A Precious Pedestrian Life and My Thoughts on Contentment

I have always been a dreamer. A gal who hopes and prays and dreams for the ‘next thing.’ If I’m being perfectly honest, I am realizing that I may have wished my entire life away! Being only (“only?”) 35, I realize I have a whole lot more life ahead of me (we hope??) so that may sound dramatic. But what I mean by it, is something I’m sure a lot of you can relate to.

I have had a boyfriend since I was 5. Laugh out loud right? No but seriously, I was always the girl with a ‘boyfriend.’ In 5th grade through some of middle school I thought for sure I would marry Warren Taylor. Then high school came and some of freshman year of college, and I thought that I would marry Jeff. THEN I stumbled (walked perfectly fine really) into a coffee shop with a stack full of books, stressed about my full day of classes and tests ahead, and I met my husband. I was always thinking one step ahead. What would be next? Where would life take me?

When I lived in Michigan I prayed and wished for Kentucky. I wanted to be done with school half way through high school. Then I married young and half way through college, and I wished to be done with college. I prayed for a horse my ENTIRE life, and I got the horse. After I got the horse, I got ANOTHER horse. I have always wished and hoped and prayed for a horse farm. Basically through my mumbled, jumbled thoughts, what I am saying is that I have ALWAYS been a gal who has struggled with…

CONTENTMENT.

Here I am, almost 36, in the year 2023 which is soon coming to an end, and I have realized a brand new feeling for me. I FEEL CONTENT. I drive a very janky SUV, with dents, BB gun bullet holes, and missing side view mirrors. I love it! It’s my barn car, the trunk packed to the brim with a saddle, saddle pads, muddy boots, and whatever else horse related I toss in there for my trips to and from the barn. My barn boots? Falling apart. Literal chunks of leather coming off of the sides and instead of asking and pursuing new boots for Christmas? I said, ‘nah, these are fine, still usable, I’ll wear them until I literally just can’t.’ I look for “horse farms” (aka 5 acres of land or more) often, but am no longer obsessed. No longer angry or hurt or bitter at the fact that it still just hasn’t happened (yet.)

Our house used to really stress me out. Any bit of clutter or something out of place used to unsettle me and set my mood spiraling downward. Now I realize, people live here! My kids leave a sock here, clothes over there, basketball balls there, footballs LITERALLY under my bed, drawing pens and sketchpads strewn across the coffee table—and in my head I hear, “They won’t be in this house forever.” My reminders to them have gotten more gentle. My inner thoughts to myself, more gracious.

Shauna Niequist is one of my favorite authors. I want to share a blurb of what she said in wrote in her book Cold Tangerines, that I think you may love too:

… “For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.
The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.
But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.”

I LOVE where she writes, “daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables…” A PRECIOUS ‘pedestrian life’ indeed!!

It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped dreaming. God knows I dream of land (not the suburbs) outside my doors and windows. That I long to have Paddy IN that backyard. But I no longer hurt for it. While marriage for parts of this season has been tough and raw and difficult, it is still beautiful. I am loved. Our kids, growing and hormonal and pushing us to new limits, but still wonderful. My teaching job, challenging, sometimes draining, yet reminds me daily how much I love kids and how I am doing GOOD work. I’m pursuing a degree in school counseling and I realize it doesn’t mean I’m wishing for the ‘next’ thing. I just realize it’s time I pursue work outside the actual walls of a classroom.

I am the spirit and power and image of my Creator and I have been given TODAY. YOU have too. (And if you like to read and be inspired by your reading, I highly recommend getting Shauna’s book I mention above!!)

Here’s to enjoying and loving and experiencing the life I have been waiting for—all around me.

A Letter to My Ten Year Old Girl

Dear Daughter,

Wow. Ten whole beautiful years of loving you. Of being your Mama. Of watching you grow and learn and live and love. You and I, dear girl, are quite the pair. God knew I needed you, more than I ever could have fathomed. When I learned I was pregnant with you, I had a seven month old baby napping upstairs. I cried because I couldn’t believe it…I cried because I didn’t feel ready. But the moment I found out that little baby on the ultrasound screen was a baby girl, everything started making sense. I. needed. you.

