Wednesday, Yet, this would be a different practice for good old me. Long story short, my feet came out from underneath me, and I hit a brick floor head-first. The entire room went silent, and when I sat up, people were untying my shoes. It is never a comforting thought when people think you're incapable of taking off your own shoes. I tried to shake it off, but tears were flowing down my face from my throbbing head. I went upstairs and laid on an ice-pack, but soon they told me I needed to go to the doctor as a precaution. So, Maidee and I got in Chelsie's car, and she drove us to the ER. It is a really overwhelming moment in life when you look down on a sheet of paper and see your name with "head injury" beside it.

After the infamous ER wait, me trying to crack corny jokes with the workers, getting taken through two different rooms, discussing my last lady cycle with a male nurse, touching my nose with my fingers multiple times,taking a urine sample that of course the MALE nurse had to come receive, and seeing the actual doctor, I was told that they were going to do a CAT-scan to check for any possible complications like swelling or a brain leak.

Swelling or leaking in the brain. Those are extremely large words to swallow at nineteen.

My mind began to race. I began to think of every possible head injury I had ever heard about, and all I kept thinking was that this could not be the case for me. I was only nineteen. I had to master Accounting 201, convice 900 girls why they should be a DG, successfully park in between two cars without backing up a thousand times, and worry about missing the latest Glee episode. Not a brain leak. I know it seems overdramatic, but I am an honest worry-wart. Then a nurse came in with a wheelchair, and I had to leave my friends behind. As I was slowly pushed towards the next room, anxiety permeated my mind. I had never been to a hospital without my mother there (she did however drive like a bat out of Hades and got there right as I was dismissed), never had to have my head checked, and never heard the possibility of "brain leak." When we arrived in the room, I saw a screen that I had seen a thousand times in Grey's Anatomy and similiar TV shows, but this machine wasn't for a fictional character. It was for me. That's another horse pill to swallow. However, the system was down, and the guy had to leave me for a brief second before the scan began. As I sat in the room alone facing a screen with a diagram of a brain that would soon show my own, I felt like my "spaghetti had come rolling down." My once compact, undisturbed, mixed together, and neat plate-of-spaghetti life had now come rolling down. It was messy. It was chaotic. The noodles were separated from the sauce. I didn't have my friends, I didn't have my strong-as-a-mule mother, and I didn't have the answers either. I only had one place to turn when my spaghetti came rolling down. With tears in my eyes as I was waiting for the man to come back, I started praying out loud. Although I desperately hoped the man did not come back to see me talking out loud to the empty room and think I was much worse off than I was and send me to a mental instituition, I did not care. I was talking to the only One who could reassemble my spaghetti. I was talking to the only One who could comfort me when things were messy. I was talking to the only One who can give hope when your plate comes rolling down.

The CAT-scan results were minor. I had a slight concussion, and the only consequence I received was a very sore head/neck and a week without physical activity. My plate was neatly reassembled. Yet, this would not have been possible without two amazing friends, a God-send of a mother, and faith in One a lot larger than me.

So although my incident is minor compared to a BILLION of other people's unfortunate days, I learned a lesson from it all, and the lesson came from the beginning of my crazy-Lucy day- the spaghetti. When your perfect plate of spaghetti comes unexpectedly rolling down, where will you turn? When no one else around you can help you and you are alone, how will you make sense of the mess? When your noodles and meatballs are scrambled, where will you find strength and peace?

"Cast all your anxieties on Him, for He cares for you."- 1 Peter 5:7

Let me rephrase this for you: "Give me, your dropped plate. Give me every slimy noodle and every enormous meatball. Don't worry. I will make your mess into something neat again.I will reassemble your spaghetti."

So, the next time your spaghetti comes rolling down, remember there is always someone waiting to take your mess, give you hope, and reassemble every noodle.

See-Saws

So, today my blog is a little different than usual. On most days, I have a ridiculous, embarrassing story that takes up the majority of my blog. No fears, I still have a Lucy moment, but today I am being selfish with my blog and just pouring out my thoughts lately. However, before I get there- here's Lucy for you. Friday night, I was at the KA House (if you read Capsized, you're probably wondering why I even go back to the house- I am asking myself the same question as I type this) and I was once again, minding my own business. Then, long story short, a French exchange student comes up to me out of nowhere, tells me my jeans are too dark for my shirt, proceeds to tell me that my name is the name of an extremely hot car, grabs my hands, I have panic attack, and finishes his comedy act with "Don't be shy, leave your friends" and starts pulling me away. I quickly excused myself. That was seriously real life. No exaggerations. One day when I get to those gates, I am going to ask God the significance in my little French friend. Now, there's Lucy- now to my blog.
See-Saws. That's what is on my mind lately. Although these are generally associated with chidhood, I feel like they possess such a deeper representation in our lives. Given, we learned the basic foundation of its lesson when we were younger. One person has to come down before the other person can go up, and at times, you're going to be the one on the bottom.

Throughout our lives, we are constantly on a see-saw. We are as high as the clouds without a worry in the world, and suddenly, we are jerked back down so quickly that sometimes we don't land on our feet. Yet, that is the lesson and challenge in life- making the most out of your see-saw experience. Celebrating the highs and learning how to push yourself back off the ground when you're on the bottom. Just as a see-saw is rarely seen being balanced by two people without moving up and down, our lives do not promise perfect balance. No, they are full of high and lows, and life is what happens in between.

Furthermore, friendship is a see-saw. You should surround yourself with people that are willing to see-saw back down to the ground to lift you back up. That is the true definition of friendship. Likewise, you must do this in return. Friendship is constantly lifting the other person higher than yourself and lifting them back to their feet when they're on the bottom. On the other hand, when you're on the bottoom end of the see-saw, you have to rejoice for the friend who's experiencing the high. You have to love even when you're at your lowest and even when it's not you that's experiencing the tip-top of the "see-saw."

