Isn't It Nice To Know

So I was thinking about this Relient k song that says:

I found my new black shoes. While cleaning out the bones left in my closet. They were there with a bad excuse...

Isn't it nice to know that the lining is silver? Isn't it nice to know that we're golden?

To me, this song is a simple reminder of God's presence in our lives.

Last week I was reminded of his presence in a big way. Lately my sales haven't been where I need them to be. I have lots of projects in the works, but they just weren't closing. This is so frustrating when you have worked so hard, but it just hasn't hit. So the week before last I broke down. Cried and cried out to God.

And he came through.

Afterwards I felt so stupid for not crying out to him sooner. But it was so sweet just to know that He hears me. How amazing is that?!

So isn't it nice to know? I think so too.

Dreams

When you wake up, do you remember your dreams? I don't usually, however, last night I dreamed that I was trying out for cheerleading again in high school. It was like I was a senior and there were all these youngin's around and I knew i was a shoe in for a position, so i was just helping the others learn the cheers.

strangley, i wasn't that great of a cheerleader. haha.

So, lately I've been watching Glee (season 1) and it is probably one of the best shows ever made. No lie. Anyway, it seems like the show is always referencing to each person's dream. So it made me think, what's my dream?

• To honor God with my life. The good. The bad. The ugly. All of it to be used to his glory. That I could, one day, lead someone to Christ. That I can help others to learn to love Him more. (And that I would also learn to love Him more and more).
• To find love. One day I'm sure it will happen, but it hasn't happened for me yet. Sometimes this is very frustrating and I am impatient, but ultimately, I do believe that it will happen when it is right.
• Family. Yeah, even though I'm afraid of babies, it's what I want. Not anytime soon or anything like that, but just one day.
• A legacy. That reflects God and just makes people smile. Although I am constantly surprised that I am a "role model" I do hope that the good qualities I have may rub off on others.

And that's it. Sure it would be nice if my engagement/wedding/and any other jewelry came from a little blue box with "Tiffany's" across the top. Or was able to always have a BMW (or Mini) in the driveway for me. But ultimately, I just want to be blessed (not happy -which seems so temporary).

Well, like I said, I don't usually remember my dreams when I wake up, so maybe it's like I am still asleep. Maybe I'll realize that my dreams are my reality. And, I hope, the best is still yet to come.

FaithSpring

While I was a student in college I learned a lot about myself (which is part of the purpose of going away for college). I learned that even when I have a smaller room, it doesn't make it that much easier to keep clean; sometimes it is easier for me to get up extra early in the morning than to stay up late studying; I can pretty much make friends everywhere; and that being expected to be fully functional at 7:30 classes sucks.

One of the other things I learned was that when I go through a duration of time without doing some kind of ministry or being plugged in a church/christian organization makes me feel like I have a hole in my heart the size of Texas.

I grew up going to church every Sunday (no exceptions). It wasn't until I was in college that I even began wearing jeans to church. So when I was a student I became very involved with Campus Crusade for Christ. Cru was one of the largest student ministries at the University of Arkansas, and several of my friends from my freshman dorm became involved, and I just kind of fell into it. I went on mission trips, summer projects, and just about every retreat they had.

So when I graduated and moved back to Little Rock I expected to jump right in at my old church, Highland Valley United Methodist, to get that same warm fuzzy feeling. Well, that didn't exactly go as planned.

When I was 16 I became a member of HVUMC. My parents and I had visited the church and although they felt it was a little too contemporary for them, I loved it. Well, I loved the youth group. They were so awesome and so much fun and it felt just like a family.

Again, here I am, a college graduate about to begin my career and oh so very excited about attending my home church when I realized it wasn't the same as when I left for college. Not only did the church have a new minister (who was not able to give me the kind of challenge in my faith that I had become accustom to while away), but I was no longer a youth... so I didn't have the fellowship that I longed for. This lead to me spending about a year jumping from church to church in Little Rock, hoping to find that perfect fit. Then, I received a phone call...

Brock Patterson was the assistant minister at HVUMC and I adored him. His sermons were funny, relevant, and insightful. Brock called me in April 2009 and said that he has been given the responsibility of starting a new Methodist church and asked me if I would prayerfully consider being a part of his Launch Team. I immediately said that I was in. (I didn't need to pray about it. This was the answer to my prayers for so long!)

Today, FaithSpring is 18 months old. We have over 300 members and a wonderful fellowship. There aren't many young adults that attend the church, which is sometimes frustrating, but the people who are a part of this church family are amazing. Just when I think I can't say enough good things about the church I have to pause, take a breath, and then talk about the youth group.

I am so proud to be a youth leader for my church. More than that, I am so proud of the youth of FaithSpring! They are wonderful and bring so much light into my life!

