tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275690492024-03-19T03:50:05.820-07:00~Hiccups~The Bumps and Blessings of Raising Our FamilyShellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.comBlogger319125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-58275902514168784172014-09-11T20:16:00.003-07:002014-09-11T20:17:47.505-07:00Bleeding Vs and Football Practice<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">We are at school this year more than ever before, and I realized I hadn't really talked to the guys about the white boxes in the shared bathrooms. So, I proceed to tell them on the way home from school, describing menstruation, purposes of menstruation, dangers of touching the "white box", etcetera, etcetera. Evan is my explorer. The places his hands have been scare me. I asked Ian if he got it, and he explained to me that he already knew all about this stuff...I told him when he was six. Evan was playing Angry Birds in the backseat and looked at me like I was lying to him. I actually love that I don't get freaked out about this kind of thing, but hopefully they aren't at football practice thinking about bleeding vaginas. Just saying.</span>Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-40279477080786925402012-02-21T17:08:00.003-08:002012-02-21T17:08:50.976-08:00S or 8Evan said, "When I write my S, I get <b>carried away<i></i></b> and write an 8."
So cute!Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-947362593406916222012-01-13T11:26:00.001-08:002012-01-13T11:31:27.625-08:00How Hair Grows<div><p>Evan says to me yesterday, "Mom, I know how to make your hair grow. If you have a brain freeze and stick your head in the sun, it grows. I just did it and felt my hair grow." </p>
<p>He comes up with the silliest stuff. Those green eyes melt my heart.</p>
</div>Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-67551980991044939242011-10-22T08:59:00.000-07:002011-10-22T08:59:12.385-07:00October 22I remember the first time I saw you. We had waited for so long to meet you. Your daddy had a most amazing look on his face. He was so proud of you! You were lying next to your mommy with her arm tucked around you.She looked perfect. You made her a mommy and her face was filled with peace. I was amazed. Simply amazed by you and by them. Of course, I had felt an intense love towards the babies I had given birth to, so it struck me that I could feel such an intense love towards someone I had never met before. You captured my heart with your sweet little face, your dimpled chin, and your head of black hair just like your mommy's. I wanted to hold you forever.
When I was driving back to the hospital that morning when the sun came up, a morning very similar to this morning, I was struck by how new the world felt to me. It was a gorgeous first day to be alive. The leaves were turning, the sky was blue. The contrast in colors was simply beautiful. And, there was a place in my heart that was new and beautiful to me as well. I had no idea how much I would love you, but you my precious little grandson, have stolen my heart.
As I sit here, with tears running down my face, the memories of one year are filling my heart. I love that you love me unconditionally. I love that when you see me you smile so very very big. I love that you want me to hold you. I love watching you walk, talk, laugh, squeal, and ask me for bites by smacking your cute little lips. I love that you trust me. I love that you laugh at me. Watching how safe you are fills my heart. Your parents are amazing. Watching them love you and take care of you brings such peace to my heart. You are blessed beyond measure to have been born their son. I am thankful you are safe.
My Sweet Little Finny, please always remember that you are loved by your mommy and daddy, your grandmas and grandpas, your aunties and uncles, and that God has a purpose and a plan for your life that He put in place before you were even made. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Every precious part of you. I can't wait to share more time with you and create more memories with you.
I love you bigger than the world,
GammaShellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-49473135100810462912011-10-21T08:28:00.000-07:002011-10-21T08:28:53.943-07:00What I Do All Day Part 2I kiss my little guys.
I watch all of my children because watching them is an amazing thing to do.
I watch them play in their games and practices, interact with each other, be silent, be LOUD, just be.
I hold the little ones and am privileged enough to be confided in by the older ones.
I hopefully respect and love my husband enough for him to notice.
I take joy in their accomplishments.
I am amazed by my grandson and just pick him up and maul him randomly.
I correct and hopefully direct my children. Sometimes I fail at this and sometimes I succeed.
I lose my patience and have tons of patience.
I love having my amazing home and taking care of it.
I feel overwhelmed by how much work it takes some days.
I am honored and humbled to have a husband who cares for all of us...financially and emotionally. There are very few days I am not struck by his consistency when he gets up before dawn.
I am honored and humbled that he and I are on the same page with his job and my job.
I make a lot of mistakes with the people I love.
I am hopefully humble enough to admit them and ask for forgiveness.
I pray I honor my God, my family, my friends.
I pray I am a blessing to those around me because I am beyond blessed by them.
