The Year Of The Highest Highs & Lowest Lows

 

The man I love was gravely ill and on a grueling dialysis treatment regimen.

A dear friend gave birth to her rainbow baby.

My husband got the kidney he needed to survive, from his sweet sister.

Selfless sacrifice.

Healing.

Elation.

Rejection.

Kidney rejection.

Stumbling.

A beautiful sister of a friend was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.  She still fights.

Otherworldly bravery.

Reunions.

One brother and sweet sister-in-law growing a baby.

Another brother and his girlfriend growing in their faith in some really difficult situations.

There were days that hopes were all but crushed.

Our son got sick and it was terrifying.  Doctors using the most sinister words…  Tests.  Surgery.  Biopsy.

Fear.

Utter helplessness.

Weeks later, our son was completely recovered and healthy, with no further need for surgery.

Sweet deliverance.

Celebrations.

Friends affected by addiction.

The most difficult stories to hear, let alone watching people you love endure them.

Listening.

Listening more.

Caring.

A lovely friend and young wife and mother left this life in a matter of hours.

Devastating loss.

She donated her organs to save the lives of at least four others.  Our loss, their gain.

Sorrowful admiration.

There were days I wondered if we were going to make it.

There were days I had to pinch myself for the happiness I felt.

Victories.

Defeats.

Friends separated and divorcing.  Children hurting.  Sad shock.

Quitting.

We started to live and plan again.

We started again.

And again.

Broken cars and broken plumbing.

People that show up.

Again and again.

Family.

Friends.

Supportive people.

Caring people.

Loving people.

Restoration.

Completion.

A young mama friend gets the lungs she needs to survive.

A first grandchild on the way for a sweet gal I used to work with.  A fatal fetal diagnosis.  Persevering parents.  A faithful family that said hello and goodbye to a sweet baby girl in two precious, heart-wrenching hours.

Exponential growth.

Pain.  Oh, the pain.

Peace.  Sweet peace.

Strife.

Sorrow.

Silence.

Singing.

Prayer, upon prayer, upon prayer.

Praying.

Abiding.

Trusting.

JOY!

The man I love is doing AMAZING and feeling better than he has in years.

Our kids are happy, healthy, fun and sweet.

We count our blessings!!!

Whether it happened to us or around us, 2015 was the year of highest highs and lowest lows that I have ever lived.  I do truly hope and pray that 2016 is much more steady and restful for all of us.

Nonetheless, I resolve to live 2016 the way I lived its predecessor:

In gratitude, being present, joyfully, as I spend myself loving others, abiding in the One who holds my peace.

After this year, I know there is no other way.

Happy New Year!

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Please enjoy this slideshow of a few of our 2015 memories.

 

 

 

Baby Savior

Sometimes, I wish my life was quieter…  That I had nothing going on and nothing to be terribly concerned about.  But when you love people, life gets full and messy.  And the more you love, the fuller and messier it gets, so there you have it.

The highs can be really high, the lows can be really low, and then, there’s the all of  the everything in between.  So much.

In the middle of all this, a tiny babe is born and lies in a manger.  Vulnerable.  Can’t help anyone, but oh, He will…

Will. He. Ever.

And that, dear ones, is the hope of Christmas.  Full and messy as this life is, God becomes human and gets right in there with us.  Vulnerable.  Weak.  Just like us.  The odds are stacked against Him and darkness thinks it has won, but Jesus overthrows and overcomes the darkness with His light.

Stop and marvel at that Baby Savior with me and feel real Peace.  Indeed, it is a merry Christmas.

Pre-Op

(Originally written March 4, 2015)

Thank God they are few, but there are times in my life when I feel like my chest is cut open, my rib cage is pulled back, and I walk around with my heart completely open and vulnerable. You know, everywhere I go. When I run into my neighbors out on the street, they are friendly and say hi and they tell me they are praying for my husband and my family. I appreciate this, but I can’t really talk because there is this matter of my exposed heart. It’s, like, delicate, man. I know you can see it, pumping and threatening to bleed everywhere. So, neighbor, I appreciate it that you keep things brief and I pray you’ll forgive me for not being particularly chatty, but I have to go somewhere and protect this mess.

For me, this is not just an emotional feeling… I physically feel this way because, emotionally, I feel this way.

I feel this way, right now.

My concerns, my stresses, and my fears all become so raw and real that I feel like they are pouring out of me. And my brain is fuzzy because I am in protect mode. And I’m not my normal self.

