Category: Christmas

Merry Christmas 2018

On By shellilittletonIn Christian Growth, Christmas, Encouragement, Raising Children5 Comments

“Mom, I’ve lost my wallet.” The heartbreak, fear, sadness, regret, and disappointment emit through the message.

Oh no. A mixture of emotion swirls around me. Sadness mostly, sadness for my baby. She’s in an unfamiliar location. I’d seen it tucked away in her coat pocket the previous night. “I’m afraid you’ll lose it,” I’d said.

And then the thought inevitably set in–I should have ….

But more inevitably came–She should have ….

O Soul Within, wasn’t it just yesterday when you peered up those same old stairs? It was.

DSC_7824 (6)I climb those stairs in the early morning hours, darkness hovering through the hallway and a kitty evaluating my every move. Reaching the top, I move into the dim light. I inch toward her in the quiet … those beautiful eyes are closed. Those once tiny fingers have grown inches. Those once tiny feet nearly reach the bed’s end. Her hair drapes over the pillow.

I touch her and softly call her name.

DSC_8605 (4).JPGShe startles awake, gasping in terror.

She’s never startled awake before. My other baby never startles awake. But it’s been so long since I’ve climbed those stairs in the early morning hours. Every excuse in the world comes to mind. It’s easier to stand at the bottom and call her name. But I’ve been absent from her morning routine, the one we’ve had most all her life–the brushing back of her hair, the soft touch, the softest kiss on her face, the soft calling of her name in the early morning–that she startles in her sleep at my touch, at my waking her.

O Soul Within, how many years have you missed touching her cheek for a new morning? How many years have you missed the calmness of her morning waking?

Five years in this home.

And my heart knows … my heart hears …

Guilt is wiped away, and grace for tomorrow hugs my heart.

Silent Night, Holy Night … All is calm …

My phone brightens with a voicemail before me. “This is your daughter’s university. Your daughter’s wallet has been found by the TCU police department, and you just need to call this number …”

I don’t need to say and she doesn’t need to hear one wise word. Because so often the lesson is in the losing.

And in the finding.

Hold on to the things you love.

DSC_8586 (4)Merry Christmas, everyone.

How has God been speaking to your heart lately?

The Right & The Left Unite For A Merry Christmas

On By shellilittletonIn Christian, Christmas, Confidence, Doubt, Encouragement, Faith, Gentlemen, Hardships, Kindness, Mothers, Politics, Raising Teens, Shelli's Scribblings, Wisdom12 Comments

The phone rings. It’s my girl.

“Hi, baby,” I say, using my softest tone reserved for my girls.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I’m shaking.”

“What’s up?” My legs begin to tremble, and the hair on my arms raises.

DSC_9533 (6) - Copy“I’m in government class, and we’ve broken up into groups,” she whispers. “My group has decided to do a discussion about an issue that I can’t support. They all support it. But Mom, I’m afraid to speak up. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice drifts off into a lonely place. Surrounded by people, yet lonely. I’ve been there.

My heart plunges into my gut and begins to jostle around for freedom, for peace, for strength. Freedom, peace, strength for my girl. “Baby, you have to speak up. If you don’t, everyone will think that you believe it’s okay. And you won’t be okay with that.”

“I know, Mom.” Determination laces her voice. “But … I’m so scared.”

“You’ve got this. I’m praying for you.” Because we can let some things slide, but some things have to be man-handled. Girl-handled.

DSC_9511 (5) - CopyThe phone rings.

“Hi, baby.” Hurry words … assure me. God, let her be okay.

“I did it, Mom. I think several in the group were glad I spoke up. I think they believed like me, but they were afraid, too. The leader decided that half can discuss that topic, and the other half can discuss another topic. She didn’t seem too happy about it, but …” She pauses.

I exhale a sigh of relief, then laugh. “That’s great, Baby. I’m so proud of you.” Yes, you are discovering who you are, what you believe, and that it’s okay to have a different opinion.

“One girl from the group kept glaring at me through class.”

DSC_9519 (6)DSC_9516 (6)Weeks pass.

I step into Chick-fil-A and take a seat across the booth from my girl.

“Mom, government class discussion went so good today.” She bounces on the bench. “Someone just had to bring up another controversial topic.” She nearly slumps. “But, Mom, we had such a good talk.” She straightens and smiles. “Those of us against it gave our side. We just told them that though we didn’t agree, we don’t dislike them for having a different opinion. We aren’t mad at them. One guy said that he didn’t understand why we felt the way we did, but he told me that he liked how kind I was about everything I had to say on the issue.”