My days are full. My days may look the same with little things thrown in here and there. But, I cannot imagine doing anything else right now. It is real. It counts. It is my life. And I will count my blessings in the midst of the busy.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-18641614545718766182011-10-18T17:56:00.000-07:002011-10-18T18:13:43.688-07:00What I Do All DaySomeone asked me what I do all day long...I am a stay-at-home mom you know. My life is a cake walk apparently. It stung. It cut, I have to admit. But, I decided to look at what I do all day long, to take note of it. So here is my day...just today until 6:00 p.m. <br /><br />Wake up<br />Text a discouraged friend.<br />Stumble to get coffee.<br />Laundry...<br />Make sure the boys are ready for the day which requires multiple attempts.<br />Laundry...<br />Set them up for school.<br />Wash bedding...<br />Teach them how to read, write, math, science, social studies, art, etc. etc. <br />Finally get myself ready for the day, but the legs will have to wait for another day.<br />Say for the millionth time...and I am not exaggerating...Don't bounce the ball in the house! <br />Finn comes to visit while daddy goes to school and mommy goes to work.<br />Run to the bookstore across town to get Amanda her book for Honors English that no one in town seemed to carry except a small used book store...clear across town.<br />Run to the grocery store to get spaghetti sauce for dinner.<br />Run to my friends house to drop off some things I borrowed a month ago.<br />Run the book to Amanda.<br />Run home to finish up school with the boys.<br />Make a lasagna for dinner.<br />Run Amanda her soccer shirt she forgot...yes, I am aware I probably shouldn't have done that if I am teaching her responsibility.<br />Run to Evan's soccer practice.<br />Run home to get Lindsey.<br />Run to Amanda's soccer game while dropping Ian off at football practice which requires getting tons of gear found and ready.<br />Get home to throw dinner in the oven.<br />Laundry...<br />Get a call about something I have to do tomorrow.<br />Sit down to send Ryan a paper for school that is on my computer.<br />Answer a few important emails.<br />Which leads me to this....<br /><br />I have no idea what I do with my time. I guess I should get a job that brings in money so that I can do something important with my life.<br /><br />or not...Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-6069867975104907862011-09-11T09:50:00.000-07:002011-09-11T10:02:27.489-07:009/11/2011"History is a tool for the living." <br /><br />I heard this last night on a 9/11 special. It will go in my "favorite quotes" book. It stirred me, made me stop for a moment. My heart was broken in a new way watching it all happen again last night. Hearing the voices of those lost...and some who were saved. Seeing the pictures of things that are way too hard to grasp on a television screen. I didn't know if I could make it through it was so heartbreaking. But, I am thankful my heart feels broken over something so horrible. I am thankful I have not become immune to human suffering.<br /><br />I don't think 10 years ago I even began to grasp what was happening. I had no idea what the twin towers even were. I had no idea how to feel when we were the ones actually being hurt. It felt fiction. <br /><br />I hope I grasp it a little more today. Not to become angry, miserable, or fearful but I just don't want to take what we have for granted. I don't want to forget how blessed we are and how quickly that can change. I don't want to forget that the human race is good, caring, sacrificing, and loving even if there are some who don't fit into that category. I don't want to forget our history.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-79304480250942873582011-09-06T23:37:00.001-07:002011-09-07T00:02:02.228-07:00SpinningI won't even try to put into words what is happening in our lives right now. Busy is one of the ones I can think of, but it doesn't even begin to describe what is in my heart. Whatever emotion it is, it leaves me shaking my head. It causes me to close my eyes and marvel. I am blessed beyond measure. <br /><br />On an adorable note, I have an Evan story to write down. We were at Amanda's soccer game today. One of Amanda's teammate's baby brother who is a few months younger than Finny was there. Evan looked around after playing with him forever and said, "Well at least there is a baby to play with here!" Everything Evan says is with emphasis and excitement. Then he walked to the top of the bleachers and made a friend. He came down after me watching them be simply adorable together, and he got right in my face and said, "He asked me to be his friend! I didn't even have to ask him because he asked me first!" I asked him what his name was, and he said he didn't know because he forgot to ask him. Hmmm...Those green eyes kill me EVERY time....every time.