Shilah Writes

  Always, I am drawn back to the water. And rocks and sticks and broken bits of glass. I live by a lake, spent last winter in Sarasota Bay in Florida, I recently traveled to the north shore of Lake Superior, and currently I am staying at a hotel in Pateros, Washington spending the week with my husband who is a night shift nurse. The view from our balcony looks out over the Columbia River. Today I sneaked out to the balcony while my husband slept. Stealthily, book and blanket in hand, I slipped behind the room darkening floor length curtain hoping I was quiet enough to not wake him while I opened the door and tip toed out. The sound of the waves lapping against the rocks was superb. That and the sunshine on my face. Words cannot express. And I read. Which always inspires me to write.  So. Lake Superior was a fulfillment of a dream. I have been longing since I entered my forties to spend a day with my big sister. She was the one who guided me through puberty and boys and relatio...

  I've just spent the morning deeply meditating on an article assignment and feeling stumped. Writing an article for my blog post or other public consumption would be so much easier if you could just name the thing you are writing about. But when I started my journey of writing I determined from the very beginning that I would never on purpose write any truth or honesty without first weighing it in the balance of another persons feelings. Especially those I love.  And what God gives me to write is often my working through a difficult time with those that I love best. Or worst. Because real love is the tested kind. Love that sticks it out alongside someones nasty and doesn't leave because it's not easy. This brings out the worst in me sometimes. I have great gulfs of not knowing how to stay in grace and kindness...because it's just too much. I am tempted to run or hide from loving well. There has got to be a way to be honest about love without being unkind. There has got...

  My desert place is probably different than yours. But I think we all go through times that could be defined as a desert. For me it is a lonely place. A great discomfort and time of listening and accepting the fire I go through as a way for God to get my attention and teach me that this huge gap of loneliness is opportunity for God's goodness to shine...He breaks apart all my props and false securities to get to the real deal in my desert times. The sand under my feet in these times is too hot to bear alone. I'm driven to my knees asking God for HELP. The occasional oasis is too far and few between my need for strength, yet I must keep focused on my Guide to get to it. I must not doubt it is there, neither must I be distracted by the mirages I see along the way. I get up and keep walking toward the goal that is unseen. I journey wisely. Pacing myself with divine strength and using trust as a propellant because I am not there yet and don't know when I will be. All I know is...

I'm like a small child whose toy was taken away. A toy I was enjoying and no one else should ever have needed or wanted. It was mine. I was appreciative. I wasn't even taking this toy/gift/blessing for granted. I had a good attitude of sharing. I held open hands to God. I was playing well, getting along with others. What happened? Where did I go wrong? These are the questions we ask God when he takes something from us. We don't get to "blessed be the name of the Lord" right away. If we are real about it we are sometimes gobsmacked and heartbroken with the taking. Broken and homeless, shattered and lonely...we hobble to a bench in the park. The same lovely, shaded, and green wooded trail that was filled with peace and serenity, grace and victory becomes a place of golden memories and emptiness. It is too glaringly still beautiful. The sky stays blue and cloudless, the flower pots keep blooming vibrant colors, but the sights fill you with dread and anger. How dare t...

  Somewhere around mid-winter I stopped trying to convince myself that life would get easier or that I would one day enjoy right where I was on the human growth chart of stability, calm in any storm, and in knowing what loving God meant. My literature over the winter was reading The Hunger Games series and watching The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I read C. S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters and lived on a sailboat in Florida while trying to manage a stressed out husband who was doing an intense nursing job at a busy hospital. I call that literature because it involved culture and education. Meanwhile, my youngest daughter was working on her high school work, some of which was far above my head and I would often have to avail the internet for information. My two eldest remained at home, kept full time jobs, and entered into the world of dating both of which have recently taken a break from that too. Watching your children grow, change, and go through painful times doesn't make for very...

  Truth: I came close to giving up. It was too hard. There was a big ball of tangled yarn that could not be unraveled. Nothing made sense. Hope for help and encouragement was being smothered like a candle with no oxygen. Then I understood. You can't give up. Only when I view this "hard" as a gift from God; my individual task...only then is when enough air enters this space in my heart to flicker hope into it. We give up when we listen to the lies of this world. More and more believers are living unbelieving. We live blaming others for our discouragement. We see hypocrisy in those closest to us and feel justified in our reactions and thought patterns and unforgiveness. We go through gut wrenching pain from family members because of wounds they refuse to get healing for and in turn we continue the chain of blame and shame. The pain becomes the idol, the reason we hurt. We wallow in self pity or self righteousness while our hope for redemption flickers out. When things don...

  Searching for home... It's what I'm constantly doing. Because home moves or is changeable; Depending on our life's decisions and plans. So it means home is with my people and furnishings... In that particular abode. Home has been my lake house, my sailboat, my parent's house. But only in moments with people I love. Because home isn't home when I'm alone in a dwelling. Or is it? Peace and security is home and being alone is... Those things by turns. Home is two recliners, warm towels and a good bed. It's where you groom, relax, and be your toe picking self. Your favorite genre of music, books, and artwork is on display In your home. There are no worries if anyone else likes your choices; They will because they live there too; they are your blood. You can laugh at odd jokes and cry at shared memories At home. Things like forgiveness and patience and forbearance Are practiced because of burps and loud chewing and other Human noises...