Mr. Trashman

Thank you Mr. Trashman,

 I thought you were swinging by your home while on the job, but I soon realized you pulled into the driveway of a complete stranger who forgot to roll their trash to the curb this morning to check if they even had trash to dump, after lifting the lid to confirm, you proceeded to continue your job, exceeding what's expected of you.

You didn't have to be considerate enough to move your huge truck out of the street.

You didn't have to get out in the moderately cold weather to check a trashcan.

And you certainly didn't have to go out of your way to help in the way that you did.

Thank you for loving your neighbor and extending grace. Thank you for being an example for me.

XO

Covet.

I envy those who can hear Gods voice clearly.

I envy those more who can hear God at all.

Eve.

I've never felt so lonely and horny before in my life. 

And on Christmas Eve of all days.

Guess I'll play music, dance in my underwear topless, and scramble some eggs.

This is life.

Worthy to Wed

This year has been tremendously full of romance and love. I've attended three wedding, known of many more ceremonies, and have been notified of engagements. Every time I turn around the question has been popped and vows have been exchanged. With each moment I was excited for my own future; dating, engagement, marriage. 

The more weddings I attended the more discouraged I became. Not necessarily because I don't think it can happen for me, but because I don't think I deserve to be married. Each time I heard the pastor speak of the holy sanction of marriage I sunk deeper into my seat because I do not think I am, or will be, the kind of person that should hold that title. The saving of the heart, the chasing after Christ, the ability to be a godly wife and mother. I can't even be a godly single woman correctly, let a lone be united with another for the rest of our lives.

Less in a World of More.

I feel a huge burden in my heart to become a minimalist. 

Yes, m i n i m a l i s t.

A minimalist, if you don't know, is someone who lives with only what they need, and very very few wants. There are different kinds of minimalists; those who only own 100 items, those who only live out of a backpack, and those who simply get rid of the stuff in their lives. We all have stuff; nick knacks, clothes we never wear, bottles upon bottles of nail polish and cosmetics, and things that have no name and no place in your home at all so they simply sit in the corner, on the desk, in the closet, and under the bed.

I believe this burden in my heart is from God. Whether it actually is or not does not matter, because I am doing this for His glory. I think that as Americans there are so many things that are in the way of God's voice, God's presence, and God's will, and those things are the stuff in our lives. Those things steal our attention away from God and to this consumerist world that we, as Westerners and Americans, are born into. Simply put, it's WORLDLY. 

Having stuff means we're turning from God and saying "Yes" to the world of sales, holiday shopping, bigger is better, and "you need this", when in reality it's a want. I truly believe that living in abundance (more than what you need) is a sin, because if we are looking to fulfill fleshly desires, we are not looking to help the least of these. 

Don't get me wrong, I believe in treating oneself, entertainment, vacations, etc... but when we spend more money and acquire more stuff in our homes than we are helping God's people, we're doing a huge disservice as sons and daughters of Christ.

• Give to the poor. "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." Matthew 19:21
• Deny yourself. "Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." Matthew 16:24 // You cannot pick up your cross if you have a bunch of stuff. Deny those impulses!
• Only He can give life abundantly, not things.
• "He who delights in the possession of the Lord Jesus has all that heart can wish." Charles Spurgeon

My journey towards minimalism is sure to be a tough one, and a long one. I will occasionally put up challenges for myself, and you if you'd like to join in, to walk in spiritual freedom of having less and living more for Christ.

This is a great video to learn more about minimalism and the Christian faith: "Minimalism, Spirituality, and Why it Matters" by Joshua Becker 

Until next time, be blessed. :)

05.12.14.

Temp post;

Sometimes I don't believe that death actually exists.
Physical death is a myth. It's not real.

This may sound cruel and brutal to those who have lost a loved one;
or to someone who has tried to achieve physical death.

I don't know if it's real because I choose not to accept it,
or because we exist as souls and spirits, not bodies.

Either way, death isn't tangible to me and  I don't accept it as truth.

"Christians who remain neutral and complacent over race matters in contemporary media need to look closer at the life of Jesus. He was NOT supposed to talk to the woman at the well because of her race, but He did. A ministry that does not address the issues of it's members is not a ministry I would like to be a part of. Yes, I am a Christian, but I'm also a black female who understands her position in this world. I refuse to remain silent in order to allow white Christians feel more comfortable. And as far as I'm concerned it's white Christians who speak less about race issues. Speak up for the very thing our God spoke out against! Look at the body of Christ. Your Black brothers and sisters are hurting in their community and you have nothing to say? If a church claims to be diverse and multi-ethnic/cultural, then speak on all issues of all cultures, not the convenient and comfortable issues."

