Shannon Writes Stuff

1. "It will happen when you least expect it."

This one wins the award in my book for being the most overused. The phrase makes me cringe every time I hear it. It basically means one of two things:

a.) The people giving you this advice think that you spend all your hours pining away for that special someone. You have no life and need to get one. But they are wrong.  I do have a life. Maybe I haven't found someone because I'm too busy living my life to notice/have time for anyone.

b.) Life is magic. If you stop thinking about something it will just appear. Just go through life with the notion that you aren't single, that the ringless guy you met at Starbucks is not a possibility. Because if you think of him as a potential mate, then you're "expecting it" and that means it's not going to happen.

2. "Once you learn to love/accept yourself you will be able to love someone else."

Oh, okay. Your skirting around the fact that you think I have no self confidence. For your information, I like myself very much. It took my years to get here, but I made it. In fact, unlike most people, I am not afraid to be alone. I rather enjoy it.

You're also implying that all those who married straight out of high school had "found themselves" at the ripe old age of 18. I seriously doubt it.

3. "Maybe if you didn't set the bar so high..."

You're right! Please help me lower the bar five or six standards. Nope. Sorry. I'm not going to settle. I'd rather be single a little longer than to spend the rest of my life in regret. There's that confidence thing again. I love myself enough to know what a I deserve.

4. "When you have a family of your own you will then know what true love feels like."-

This one applies not only singles but childless individuals as well. No, I don't know what kind of love one has for their child because I have t experienced it. But I've experienced different types of love that are just as genuine. You're saying my love for others is less than yours, and maybe it is. I wouldn't know. But you can't say it isn't a true love. It's the only true I know. Love is relative.

5. "You're still single? I'm so sorry. I know there is someone out there for you."

This statement wouldn't be so bad if the first two sentences were eliminated. Yes, I'm still single. Is that a sin? No need to act so surprised. Please don't feel sorry for me. I'm doing just fine. Stop (unintentionally) trying to make me feel insecure. Our happiness shouldn't be defined by our relationship status.

“Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.” -Hebrews 10:35-36

This is the Bible passage I chose to focus on for 2016. A passage for me to pray into and contemplate throughout the year. The words in these verses couldn't be more relevant to my current stage in life.

Although it isn't true, I feel as if I see everyone crossing the “finish line” before me. Yet, there I stand in the middle of the track hunched over and gasping for air. As I stand there I notice others-one by one-effortlessly crossing the line. I look around and see that the amount of runners around me has significantly decreased. It seems that I'm the only one left on the track with many laps still to go. I'm isolated and frozen. No matter how hard I try, I can't move. I can't catch up.

I'm not old, however, I'm older than most people think. By the world's standards (okay, mainly North America's standards) I should now be married with 2.5 kids. I'm supposed to be letting go of my five seater car and on my way to buying that economically friendly mini van. My days should be filled with Mommy and Me classes, organizing the soccer practice carpool, and spending hours on Pinterest to find the most organic and nutritious meals for my family. That's where I should be (according to the general population), but I'm not. I'm not even close to being there, and that's okay. It really is. I'm learning to accept it.

Yet, I'd be lying if I said that the finish line metaphor didn't (at times) overwhelm me with a severe intensity. Thankfully, that is something I made up in my head and there is no merit to it. I mean, who says this life is a competition, and that we all have to make it to the finish line by a certain time/age? What does this finish line even mean? Aren't we crossing several mini finish lines as we go about our lives? Each goal met and each accomplishment reached is a crossing over of its own. Following God and making an effort is what counts. I shouldn't define my achievements (or lack thereof) to that of anyone else. Track is an individualized sport. You set your own goals and work on bettering yourself. I can't let the journey of other people define me.

I took some detours, and I am thankful for those experiences. I grew spiritually and mentally, and I got to venture out into parts of the world that many people only dream about.

I don't know what “rewards” God has in store for me. Perhaps, they aren't anything close to what I want or imagine. But I do know this: God is good, and he only has good things planned for me. I just need to keep following his path at my own pace.

For awhile now I’ve been pondering and praying about a topic for my next blog. I was a bit frustrated because I had an urge to write, but I kept coming up blank. However, on my way to work last week I was pushing my radio presets and heard the voice of little Linus reciting Luke 2:10-14. That’s when I knew what I needed to write about.