<br /><br />I have always been amazed that if you are a child and you see someone the same size as you, you don't even have to know their name and you can be instant friends. Wouldn't life be sweeter if we could make more friends just because someone happened to be where we are? <br /><br />I am reminded daily how when a woman becomes a mother how her heart instantly shreds and becomes vulnerable, indescribably vulnerable. Amanda said she doesn't think I watch her games because I can't tell her everything that happened, but I told her it is because I am too busy watching her...not the game. If she doesn't have the ball, I am usually watching her do something amazing that no one else might notice. But, I am her mommy, and so I will get teary every time. <br /><br />Ian played his first football game....I knew it was coming despite my fear, but it is what it is. I just have to believe that all those pads are going to do their job. I have to say, I think Ian in his football uniform ranks up there with little baby toes. Seriously kills me. I want to maul him, but when I tell him that, he tells me his dad would never let me do that. So, I told him I would just weep in the stands. That makes him laugh. It is interesting though how the simple little things are such big moments. When he takes his stance and his little feet shift, I think I am going to die because he is so cute. Again, I have no idea what is happening in the game, because my eyes are on him. Steve has to tell me when they are actually running for a touchdown. <br /><br />A little picture of my life I long to remember.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-67572360841610814782011-08-05T21:53:00.000-07:002011-08-05T22:06:18.255-07:00Nursing, Nests, and Little Blue PajamasThere are a few things I want to remember. I want to remember Evan walking around in his little blue pajama shorts with no shirt and his socks on and telling me how amazing it feels when he takes off his socks after a long day. I want to remember that when he sees his daddy looking at him through the kitchen window he says "daddy" with complete love and peace in his voice. I want to remember that when Ian and Evan feed Finny his bottle they ask him if he wants uncle to nurse him because they are so very very innocent. I want to remember that they think mommy cats come and find their kittens and take them back to their nest when it is time for bed. I want to remember because these are the things that take my breath away and make my heart skip a beat.When my children are all grown, I want to remember the emotions that only I can feel because they are my babies. I want to remember what it feels like to be their mommy.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-55282216245816940592011-07-10T16:06:00.000-07:002011-07-10T23:15:48.049-07:00MomentsThere are so many moments in 43 years. It is hard to comprehend<br /><br />The people I have known,<br /><br />The places I have been,<br /><br />The laughter,<br /><br />The tears,<br /><br />The love,<br /><br />The hatred,<br /><br />The joy,<br /><br />The pain,<br /><br />The peace,<br /><br />The devastation.<br /><br />Simple moments,<br /><br />Life changing moments <br /><br />Have composed my life.<br /><br />As I sit and reflect on these areas of my life, my heart is consumed with emotion. <br /><br />How did I get here?<br /><br />It went too fast.<br /><br />I love being the mother of adult children, but my heart can hardly bear that they are grown. Sometimes I am reminded of what has come and gone. I wish I would have stopped in the midst of changing diapers and kissing owies and tried to freeze those moments in my soul. I wish I remembered more. <br /><br />I wish I could go back for a moment. <br /><br />Just one moment. <br /><br />I would like to hold them on my lap again, smell their little heads once more and tell them how much they mean to me as they squirm to get down and go play. <br /><br />But, I can't, and I now know that this is not forever. This moment will also pass. So, as I sit here with my grandson on my lap, I will try to consume his precious smile that I am seeing through my tears. I will reflect on the moments gone by but try not to stay there too long. This moment is sitting right here in front of me, and I don't want to miss it.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-64144530444163600982011-06-19T12:26:00.000-07:002011-06-19T12:38:02.148-07:00Committed and ConsistentThere are many words that come to my mind when I think of my husband, but the two that stand out today are committed and consistent. <br /><br />Steve is wholeheartedly dedicated and unchanging.<br /><br />I truly could not ask for a better man to be the father of my children. <br /><br />I am blessed by his quiet consistent commitment. I am blessed by the security he offers our family. <br /><br />He just is. I never have to guess with him. <br /><br />That is what I needed.<br /><br />That is a gift.<br /><br />Happy Father's Day, Steve. <br /><br />I love you.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-54140234928424615152011-06-16T11:58:00.001-07:002011-06-16T16:57:09.120-07:00Till Death Do Us PartWhat happened? <br /><br />How did I get here?<br /><br />What now?<br /><br />I am lost!<br /><br />How am I going to do this alone?<br /><br />Will I survive the very crushing of my soul?<br /><br />These are just a few of the thoughts that ran through my mind in April of 1997. I found myself without a husband with four little girls, no family anywhere close to me. I was alone and the world felt huge, hopeless, and I was beyond afraid. <br /><br />I don't go back to this place very often, but sometimes you have to look at the end of one thing to recognize the magnitude of something new. <br /><br />This was the beginning of the rest of my life. This was my redemption from a life filled with constant self doubt and fear. This was when God pushed the restart button on my life and began the process of restoring my heart. This was the day I understood real pain, and that God brings beauty out of ashes.