One hand extended and the other accepted. The aisle between disappeared, leaving only people. Beautiful feet. Good people. Kind people. Because difference doesn’t always have to equal division. Surely, difference can be united with love.

“And Mom, he said he’d never met a Christian before.”

“He’s met one now.” I nod.

“At the end of class, we all walked out of the room, smiling, high-fiving, and talking with each other. Happy. Friends, Mom. And when I glanced over at our teacher, he shook his head, smiling in amusement at us.” She giggles. “He said, ‘Y’all are the best class I’ve ever had.'”

I shake my head gently, my lips pressing into a smile. My girl is my hero. Oh, yes. Making friends with non-likeminded people. A beautiful concept. Because one might lean right and one might lean left, but we can all lean in with kindness.

DSC_9530 (4) - CopyI wrap myself in the warmth of my jacket. “Baby, that’s so awesome. I’m so proud of you. I think people should be able to disagree, but love.” We mingle together in this sorted world constantly. And why not?

“Yeah. God fought the battle for me, Mom. It was such a great day. Even the girl who had been glaring at me has been smiling at me instead.”

My heart glows–my girl is acknowledging her Savior. All those years of teaching, trying to help her see and understand … yes. Thank you, Father.

Because when the soft strand of the right sweeps over the doubled over strand of the left, with a gentle reach and a little heart-tug, they come together to make the most gorgeous bow. If one tends to be right-handed. And when the soft strand of the left sweeps over the doubled over strand of the right, with another gentle reach and a little heart-tug, they come together to make the most gorgeous bow. If one tends to be left-handed. Because it’s all in the reaching, the softness, the kindness–the sweetest Christmas present to this mama, for her girl. Love bestowed by and on her girl in the difference by the different. Yes, Lord, yes.

Do you have a story of kindness to share? Merry Christmas, Y’all.

Following The Star To Bethlehem

On By shellilittletonIn Christian, Christian Growth, Christmas, Encouragement, Faith, Hardships11 Comments


I love this time of year. The glow of the Christmas tree radiating throughout the darkened living room brightens and lightens my heart, especially in the early mornings. 

And my heart’s been heavy. 

I sit crisscross-applesauce by the tree and remove the star ornament. I lay it at my feet. The cat walks over and touches his nose to it, investigating this new thing. The amateur photographer in me snaps a quick picture.



Maybe I’ll post this picture on Instagram, I think to myself. I travel back to my closet and retrieve my Bible from my church bag. 

I’ll quote Scripture of the star that led the wise men to Jesus, I decide. Sitting down on the floor, all alone, I flip through my elderly Bible’s pages, turning straight to Luke. I search and search for the star. I read all of Luke 2. Everyone knows Luke 2 is the nativity scene. Where’s the star? Not in Luke?

Matthew? I flip to Matthew. 

There. There’s the star. The star’s in Matthew.

I smile and release my held breath.

My finger follows the wise men over the beautiful pages for every mention of the star.



And I wonder … why isn’t the star mentioned in Luke? Hmm. 

“Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.” —Matthew 2:2

As I followed the star to Bethlehem, I thought—O Soul Within, maybe, just maybe God left the star out of Luke, placed the star in another location, so that one might search for it. On this day. 2016. So that one might search a little harder, a little farther, for The One, the Christ-child, the God-man. And come to worship Him.

Who else is searching for the star in this moment?

I tuck my knees under my chin and hug my legs. 

Shelli, when’s the last time you searched for the star? 

The star will always lead to Jesus. It will always bring one out of the east.

“After [the Magi] had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” —Matthew 2: 9-10

Oh, Lord, I never want to stop looking for the star … looking for you. I never want to stop placing you in my daily life, with purpose. I never want to bog down with anxiety and deny the joy and peace that is my birthright as your child. 

I’ve been bogged down, Lord. 



Thank you for going ahead of me. I want a Jeremiah 29 moment with you, Lord. For always. “‘You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,’ declares the LORD.” 

Thank you for giving me a reason to search for the star. To knock on the door. 

Make me wise. Make me search. Remind me to sit at your feet. Make me desire you. Help me to follow you.



See Him. 

This new thing, new every morning. Don’t miss it.

O Soul Within, see the glow. Feel it. The wonder of it all. Open your heart, your treasure, and lay those burdens down. But not just anywhere or to anyone … to The One—the right one providing the right place. And receive the joy and peace.