For those of you who don’t know, Luke 2:10-14 is Gabriel’s announcement of the birth of the Messiah to the shepherds. I could talk about the symbolism and reasons why God chose to share this awesome news to the shepherds first, but that’s not what I want to focus on today. Today I am focusing on the emotion of this miraculous event.

Imagine how the shepherds felt the night Gabriel and his angelic army appeared to them. Here they are minding their own business and wearily tending to the flocks on what is seemingly a peaceful night. Suddenly, not just one but a MULTITUDE of angels encompass the fields. God’s glory illuminated the night sky. I sure would be shaking in my sandals if I were one of the shepherd boys. Yet, God’s message spoken through Gabriel was of comfort, and it started with the statement, “fear not”.

To the shepherds those two words meant an abundance of things

Fear not. The proclamation of past prophets is are being fulfilled. Fear not. God has kept the covenant he made to Abraham. Fear not. There is hope for broken, war torn Israel. Fear not. You are about to be renewed. Fear not. The Savior, the King of the World, is here.

Throughout the Bible God commands his people to “fear not”. And why shouldn’t we? God has never broken a promise. He is always merciful and just. Time and time again I choose fear, worry and doubt. Yet, each time one of these emotions pollutes my mind, I hear a faint whisper that says to fear not.

How am I going to stick with my budget this month. Fear not. Haven’t I always provided your needs?

I feel so alone. Fear not. I am here. I will never leave you.

I don’t think they like me. I don’t think I did a good job. Fear not. You are more than enough.

I’m tired. I don’t think I can carry on. Fear not. I am the one carrying you.

I don’t know what the future holds. I’m scared. Fear not. Answers will be given in due time. I have it all under control.

I am worried and feel anxious. Fear not. I will give you peace.

It’s been awhile. Much has happened since I last posted on here.

As most of you know, at the end of June I moved back to  Knoxville. During the last year I had been feeling like God was calling me back east. Signs and spoken words confirmed this feeling. It was a bittersweet experience. On one hand I was excited to be closer to family, start a routine, and experience all four seasons. Yet, on the other hand I was sad to leave my friends (Although most of them were leaving  too, so that helped.), move away from the thrill that was LA and all that it offered, and living in a community where you were constantly pouring out to others, and yet at the same time being refilled on a consistent basis.

Moving home was HARD. It was certainly a readjustment to move back in with my family after living independently for close to four years. Being an introvert living in a busy house with six people is taxing. I’ve had to sacrifice much of my alone time, and by doing so I have become extremely drained and fatigued.

The first three months at home I had no job. It got to a point where I thought I would never find something and would have to succumb to bagging groceries at Ingles (There is nothing wrong with that...I’ve just been down that road before and let’s just say I was not made for customer service jobs.). Thankfully, that fear subsided when I received a call for a position at a local elementary school.

Initially I was hired as an intervention coach for students needing extra help in certain subjects. Yet, I some how stumbled into the Special Education class and instantly fell in love. So now I am a teaching assistant in the Special Ed. department.

Part of the reason I was apprehensive about moving back home was being afraid that I wasn’t going to be useful anymore. I had just spent the last four years ministering to others and traveling the world to make HIM known. So why would God call me back to East Tennessee? It didn’t make sense to me. Sure, I know God can use one no matter where they are located, but I was working in an organization that had connections all over the planet. I trusted, but I didn’t understand. Yet, I think am now beginning to understand a little bit. Piece by piece things are starting to formulate into a picture that makes sense.

A piece is collected when I see one of my students finally grasp a concept.

A piece is put into place when children run up to me in the hallway and give me a hug.

Another piece connects when am able to relieve some of the stress my mom carries by helping with the kids or around the house.

Pieces fall down as I start to develop new friendships.

I grab a piece by being here for my sister as she enters those terrible teenage years.

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

I’ve made a decision. I’m leaving YWAM and will be going back to Tennessee. I don’t know how long I will be there (if it’s permanent or just a time of transition), but this much I do know: going home is going to be hard. All of my friends have moved away. I feel as though I’m regressing, taking two steps back (how many 27 year olds move back with their parents?). I’m completely starting over. And as excited as I am to be with my family again, I am currently grieving the lose of everything I’ve known here.

