bridesmaid #10...

So, it’s official, the joy of being a bridesmaid is here once again. My dear sweet Mands is getting married in February and we are all basking in the excitement and enthusiasm of #tamanda2016. 

My first BIG assignment was the bridesmaid request cards. I don’t think there is anything more fun than dreaming and designing paper goods for my nearest and dearest in their biggest moments! They came together perfectly - black and white stripes with ridiculously cute little arrows and hints of the perfect peachy, coral pink and surprise hearts here and there to keep it flirty and fabulous. Plus polka dot lined envelopes and hand-written notes from “the future Mrs. Roth” - perfection. For her sister Ashley, the maid of honor, the card became a label on a bottle of pink champagne in a darling little burlap bag. They really were everything we discussed and envisioned - and Amanda absolutely LOVED them - and THAT is what made my heart most happy. 

Since they were personalized, she gave me the names of 9 or her 10 bridesmaids and said #10 was a secret surprise and she couldn’t tell me who lucky #10 would be. Of course you know the end of the story - bridesmaid #10 is ME! My dear sweet friend wanted me to feel special and loved and not have to design my own card, so I got a darling floral card in a polka dot lined envelope just a few days ago. I couldn’t be more excited to be part of her day - or her life - she is undoubtedly one of the greatest gifts and a treasure I will cherish for a lifetime. 

Since we are racing towards a February wedding, things have to move FAST friends! Mands already found her dress and it is all kinds of magical and dreamy and definitely made me cry more than once. I have tentatively picked my bridesmaid dress though I haven’t officially pushed order or said YES (what is it about bridesmaid dresses that instantly make you feel more insecure and hideous than ever before - I’m absolutely convinced I will look HORRENDOUS in anything and nothing will fit and it’s just entirely too hard. I took my measurements and I might just barely squeeze into the largest size - nothing like feeling giant while on display…blarg!). Bridal shower plans are well underway and those invitation designs are completed! This weekend there is a crafternoon session that is sure to be epic including tons of burlap and lace and all things rustic and chalkboard and woodsy vintique. I’m in process on the wedding invite and dreaming about what to buy the Roth’s for Christmas this year. This is the good stuff friends - in the midst of the chaos and overwhelming busy - and a hint of sadness that she is getting married and everything is going to change soon - it is SO VERY GOOD - the Lord gave them each other and it is beautiful and astounding and getting to lavish them with love and blessings is a tremendous joy. So much more to come - my tales as a bridesmaid are never quite complete…

the one anothers...

A while back I got a comment on Instagram after posting a picture with one of my favorites about how our friendship embodies the ‘one anothers’ so powerfully - the comment struck me then and has continued to churn in my heart ever since. I have always had a lot of friends - I have gotten mocked throughout my life for having too many besties and have taken to calling best friend a “tier” rather than a person because who could ever pick just one. I love to laugh and adventure with people, to sit across tables for coffee and hear hearts and passions, exchange ideas and thoughts, and grow. However, in truth there are only a select few who know the deepest parts of my heart - who are allowed into the darkness and have chosen to carry me well even in those spaces. 

This morning I was listening to a sermon and it was describing the walk of Christ with the 12 disciples, but the depth of His friendship with His closest 3 and I was struck again by this idea that to truly follow His model, we have to walk intimately with just a few, share life closely with a slightly larger circle, and then be in community with many. I do want to be a person who embodies the one anothers (there are 59 of them in total) and I want to be the kind of friend who is known for coming close and leaning in, showing up and pouring out, for being faithful. To do that well, the circle must be small - I want to cherish and hold dear and love intimately. I know who my people are and though it has been a painful road to determining who to let go of and where to lean in, I have seen the Lord so faithfully ease the wounds and provide guidance and direction. Now it is time to dance with those the Lord has called me to love regardless of geographic location or stage of life - it is time to boldly embrace the one anothers and live in the fullness of what the Lord has created for friendship. What a beautiful challenge…

love one another

serve one another

accept one another

strengthen one another

help one another

encourage one another

care for one another

forgive one another

submit to one another 

commit to one another

build trust with one another

be devoted to one another

be patient with one another

be interested in one another

be accountable to one another

confess to one another

live in harmony with one another

do not pass judgement on one another

do not slander one another

instruct one another

greet one another

admonish one another

spur one another on toward love and good deed

meet with one another

agree with one another

be concerned for one another

be humble to one another in love

be compassion to one another

do not anger one another

do not lie to one another

do not grumble to one another

give preference to one another

be at peace with one another

be of the same mind to one another

comfort one another

be kind to one another

live at peace with one another

carry one another’s burdens

shellybean and mands...