“On coming to the house, [the Magi] saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their teasures and presented him with gifts …” —Matthew 2:11-12

Merry Christmas
I love you.
Shelli





A Very, Very Merry Christmas Vlog From Me to You!

On By shellilittletonIn Christmas, Vlog14 Comments

Thank you for always stopping by. 

I am so blessed by you, to know you, to hear from you. 
Thank you for all of your selves that you weekly give to me.
Every moment that I’ve thought to myself, Shelli, what are you doing? 
You answer my question by helping push me to keep going, dig deeper, and be better.
You are dear to my heart … don’t ever doubt it.
I’m excited and hopeful to share 2016 with you.
And if you have about 4 minutes to spare, I’d like to talk to you from Texas … about what to scrape your life on … how not to scrape make-up on your shirt … how to properly remove a shirt … well, y’all know me. 
Silly things always happen to me.
But I love laughter, joy, reasons to smile.
Listen for my sheep in the background.
And I’m sorry I’m not better at this video-recording vlog thing.
And Jesus … the reason for every breath we take … glory to God on the highest.
Love,
Shelli



From my home to yours …

 Come inside …
This writing inspiration might look familiar to some of you.
Our tree … see the cats underneath?

Me and my girls

Finding Treasures at Cracker Barrel

On By shellilittletonIn Christmas, Encouragement, Faith, Hardships, Holy Spirit, Shelli's Scribblings8 Comments


The Cracker Barrel chairs out front rock and sway. We slip inside, and I head straight to the bathroom. That’s a joke in my house because I can’t go from Point A to Point B without needing to find a restroom. 

“You can go get a table. I’ll find y’all,” I say.  

I pass this sweet elderly man waiting by the restroom door. He’s propped his elbows up on the counter. He looks so out of place, yet so comfortable. Peaceful. Purposeful. Maybe he’s waiting for his wife. I smile. He smiles. I feel drawn to him.

We eat dinner. I’m so routine. Chicken and dumplings for me … light on the chicken. The dumplings are my favorite part. Why waste valuable, limited space on your least favorite part? 

We make our way to the exit with these treasures tucked away in a brown paper sack. All three of us girls have one item each. 

Can you guess which treasure is mine?



Plus two Andes thin chocolate mints each … the kind in the green package. My sweet proof is missing.

We push through the door, and there is that sweet man sitting in a rocking chair out front. I smile.

“Bye,” I say.

“Don’t forget to write,” he replies, with a smile.

I laugh myself hysterically all the way to the car. His personality reminds me of my grandfather. It took maximum restraint not to run up and hug him. Walking the length of that front porch, I have to repeat his comment to the girls and explain a little, and then they laugh themselves hysterically, too.

“Don’t forget to write.” The treasured meaning knocks me right upside the head, wraps around my shoulders like a scarf, and pulls me in for a tender kiss.

Yes, Lord, I’m listening. I won’t forget to write. I’ll write. I will. 

When discouraged, O Soul Within, the Lord knows and sees. And He speaks through the least likely people, who end up being the most likely people. It really all makes sense.

What if that sweet man were waiting for me? All along. What if he was an angel? What if?

And I’m reminded of a journal that was given to me recently, at a lady’s retreat I spoke at. I didn’t have time to make one like everyone else because I spent time in prayer and preparing. But I shared about how special journaling had been in my life. And before I left, the ladies gave me my very own. It’s so cute, y’all. It even has a tiny journal pocketed on the inside.




And I know the Lord is speaking straight to my soul. Oh, the sweetness that waits for me. 

Me.

Don’t forget me, He breathes into my heart. Time is valuable and limited. I’m the only one who makes sense.

Write your novel story for me, to me, share with me. 

Today.

Share your life with me. Share your days and nights with me. Push through the doors to see me. Listen for me. Let me be your routine. 

Select me. Seek me with all your heart. Let me be your favorite part—your treasure.

I am so un-fit for The King, but He pursues me anyway, like I’m the greatest gift in the world. It’s humbling …

Our treasures from Cracker Barrel. Did you guess correctly?!


Merry Christmas!


Have you ever wondered if you’d just entertained an angel? Or perhaps wondered if an angel had just entertained you? Has God ever used someone interesting, least expected, to speak to your heart? I’d love to hear your story. 