<br /><br />During this period of time, I wept to the very depths of my being. I thought I would die of the pain that encased me. I could not get away from it. I wanted to die, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving my girls. I was confused on how love worked. I didn't even know what romantic love was. It was a foreign language to me.<br /><br />There were days when I lost focus, but overall, I kept my bearings. I kept my eyes on Jesus, and I just kept walking toward Him. Sometimes all I could do was crawl, but at least I crawled. If I would have stopped, I would have perished. There is no doubt of that. He kept me breathing. He also gave me promises. <br /><br />I longed to have a man love me the way I was created to be loved. I was twenty-nine, and the very thought of spending my life alone was more far-fetched in my mind than someone willing to look at what my life held and then choose to embrace it. I longed to be sought after, wanted, treasured, and I longed to be held. My heart and my flesh cried out for that. We were created to love and be loved. I was no exception.<br /><br />My path was long. There are far too many seconds in two years, seconds that I had to survive and make sure my girls were OK. But, each second I chose to live and breathe was a second of healing for me. Second by second I was learning to trust.<br /><br />I would stand at night on my porch and look at the moon. I would wonder where he was. I would walk around the park and wonder what it would be like someday to walk there with him. I knew he was out there, but I also knew God was doing something in his heart as well. He no doubt had to be a man of honor. My heart could not take anything less. Not a perfect man, but a man who was loyal. A man who would never leave me until death do us part. A man who kept his promises. <br /><br />On June 16, 1999, I stood in front of some of the closest friends in my life. I stood before them with my man. For the first time in a long time, I felt joy. I was not alone any longer. I was one with someone who loved me. Through thick and thin, I was now married to a man who chose me and my life. <br /><br />That was 12 years ago today. We have passed major milestones in our life together. We are Steve and Shellie. We go together. We are family. <br /><br />This is not a story of two perfect people who had it all down. Even though Steve was my prince charming, we did not ride off into the sunset on a white horse. We rode off in a minivan with five little girls in the back and with all our baggage. We were in for a very bumpy ride. <br /><br />This is a story about two imperfect people who stayed. And because of that, neither one of us fears being left any longer. Through all of it, we stayed family. <br /><br />It is as simple and complex as that.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-17468998767092464782011-05-20T21:35:00.001-07:002011-05-20T21:42:04.763-07:00ThanksRegarding my last post...<br /><br />Thanks to my friends who left comments, my friends who emailed me, and the friends who called or text. I so appreciate all of you, even those of you I have never met. Your kind uplifting words, your encouraging me to share my real life with you, and simply telling me that it is ok to be tired, has all given me new strength. <br /><br />I am feeling better. I wrote it all down in an email to my amazing mother-in-law, and that was tremendously helpful~just getting it out of me was so freeing. The sun is out which may seem silly to some, but truthfully, the lack of sun does make me sad sometimes, I started taking tons of Vit D and trying to do more things to take care of myself. It feels like it is paying off at this point. I'm not out of the woods, but I do see the light. I really do. Just keep praying for me. :-)<br /><br />Thanks again.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-29640777065844467982011-05-17T16:08:00.000-07:002011-05-17T16:59:54.892-07:00Reality CheckI think I need therapy. <br /><br />No really. <br /><br />What pushed me to this realization?<br /><br />The other day someone who means nothing positive to me decided to knock on my door and say some ridiculously mean things about me and my family. I, being the protective mom that I am, defended my babies and then started crying. She then proceeded to tell me to get a handle on myself. As mean as it was, I kind of agree with her. Why was I crying over her? What the heck? She is crazy. No really. I am not joking. Can I say that? If you know me, you know I am a nice person. I have forgiven even the worst of my "enemies." And, I need to continue working on this with her, but what got me is how hard I took it. Really??? Seriously??? Any sane person would tell me to let it roll off me like water off a ducks back, that there is nothing rational in this situation, etc. I have dealt with her and hers for years. She has made it clear that she hates me because I am an "over zealous Christian freak." Hmmm...k! Maybe that is a compliment. I truly have no idea why she would say that to me. I have tried to encouraged her through some tough times, asked her to forgive me when I have been short with her, let her kids in my house, taught my kids to forgive even when it is not easy and we have truly been wronged. I have never "preached" at her, judged her, etc. At least I don't think I have. <br /><br />Anyway, I am rambling. The point is, after she left, I vowed to never leave my house again, I closed my curtains so she couldn't see me...she is my neighbor, told my boys they could never play in the front again, and then cried for like...6 hours. The kind of crying that makes the blood vessels in your eyes break. Please say it for me! WHAT THE HECK! Why did she get to push me over the edge?