Honestly, I could go on and on about them for a while, but I think I'm just going to have to leave that to another day's blog.

The Patty Murphy Song

When I was but a wee lass, my grandfather, Big Joe, taught me an Irish drinking song that we'd sing all the time, but especially on St. Patrick's Day. So today, I would like to share this beloved song with you. :)

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget

The whole darn town got stinkin' drunk, and some ain't got sober yet;

The awful thing they did that night that filled my heart with fear...

They took the ice right off the corpse and put it on the beer!!

Chorus:

Oh! That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy

That's how they showed their honor and their pride.

Oh baby, that's how they showed their respect for Patty Murphy;

On the night that poor 'ole Patty Murphy died.

So there you have it. Evidently when I was about 5 at my other grandmother's house and singing the song, she nearly passed out when I said "the whole darn town got stinkin' drunk and some aren't sober yet." I don't blame her, what kind of 5 year old sings about a town getting smashed and taking the ice off of the dead body to put on the beer?! Oh well.

Anyway, today's a day to lift your glass, because, my friends, today we're all Irish! :)

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

Canoeing

Spring is ALMOST HERE!!! HALLELUJIAH!!!!!!!!!! I strictly believe that spring doesn't actually start until the Dogwood trees have blossomed... and they should be budding about now. :)

So it has been a little while since I have blogged, and although I've started a couple and just not finished them I figured that today I'd write about a funny story (inspired by what I love to do in the spring: go canoeing).
Growing up my parent's Sunday School class went canoeing down the Buffalo River every spring, just after the water has risen. There was about 8 couples and everyone brought their kids.

We always stayed in a small town called Gilbert with a population of 48 (no lie), and there was at least a dozen dogs that ran free in the town. When you checked in your cabin it was like a dog assigned himself/herself to your family. When you'd walk up, they would just sit on the ground at the bottom of the porch, and when you were leaving to go to another cabin or the general store they would loyally follow you down the dirt road. I guess we fed the dogs a little bit, but nothing substantial. Nonetheless, they always seemed fed.

There were only 4 places you could go while you were in town: the river (which, of course, I was never allowed to go to by myself), one of the other cabins (usually the group would pretty much rent out all of them, so it was like we ran the town for the weekend), the cafe (the only place to eat in town), or the General Store.

My brother, Sean, and I would save our allowance for a couple of weeks (which probably amounted to a whopping $15 bucks)

and blow every cent on candy. I mean it is a wonder that our teeth didn't rot out after the end of the trip. Our parent's didn't really mind much though because we'd just go play with the other kids from the group and all be hyper together. (I disticntly remember one time getting in trouble for climbing on the roof of one of the cabins with my friend Emily. Our parents were all sitting around a bonfire less than 20 feet away hanging out and drinking beer when someone told them that their rowdy kids were on the roof of the cabin. All they did was yell, "HEY! Get down off the roof!!" That was it, didn't get up to scold us or anything. It was awesome).

Gilbert is probably one of my favorite places on earth because of all the things I remember doing: climbing trees, playing with the random dogs, swinging on the tire swing, playing baseball, and, most of all, canoeing.

So, here's my funny story about canoeing:

I was about 7 years old and up until this point in my life my family had always rented one big raft which would usually result in my dad being the only one who would paddle. So by 1993 he had decided that it was time for us to upgrade to canoes. He and I were in one, my mother and my brother were in the other. I had no idea what I was doing, my mom figured she should know what she was doing, and my brother just got frustrated being in the same canoe with my mom and going in circles.

For some reason I swear we tied the canoes together (why? Probably because my mom and my bro flipped about 3 times in 20 minutes), which was brilliant... until we came upon rapids (and by rapids I mean nothing life threatening, but this particular set of rapids was pretty small). What you are already thinking would happen did. We flipped... all of us...

So now imagine little 7 year old Shannon with her orange life-vest bobbing downstream, my father swimming after me and takes me to the bank of the river. He then grabs the canoes (still connected, in case you were wondering) and says, "Shannon, I need you to hold on to these, can you do that?" Shivering, I replied, "Yes."

Now, what you don't know at this point is that all the while I was bobbing downriver and panicking that I was going to be bit by some snake or worse eaten by a bear while holding these cursed canoes, my brother was holding onto a flimsy tree in the middle of the rapid that caused us all to topple over. Yes, Sean was holding on to this little tree and screaming for dear life. Seriously. Sean had a pretty high pitched voice when he was a kid (thankfully he grew out of). I have a very clear mental image of my brother desperately holding on to this little tree and my mother standing in the water 2 feet from him (and his high voice), looking over at me and my dad and shrugging her shoulders as if to say: "It looks like both of his legs are in-tacked, I'm not sure why he keeps screaming."