On June 4, 2014 Rooted Beta kicked off at EvFree and I met this amazing girl named Amanda. I didn’t know it then - but she would soon become one of my best friends and someone who would touch my heart and forever change my life. Today everyone who knows me well knows about my Mands and how near and dear she is to me. She is one of my people. One of my four. She will be a matron of honor in my wedding (someday - let it be soon Lord!) and she and I will spend a lifetime loving one another whether nearby or from afar. But that is the end of the story…

On October 26, 2014 Amanda Jennifer Young, one of my very favorites and one of my closies, joined me in the world of 29-and-single. We lived well there together, sharing the weight when it felt suffocating and like no one else could understand - we knew we had each other and that was a tremendous gift. In November I shared about rooted in church but somehow the story gravitated towards the unexpected goodness and graciousness of our Father and His abundant gifts. Amanda and I met through rooted and ultimately she was the friend I didn’t even know to ask for but needed desperately. In a space of life that felt more lonely and isolated than I could have expressed, God provided Mands. We have opposite personalities, but the same heartbeat for the Lord and people. It really is a beautiful and profoundly amazing thing. As I shared that Sunday morning and Amanda sat front and center cheering me on, I announced to the entire congregation that we we were 29-and-single (which MORTIFIED my Mands who happens to hold all her cards close), I was just so overwhelmed by the amazing provision of the Lord in the midst of the hard. I have found a multitude of reasons to stand in awe since then. The Lord has been so good to me and Mands - our friendship is challenging to describe because it is infinitely more than I deserve. It is founded on truth and rooted deeply in walking together towards the Lord. Never have I had a friend who speaks truth so loudly in my life or champions for my heart in such magnificent ways. She sees me and knows me deeply and yet has chosen to stay, to love me steadfastly and somehow still thinks I am beautiful. I know I am blessed beyond measure to walk alongside her and get to share this life both the mundane and the extraordinary as her friend. The other day she called me one of her wonderfuls…I will probably never forget it. 

On March 12, 2015 I turned 30…and single. 

On June 4, 2015 Mands and I celebrated our 1st friendiversary. She posted a tribute on Facebook and it was darling. We definitely value this amazing gift the Lord has given us in one another. We do not take it lightly, and I pray that never changes! 

On October 11, 2015 I got a text message from 10 time zones away, from a guy named Tanner Wayne Roth. I had heard lots about this Tanner fellow over the past several months. The first murmurs of this guy came in May when Amanda was in the airport and with just the slightest bit of excitement in her tone she said “I’ll have to tell you about my buddy Tanner”. In June, I knew she would marry Tanner Wayne Roth. I think in God’s gracious kindness, He gave me a long time to warm up to the idea that my dear sweet friend would be moving out of our season of singleness. In the most beautiful and amazing way possible, I got to watch Amanda fall in love. Tanner has been nothing but kind to me since he and Amanda started dating - the first time we had lunch together, I drove home in tears thinking we really could all be friends. It meant so much for my heart to feel that possibility.  There is undoubtedly a sense of loss as you approach one of your bests getting married. I’ve done this before. I know what it looks like. There is an undeniably surge of joy and extreme celebration because I LOVE Mands and this is her season and her dance and I am elated. However, it is also hard to know things will inevitably change and she has a Tanner now to tell all her stories to and she won’t need me or even want me in the same ways - she will have someone else to take her time and hold her heart and even if that is SO VERY RIGHT, it leaves me in the longing a little more alone than I was before. 

When that text came in from Tanner, I had been praying daily for Mands and her husband for almost a year. I had been praying for Mands and Tanner for several months. And though his text came as a total surprise, what it contained did not. It was full of words professing his heart for Amanda and the future the Lord had prepared for them and then questions about diamond rings and a proposal that was not far off. My heart skipped a few beats and there were definitely some tears and then the prayers changed...I started to pray for Tanner - Amanda’s husband and for my sweet Mands as a wife. The weeks that followed were all kinds of fun as Tanner and I texted “covert operation style” and Amanda and I anticipated Tanner returning home from deployment and all the future could hold. She got girly and giddy and admitted she was in love and as a friend it was so fun to watch her trust her heart and let the good stuff in. 