Nothing has happened to make me want to leave. I’ve loved my time at YWAM, and I would never trade these past four years for anything. In a way I could say that they were the best (and most challenging) years of my life. Yet, for some unknown reason I strongly feel like God is calling me home. And if I’ve learned anything from being in YWAM it’s to be obedient to God’s call.

At the end of June, when I finish the  Bible school, I will be packing my bags to embark on the journey back east.

For the past couple of months I've had an extreme case of writer's block. I can't begin to count the number of times I've sat down with my laptop ready and willing to type something and ended up having a blank stare contest with the screen. Recently, I've had the time to write without having to carve it out of my busy schedule. I got frustrated because here I was with all of this time, and yet, I couldn't use it productively. The words-which had made sense in my head-turned into gibberish once typed out on the page. Heck, I even read those thought provoking blog posts that everyone (including myself) reposts on FB. Those blogs inspired me to blog, but the inspiration would quickly dwindle when the words never came.

So that's my explanation for not writing. And honestly, I didn't really feel like writing the standard "let's reflect on the year 2014-the good and the bad" blog. Yet, here I am (on my iPhone of all things) writing just that. 

But the reason I decided to blog is because I have to share how I got through this year. It was only by God's grace and faithfulness. Cliche yes, but it's the truth.

It's been a growing year indeed. And like everyone else, I've had good days, bad days, healthy days and sick days. I've laughed, I've cried and I've questioned everything. 

I don't think that there is any one outstanding event that redefined who I am or reshaped my life. I think just a bunch of little things mixed together contributed to the woman I am becoming.

It seems people feel an enormous amount of pressure during this time of year. They feel as though they have to think back to a certain date or experience that made or broke their year. That's simply not true. Some years will be more mundane than others, and that's okay. You have to take the little moments in each day-the ones that may seem too simple or insignificant at the time-because those are the moments you are unknowingly collecting to make you who you are. 

Anyway, regardless if our year has been "noteworthy" or not, it simply can't be accomplished without God. At least my life can't. I'm not trying to make this blog ultra religious because I know some that read this don't follow a specific religion, but it is my blog and I am a Christian. Therefore, I can't write about my life and not acknowledge God's grace. 

You get a whole new perspective when you look back and see that God directed every moment of your life. One thing I can't deny about this year is that I have learned so much about God's character. Character that never changes. Character that is pure and good. It was true when he led the Israelites through the wilderness and into the Promised Land, and it's true as he leads me through my own unknown wilderness and into something beautiful. Such a good thing to know, because that very promise is what gets me through.

How much longer will I be in this wilderness? I can't begin to guess. Forty years? Forty days? Forty minutes? I don't know, but I do know that when I get to where I'm going it will be worth every painful step. And in this wilderness I have been provided for. It may not always be luxurious, but I have never been without. My God is a God who provides. Not only does he provide my needs, but he also provides the very best.

Our testimony is very powerful. Don't underestimate your story. And don't tell me you don't have a story to tell, because you do. If you are a living, breathing human being, then you most certainly have something to say. When I had small groups and I'd tell them that we were going to share testimonies as a group, I'd always have a couple that would moan and whine saying that they didn't have a testimony because their life was boring and they have nothing outstanding or jaw dropping to say. And I would tell them that was a lie. Everyone has something impactful and important to share. I used to be that girl. I didn't think I had anything significant to say, but I do!

Not only is our testimony helpful for others, it is also healing for us.

We have overcome by the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony. Rev. 12:11

Such powerful words!

The theme of our school this year is unmasked. Unmasking our shame, our secrets, and replacing the lies we believe about ourselves with truth. As a class, we have been taking turns sharing our testimonies. By being vulnerable and honest we are declaring freedom for ourselves. We may not realize it right then, but we are basically unknotting the ropes that have bound us as prisoners to ourselves for so long. The past does not define us. We have been made clean by the blood of Christ. We are free. 

We are just a bunch of broken vessels trying to figure out this life thing together. But every time we share a bit of our brokenness, we are slowly but surely getting those broken pieces put back together. And having a group of people help you sort through the shattered pieces is amazing. We aren't meant to do it alone.

What is your story, and are you willing to have someone help you pick through the sharp, painful pieces with you? Do it. It's freeing. 

Today I realized that my need for control is out of control. Okay, I’ve known that I’ve had control issues for quite some time. However, today I became aware of just much it's affecting my life. 