I decided to add my twitter rant after I read the comments on Lecrae's Instagram. I was literally drawn to tears at the things I was reading because of his social advocacy posts regarding the Black community, murder rates, and police brutality. The comments were coming from white (brothers in Christ). Calling Lecrae a racist, claiming to unfollow and even justifying the death of Mike Brown. Someone even had the audacity to tell Lecrae to "keep his mind on Christ and not on worldly things." As if Christ never told us to help the poor and homeless, as if Proverbs 31:8-9 means nothing.

What I've realized is that it's impossible to be a Black Christian. They don't want us to discuss our Blackness. They don't want us to be too Black. Just Black enough. Honestly, it hurts to know that white brothers and sisters in Christ are actually blind and ignorant on these issues. Just as white privilege is real so is white Christian privilege. White Christians, for the most part, are able to speak out on issues, post certain pictures, and do certain things without the ramifications of Black Christians. It's simply the reality that I've grown aware of.

Honestly, it hurts. It hurts that even in a community when we're supposed to bear one another's burdens, members choose whose burdens to bear.

Thank God for artists like Sho Baraka and Propaganda. Lovers of Christ who are Black excellence. God bless them always, all ways.

With you. [II] // 8.10.14

Yesterday I saw the super moon with you as we drove the back roads through rich land.

It was so full, so big, and so bright, like a reflection of our hearts at that very moment.

I would have taken a picture, to put on this here blog, but I dared not let go of your hand.

The last time I saw the sky as beautiful, I was with you.

And it was then that I never wanted to be with anyone but you, while under the beauty of God's creation.

Guest.

It's an early Sunday morning in northern Ohio, a state I've never been before, and I crawl out of the box bed trying not to wake my three girlfriends. Although it's 7 am here, my body is fully aware that it operates on central time zone and tries to remind me that it's truly 6 am. But I needed to get up. I needed to eat breakfast.

After locating the modest continental breakfast, I make a plate of eggs and silver dollar waffles (Who know waffles came in silver dollars??), and a side of warm oatmeal, yogurt, and an almost too ripe banana. I take a few bites to get familiar with my plate and then crack open "Eat, Pray, Love," using my banana as a paperweight to keep the pages down as I scarf my meal.

A lady, whom has been there since I got off the elevator, greeting me with coffee in hand, turned to me and said "What a scholar." I looked up from my book to a bright smile and kind eyes. Thank you, as I offered a smile just as warm. She then walked away to a corner to accompany her husband, leaving me alone with my book at the breakfast bar.

I seem to always do this; more times than not. Granted I don't go to hotels often because I don't travel often, I find a sense of peace and solitude to eat breakfast among strangers who don't know my story and I don't know their names. To get lost in a novel over sub-par breakfasts' while being completely aware of the mysterious presence of others.

I want to always be a guest. I want to always eat breakfast in cities not known, among people who become less than strangers after the first exchange of words.

I want to always be a guest to a city willing to host me. To invite me in with their coffeehouses and friendly travelers in hotel lobbies. To introduce me to their culture and art museums and bad habits.

I want to be anonymous but completely at home wherever I go. I long to be a guest in cities I may or may not see again.

What two year olds have taught me

Today is officially a month since I started childcare, and man haven't I learned a lot.

The World is your Oyster

Or better yet, the world is your playground. If you can't find the fun, then create it wherever you are. For the past few months I've been feeling stuck, as if I'm missing out on all of the fun. What a ridiculous thought. While I'm in my current location and situation, I might as well make the best of it. Wherever I am, at this moment, I have the ability to create my own happiness.

Note to self: [II]

Who is Shelby?

No, really. Who the heck am I?

What am I doing here? What do I love and enjoy? What are my passions? What is my calling? What makes me, me?

How does this even work?? How does one begin to know who they are? And when? How long does it take? And what's to be done until then?

Just exist, I suppose.

Seven Two's.

Seven two's at my feet. More milk. I don't want it. Use your spoon Tommy. Stop playing in your peas. More milk! Don't touch him. Are you done?

Seven boys at my table. It's lunch time. Styrofoam plates and plastic spoons placed around the rectangular kiddie furniture. Only a foot and a half from the floor with lime green chairs.

It was a Thursday. Just one more day. I just have to get through one. more. day I thought as I almost pulled my hair from my scalp. (Every bit of it was almost worth the pain and baldness that would have resulted.)

Twenty-two with seven kids. Twenty-two with seven boys. Twenty-two with seven two year old boys.