On October 24, 2015 I went to Amanda’s birthday party eagerly anticipating her arrival - hoping for a diamond ring on her finger and fiancé Tanner Wayne Roth by her side. The celebration quickly changed from Happy Birthday to CONGRATULATIONS and joy was in abundance.

On October 26, 2015 Amanda turned 30…engaged. 

The most beautiful part of this story is that 29-and-single really was our year. I was talking to Mands on the phone the other day, and through the tears I choked out that very thought. I really can’t help but think the Lord gave us that year. Just for us. We walked it together through every peak and valley. We held one another through the storms and it built the foundation for all that is to come. We learned how to love well, how to trust, how to stay. And now even though there is a Tanner, and she is not at all single and I am VERY MUCH still in that season, there is hope. She has promised I am not losing a friend this time and I think I can believe her. On Saturday alongside a picture of an amazingly gorgeous ring on her finger, she sent me a text that said, “we both love you” and Tanner later told me he watched her send it and echoed the sentiment. I don’t know what is really in store but I know that I couldn’t be happier for my dear sweet friends and I couldn’t be more honored to have walked through this chapter with them and I am truly overjoyed and elated for the story the Lord has perfectly crafted and ordained for their future. Mands is pretty much as good as they come and Tanner has blown me away. So cheers to bridal showers and bachelorettes and wedding planning with one of my favorites. Cheers to a lifetime of loving the Lord and serving one another. Cheers to friendship that lasts far beyond the wedding day. Cheers to Tamandly (that’s Tanner, Amanda, and Shelly in combo) and countless memories and adventures - I am unspeakably grateful (apparently with a 1,336 word count)!

love.

Love. It is costly, invasive, and beautiful. 

I was listening to a sermon this morning on my drive into the office and these words poured over me and coated my heart. It’s so true, and also such an important reminder. I think we prefer to live in the levity that love feels good. But the truth is love requires much. The more people we love, the deeper we walk with those people, the more potential there is for pain, for suffering. At times there is a need to embrace the hard, and yet so often that is where the most profound beauty and ultimate joy is found. 

Love costs much. It requires time. It invades our lives and demands sacrifices. And yet it is our honor to show up in the moments of sorrow, to cry the tears that shake us to the core, to hold the hands of our loved ones in their darkest hour. We get to laugh with them and smile until it hurts when they experience the very best life has to offer, and I want to be there when life seems to be crumbling and crushing down upon them. I am a believer in staying. I want to be there to stand in the storm and weather it hand in hand regardless of how long the dark clouds appear overhead and the torrents seem to rage on. 

I have to believe that love, real love looks different “love is choosing to serve someone, and be with someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind. Love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain an sacrifice, it’s seeing the darkness in another and defying the impulse to jump ship.” I will stay. Regardless of the cost, regardless of how much it invades, because it is beautiful and it offers more than anything else in this life ever can. Because He loved us, we also love one another. 

So I choose love. fiercely. bravely. compassionately. relentlessly. and with every single ounce.

Release. Let Go. Repeat.

I hold on too tight. For too long. To most everything. 

When I was a little girl my daddy used to tell me I love too much. He explained as only a daddy can to his little girl that it will be my greatest gift but also a curse that will likely cause deep wounds. Over the years I have come to learn that it is undoubtedly how the Lord made me. Without my heart I wouldn’t be His best version of me, pouring into others and showing up beside them to rejoice and to mourn. However, I have also learned my daddy was right. I love much, and I lose much. There is a cost and I have been hurt deeply time and time again. 

For a myriad of reasons, right now the Lord is asking me to release, to let go, to entrust Him with my heart and allow Him to be the ultimate Healer. In a space the feels lonely and dark, He is present and faithful and gracious and I have seen the ways in which He has so lovingly provided answers and hope and continued to breathe life into my weariness. The road is long and I am certain that this lesson will not be easily learned, but I praise Him for His patience and willingness to journey with me as I stumble forward one step at a time trusting Him to be enough. 