<br /><br />Can I just say that the past 8 months have knocked it out of me....whatever "it" is? <br /><br />I have felt this day coming for awhile now, felt myself slipping a little bit. When I stop and think about all that has happened in my life since September, it is clear why I would need to process it with someone who can handle me sitting there bawling, but the question is...do I have the energy to search for that person? <br /><br />I guess I have realized that even though I had lots of people walking through this stuff with me, no one walked through each moment with me. Some of it was flat out traumatizing. I am not saying that lightly. Believe me, you would probably end up on your knees over some of this stuff too. I am not faint of heart...or I didn't use to be anyway. The things I have experienced are tough by themselves, but I had at least 8 things hitting me hard, one after another, some colliding into each other, some still happening. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I thank God that I am still standing. Without him I would not be. That is for sure. But...<br /><br />The past 8 months have left me feeling<br /><br />tired~well exhausted really. <br /><br />like a failure on some levels~I don't know if I will ever live up to others expectations.<br /><br />overwhelmed~when will it end?<br /><br />fat~10 pounds??? <br /><br />aged~did I look this way 8 months ago?<br /><br />defeated~at least today.<br /><br />afraid~what if it doesn't stop?<br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />Sorry to be a downer. <br /><br />But, this is it today. <br /><br />This is real.<br /><br />This is me right now.<br /><br />Maybe, I pray, tomorrow will be better.<br /><br />I need that.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-45733967704688480622011-04-26T22:34:00.000-07:002011-04-26T22:50:37.104-07:00Laugh All You Want ToToday I took the boys to the pool. After we went swimming, we were in the family dressing room. Evan all of a sudden crawled under my door, so I dove for my towel. I had only gotten as far as my "underpants." There are very few things that are funnier to Evan than underpants. He thinks they are hysterical...and mine don't exactly look like boxer briefs, which only added fuel to the fire. He started with a little chuckle, and his chuckle progressed into a full blown <strong>yelling</strong> belly laugh. I asked him why he was laughing...even though it was obvious. He got very serious and looked at me. Then he replied simply, "Because, it is funny." <br /><br />...or uncomfortable. Depending on who you ask. <br /><br />But, laugh all you want to, my cute little boy. It makes my heart full to hear you laugh...even if it is at my expense.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-61937922893003027802011-04-21T21:51:00.000-07:002011-04-21T21:55:33.610-07:00Front Porch MomentsWell, I deleted my facebook...yes, I did.<br /><br />I have no regrets. <br /><br />Deactivated...<br /><br />De cluttered...<br /><br />I wasn't even sad!<br /><br />Is that weird?<br /><br />Am I a social outcast?<br /><br />Who cares!<br /><br />Bring it on!<br /><br /><br /><strong>"<strong><em>Crowded Loneliness" </em></strong></strong><br /><br />A phrase that stuck in my head today.<br /><br />A phrase that kind of stings. <br /><br />A phrase I get. <br /><br />I am surrounded by people.<br /><br />Friends<br /><br />Strangers<br /><br />Family<br /><br />But I have to admit there are days when I wonder... <br /><br />Who would I call if things were hard with my man, my kids, my parents, MYSELF for goodness sake? <br /><br />Who could I call to say, "I really screwed up today," without fearing judgement, rejection, or worse yet, that uncomfortable look in their eyes that says I shared too much, went a little too far? That look that says, "Let's be real, but...not that real." <br /><br />I woke up with that question this morning, so...<br /><br />I slowed down.<br /><br />I looked.<br /><br />And I found that there are...<br /><br />People who will stop and say hi<br /><br />People who want to talk<br /><br />People who want to hear my junk<br /><br />People who want to hear my rejoicing<br /><br />People who will cry and laugh with me when it hurts<br /><br />People who will cry and laugh with me when I am too overwhelmed with joy and no words will express it.<br /><br />Wow! <br /><br />That is simply...<br /><br />Amazing<br /><br />Breathtaking<br /><br /><em><strong>I have been thinking </strong></em>about front porches today and what they represented years ago...