I'm hunched over, trying to sit at the tiny table, while cleaning tiny fingers from the meal that was supposed to end up in their bellies, but is actually plastered on their shirts. I wipe a sticky palm as I'm day dreaming about God knows what, but God brought something better. Across the room, among the chaos and confusion, I spot a cardinal. He peeped his head from below the window frame, offering me solace. I accepted and smiled.

I smiled for the first time that day, and nothing could take that smile away. Not even the thought that I had six more tiny hands to wipe.

I'm in an LDR.

Long Distance Relationship.

The relation? My best friend from London... who I've only met once.

We met Saturday, July 26th, 2014. We went to the mall, ate greasy mall food, and went to the typical mall stores. But the greatest part about it, we were able to laugh and talk without any electronic devices. We were able to hug, and touch each others hair (which we were both excited to do), and just learn each other the way friends are supposed to.

Because I Need To

My theory is that sometimes our bodies need things to the point of force. When that something is missing, the body will find a way to either replace it or make it happen involuntarily, without our conscious consent.

Like the way our tongues always manage to wiggle between two teeth, the pink fleshy crater tasting of lead and silver paper clips. No matter how hard we try, muscle memory sets in and our tongues always find it's place abreast with enamel. As if it belonged, needing to be there, number thirty two.

Or the way our eyes draw thick as velvet curtains and demand an exit of thoughts and an entrance of dreams. Paralyzed, closed eyes, no matter how hard we try. Our heads nod and bob, struggling to make it through one more episode, one more video, one more tweet. We wake up with laptops that had fallen asleep not long after our bodies became wrapped up in our sheets. Our eyes know before we do. And we have no choice but to agree.

Nights when I don't know why I'm crying, I credit it to the fact that, perhaps I haven't cried in a while and it's about time. My body is probably ridding the toxic thoughts and poisonous people from my spirit. Or maybe because I yearn for something more that I don't know how to give myself. The way an infant wails because there's nothing else to do to get his or her needs tended to. I guess maybe I cry because I don't have the words to say.

As I write this I can feel my tongue gliding across my teeth filled with anxiety, and my eyes are swelling, filled with tears. 

I don't know why, but I would like to think my body knows what it's doing. 

And I just agree.

"I could use a little break from this cycle, to give myself some space to discover what I look like and talk like when I'm not trying to merge with someone. And also, let's be honest — it might be a generous public service for me to leave intimacy alone for a while. When I scan back on my romantic record, it doesn't look so good. It's been one catastrophe after another. How many more different types of men can I keep trying to love, and continue to fail?"

Elizabeth Gilbert | Eat, Pray, Love

Our Black Men

Eric Garner | Oscar Grant | Sean Bell | Trayvon Martin | Jordan Davis

& the list goes on
                      and on
                            and on.

I mourn for the Black men in this country. I mourn for the Black men of the world whose lives are considered insignificant. They don't see the strength of a Black men. His power. His intelligence. His life as a human being.

They see his skin. As if the eumelanin determines one's worth and value.

The Veil continues to be relevant and active. The lack of clarity to see Blacks as people, as Americans, is active in our schools, our workplaces, and our communities. We are invisible to the world unless they want to make a mockery of the design of our biology. Unless they want to profit off of our minds and our bodies. Unless they want to show themselves as the "White savior" by offering the same hand that enslaved us.

The war on drugs is the war on us. Prisons are built based on our little Black and Brown boys. ^[1]

I mourn for little Black boys whose mothers pray for their safety walking to the bus stop and buying Skittles. I mourn for the little Black girls who will grow up to feel like the least desired cohort and will statistically feel the truth of the numbers. I mourn for the Black women who don't know if their husband's will come home and how they will tell their children.

Black in America is possibly one of the worst things to be. 

Yet being Black is by far the greatest person to be. 

Excuse my bias, but I have every reason to be.

note to self:

Never say, "I do that to everyone." to anyone at any time.

Love me better

Only I know how to love me the way I want to be loved.
There is no one on this Earth I expect to love me the way I can.

But there is someOne who can love me greater than I.

I stopped putting my hope in things.
I stopped putting my joy in situations.
I stopped putting my peace in people.

I know how to love me, but He loves me better.

With you. // 6.10.14

I've never seen a sky so beautiful than when I'm with you.
And I hope to never witness another with anyone but you.

The Rising of the Son

Today I learned that the sun shines at 6 am. I pity all the days I have wasted in bed well past the rising of the sun. Guilt rushed over me the moment I realized everyone around me was awake, starting their morning routines, dragging themselves to work, knowing that will be the only sun some of them will see before their commute back home.