Release, Let Go. Release, Let Go.

It isn’t yours to keep, and it will only hurt you to tighten your grasp.

Cherish what once was and move into what is before you.

He has a plan, a purpose, a future. Choose Him.

Release, Let Go. Repeat.

remembering NOLA...

In the summer of 2007, World Changers sent my team to New Orleans. As we came into the French Quarter, there was a traffic signal on the ground nestled amongst overgrown weeds and it caught my attention. I had never seen an entire traffic signal in shambles on the side of the road before. I have never again since. The first time I ever went to New Orleans was summer 2005, only weeks before Katrina hit…I remember all the noise of the French Quarter…trumpets playing, people singing, the sound of bells and people and traffic. I remember eating my very first beignet while sipping on an iced cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde. THAT is one of my very favorite delights of all time. New Orleans is one of the most delicious and eclectic places on earth - it’s loud and boisterous and has an uncontainable spirit. As I sat staring at that traffic signal in June of 2007, it had been almost 2 years since the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. I was shocked to see how much of the city remained in disarray - the remnants of the storm’s chaos remained - the city was marked and in desperate need. Where once there were rows of homes, now all that remained were bent poles and darkness because streetlights had not been replaced. Fences were tattered and torn. The remnants of many homes bore the markings of what had been found inside - both people and animals. Hundreds of FIMA trailers. It looked much less like the place I remembered than I had imagined it would.

I remember the first clean out we did that summer…we met the resident just outside her home early in the morning. She was hesitant to go in, the tears were already brewing from deep within. We all put on our masks and then held the door open for her. Very slowly she began to inch forward, her eyes attempting to take in the vast damage before her. It had been almost 2 years since she had entered her home. From the marks on the walls you could tell approximately 8-inches of water sat in her home for a great deal of time soaking through everything she owned. Nothing would be salvageable. As we walked, floorboards dissolved beneath us. As she picked up photos and quilts that were once most treasured possessions, the hallowing sobs began to shake her frame. We walked her back outside and she sat on the curb watching as piece by piece we began to empty her home. She had to say goodbye to everything she owned that day - it was all destroyed.  

That summer I spent over a month living in the city. Alongside my team, we partnered with amazing organizations like Operation Noah Rebuild and Habitat for Humanity mobilizing student volunteers as part of the rebuilding efforts. We focused our attentions on Bartholemew Street in the 9th Ward and Musicians Village. I watched as families who had lost literally everything had hope restored. They worked tirelessly alongside our teens, pouring the foundations for their futures. Even as the sun beat down and sweat poured, there was such a sense of joy and pride and accomplishment. This was where they belonged and they were rejoicing over their return. 

I learned a lot that summer. I heard hope in the pounding of hammers and nails. I watched people come together to rebuild communities, to mourn devastating losses, people who had clung to their rooftops and tried to wait out the storm, people who had seen their neighbors drown. I watched their communities go from dirt, to foundations, to plywood, to homes with walls and roofs, and I felt the surge of excitement with each bucket of paint. It’s been 8 years since the Lord used New Orleans to forever change my heartbeat. In some senses, I think He used that space to teach me the power of banding together and believing in a place with everything you’ve got - these people were not willing to give up on NOLA. Not for anything and it was a beautiful thing to behold. I witnessed time and time again, the glorious gift of crying together, shedding tears in sorrow and empathy and then holding hands and picking up the pieces, one at a time, and moving forward even in the midst of the pain. I beheld the amazing triumph of rebuilding from absolute devastation into a new tomorrow that may look absolutely nothing like yesterday, but has promise all its own. Every single moment of that summer was laced with hope and potential and His presence. He was so very near. 

This fall marked 10-years since Katrina demolished much of the beloved city that will forever own a piece of my heart. And I keep thinking about it. I keep having flashes of moments with people and finding myself in tears even still. The more I have prayed about it the more I see the glorious gift the Lord gave me in that summer. As I walked alongside His children, they revealed so much to me. They had wrestled with Him in their devastation and loss and ultimately chose to see Him even in the darkest moments of their lives. They chose light, they chose hope. They taught me what it looks like to shine. They were radiant and they remind me of what it looks like to be a reflection of Jesus. I want to look just like them…to shed the tears, but ultimately to look like hope and promise and to shine! 