Anyway, now that you know what was going on in the background of my father and my conversation, the next thing he said to me was, "Shannon, I'm going to go over there and take care of your brother. Are you going to be okay?"

Brilliantly, I responded with "Yes, I'll just wait for the helicopters." I will have you know that this response was completely logical to me. See, back in the day I watched Rescue 911 with William Shatner. If you ever watched the show you knew that anytime there was danger, a helicopter was nearby with firefighters and a camera crew.

So that was it, that was my first experience with canoeing. Can you believe I want to go canoeing again?

Great Expectations

Isnt' it funny how we think by a certain time in our lives we are supposed to have it "together."

Next week I will be turning 25. "A quarter of a century, makes a girl think." (That's a quote by Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot. If you haven't seen it, go see it now... or after you finish reading my blog. But seriously, it's one of my favorites)

Over the past week or so I have found myself rather frustrated. Last week I lost a deal that I have been working on for nearly 2 years. I have several deals that I really thought would have closed by now and haven't. And I have also found myself wanting to go be with friends, but feeling so exhausted that I can't. I also have been evaluating my priorites (like missing kickball so I can go to church), and still feeling like I am on the fence with others.

Anyway, if I think back I can always remember feeling like I should have it more "together," but especially now. 10 years ago I would have said that by now I would be in love/engaged/married, working a great job, spending lots of time with my friends, and able to go do lots of trips and such. My reality is that while some of these things have taken place, not all have. I do love my job. I work with some wonderful customers and have the best boss in the world (my dad). But that also comes with a price: high expectations. I find myself constantly feeling pressure to have higher numbers and fill my father's shoes (in sales, that is, not in owning the company -although there is a slight pressure of if I'll ever do that or not). So I come into the office at 6:30 in the morning and work till 5, or come in at 8 and work till 7. Not to mention traveling around the state a lot. But I really do love my job. I know that this hard work is what allowed me to accomplish my goal of having a Mini Cooper ("Pepper"), which I have wanted for so long.

Sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on some of the "greatest days of my life" though. I'm 25 and working my tush off. I am blessed to go to a wonderful church and work with a great bunch of youth (who I love and would gladly take a bullet for any of them).

I guess it raises one question: If my life isn't where I thought it would be by now, I have to rewrite my current expecations to avoid disappointment. So what do I expect my life should look like by 25?

If I stop and think about it, I think I'm probably not too far off. Are there things I still want? Yes. But do I feel like the choices I have made in my life have lead me to here... and I'm pretty happy with those choices.

Looks like I'm rewriting my expectations already...

Dash: I Love You More Than My Luggage

So I have decided that I want to write a little bit about some of my friends.

First, is my darling friend Dash... okay, apparently, that isn't her real name. Her name is Rachel. She's actually not even a native Arkansan, she is an Iowan (?). I am choosing to write about her first, because she has been on my heart and on my mind so much lately.

Rachel and I met while working at the Lutheran Camp on Mount Petit Jean during the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore year of college ('05). Although I wasn't raised Lutheran, I went to a Lutheran High School and knew the camp director so I figured it would be a fun job.

When I pulled up to the camp for the first time with a carload of my "basic necessities" for the summer, I was a little anxious. Sure, growing up I went to church camp (TANAKO), but nothing like this outdoors-y kind. (At our camp we still did our makeup and straightened our hair before breakfast and after swimming. T-shirts and shorts? WHAT?! We had each and every outfit meticulously planned.)

Right after arriving I began to unload my trunk-o-crap in the cabin where I was instructed when Rachel walked in. After about a two second "Hi, I'm Shannon"/"Hi, I'm Rachel" conversation she immediately said, "Oh, thank God you're normal."

Naturally, this grabbed my attention, "What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, "everyone here is really nice, but they have been talking about Star Wars and I just don't get it."

That was it for us, we were amigas. Oh, don't get me wrong, we love those other crazy Star-Wars counselors, but Dash and I just clicked.

Dash got her nickname when we went for a hike to the "waterfall," which pretty much never appeared all summer. She had been selected to lead the group and was "dashing" ahead of everyone. So there it was. My nickname was "Squirt" after accidentally squirting a fellow counselor in the eye with an orange as I bit into it.

Isn't it wonderful how God provides you with the exact friend that you need at the moment you need them? Yeah, that was Rachel for me. Since that one blessed summer, she and I have remained wonderful friends. Although we have only seen each other twice since that summer, we talk almost every week these days. Currently, Dash resides in New York City and I can hardly wait for the opportune time to visit her.

I guess the reason she's been on my mind lately is also because it is so great to know that you have a friend who has been there for you through so much, even if you don't get to see each other every day (or even every year in our case).

I think it is exactly what long-distance friendship is supposed to look like: not so distant.