I’m in a transition right now. For two years I’ve been staff at YWAM LA. I’ve lead people, I’ve taught people, I’ve hosted people, I’ve made schedules for people, and I’ve done a whole lot of other things for people. But now I am switching gears and playing the student role. Instead of being the one pouring out, I’m going to be the one getting poured into. And as refreshing as it may be, it's also nerve wracking. I’m not used to playing that part. That role means giving up authority. Giving up my status. 

Control has smothered my life in so many areas. I could blame my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for it all. And although that does play a big part in why I have to do things a certain way, it’s not fair to put all of the blame there. 

Shoot, I can’t even give God control of my life. It’s my biggest fight with Him. I know He has the best plans for me, but my stubborn heart just can’t accept that. If I can't even surrender it all to God-the One who knows all and loves me best-how the heck am I supposed to surrender control in other areas of my life?

Friday:

“We’re still best friends, right?” I ask four year old Lily as I slide into the seat next to her.

“Yep.” She said with an air of confidence. She then looked at me and asked point blank, “Why don’t you have a husband yet?"

“I don’t know, Lily.”

“Well, I’ve prayed for you to have a husband.”

We hug.

“I know, Lils. And you keep praying.”

“Maybe he’s still a baby.”

“Maybe God is still working on him on me, and when the time is right he will send him my way. Right? Right.”

We laugh and then dive into our Styrofoam plates filled with El Pollo Loco goodness.

Saturday:

I sit in our courtyard decorated with lights and jars filled with daisies that are strategically placed on every table. A beautiful setting. A beautiful evening. A beautiful couple is about to commit to each other until “death do them part”. And I am completely out of my element. So many people, several of whom I don’t know. I find a table with familiar faces and ask if I can sit with them. I’m relieved that I don’t have to awkwardly start a new table all by myself. I smile throughout the ceremony. At one point I feel tears well up in my eyes because oh, how I want a love like that. To love someone so much and commit to them for the rest of my days. I’m happy for the couple that stand there exchanging vows. I am truly am. But my heart is heavy. I look up to the sky, God, when will it be my turn? I’m tired of waiting. I know He’s heard this millions of times from me, but where else can I turn? 

The ceremony ends, and now it's time to mingle with acquaintances. Oh, yay. I feel my anxiety rise. I search for groups of people I know, and hop from pod to pod. I feel a pounding headache start to develop. I’m pretty sure it’s due to the fact that I didn’t drink enough water throughout the day. I find a child. Thank God for children. I take baby Ella around with me, feeling a wee bit better that I now have a “prop”. This means I don’t have to rack my brain for useless conversation topics. The baby is the conversation topic. 

Eventually, I make my way to a table where Lily is sitting and eating her tacos. We talk. I give her a scientific lesson on the parts of a flower, since she is so intrigued by the daisies. I look down at my phone and read the news. News I knew was coming, but still didn’t want to hear. Kylie died. I don’t really know what to think. I’m happy for Kylie because she is in no more pain, but my heart grieves for her family. And to find this news out at a wedding of all places. A celebration. Such is life I guess. Always unpredictable. Always messy. I look at Lily who is happily eating her rice and beans. Who do I share this news with? We’re at a freakin’ wedding. No one wants to hear about a five year old that just lost her battle with cancer. So, I do what anybody else who found out sad news would do - I get in the taco line. 

The line is forever long, and I’m sandwiched between people I don’t know. I’m left with a decision. Do I jump the line and stand with friends, or do I uncomfortably stand here for the next twenty minutes? I chose the latter. Frankly, I don’t really feel like talking to anybody right now. I need to think. I need to process. 

I get my tacos. I listen to the speeches. I eat some delicious cake. Now what? I really was looking forward to the dancing. That’s always my favorite part of wedding receptions, but I don’t feel much like dancing. I still have my headache. I’m drained. So I go home. I watch some Netflix and then try to sleep off the throbbing pain. 

And that was my night. I was hoping that God would give me some miraculous revelation during the wedding. Like, He would fill me up with words of hope and promise. That I could use the experience to write some awesome blog post about all of the revelation I received. Well, that didn’t happen. And that’s okay. I still believe in God’s promises, and I know He has my best interest at heart. And right now that is all I can hold on to. I’m still waiting. I’m still hoping. 

