About Shannon

In no particular order: Mom. Wife. Seminarian. Pastor. Social justice warrior. Raising my family, leading my church, unpacking my own biases to live out God's call to seek justice, do mercy, and walk humbly. Proud Coastie, North Coast District of the East Ohio Annual Conference, UMC. Fighting from within for a church that once again embraces the margins. MTSO, Master of Divinity Class of 2019. Already scoping good Ph.D. programs! Contributor, Strong for a Moment Like This: The Daily Devotions of Hillary Rodham Clinton by Rev. Dr. Bill Shillady. Coming from Abingdon Press August 15, 2017! Part of the We Pray With Her Project.

Revenge: Season 2 Forecast

5 more days, Revenge lovers!

There were more questions than answers when we last left the Hamptons, armed with snippets of information and enough cliffhangers to leave us all counting down. If you need to get up to speed, check out my season finale recap, then scroll down to find my predictions for Season 2.
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The world grows still.

Tonight would be a great night for a hike.

When I walked in the door after dinner, a wall of warm air hit me. I went to the thermostat, which read 73F – the AC is set to kick on at 75. For the first night in months, we have the windows open.

I love the fall. I love the cool, crisp air; the way the leaves change so that the trees are ablaze with color. I love sipping pumpkin spice lattes so that the steam curls over the cup, just visible in the morning. I love wearing sweaters and jackets and real shoes, and the deep blue of the sky as the sun sets early enough for that hike that would be so great tonight.

I don’t believe in the lazy days of summer. In my mind, summer is heat and flash and rush; fall is the quiet moment when the sun lets up and we all just take a step back and breathe. It’s the resting hour before nightfall, when you’re curled up with a hot cup of tea, a blanket, and a good book – nothing else matters.

I love the smells of fall – crackling fires, the earthy scent of the trees. Spiced cider, pumpkins, and caramel apples.

Welcome, autumn. You may be early but feel free to linger…and of course, to skip winter and head straight into spring.

Just because you are struggling doesn’t mean you’re failing.

I’ve officially lost it. I may or may not be sitting in my living room, carrying on a one-sided conversation with my deaf cat about how small he looks in our now-clean living room. (He is a runt…) Topher may have watched Henri, le Chat Noir a few too many times, but since he hasn’t started meowing pithily at our matching water fountain I think it might just be the deaf thing.

I get the feeling he doesn’t enjoy the camera.

Meanwhile, Tej just keeps it cool wherever he can escape from Topher or the humans…

…unless the human has a camera.

It’s been a quiet night. If it was chilly outside it would be the perfect night for unpacking my thoughts and going over each one by one. I could write pseudo-philosophical poetry about anything and pretend that I’m 19 again and mostly without any cares – and yet, strangely, unhappier than any average 19-year-old should be.

That’s the struggle I’ve been having – I feel that I’m at my most creative when I am upset or melancholy or even just caught up in how things used to be, but other than “normal” frustrations I find it difficult to stay in that frame of mind. I know, a good problem to have, right? I love the darkness, both physically and metaphorically, but I no longer live there. My life now is in the light.

Perhaps I need to stay focused on what’s ahead rather than picking through what’s behind me. Digging through the past has proven to be an exercise in impotent frustration – I understand nothing more than I ever did, and I feel like the outsider I am when I examine the memories of the girl who was me, and who is me…but who, at the same time, could never be me.

Just…don’t ever let me get back to the uber-sappy crap I used to write. I may or may not want to kick my own ass when I come across it.

Well, this may or may not have had a point. I’m not too concerned about it, so you shouldn’t be either. And if you are…


Marie Digby, “Spell” (2008)

Spotlight shining brightly on my face
I can’t see a thing and yet I feel you looking my way
Empty stage, with nothing but this girl
Who’s singing this simple melody
And wearing her heart on her sleeve
And right now
I have you
For a moment I can tell I’ve got you
‘Cause your lips don’t move, and something is happening
‘Cause your eyes tell me the truth
I’ve put a spell over you

Beauty emanates from every word that you say
You capture the deepest thoughts in the purest
And simplest of ways
But you see
I’m not that graceful, like you
Nor am I as eloquent
But just a simple melody can change the way that you see me
And right now
I have you
For a moment I can tell I’ve got you
‘Cause your lips don’t move, and something is happening
‘Cause your eyes tell me the truth
I’ve put a spell over you

And all my life I stumble, but up here I am
Just perfect
Perfect as I’ll ever be…

Oh, I have you
For a moment I can tell I’ve got you
‘Cause your lips don’t move, and something is happening
‘Cause your eyes tell me the truth
I’ve put a spell over you…


I’m waiting for you to say you love me
You’re waiting for me to walk away
We’re standing at a crossroads, looking through each other
to find the words we want to hear, to hide the words we cannot say
I’m trying not to tell you I adore you
You’re trying not to tell me it’s the end
We’re slipping past each other, the distance growing wide
and we know we’ll never pass this way again
Perception failed us tonight
We’re peering into cracked and tarnished mirrors
We’re searching in each other for all our hopes and dreams
but we’re only finding echoes of our fears
I’m hoping that we’re both in this together
you’re certain that we’re lost in this alone
Two paths stretch out before us, away from one another
so when this ends, we’ll both be on our own.

~ September 21, 2009


when every second glance is another battle won
when your words are cold and hollow, I remember
you’re too good to be true, you’re unbelievable
you’re tarnished perfection…

the reflection of your beauty is distorted
your sweetness poisoned, your brightness faded
a cruel caricature of all I ever wanted
you’re the deepest bitter roots of my wildest fantasy

you are my anti-love
the hit between the beat of every love song
you are my broken heart
the tear stains on the pages that I write
every tock that ticks away
on the hours I have wasted
you are my anti-love, the sickest ever drug

~ September 8, 2009