<br /><br />Relaxation<br /><br />Community<br /><br />Friendship<br /><br />Peace<br /><br />Fellowship<br /><br />Can you hear the kids laughing and the dogs barking? <br /><br />Can you feel the warm summer breeze that smells like fresh cut grass? <br /><br />Wouldn't it be amazing to... <br /><br />Take a walk in the evening?<br /><br />See people sitting outside with the love of their life next to them?<br /><br />Pass someone getting a little fresh air?<br /><br />Notice someone playing with their kids?<br /><br />Wouldn't it be nice if we were all a little less isolated? <br /><br />Maybe it could be that way again if we slowed down. <br /><br />Maybe it is time for a change. <br /><br />Maybe I will sit on my front porch, take more walks, blow bubbles and watch my boys innocently chase them. <br /><br />Maybe someone will walk by <br /><br />and we can talk<br /><br />face-to-face<br /><br />simple conversation <br /><br />or deep <br /><br />Whatever...<br /><br />Nothing planned<br /><br />Just real <br /><br />That sounds so amazing to me.<br /><br /><em><strong>About a week ago</strong></em>, a friend of Steve's and mine dropped by to give us a hug. Maybe that is what started the ball rolling again in my head. <br /><br />I loved it. <br /><br />It felt so real to me. <br /><br />I wasn't worried that I was still in my PJ pants or that my house wasn't perfect. <br /><br />I was simply amazed that we were on his mind, and he acted on it. <br /><br />I want to act on those feelings more. <br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Tonight</strong></em> I don't feel "crowded loneliness."<br /><br />Here is to more front-porch moments. <br /><br />I am starving for them. <br /><br />See you Facebook. <br /><br />I want the real deal!Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-60849144850424670802011-04-20T22:58:00.000-07:002011-04-20T23:08:38.352-07:00I WonderI wonder...<br /><br />about many things.<br /><br />I am right in the middle of my life.<br /><br />What does that mean?<br /><br />Where am I SUPPOSE to be, and...<br /><br />am I doing that?<br /><br />Is this all working?<br /><br />Do I have what it takes?<br /><br />Will the hard things get easier even if...<br /><br />other hard things come along?<br /><br />Am I looking for too much?<br /><br />Do I ask for the impossible?<br /><br />I hate pain, yet...<br /><br />we all experience it.<br /><br />I know it brings depth.<br /><br />I know I wouldn't be the same<br /> <br />without my walk through the fire, but...<br /><br />I need fresh air when it is bursting around me.<br /><br />The smoke and ash sometimes choke me.<br /><br />Most days I catch my breath, but...<br /><br />some days, I simply wonder...<br /><br />What<br /><br />is now?<br /><br />is next?<br /><br />is strong?<br /><br />is weak?<br /><br />is right?<br /><br />is wrong?<br /><br />is worth fighting for?<br /><br />is best let loose?<br /><br />Sometimes I wonder...<br /><br />am I the best I can be, or...<br /><br />am I missing something vital?<br /><br />I wonder.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-85626828327909130362011-03-11T13:25:00.000-08:002011-03-11T13:39:58.929-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmX-WSg6Ccqa6z0J9UFxiV7qanSH-OHFdD36IKZehbYThTC6gISY9K5B1kYUXo9_lIGH_cNcaYxcMp1Ajn-irZgdyTHiITE5yIyEZRTgJsJnpdTllZSAUxNiVUSFWUTeUFeBygQw/s1600/0310012103%255B1%255D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmX-WSg6Ccqa6z0J9UFxiV7qanSH-OHFdD36IKZehbYThTC6gISY9K5B1kYUXo9_lIGH_cNcaYxcMp1Ajn-irZgdyTHiITE5yIyEZRTgJsJnpdTllZSAUxNiVUSFWUTeUFeBygQw/s320/0310012103%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582939852116081282" /></a><br /><a href="http://familyhiccups.blogspot.com/2010/09/words.html">"There is a word that hasn't been given yet. It will describe another piece of my heart. A piece I am not quite sure of yet, but I know that when I think of that place in my heart and think of that unknown word, my heart feels completely vulnerable. I simply and complexly can't wait to meet him. He will have a word for me too. I wonder what it will be. It will describe me. When he says it, he will know exactly what he means, exactly who it describes. His grandma. And you know exactly what I mean by that one simple word."</a><br />A friend of mine said she had been reading my blog, and since I haven't written in forever, I decided to go back and read some of my posts. I ran across this. My eyes were already blurry because I love reading my heart; where I have been, where I am going, where I am right now. I write for me, and I am so glad I do. I don't want to forget what lives in me. <br /><br />But, when I got to this, I could no longer see the screen. I still can't very well. Now that I know this little person, my heart has been changed once again to a degree I can't explain. He made me a grandma...a gamma actually. That is my name, and oh how I love it. It no longer describes a little old lady. It describes me and my relationship with an amazing little person who has stolen a chunk of my heart. Actually he didn't steal it. I gave it to him. I am smitten.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-71100049128644468332011-01-18T09:55:00.000-08:002011-01-18T10:35:30.715-08:00My StoryI love to journal. There is nothing quite like it. Pouring my heart out, being real in a way that sometimes I just can't be with anyone but myself, and even then it can make me cringe when I "read" what I am actually thinking and feeling. Sometimes it is way too raw for comfort.