Except…

There are a handful of humans that will come to me, and sit with me, sort through the mess, and make me laugh. These saints, their presence is medicine, their words elixirs poured over my tired soul. Some of them live far away, but they pick up the phone and we are instantly together, stitching each other back up. And I am so thankful for them. They know who they are.

My husband goes under the knife to get a kidney in nine days. He is my best friend. He and I are the healers God has given to each other, every day, until we die. We are parents to these incredible little humans, too little to remember. THEY NEED more time with him. I WANT more time with him. Lots more time. But to get that time, he has to come close to death. And his sister has to do this very brave and selfless and scary thing, too.

It’s just SO MUCH, right now. There is so much at stake. But I am thankful for all God has given me, all He has given us. I am eternally grateful to Amy, for being willing to give a part of herself so that Chuck can live what we hope will be a long and healthy life. I am so glad that Chuck’s transplant team is so encouraging and optimistic. I am grateful for his skilled (and genuinely kind) surgeon. And I am thankful for the people God has placed in our lives who speak life and light into the dark and scary places. And I am thankful to be loved by a God that never leaves us nor forsakes us, no matter what.

And, I think, walking around in this vulnerable way is okay, for the time being.

5 Years Old

(originally written in early November, 2015)

On Facebook, a friend of mine just posted a bunch of Barbies and Barbie paraphernalia to give away to another little girl who would appreciate them.  Her only daughter is not yet a teenager, and my daughter is 5 years old and is LOVING her Barbies, right now.  I saw the picture of the pile of dolls and my heart sunk as I wondered, “How much time do I have?”

How long until my daughter is done with her dolls?  How much longer will I get to marvel at all the playing and imagining that she does?  I don’t even want to think about it.  It is extraordinary to watch her make up stories and songs with her dollies, to watch her dream out loud and see the sweetness of her heart, translated to the stage of her play table or the makeshift tree house she has made out of a stool and a few scarves.

Slow down, baby girl, and let mama drink you up.  I know, one day, you will make your dreams into reality and that will be a privilege to see, but I love you just as you are, right here and now, and I know I will miss these precious days.  Thank you for today, God.  Thank you for all You have given me.  I want to honor You to my children.

 

Places Perspectives & The Soul

(This blog was written in mid-July 2015)

I just returned from a 12-day trip to Pennsylvania, visiting with my family.  It was a blast, but the kids and I were ready to be home.

I have often written about how much I miss living where I grew up, how familiar things are, there, and comforting.  I have lamented about not being able to move back to NEPA.  I have whined and begged and pleaded with my husband to relocate.  Of all the places I have ever lived, making a life in Roanoke has been the most difficult.  It took YEARS for me to from solid friendships, here.

But I stepped through a porthole on my way back to Roanoke, this time…  almost 10 years to the day from when I first moved here.

I was surprised by what was waiting for me in Roanoke…  Refreshing.

I felt like, after such an extended trip away, I was seeing my home with a fresh set of eyes.  I had changed up the decor in the dining room right before I left and cleaned like a madwoman, and it made my house so welcoming and inviting.  Chuck missed us, and we missed him.  He cleaned the kitchen while I was gone and it looks so good!

On another level, sweet friends had texted me while I was away, letting me know they missed me and wondered when I was coming home.  We made plans for  my return, some BIG plans, too, for the days and months, ahead; play dates, girls’ nights, trips, etc.

Regarding home, though, it is really easy to lose myself in the realm of wifedom and motherhood, to forget the freedom of being just me.  As women, the roles we fill in the lives of our family members tend to trump our own wishes and preferences, so much so that we can feel a kind of dread and drudgery in growing older, like we have lost some of our fire.  Sometimes, we wonder, even if only for a second, what our lives would be like if we had taken a different path.  It is not that I don’t enjoy loving and serving my family and taking care of my home.  They are some of the greatest gifts of my entire life.  But I believe we do ourselves, our husbands, our children, and our tribe a disservice when we become so encompassed by roles that we lose ourselves.

My mind isn’t old.  Over the past few weeks I have spoken with numerous people regarding what age we really feel.  The general consensus is that we feel like our mind is still in it’s twenties, regardless of how old our bodies and/or circumstances feel.  I tried to describe to a friend what it feels like to make plans outside of my family, just for me.  I shouldn’t be as mentally and emotionally taxing as it sometimes is.  It feels like your old self is fighting with your young self.  As a wife and a mom, I feel guilty for taking a trip with the girls, next year.  As the twenty-something I am in my mind, I’m like, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”  As a soul, I know it is long overdue.