...

This weekend was the great ROOTED launch. It’s a marathon weekend. One where we register people on Sunday first, second, and third service and then head upstairs to the office to try and get them all plugged into small groups before they come back for the big kickoff at 6pm. The goal is to have everyone plugged into a group, name tags printed, facilitator (small group leader) lists ready and be IN the facilitator dinner by 5pm. IT IS BATTY. But it’s also amazing because in the flurry there always seem to be these amazing moments where it somehow works. The wifi will NOT let us access google drive and then whoop we are back…I can’t place one more person in a group effectively and Amanda walks into the office and confidently takes on the challenge…the printer absolutely WILL NOT accept Cheri’s passcode and we try it one more time, change the paper orientation and boom the printer starts spitting them out. The tears are brimming just under the surface the entire day because the stress is palpable, but it’s so worth it to know that at the end of the day, people will be sitting with new groups of people that may feel more like family than strangers at the end of these next 10 weeks and lives will be forever changed by His hands. THIS IS ROOTED. 

While I was on the plaza getting people registered, there was a moment God orchestrated specifically for me. It was relatively short, and it wasn’t at all grandiose, but I am so grateful that I didn’t miss it. There was a lovely women with older hands who came up to the table. She was in a wheelchair, but she sparkled nonetheless. She told me she had already done rooted and that it was the perfect encapsulation of the church - young and old, married and single, grandparents and children, together. Then she spoke and I became teary. Her exact words were, “In God’s family, we all fit.” She took my hand in hers and give it a little tap, then wheeled away. That was it. A beautiful little moment, divinely sent to my heart, to breathe live and remind me to keep going, to whisper that He sees me, and that I still have a place. 

brave...

I am someone who does not often feel brave or courageous. I am not a David. I don’t think you’ll ever hear me stand up with my 5 little stones and declare myself ready to face Goliath. Currently I would say I’m feeling a bit more like a hermit crab longing to pull back into my shell. I’m begging for mercy and asking for safe refuge, that place to retreat and hide, to take my battered and bruised heart to be shielded from the storm so I can recover for a while. But the Lord has been abundantly clear that a rest period is not His best. He has not released me to walk away but has clearly asked me to press on, to walk forward, to continue to step into the spaces that cause me to feel bruised and to be bold and honest about them. To admit that hard is hard but hard isn’t intrinsically bad. I think we sometimes have a desperately hard time being honest. We feel like we need to have our acts together and we will be considered less than if we’re crumbling. But maybe crumbling is brave. Maybe exposing the pieces that are shattered and seem to be falling apart all around us is the courageous choice. Undoubtedly someone is watching you - maybe she needs to see the truth. 

Last weekend I went to Siena’s 2nd birthday party. It was Minnie Mouse themed and it was all kinds of darling. I walked in and there was a swarm of kids in the pool bobbing around in their floaties (which have come a long way since our day I might add) and splashing about. They were having the most fun. As I surveyed the premises, it was couple after couple after couple and their gaggle of kiddos. I honestly didn’t consider for one second that I would be the only single gal there before I went. I’m auntshell - I just put the date on my calendar and then purchased the Minnie Mouse Accessory Kit for Sisi because it was obviously the most appropriate gift from the accessory queen to her budding princess. It wasn’t until Carrie had departed with Izzy and Rory that I realized I was out of place. I don’t have a husband or a baby and truly there isn’t even a glimmer of that on the horizon. I would LOVE to be adventuring through mommyhood with my best friends, but that isn’t my life. Everywhere I go looks and feels a little bit like that - but maybe THIS is my brave. Maybe showing up solo and choosing to still engage is the way I walk faithfully in His best for me even in the midst of the hard and disappointing. Maybe brave is denying to fall prey to the lump in my throat or tears burning my eyes. And when I crumble (because I will) maybe that is brave too.

single alone...

I have decided being single isn’t that hard. 