<br /><br />So many of my journal entries are just pouring out my heart to Jesus. He can take it. I am so thankful He doesn't decide some days that I went to far, I was too real, or that He just can't take it any longer. I am so blessed to have a living, breathing, relational God. <br /><br />I have been reading about the Roman Empire lately...another fabulous set of books from my favorite author, Francine Rivers. Not to get on a side note, but people then completely sold out to statues of dead, non breathing gods. I guess this isn't far from where many are today...maybe even me at times, although my "gods" aren't statues. They unfortunately exist in my heart. The god of fear. The god of pride...I NEED a breathing God. I NEED a living God. I need a relational God. I am way to messed up to do this without Him. I am too human to not know that I am nothing without him. <br /><br />But, the Christians during that time, when the dark was so dark, I can learn from them. To stand in the path of a starving lion and not run, counting it all joy to die for their faith in the one true God. I want a faith like that. I want to count it all joy when I fall into trials. To get that this is not the end of the story. That the days when it is all too much...it isn't over. <br /><br />But, back to journaling. It is obvious why I journal isn't it?<br /><br />Sometimes I wonder if I should burn some of my old journals so my girls won't find them when I am dead and gone. The gory details...it helps to write them down. I use to scream whole pages....sometimes, I admit, I still do.<br /><br />But, then I realize that I want my girls to know I was real, I was human...and that I made it even when my heart was ugly, hurt, broken, and joyful. I want them to know my love for Jesus and his love for me were consistent, even when I was all messed up. I want them to know that no matter what they think or feel in their hearts, no matter how much they doubt, they are not beyond redemption or purpose or Jesus love. My one true goal is to be real. When I am gone, I want to be known as authentic, not plastic. So, I will keep accumulating my stack of journals. And maybe someday, when one of my precious girls wants to give up, she will open one of my journals, read one of my stories, and see that if I could make it, so can she. And then, I pray she will know that she knows that she knows where my strength and her strength comes from. Our living breathing God who desires relationship with us, whose heart is for us, who has a purpose and a plan for us. It is a good thing to know. It is the most important part of my story.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-23058159674674638572010-12-29T10:45:00.000-08:002010-12-29T10:48:33.541-08:00$26,000Evan...of course.<br /><br />(Steve) You are goofy.<br /><br />(Evan) No, you are a goofy daddy.<br /><br />(Steve) Isn't that ok?<br /><br />(Evan) No, I want you to be a nice daddy and give me twenty-six thousand dollars.<br /><br />(Where does he come up with this stuff?)Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-53561202145184979742010-12-08T20:21:00.000-08:002010-12-08T20:22:17.520-08:00Laying EggsOne more for the record:<br /><br />I said, "Secretariat had 600 babies." (You know...the movie that is out which was fantastic and great for the whole family and at the $3 theater.)<br />Evan Said, "That is impossible. His mom laid that many babies not him."<br />I guess all mom's lay eggs in his sweet little innocent mind.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-40120762393735394652010-12-07T19:22:00.000-08:002010-12-10T08:51:35.005-08:00The TruthGrandpa said, "Evan, are you sure you are telling me the truth about your mother's gum?"<br /><br />Evan said, "Yes, I stopped lying two weeks ago."Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-36132075507571756082010-10-04T14:02:00.000-07:002010-10-04T14:24:16.601-07:00Afraid, Helpless, and Then...Always...GraceI was reading a new book this morning. There was a scene in the book where the daughter came home feeling completely used up and worthless and afraid of being rejected. The father picked her up and held her in his lap on the floor while weeping. I get that. For some reason I get that. Is it because I know what it feels like to be the one who is <span style="color:#ff0000;">afraid</span> of being rejected by people I love or by God at times? Is it because I know what it feels like to hold one of my precious children in my lap when they are broken beyond anything that I can fix? To feel <span style="color:#ff0000;">helpless</span><span style="color:#000000;">. Is it because I know what it actually feels like to be picked up by my God and held on his lap when I don't deserve to be there but am given <span style="color:#ff0000;">grace</span> beyond measure? All of it. I feel all of that. So, I sat there and cried over all of it. </span><br /><br />Then in the story, just when she felt safe, people started judging her and throwing her away, passing judgements on her actions despite not having a clue what it was like to walk her path. Oh, now that I get. Rejected. Trying. Never good enough. Stained. Damaged. People wiping out their KJ versions to tell me how bad and doomed I am even though I knew that it wasn't me that had gotten off the path heading toward Jesus. I had a massive scarlet D on my chest for so long. I still have secret scarlet letters. I claw at them. They sting at times. Most of the time I give myself grace, but there are times when I am reminded of my flaws. That is such an easy road to go down, isn't it?