So, early in 2016, I’ll go away from my real home and off the grid for a few days.  I’ll take my breather with my girlfrands, get a taste of who ‘just me’ is at age 35, and maybe give Norman Reedus a hug and/or a high five.  And then, I will come home to more refreshing and hugs from my loveys.

Places give us new perspectives, so don’t neglect the soul when it comes to adventure, nor when it comes to making a loving and refreshing home.  Life’s challenges and trials don’t stop, but keeping your roots deep and your wings healthy helps you through, by the grace of God.

The Hills Are Alive With The Choking Of Excess

Hi, my name is Shelby. I live in a sweet 1,100 sq. ft. home with my beloved husband, 2 incredible kiddos, and two funny, little pups. Prayerfully, and also out of necessity, I have been thinking about and working on how I can live a simpler and more meaningful life with my family. One of the areas I have been focusing on is material excess.

A long time ago, I moved to Mongolia with two GIANT duffle bags of clothes and ‘necessities.’ I came home a year later with only the clothes on my back, an empty checked duffle, and a small suitcase of gifts for my family. I felt whole, happy, and free.

I think there is a lot of freedom in not being owned and run by our possessions. There have been times that I have walked in to a room in my home, so messy with clutter, that I can’t even think straight. They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and again and expecting different results. I feel like I have spent the last nine years moving things from one location to another. How is this healthy? Nine years into a thirty year mortgage, without any home improvements, rather, a house that is in serious need of repair before we could even think about selling it to find something that suits our family better, something has got to give. I have to wonder, if we hadn’t spent so much money on stuff we wanted, would we have more of what we truly need?

Did you ever look at your mountains of laundry and dishes and think, “You know, if I only had less, maybe I could keep up with these things, better?” Did you ever have visions of singing show tunes at the top of your lungs as you toss years of accumulated crap into ginormous trash bags that get immediately hauled away by the garbage fairies, so no one can pick back through them and reclutter your house with them? Have you ever gleefully tossed things in the trash that collected dust on a shelf for years? I have, and it’s glorious! My husband looks at me like I am crazy. Maybe I am crazy, but I could be less crazy… I promise.

I need support in this. I need to know I am not the only one. If nothing else, I need to be humored. Give me a chance to show you this is a good thing. Chuck, you married a dreamer, a thinker, a free spirit, and a fighter. You chose to deal with this madness. 😉

Sideswiped Again

Last week, I told my mom that I just didn’t feel like myself.  I’m not unhappy.  I have some normal stresses in my life, but nothing out of the ordinary.  I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Today, I told my dad, “I feel so on edge, lately.  I haven’t been feeling like myself and I don’t like it.”

I try to live my life authentically, but I can feel my body going through motions.  I grow quieter, less gregarious, foggy.  I search frantically for things to perk me up, to keep me busy.  I am in a large group, but I feel disconnected.  This is so weird.  I need to get out.  I need to go home.  MY home.  Pennsylvania.  I need to be with people that I don’t have to explain myself to or worry about breaking down into a puddle before them.  I remind myself of the sweet life, family, and friends God has given me here.  I’m trying to sort it all out, but I can’t shake it off.

This is a tough time of year for me and it sneaks up on me.  Every.  Single.  Time.

It started to hit me when I was contemplating the sudden and unexpected loss of a friend’s husband.  I was putting myself in her shoes.  I was praying for her and asking God to help her through the difficult and lonely days ahead.

A song plays on my Spotify, “Hide Away In The Love Of Jesus” by Sovereign Grace music…

“Come, weary saints, though tired and weak

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Your strength will return by His quiet streams

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Come, wandering souls, and find your home

Hide away in the love of Jesus

He offers the rest that you yearn to know

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Hear Him calling your name

See the depths of His love In the wounds of His grace

Hide away.

Come, guilty ones weighed down with sin

Hide away in the love of Jesus

The freedom you long for is found in Him

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Come, hopeless hearts, do not despair

Hide away in the love of Jesus

For TEN THOUSAND JOYS await you there

Hide away in the love of Jesus.”

It hit me.  And my heart is a dam, bursting at the seams because it is so full.  It can only hold so much, so I will tell you the story I have told a hundred times before in so many different ways.  All raw.  All true…

Seven years ago, I was two days from my due date with our first baby, a girl.  Life was perfect. We couldn’t wait to meet her. A week later, our sweet beauty, Charlie, was born still.  I don’t have words for the devastation.