The days when I could barely wake up or barely get out of bed, the rays were welcoming me with open arms. My blinds and thick dark curtains reject them, but my mind refused to face the day.

There were mornings that I never got to see transition into noon. The stillness of the world was not felt. And the silence was not appreciated. It is at this time that my soul is at peace, and rarely does my spirit get nourished my the sole presence of God.

No wonder people wake up at daybreak to kneel before His throne. No wonder His children sought Scripture to give solace to their spirits. I have found it to be the only time of day when we can meet Jesus face to face, before we swiftly join the ranks of those with fast paces and busy schedules.

Life After College [I]

Today marks exactly one month since I became a college graduate and transitioned into the "real world" (as if the world I've been a part of for the past twenty-two years has been a fantasy world).

Honestly not much as changed, and this stasis has launched me into a state of depression. Not chronic depression that I've experienced in former seasons of my life, but atypical depression; a direct response to events. When I was younger I always assumed my life would be exciting and a bit more "adult-like." Staying at my mama's house, spending the entire day alone, and thinking about that four year degree, but not actually using it, was not how I envisioned my 22nd year of life.

I've realized that college can only do a fraction of what you can do for your own future. Meaning, you may work four years (or more) for a degree, but it doesn't get you the job. It doesn't make you an adult or any more responsible than you require of yourself. It doesn't make life after college glamorous. Only you can do that. My lack of transportation is a bit of a hindrance, but I've decided to make the best of my solitude. There are plenty of things I can do to kick start my own life, so that when I'm blessed with transportation of my own, my plan will already be secure and the world will truly be my oyster.

___________________________________

"We are programmed to focus on what we don't have [...].
This dissatisfaction transfers over to our thinking about God.
We forget that we already have everything we need in Him.
Because we don't often think about the reality of who God is,
we quickly forget that He is worthy to be worshiped and loved."
Francis Chan - Crazy Love

___________________________________

 Whether I am out working a nine to five job or spending the entire day indoors, I want to take this life that God has given me and make the best of it. I will rejoice always. Focusing merely on what I do not have and my current position does not prioritize how glorious and good God is despite my situation. God is always worthy of praise. God is always worthy of worship. By centering my attention on my needs, I make them an idol and a god in my life. I began to worship the things I could not obtain, by putting those thoughts before the Lords.

___________________________________

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.
I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,
whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.
Philippians 4:12

___________________________________

Life after college started off a bit rough, but I'm completely willing to learn from this experience. If this is the life God has for me at the moment in order to grow content and grow spiritually, than so be it. Who am I to complain when I serve the God of the galaxies, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and Omega, and the great I AM. Thank God for growth after college and until the end of time.

Love is Like an Orange [II]

Love is like an orange. It's impossible to describe the aroma and difficult to explain the taste. Until you scratch the surface, you'll never know the zest of the scent. Until you peel the layers, you'll never know how sweet it is. No one can experience it for you. The moment you are familiar with an orange, you'll forever know one even with your eyes closed. You take a deep breath and you know it's love.

YHWH

22

I find it hard to find meaning in birthdays.
I believe in the necessity to celebrate ones life, but, for me,
it's less of a celebration and more of a reminder.
I'm a year older, but nothing has changed. Nothing.
I have reached major milestones in my life, yet,
nothing has changed. And I can't help but focus on them.
I can't help but think about everything I have not done,
and everything I need to do by this time next year.
Thank God I've made it to another year,
but I thank God more for the 365 days that got me here.
Seeing another year is not an achievement when I've survived the previous days.
Thank God I woke up day after day after day.
Thank God for those days when nothing truly happened.
For days when I hate the rain and days when I'm dancing in it.
For days when I didn't know what I was going to eat,
and days when my belly had an abundance.
Thank God for the days when I didn't think I would make it out of the bed.
For days when I need to send a letter, buy pens, and shave.
Days when I run from wasps and welcome butterflies.
Days when I'm cleaning a bedroom so calamitous
that I fall asleep in the middle of the floor...with the light still on.
Days when I can't stand to see myself in the mirror,
and days I admire the imperfections of my skin.
Thank God for the ordinary days that turn into another year.
Thank God for the unforgettable days woven in between.
And at this very moment, I think I found the meaning in birthdays.
Happy Birthday to me. Thank God for another year.

We spend hours in the mirror, staring ourselves in the eyes, examining our hair, touching our skin, lips, and nose, but we don't know our own features.

We don't know what we truly look like.

"People empty me. I have to get away to refill." 

- Charles Bukowski

Worthy

Trying to understand an indescribable God.
He loves us despite who we are.
We love Him because of what He's done.
I don't think we can honestly say we love God unconditionally.

