...Plain Upon Tablets

Andrew Murray, in The Secret of Intercession , starts day two by talking about Elisha's prayers -- first for the God to protect his young servant (and in doing so, allowing him to see chariots of fire and horsemen upon a mountain) and second for the Syrian army, that had been struck with blindness and led into Samaria, to have their eyes open. Murray goes on to talk about the importance of OPENING OUR EYES, "to ask that our eyes may see the wonderful provision that God has made for His church in the baptism with the Holy Spirit" (8) and to ask "that God may open the eyes of those of His children who do not as yet see the power that the world and sin have upon His people" (9). This opening of our eyes is not just about us seeing what's in the real world, what's going on right before our faces, though this is vital, too. It's also about asking our father to allow us to see in the spiritual sphere as well. At the end of the day two section, a quest...

I. Am. Tired. This is a major truth for me these days. I am physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, socially, spiritually (every "-ally" you can find) tired. The month of May was one in which so many things took place, ending in an ultimate pain and sadness that I know will take awhile to deal with. I dealt with the end of a semester that was painful and wrong on a few levels, I dealt with my first May Seminar class, which started right as the painfully wrong semester was ending, I dealt with pressures of a personal online project I took on and that kept me stressed, and I dealt with learning that my father was gravely ill and eventually had passed. Some might wonder why I would put my dad last on this list. Surely he was more important than everything else, and this is true. But what the above is, is a culmination of pain, stress, and exhaustion that exploded with the death of my father. During May, I didn't go to church. Didn't once open my bible. And I...

I do love Chrisette Michele's song, "Epiphany," but I use a line of her song as title because yesterday, something came to me suddenly: an epiphany. For just a split second, I was sitting at my laptop, having full-blown angst over trying to get my mind, my energy to focus on something, anything, when I got quiet. It was no longer than a minute. But I didn't hear the TV. I wasn't thinking. It was full, complete silence. And in that one-minute of silence, I heard one sentence: Nothing inspires me . And I tilted my head to the side, thought about the sentence and said, "That's it." Since the new year, there has been a change in me. I would argue the "change" started months before this, but I felt its presence strongly after the new year. But I didn't see it as me being uninspired. I saw it as issues with me. I was very depressed in January, and I spent a great deal of time being mad at myself for feeling the way I did. I struggled with tho...

Last week, I talked about the Forward March . This "movement" is a bit different. This one is about the movement that keeps your body at its optimal level, that keeps your feeling good, that keeps your healthier. Before I came to Lubbock in August '09, I was on the road to better movement. I exercised three, four times a week. I drank less coffee. I drank less soda. I drank more water. I cut a lot of fast food, fried foods from my diet. And it showed. Not only was my cholesterol levels getting back to normal, but I was also losing weight. Was even able to purchase jeans two sizes smaller than the ones I had worn in what felt like forever. And then I moved. Have you ever heard of the Freshman 10? Freshman 15 (probably now the Freshman 20!)? It's the theory (very loose theory) that when a freshman goes off to college, he or she (usually she) will probably gain about 10, 15 pounds. Well, I'm here to tell you that not only is this theory true (for me anyway), but it a...

I have a good author-friend named Fon James whose latest novel is titled Forward March . I remember doing editorial work on the novel for Fon last year, and when I read the title, I smiled. Each word in that title illustrates a movement, and every time I read the words, I think about my life and where it's going or not going and how, at the end of the day, it's about the Forward March. Even when insanity brews in your life, you have to forward march . Yes, there is time to stand still, to deal with the insanity, to listen to God and have him aid you in your movement, but the result is always about the forward march . It's funny how the mind works. I wasn't sure what I would mention here today. I wasn't sure I would mention anything. My life over the past week has been pretty uneventful, and to be honest, I've been having a fluctuating mood--moving from pure happiness or abysmal sadness in the matter of minutes, and I wasn't really in the mood to talk about i...

First full week of school kicked off last week. I'm excited, nervous about the semester. I'm excited because every class I'm taking will provide a practical benefit almost immediately to me. For example, my grants/proposal class will enable me to submit a proposal to a conference, to develop a proposal for a non-profit organization, and to develop an academic or industry proposal...with a purpose . Last semester was heavy in theory, in the foundation, the understanding of all the things we will be doing. It got very tedious, very fast with the mounds upon mounds of words to read and dear God, try to understand in order to articulate a fairly intelligent response. I've always been good at doing . Not to say I'm bad at thinking and understanding , but if you give me a task, the task will get done , and usually, done well . So though there is a lot of work to be done this semester, the act of doing is right up my alley. Having said this, the first week, week and a ha...

Earlier today, I was trying to get up the energy to leave the house and run some errands when my baby bro called. I plopped onto the sofa and chatted with him about his new license and his need for insurance for his new-old car. After the conversation ended, I remained on the sofa, kneeling upon it, arms resting on one of the sofa arms, just being. Then I saw it. The bible. It sat on the end table. Dust laid on its cover. It had been awhile since I had opened it. Though I felt something jump within me when I saw it, I wasn't sure I wanted to touch it. I always got this way when I was depressed. For nearly three weeks, I have been battling depression, and every day, the anxiety and issues that come from it have increased. I've battled depression most of my life though it wasn't 'til about nine years ago that I was diagnosed with clinical depression (or Major Depressive Disorder , specifically Atypical Depression . I went through three years of psychotherapy and the takin...