I like the freedom of being able to make a purchase without the approval of my husband (hello darling black and white striped skirt from Target that is on sale… but totally unnecessary… but will be ridiculously darling at my cousins engagement party this weekend. Get in my cart - you’re coming home with me!). I like hanging out with friends when I want to and having the flexibility to just grab dinner on the way home without stopping to think about what he might want or need to eat (or what he might think of what I am about to eat for that matter). I LOVE lounging on my best’s couch at midnight watching real housewives or don’t be tardy knowing full well it’s a horrible idea but relishing that time when her kids are in bed or cuddled up on her lap and her husband is asleep. Being single allows me so many of the opportunities I love. I can pour into people and show up in all the ways I want to and for that I am truly grateful.

Being single alone is hard. 

That’s the truth. That’s reality. That is where all the sadness comes in. And you’re right. We are never truly alone. The Lord is always with us and He is ever faithful to draw close as we lean into Him. However, in my little life, in my amazing circle, in my comfy cozy corner, it’s coming down to just me and it’s painful to be the one left-behind, left-out, left-waiting. And it is just going to keep happening. I feel like I keep waiting for the moment when I can catch my breath, when I won’t be gearing up for a celebration, but that space isn’t coming. Right now one of my very best friends from college is engaged and getting married in November…another sweet friend just announced she is pregnant with her first…one of my best friends is literally waiting for a diamond…and one of my four is falling in love. This is my life. It is going to happen on repeat. I am constantly caught. With the lump. In the tremendous joy of celebrating their dreams and feeling like I’m watching them walk into another chapter without me. And that isn’t to say they’re walking away from me completely, but embracing the change and figuring out how to reconfigure our friendships has to become the new normal. They walk into seasons of great joy and hope and answered prayers…of partnership…of little girl dreams come true. And I stay. Clinging to truth. Trusting His plan. Praying through the haze of puffy eyes and a steady stream of tears.

pain...

I was listening to some Sara Bareilles this morning as I drove into the office. It was a diversion from my typical sermonized commute, but I needed to spend some time talking to Jesus, so I let her play in the background as I communed with my Lord on the 57 freeway in 8am traffic. 

The tears were brimming just behind the surface for a myriad of reasons when these words seemed to scream at me…

“ No way to make the pain play fair - doesn’t disappear just because you say it isn’t there… “ 

…oh my goodness, isn’t that the truth. How hard do we fight to pretend. To live in this pretense that we’re ok. That it doesn’t hurt desperately. It doesn’t take our breath away or well up inside us unexpectedly. Pain whether physical or emotional holds us captive and takes over. We push through it and find ways to live in the midst of it, but it is still there. 

This season has been one in which pain has repeatedly knocked me off my feet and caused me to face it for the monster it can be. Physical pain has pushed me to my limits and forced me to choose slower, stiller, smaller. Celebrating engagements, marriages, pregnancies and birth announcements has compelled me to face that tiny tinge of sadness that has grown over time into a deep ache and genuine longing for a husband and family of my own. Friendships have changed, ebbed, adjusted and my heart has had to let go. Pain has become a constant companion, lurking in shadows just beneath the surface and creeping in unexpectedly overtaking my capacity to pretend. Then once again I am bound in pain’s grasp and must confront the truth that maybe I’m not quite as ok as I want to believe…and definitely not as ok as what I want everyone else to see. 

I truly believe honesty is the key to hope when it comes to pain. For some reason we buy into this lie that pain is intrinsically negative and therefore we must overcome it - we mustn’t feel it - we can’t admit it. So we deny its presence and shove it to some dark corner giving it more power and ammunition for a hostile takeover later. When the pain attacks, we’re alone, and the monster feels insurmountable. I am learning (slowly) that by letting people in, by sharing the ache, allowing them to see the tears, attempting to give myself grace and lowering my personal expectations, actually walking in the midst of pain feels (at least a little) easier. It might be a constant presence, but it isn’t nearly as strong and doesn’t defeat quite as often.

I don’t know when (or if) the pain will end. God doesn’t promise to cure me. Or give me a husband. He doesn’t promise friends will be by my side through every season and chapter. He doesn’t promise I won’t disappoint people or cause pain. He never says it will be easy. He merely promises to be near, to be a comfort and refuge in every storm. He promises to be enough and to be strength when I don’t have it in me to fight anymore. He may not take the pain away, but He will be there beside me to fight through it and He never asked me to pretend to be ok. So let’s stop lying friends, let’s stop thinking that pain will disappear just because we say it isn’t there. Let’s embrace the truth and find hope and learn to fight together.