So many times I take a step back from my own life,
and I look at all the things I was blind to otherwise.
I am in complete awe that a perfect God
has blessed me beyond measure.

I'm never worthy.
He's always trustworthy.

Learning to be Last

Slam poets and spoken words artists have always inspired me to not only become a better writer, but also a performer. I desired to bring my words alive and truly make it an art form that I can share with others. A few months ago a man from Southern Word, a Nashville based literary and performance arts organization, introduced me to a world that I had been so intrigued with for years. A world that my laptop screen separated me from as I watched Brave New Voices on YouTube all hours of the night. A world that I admired, but dared not step into.

Until now...

"Letters to a Young Poet" | Rainer Maria Rilke

National Poetry Month 2014

For most people the first day of April signifies a day devoted to dunce caps and droll jokes. For others, it is the beginning of National Poetry Month: 30 days of celebrating poets, self proclaimed and well known, and the poetry that comes alive through them.

Time for Change.

//It's time for a change.

Today I got hit with a brick

And...I'm trying to recover from that awful blow.

It weighs twenty one years and nine months worth of thoughts and wrapped in pieces of words sprawled across magazine covers and repeated on the t.v. screens. I for one do not own a television, but their agenda reaches my mind anyhow. More than five thousand blows against my weak heart.

Today I realized how much I hate certain things about myself. So much so that I don't think I can find a single thing that I at least like, let alone love.

Today I actually cried because I did not look like the girl I was stalking on Instagram. I could not believe what my heart was telling me at the moment. Alone in my yellow room, I embarrassed myself.

Today I realized how much I really didn't want to be me. I wanted her hair, her clothes, her words, and even her personality. I wanted to be pieces of women whom I've never met.

I don't really know who I am. I don't know what I enjoy. I don't know what makes me the happiest girl in the world. I don't know if what upsets me actually upsets me because I feel that way or because that's how I think I'm supposed to feel. I'm not sure if I love the company of others or desire to be alone forever. I don't know what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't know if I hate chocolate anymore. I mean...it's good on strawberries, but do I actually like chocolate? I don't know why I don't really care about much, and that makes me upset. Or does it? I want to care about something! I care about succulents. I love succulents. That's all. I don't love anything else.

I don't care about owning pets one day. Dogs are cool. Cats are alright. But they don't mean anything to me. I don't think I have a favorite color any longer. It's just a freaking color.

What the heck am I talking about and who the heck am I?

Ugh.  Now that that's out of the way.

I'm about to change all of that! I want to be me: a me that I love and enjoy. A me who knows exactly who she is and what she likes. And finally be the me. The me that I truly am to my core, but I have to dig deep and find me. (I'll let God do the diggin'.)

Because of how I've been feeling lately, I said "Heck no!" and the following tweets are a result of the inner snap.

if you don't like something about yourself, then change it!

— Danierykah Badu (@thatgirlshel) March 12, 2014

if you can't change it, then focus on what you love about yourself!

— Danierykah Badu (@thatgirlshel) March 12, 2014

suffocate and drown self hate in a sea of love.

— Danierykah Badu (@thatgirlshel) March 12, 2014

Shut up Self Hate! I don't hear you. I love me. 
The me now and the me I will discover.

I feel pretty wacky after this insane post.

I feel behind in life compared to my counterparts who never went to college or who did not choose a four year track.

While I'm completely broke and jobless, I have no car, I literally have nothing but on top of that I have 25k in school debt.

"Go to college," they say. "You'll be ahead of everyone," they say.

Everyone I know who didn't go to college have found careers, not jobs, but careers. They have money, they have the ability to purchase new cars, and clothes and food, and things they want. For goodness sake my sister makes more than my mama!

I know I don't know everyone's story, but everyone around is certainly looking well off than I am.

I feel so behind. Like a loser and a failure.

I graduate college in 2 months and it's hard for me to be happy. I don't even have a freakin' plan after school.

Ugh, and now I feel like a stupid brat for crying and complaining.

I became a pessimist when...

I became a pessimist when I realized everyone else has my happily ever after and I always fall short of my own little dream.

I became a pessimist when life gave me a contact high of privileges and opportunities, yet snatched them out of my eager hands.

I became a pessimist when the way he spoke of my existence scared any chance for butterflies to perch on my esophagus. If there is a chance in hell one could fall in love with me... well sometime's I want to jump in the fire. To allow the feeling in my chest to engulf my entire being.

I became a pessimist when my own reflection was an unfamiliar face. Her wired hair and scarred face reflected her heart more than the mirror.

I became a pessimist when I realized somethings are just too good to be true.