I have to be honest. I did NOT think I would be here on the other side. The other side of what? Victory. And it's not that I didn't trust God. I didn't trust myself. I didn't think I had the energy to read one more article, to synthesize one more book, to write one more word. To think. To anything. I just KNEW I didn't have the power. There were many times when I just said, "Forget this mess. OK, let me tuck tail and go home." But I didn't. And I don't get all the glory. I don't even get all the victory. I know for a fact that it was God who carried me through this darkness, this new foreign place (in so many ways for me). It was God who didn't hate on me because my attendance at church slowed while I got lost in the forest of academia and could not find my way back out. It was God who whispered in my ear, Keep typing , or who told my body, "Don't listen to that girl anymore. Go to bed. She'll be OK." And even though I cri...

I've been real in all my posts, but today, I feel the need to be "real" real. Why? Because these days, Shonell is a bit more raw, bit more open than usual, and "real" real is all that can come out. So, what's the "real" real? I'm tired. Stop. Actually, "tired" isn't strong enough a word. Neither is "exhausted." There is no word. And no, this isn't a whine. And no, I'm not comparing my life with anyone else's. Not looking for sympathy, and actually not sure I care if anyone cares that I feel this way. I just have to let it out because it's what I feel. Period. School is kicking my butt from here to Africa and back. Within the last two weeks, I've thought about just disappearing and returning to Louisiana at least ten times. Though it's probably been more. Mind is a blur these days. Memory flickers off and on. It's been five years since I've been a student, and a lot has changed in me during...

It's hard to put into words what I feel these days. It's ALL and NOTHING. At once. Mixed furiously together. Leaving me breathless and full of wonder. And leaving me wondering - what's next? Every day presents itself with new challenges, new hills to climb, foes to slay, people to befriend, questions to answers, opportunities to jump at...and those to say "No" to. This Monday, I'm at a phase I don't often get to - one of feeling OK. And this feeling of OK presents itself with both a positive and a negative reaction from me. Let me explain. Positive Reaction Being OK tells me that I'm starting to get "it." What is IT? ME. Being alone for the first time in almost seven years has given me the opportunity to see what I like and don't like. Has allowed me to buy for self and not for others. Has made me think about how to treat myself for a job well done. Has pushed me to think about my relationship with my boyfriend and where I want it to go n...

Dedicated to my spiritual daughter, Ceria Friday night, I hooked up with a "fellow" fellow to see author Jeanette Walls. Walls is the author of the NYT bestselling memoir, The Glass Castle , which details her life growing up in extreme poverty and the unimaginable obstacles she faced. To say Walls is a character is an understatement. She was brutally honest and funny and sweet and vulnerable as she talked about her life, and we in the audience were very receptive to her story; every time I nodded my head or offered a quiet "Mm mm mm," at least twenty people were in agreement with me. One thing Walls talked about was the power of storytelling and how important it is for us to reveal our truths. These truths do not have to be in a NYT bestselling memoir, mind you. They can be revealed to yourself as admission. They can be revealed to another as an initiation of comfort. As she talked about this "revealing of truth," tears slipped down my cheeks. I thought ab...

I'm a bit bitter these days. A little salty. A smidgen of angry. Why? Because Creativity is dead. Well, at least for me. Why? One word: school. This doctoral program is a full-time job. It can take upwards of 40 hours a week (more once you start researching for papers and projects beyond the required "in class" work) to do all the reading and preparing to be brilliant in the classroom. And it's not a 9 to 5 job where you do work that doesn't tax your mind, therefore, leaving you feeling energetic and refreshed and ready to conquer the world creatively. Oftentimes, in fact, I'm mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and want nothing to do but some mindless activity or sleep (which is a rarity in itself). This is not me complaining, mind you. I accept what is necessary to do. As I've stated numerous times throughout this blog, it was my destiny to be here, and because of my pact with God, I'm in it to win it. That being said, it doe...

Life these days is hectic, fast-paced, blurred, awesome, worrisome...and many, many more adjectives. Since school started on August 27th, I have been chained to words, a plethora of words on philosophy, technology, writing, and all these words swirl in my mind in a harried pace, and most of the time, I am unable to capture the significant points of these words to make meaning. It is a daunting task. At least three times I told myself I wasn't cut out for this, and one time last week, I actually thought about bolting from a classroom as my eyes blurred with pending tears, my heart raced, and my mind whispered, "You're not smart enough to be here." And for the first time since I've moved, I had the ache of loneliness. That day, the day I almost ran from class, packed my bags, and hightailed it out of Lubbock, I got home and realized there were no siblings to crack a joke to make me laugh. There was no hug to chase a frown away. There was no "Come on now. You go...

I'm crying. Which, in and of itself, is nothing new. I'm an emotional person. At church, I was called "The Cryer." These days, my emotions stem from one important thing: I'm moving. In 11 days, I will be packing up my girlfriend's car, and she and I will be taking the 11+ hour trek to Lubbock, Texas, where she will stay a few days to get me acclimated and then I will be ALONE. The alone part doesn't bother me too much. Been craving silence. Separation for awhile now after playing Mom for siblings for years and not having the space to pray, cry, scream, speak in tongues, everything like I feel. The move part, however, is taking its toll. In a way, I've been a wanderer most of my life. To avoid family troubles and to, in a way, run away from myself, I've lived in Chicago and Jersey and Louisiana. Chicago and Jersey were short stints, but here in Louisiana, I made a life . I've lived here for eight years. I licked the wounds of losing m...