Finally, and what I feel like I am dealing with lately, is letting God control the see-saw called life. He doesn't always explain why you're on the bottom, but He does say, "Hey, hold tight, you'll be back on top soon. Trust me, and I can teach you something while you're down here." He doesn't promise that there will be perfect balance and peace in your life, but He does say "I have a plan for your life. Every high and every low- I'm right there with you- and there's a reason for your ups and downs." He doesn't promise that you'll always be on the top, but he does say "See the people who are on the bottom. They need my love. I came down so that you could go up. Therefore, go and lift them up as well."

So, in life, the see-saw is a continous motion. It is your choice who you put on the see-saw with you, if you make the most of the bottom, and who you let guide you even when there's no balance.

"A City on a Hill"

I really don't even know how to begin.
Empathy is impossible.
Sympathy is endless.
Faith is essential.

I believe that God sends people in your life for several different reasons. Some are sent to teach you. Some are sent to guide you. Some are sent to serve you. Some are sent to forgive you. Some are sent to love you, and some are sent to INSPIRE you.

Mr. Tom Risher was sent to inspire.

Although I did not know Mr. Tom on a deep, personal level and did not see him on a daily basis, the times that I did see Mr. Tom, a radiant smile was permanently etched into his face. You could not bump into him and expect a brief encounter. No, Mr. Tom wanted to know how you were doing, how was your family, how was school, and anything else that finds its way into a caring and compassionate conversation. Mr. Tom genuinely cared for others, and his extraordinarily friendly manner and love for others was contagious and yet again, INSPIRING.

For those of you that know Mr. Tom and his story the past few years, you know that he is a true inspiration. He fought when the odds were against him and conquered in the midst of storms.

Yet, the main thing that made Mr. Tom a true inspiration was his unwavering faith. He would not hesitate a minute to tell you the blessings that God had bestowed in his life, and Mr. Tom gave God the glory in all things. Even when he faced trials, when most people would turn away and grow weary, Mr. Tom clung to God with a passion and a strength that can only be admired and wished for in most lives. My favorite place to see Mr. Tom was where, to me, he was in his perfect element. Standing outside of the church doors, he was there every Sunday with that beautiful, inspiring, smile waiting to greet you and tell you how glad he was to see you. Mr. Tom's faith was INSPIRATION.

The last time I saw Mr. Tom was a week or two before I came back to Oxford. I was at Newks with my parents, and when we went to find a table, we saw Mr. Tom eating and asked him to join us. Instantly, he came and sat down with his smile on his face and ready to talk. That conversation with Mr. Tom confirms my belief that Tom Risher was sent to the world to inspire. We were there for over an hour, and Mr. Tom talked the majority of the time about what God had done in his life, how thankful and blessed he was, how amazing God was, and one of the last things he shared was how excited he was about his newest form of service through ministry. If that does not shout inspiration to you, I do not know how else you could even fathom to define it.

This was a man who had faced a major trial, yet it did not even phase him due to his faith. No matter what came his way, he was busting at the seams to tell everyone what God had done in his life, constantly thanked God for everything in his life, talked about how amazing God was, and he could not wait to SERVE him. If we all had the passion, love, and drive that Mr. Tom Risher had for Christ and serving Him, our world would be a radically different place.

Mr. Tom Risher was "a city on a hill," and his light could not be hidden. His light touched and inspired numerous lives, and all that had the privilege to meet him will forever have part of his light with them.

The beauty of death in Christ and the Christian faith is perfectly stated in Mercy Me's song, and that's how I will end this tribute to an inspirational man.

"In Christ, there are no good-byes, and in Christ, there are no ends. So, I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have to see you again."

I know that tonight Mr. Tom is standing in Heaven with that magical smile on his face, and I know that one day when I walk into Heaven, I will be greeted by that magical smile again.
Until then Mr. Tom, keep smiling. I love you.

Feels like Home to Me

My new obsession. Seriously. I was obsessed.

Close-up of the pillows (please note the doll :) )

My side :) Half of my side/Maggie's side

This is my new "home," and I love it. My favorite thing is probably my new Oxford canvas. I really did not believe in love-at-first-sight until I saw it, but now, I am a true believer. I literally called my mother in a frenzy, sped to the restaurant where we were supposed to meet, rushed through my meal, drove her back to the antique store, bought the painting, and was ten minutes late for my move-in time because of this purchase. I mean- that is true love is it not? If you are still not convinced, let me illustrate another picture for you. This canvas is supposedly 24 x 48. Now, imagine Shelby, who was not blessed in the common sense department, with a 24 x 48 canvas in the middle of a parking lot at prime-time-scorcher with a loaded down car with only centimeters of empty space. Needless to say, it took me a while to get the painting in the car.

However, the canvas was only the sprinkles on top of my cake, because the true delight was getting to see all of my sweet friends that I had missed so much. Living with my pledge class all on the same floor is indescribable. It has been so much fun, and it has only been a few days. I am sure many, many more stories will be unfolded about this floor during the year.

I also now have a Twitter. I am now a definite technology nerd. It is becoming a problem.

Finally, I went to church on Sunday with some of the lovely Deegs, and I loved it. As I close with this blog, I wanted to share the first thing the preacher said. He started off with "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Of course this is referring to 1969 exploration to the moon, but since the preacher is so amazing, he linked it to our daily lives. Each small step we take can make a giant change in our lives. Everywhere Armstrong's foot landed, he was, in a sense, claiming territory for America and science. Every step we take, we are claiming territory by the life we live. So therefore, what small step will we take tomorrow, and what giant leap could it bring to our lives?