<br /><br />But then, <span style="color:#ff0000;">THEN</span> I remember who bought me with his life, the price that was paid to remove those scarlet letters. I can't keep sowing them back on. I can breath again knowing that when it is all said and done at the end of each day, he accepts me, he treasures me, he adores me. I was created in his image. I am blessed beyond measure. I was known before I was formed in my mother's womb. A plan for my life was set in motion before I took my first breath. I am free. I am forgiven. I am his. I feel the weight of the world lift from my shoulders knowing he is my God and I am his daughter. A big sigh just escaped me. Oh how glad I am for the reminder.<br /><br />But, I do not want to be one of those people above. I know I have been at times. I use to be so judgemental of people, and truthfully, despite every effort I give, I am sure I fail at times in this area. I know I do. Yuk. I don't want to lecture. I don't want to give answers to questions that have never been asked. I don't want to pass someone by just because I think they are beyond repair. Because as I have learned in my life, no one is beyond repair. I am walking proof of that truth.<br /><br />I am covered by his GRACE.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-38146514574493491482010-10-02T20:17:00.000-07:002010-10-02T20:45:27.824-07:00Too Honest?Maybe I am too honest. Maybe I am way too real with this button I can push and send my thoughts into some great unknown.<br /><br />but...<br /><br />I want to.<br /><br />It is therapy.<br /><br />Sometimes I wish that someone would look at me and tell me that it is okay that I feel like pulling my hair out and running down the street like a mad woman.<br /><br />I think that way too much.<br /><br />It is kind of scary.<br /><br />Maybe someday I will.<br /><br />Maybe it would be the best thing I could do.<br /><br />I will leave my clothes on though. Sometimes I envision myself running down the street stripping my clothes off like a total freak. Ha!<br /><br />Don't worry. I won't. That would be way too hard to face the neighbors everyday for the next 22 years until the mortgage is paid off.<br /><br />Maybe I desire freedom.<br /><br />Maybe that is why I want to run and run until I can't run any longer.<br /><br />Not from my family.<br /><br />I adore them.<br /><br />I have no desire to be alone.<br /><br />I do desire to figure out how to not run in the same circle everyday. I feel like a hamster.<br /><br />I don't want to run in a circle.<br /><br />I want to feel the wind in my face, the rain beating on me while I sob and no one can tell.<br /><br />Sometimes I just need to be free.<br /><br />Sometimes I need to cry.<br /><br />Sometimes I need to scream where no one can hear me.<br /><br />Is there a place like that?<br /><br />I could do more things for myself, but usually by the time I have the time, I am exhausted. Completely exhausted.<br /><br />Why is it that moms feel so tired all the time?<br /><br />Doesn't it seem like this should be when we never run out of energy?<br /><br />It is taking a toll on my relationship with my man.<br /><br />No worries.<br /><br />We are committed.<br /><br />but...<br /><br />We don't feel connected to each other right now.<br /><br />I need to change this.<br /><br />I need to remember him and me, what we are together, because when we are together, we are amazing.<br /><br />Amazing.<br /><br />I want amazing.<br /><br />I know this is life.<br /><br />I know he is my family.<br /><br />I know this isn't unusual.<br /><br />I know that it can't always be what I want it to be.<br /><br />but...<br /><br />I need to apologize more.<br /><br />I need to listen more.<br /><br />I need to shut up more.<br /><br />Why is that so hard?<br /><br />Why do we fear the truth?<br /><br />The truth can hurt.<br /><br />It can sting.<br /><br />At times I don't want to look at the truth.<br /><br />Sometimes I don't want to face that at times I treat him poorly because I can.<br /><br />Yuk...<br /><br />I don't want to acknowledge that I can be ugly with him.<br /><br />but...<br /><br />The truth sets us free.<br /><br />If we know the truth, we can change our actions.<br /><br />If we believe a lie that everything is okay when it is not, we become fools.<br /><br />I do not desire to be fooled.<br /><br />I desire real.Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27569049.post-38683087025804615832010-09-24T09:48:00.000-07:002010-09-24T09:53:03.527-07:00An EstimateEvan is 2285 days old today, and he is totally amazed by that. Then he and Ian <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">asked</span> me if I was a trillion days old. To which I took out my pen and calculated I am only 15,492 days old. Give me a break! A Trillion!!Shellie http://www.blogger.com/profile/13347122260850590643noreply@blogger.com0