There is one particular thing that grinds my gears. I’ve kept my mouth shut about it for a long time, but I no longer can do that. The particular thing? It’s Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). It’s not OCD itself that bothers me, it’s the way the term is loosely tossed around, joked about and abused. Why does this bother me so much? Because I actually have OCD.

Oh, you like to organize all of the rooms in your house? Your closet is color coordinated? That’s cute. Good for you. Honestly, I’m glad that you take pride in tidiness and that organization is one of your strengths. However, that is not OCD. Then what exactly is OCD, you ask? Let me tell you.

OCD is spending hours cleaning the bathroom because if you don’t do it “just right” your mom will die on her way home from work, and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT.

OCD is feeling like you have to pray for hours and must include everyone on the “prayer list” because if you don’t they will die, and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT.

OCD is feeling like you must pray every time you hear a siren, otherwise someone is going to die, and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT. 

OCD is having dark, disturbing thoughts and images involuntarily enter your mind. And because of those unwanted thoughts, you think you are those thoughts. I must be a mass murderer (obviously, this is not true, but OCD makes you believe you are a sick, twisted person).

OCD is being a slow reader. Must. Read. Every. Single. Word. Sometimes over and over again, until the sentence feels “just right”.

OCD is having to write, erase and rewrite words, letters or numbers because they looked too “perverted” the first, second or third time. 

OCD is having an unreasonable fear of “catching” AIDS or cancer, even though you know you can’t “catch” those diseases.

OCD is being five years old and making sure you inspect every single piece of your favorite candy to make sure it has an “M” on it, otherwise it is probably a drug. And how dare you take a drug, you bad, bad child. (Mars Company, I deeply apologize for ever doubting your intentions)

OCD is not being able to get out of bed until the the last two digits on the clock are on a “perfect” number, otherwise you are guaranteed to have a bad day. A very bad day.

OCD is being in a constant state of guilt, and punishing yourself because of this.

OCD is so much more than the things I listed. I realize that this disease affects people in different ways. Some people are more “O”, which means they obsess over things that are out of their control. I am more of an “O”. Whereas, other people are more compulsive (“C”). This means that they are more likely to count/touch things over and over again having to constantly wash their hands, etc.

The examples I listed are things I actually struggle with. I could say struggled, but that would be lying. I still struggle. But I now know how to handle these obsessive thoughts. I’ve learned how to talk myself out of them. I have the power. OCD does not. I was around 15 years old before I realized this. Before then, I didn’t know there was something wrong. I thought it was normal. I am so thankful that is not the case.

Unless you think a loved one is going to die because your closet is not color coordinated, or it will cause you such great anxiety that you will physically not be able to function, I highly doubt you have OCD. So, please, for me and the millions of others that actually suffer from this disease, do not abuse the term. You’re organized, you’re anal, you’re a neat freak, you’re a fan of cleanliness, but you’re NOT a victim of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. 

Being the avid reader I am, it’s probably not a surprise to you that I read The Fault in Our Stars before it caught the attention of Hollywood. Don’t worry this blog post isn’t dedicated to the recent popularity of this paperback turned film. It is, however, dedicated to one of my favorite quotes. A quote that was formed in the mind of John Green but given to life by one of his dying characters.

“People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar. That fewer remember her. That she was loved deeply but not widely.”

See, I think that is how I will leave this earth, with a lesser scar. That used to bother me. I’ve always wanted to make a big splash on this earth.  I wanted a chapter dedicated to me in the history books. And to be totally honest, in a way I still  think it would be cool to leave a big imprint. However, I also realize that is selfish. Why do I want to leave this mega legacy? For my own fulfillment? Or is the motive one hundred percent committed to making a difference in the world? The older I get the more I understand that is not what it’s all about. It’s about investing in those few. The few that count. The ones that are always by your side. 

She was loved deeply. I like that. That’s what I want. I’d rather be loved well by a few than to be loved a little by many. I value relationships. One of my character strengths is loyalty. One of my flaws is exclusivity. I think that there are a couple reasons behind that flaw. The first is because I am an introvert. Big groups overwhelm me. They drain me. I get lost in the shuffle. The second would be my love language which is quality time. I want to build a relationship on rock, not sand. I don’t handout pieces of myself to just anyone.