The rest of the year I can live and deal, think and talk about her, and rarely shed a tear.  But this time of year, I struggle and I cry, and I feel like a walking mess.  It always sideswipes me.

So, I am going to take my Savior’s invitation to hide away in His love and let Him give me the real rest and peace that only He is capable of giving, because of the depths of His love in the wounds of His grace.

Song & Dance

I’ve reached the point in my pregnancy where Charlie weighs really heavy on my heart and mind. (This happened when I was pregnant with BeBe, too.) I am more prone to flashbacks, though I can handle them much better than I used to, thankfully. I worry and I wonder. And it’s sad, and it’s happy. And I think about how every birth story is so different… I have had one so difficult and tragic, and one so easy and so happy. Where will Koen’s story fall? I know where my hope is, but this life is so unpredictable. So I continue in hope, in prayer, in vigilance…

There is an occasional, reluctant dance with my deepest fear, though I face him stronger, wiser, and more peaceful each time we dance. When you’ve been to Hell and back, you realize the partner you find in fear is not really worthy of your attention. And his mistress, guilt, snaps at your heels as long as you entertain him. Horrid company, indeed. Ever grateful to the Maestro who set my heart forever free with the never-ending symphony of hope and salvation, I spin fear away to his dark corner. His mistress follows him.

And the Maestro invites me to sing songs and dance steps of His faithfulness and deliverance to share with those who need it. His rhythms are joyful and restore my peace. And that is where I wish to remain, deeply loved, moved by His grace into more beautiful songs and radiant with light.

“For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” ~Galatians 5:13<a

A Sailor’s Loyalty

 

“We are all in the same boat, in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.” -G.K. Chesterton

If I could have abandoned this line of thinking over worship style (or any other number of stylistic/traditional/personal differences) at a particular church I was attending, I probably would have either never become a member anywhere, or wouldn’t go to church at all, anymore. If I jumped ship in regard to my marriage, because things weren’t working well with my shipmate, I would have missed out on so many blessings and my children would be lost. In both of these cases, sometimes it is all you can do to hang on at various points on the journey, nose to the grindstone, loving and humbly helping those around you to the best of your ability.

But what is important to remember (and to put your hope in) is that the One who has power and dominion over the wind and the waves never lets you, your shipmates, or the ship out of His sight. If we fix our eyes back into the loving gaze of Him who holds our hope and our salvation, all our fears fade away. So many times, we hold onto fear instead of fixing our gaze on Jesus. Holding onto or wielding fear never produced a genuine revival, let alone results. Holding onto preferences over perseverance, and traditions over truth, can be a form of false security and fear. Sometimes, we must compromise our preferences to keep peace. Sometimes, we must let go of traditions in order to grow.

I started working on this note a few weeks ago and I was praying about how to share my thoughts. This morning, a dear friend of mine (who happens to be a pastor) posted, “Bless and equip the next generation for what God is doing in their time, and you empower them to honor and receive what He did in yours.” It was poignant and relevant to my prayers and personal study on how God moves us.

This holds true in churches where pastors, worship styles, and traditions may be changing. ALL of those things are subject to change. The only thing not subject to change is God’s Word. Both of the above quotes pertain to marriages and families, as well as the people God has given to you to love. Remember, perfect love drives out fear. (See John 4.)

I’m 33. Some would say I have seen a lot in my time. Some would say I’m just a baby. Well, actually, I’m in between. But I have seen enough people jumping ship into disastrous waters, abandoning their families and/or the Church. I have seen so many egos get in the way, threats over money, and power struggles end relationships that had the potential to be brilliant, amazing, and incredible light in this dark world. Quite frankly, it breaks my heart. And I know it breaks God’s, when we choose our way over His command to love one another, and to love our neighbor.

It is so hard, I know, because God has given me some people to love that are quite difficult. And I know I am not always lovable, myself. See? Same boat. Stormy sea. That terrible loyalty…

But here’s the thing about that “terrible loyalty”: It is that terrible loyalty that brought Jesus to Earth, to live and love among us, feeling the weakness of our flesh, even though He is God. It is that terrible loyalty that made Him fight for our freedom from fear, judgement, and death. It is that terrible loyalty that made Him obedient unto death on the cross. In this broken world, that terrible loyalty is LOVE, and Jesus showed us how to LIVE it! We owe that same unconditional love to each other. (See John 15.) How about we focus on that terrible loyalty He demonstrated for us, instead of focusing on fear of changing winds and/or the future?

P.S. I ❤ the Book of John

Peace,
shelbylee