Sure you make me want to pull my hair out at times—your stubborn willful self is an awful lot like mine. But even after you and I may have a disagreement, I always know we will be okay. You’ve been a Mama’s Girl since the day you were born, and still today, at ten years old, you are. You’ll go to bed earlier if it means “Mom can tuck you in.” If it means Mom can lie with you, read, pray, tickle your back and listen to a song while holding your hand. Right now, you still feel you “need” that. And I can’t help but wonder how long that will last? “She won’t always like me…” I’ve said to myself.

Moms and daughters, Reese, often struggle. Maybe it’s when daughters start really coming into their own self and begin to have strong differing opinions or thoughts than their moms? Maybe it’s when daughters decide that their moms know nothing and just ‘don’t understand?’ I don’t think there is a magic age and perhaps I will be entirely wrong, but I keep expecting us to struggle. I guess even if you don’t have months or years where you just don’t want to be ‘close’ to me, I do know that we WILL struggle. But guess what? When we do, I will still need you. And I hope you will still need me.

I spent most of my life racing. By racing I mean wishing for the next thing—I wished to grow UP from a young age, and in many ways, as a kid I did grow up pretty fast. I think being the youngest sibling to a brother with severe special needs can do that. I couldn’t wait to drive, to finish high school. I couldn’t wait for college to move to Kentucky and to begin pursuing my dreams. I wished and I wished and I wished. Then God surprised me with YOU, and then time started to actually fly by. I found myself wishing for more of it…for it to slow down…for it to STOP even, like it could have a pause button, and I could freeze exactly where my kids were at in certain different moments. But we can’t do that, can we, Sis? Time is fleeting and I have said that from the very beginning of YOUR time.

You are so excited to be double digits. And you should be! You’re officially a “pre-teen” now and while I may not feel ready, YOU definitely are and regardless, it’s happening. If there is one thing I wish I could help you do though…it would be to try to stay present in the time you are in. Where ARE you right NOW? Let me tell you, dear girl.

You are perfectly, positively, YOU. You are such your own little person, with your own thoughts and personality and character and charm. You’re not me, or your dad, or your brother, or your friends—you are YOU and I pray you continue to love that little girl inside of you. You love deeply and have the gifts of empathy and compassion. This is your last year at the school your dad works at, 5th grade—recently it dawned on you that after this year, he will be “alone” at school, and you cried for him. Your heart is as big as the ocean, sweet girl.

You’re artistic and creative. You are genuinely funny and make me laugh out loud. You LOVE to dance and make videos. You’re discovering the world of makeup and flared jeans and skincare routines. I’ve worked hard to not display negativity around you when it comes to getting ready, or when trying on clothes. I know you are already sometimes struggling with looks and appearance and ‘what will people think…’ and I have taught you to remember the little girl inside of you. How would you talk to her? Would you be mean or hurtful or unkind? Of course not!! So I hope and pray DAILY that you will love yourself WELL. That you will find gentleness inside for the girl on the outside. Life is hard, Baby girl. But I hope you don’t yet know or realize HOW hard it is.

I look back at pictures, memories from Facebook, and I can’t help but beam. You are very much the same girl that you were when you were 6 months old, 12 months old, 2 years old, 4 years old, and beyond. You’ve been our WOO GIRL from the very beginning—an ER doctor actually was the one to describe you as that! When the sedation couldn’t really make you drowsy when they were going to stitch up your forehead as a toddler, the doctor exclaimed, “Boy you have a real woo girl on your hands!” One of my friends said she can see you being a CEO one day. You are strong. Determined. A go getter. And I don’t ever see that changing.

You might be mad at me for writing this next part, but I just have to. This space has been very much like an ‘online journal’ to me for many, many years. Recently you told your dad that you had seen a boy you had a crush on, in passing at school. You were so giddy about it and cute. You said the boy had nodded at you and smiled. Dad said, “How did that make you feel?” You replied, “My insides got all warm and fuzzy!!!” Oh Reese Elisabeth…I’m not ready for the seasons with boys. For the worries and wonders that will automatically come with that. But it’s okay—we aren’t there quite yet. When we ARE there, I hope you know that I am always here. You can ask me ANYthing, ANY time. I hope as you grow older, that you don’t shy away from your parents advice, and that you won’t ever, ever feel you have to hide. In all of your emotions, wonders, worries, and hormones, I AM HERE.