When Christmas Ornaments Become Holiday Baubles

On By shellilittletonIn Christmas, Faith, Fear, Hardships, Hope, Shelli's Scribblings10 Comments


The doors swing open wide, and I head into the post office, with the cool breeze trailing, to mail off my latest article. With no waiting line, it’s going to be a good day. Yes! I just feel it.

“Do you need stamps today?” the lady asks.

Do I need…? “Yes, I do.”

“What kind?” She displays several … gingerbread houses, ornaments.

“I’ll take the Christmas ornaments,” I cheerily say, with a smile. They’re cute—red, green, and blue dangly things. And with all the Hallmark Christmas love movies my daughter’s been recording and forcing upon me, Christmas is definitely in the air surrounding my merry heart.



The lady corrects me. “They’re Holiday Baubles,” she sternly says, without a smile.

I’m not quick on my toes. And suddenly I’m reduced to wondering if I’ve been calling them the wrong name all along. Like I’ve done something wrong. I walk out, my soul deflated. Confused.

The more I think about it, sitting in the car and gripping the steering wheel till my knuckles whiten, the more saddened and confused I feel. The bitter mixture stirs and stirs in my heart and gut, pleading for Rolaids. Some type of relief. Some type of salvation.

I look closer …



When I arrive home, I look up the word “bauble” in the dictionary. I’m 40+ years old, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that word before. Okay, so maybe I’m not as worldly as others. But I think I know what a Christmas ornament looks like.

“Bauble” is actually a Middle English word, from Old French. Even The Free Dictionary on-line gets it right by stating this:

1. a showy toy or trinket of little value; trifle
2. a small, usually spherical ornament made of coloured or decorated material which is hung from the branches of a Christmas tree. Usual US name: Christmas ornament
3. (Historical Terms) (formerly) a mock staff of office carried by a court jester


Most might say not to make a big deal about it. It’s just stamps. Lady, it’s just stamps. Come on. Get Real.

And nothing is wrong with the word “holiday” or “bauble” … 

But I’ve been corrected. That’s the heart of the issue. 

You won’t say Christmas, you’ll say holiday.

And it hurt my heart. Her words, attitude, hurt my heart. Yeah, O Soul Within, it hurts, and the pain is real. It’s one thing to be imposed upon … sanctions imposed on our hearts … we tend to expect impositions these days …

Don’t you love Jesus. Don’t you pray. Don’t you trust Him. Don’t you tell anyone if you do. And don’t you share Him. Don’t ask, don’t tell policy. And if you’re asked, you better deny … if you want to live.

But in the Bible Belt? It hurts to see the belt loosening. And it appears to have definitely been loosened a notch or two. And still the weight above that belt is lopping over onto people, individuals, hearts …

The very omission reduces Christmas to a mere trinket of little value; trifle. It mocks everything God did for us—the miraculous Luke 2 wonder of the world, Jesus, the Son, virgin birth, becoming the God-man. It says that Christ—surrendering everything to come to this earth, sacrificing more than we’ll ever know, to exchange Heaven for us, to be born in a lowly manger, to live for us, to fight for us, to die for us … for our sin—means nothing. The miracle is trifle. 

It smugly yet naively says, “What miracle?”

The very act says that “Christmas” is not worth mentioning—

A first class love means nothing.



The miracle of Christmas reduces from a God-man Day to a mere man-made day. 

With the chaos and violence—hardships, need—that woefully weave the frayed fragments of our world, when empty eyes and empty hearts and empty stomachs are desperate for salvation, reaching out with empty hands … there has never been more a time to keep Christ in Christmas. To keep Christmas in Christmas. To look for the miracles. 

 O Soul Within, some things are black and white. What will you allow to forever stick on your heart’s wall? Be careful what you let stick on your heart’s wall.



O Soul Within, you may feel powerless. But remember God’s power and what you can do— 

~Remember to pray.

~Remember what you really need—Jesus’ first class love. Forever.

~Remember Christ in Christmas, keep Him there, let truth nestle into your heart forever and ever. 

~Remember to impart Him to your children.

~Remember that you have it right. Don’t get used to the wrong. Getting used to the wrong doesn’t make it right.  

~And as long as you have a voice, O Soul Within, remember to say, with every Christ-given privilege and right …

Merry Christmas.

This video has ministered to my heart all week long … I hope it ministers to you, as well …



*How do you safeguard your heart from subtle changes and stealth arrows continually thrown? Can you add to the list? What do you say? What do you remind your self?