Last but not least, Brené Brown wrote, “We have to be women we want our daughters to be.” Elisabeth, you have seen first hand that I am far from perfect. I pray and hope so much though, that through my career of loving and teaching kids of all ages, mentoring young girls, coaching young girls, working incredibly hard in horse ownership and a photography business—I hope and pray that you see a woman you are proud of. I hope you see a woman who loves Jesus and who has trusted HIM with her whole life. Who though has been diagnosed with a serious medical condition, STILL chooses to trust and depend on Him. I hope you see a woman who loves her family and would do anything for them. A wife who has been head over heels with her husband for over fifteen years now! And I don’t want you to be ME, sweet girl, because I fully believe one day, you are going far surpass whatever ounce of greatness I may have.

Happy 10th Birthday, dear Daughter. I love you more than this post or any number of words could relay. Thank you for being mine, thank you for being such a friend and for needing me and truly loving me all of these TEN years.

Love,

Mama

Seeing Them, and Being Seen BY Them

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” -Simone Weil

“See me, Mom? Mommy did you see? Mom, did you SEE?” I remember our kids saying that, often. It was also “Watch, Mom, watch. Mommy, watch me!” While they still ask that sometimes, it is very rare! One is turning eleven in ONE month, the other is nine. Today’s church lesson was such a good reminder and conviction that though my kids are growing and not necessarily asking to be seen, giving them each attention is one of the best things that I can and will do for them.

The pastor today mentioned how allowing our kids to use the gifts God gave them, instead of forcing our own opinions and ‘should do’s’ on them, is going to be life changing. I wonder what paths they will walk. What colleges they will choose. What their first jobs will be. Who will they marry? Will they want kids, have kids, be able to have kids? What careers will they be in, what will their hobbies be, what will they remember?

I want my kids to be seen by me. At the end of their busiest, hardest, saddest, most exciting, most exhilarating, most trying days…to know that I am theirs.

I woke today with a hand typed letter from my son and a homemade card from my daughter. Both cards read so uniquely and vastly differently from each other’s, and both made me feel SO loved and so cherished. My son and my daughter are very different from one another—it is fascinating and humbling to watch their lives unfold before me.

I want to share parts from each’s here.

My son’s first:

“…don’t let me or anyone else say you are small. If anyone says that, they do not know what they are talking about. You’ve fallen off horses, gone to the hospital, you have MS, there are so many things that not even the tallest person in the world could handle, but YOU can. Sometimes I don’t recognize how much you do…I want you to never feel like I don’t see you what you do. I don’t think there will be enough paper in the world to write to you how grateful I truly am…..”

And my sweet girl’s:

…”thank you for helping me get cozy in my bed! It helped me a lot. I love that you hold my hand every night! Thank. you for teaching me to ride a horse! I love you so much! I can’t believe this is your 10th Mother’s Day! I use exclamation points so much…”

Pierson’s notes remind me of me when I was his age and how I would leave notes on MY mom’s pillow at bedtime. And Reese’s just makes me genuinely laugh because 1) I use exclamation points a lOT, and 2) I could only aspire to be as carefree as she is! I can see both of my kid’s love languages within their handwritten notes to me for today…my son is so much words of affirmation and my daughter’s is quality time. I see that. I know that. I confidently stand by that they’ve been this way since they were toddlers and first figuring out how to be individual people.

Lastly I wanted to share a blurb about husbands. Have you heard or seen the quote, “The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother?” Henry Ward Beecher said that and I wanted to take a second to praise and love on my husband here. Today he wrote in a handwritten letter:

“In 2011 when we agreed it was time for a baby, we had no idea. In each season we have struggled and thrived as parents. Not because either of us is GREAT at it, but because we have each other. You are the calm to my loud…the gentle to my strength. The tenderness to my rough. The listening ear to my problem solving. My pause to my go…YOU complete this family. There were a million reasons we were and weren’t ready, but whether we were ready or not, YOU were the only reason I needed to say yes. You are ALL of my reasons.”

Life is short, it is tough, and it is fleeting. It was yesterday I was holding a newborn in my arms, and today I have two almost adolescents. Yesterday I was twenty years old and walking down the aisle, and today it has been almost fifteen years that I said I Do.

I see my people. Every ounce of me sees, hears, feels, and senses them. It is like I have a hundred hearts walking around outside of my chest, simply from being loved by THEM. May I always find the attention. May I always seek to love them more. May THEY always be seen by ME.

Rocco, the Healer and the Gift

I have seen a quote floating around that says this,

“ I remember the days I prayed for what I have now.”

Little Girl Ashley is still in disbelief of Grown Up Ashley’s reality: two horses. Two gorgeous, Thoroughbred boys. But that wasn’t ever the plan. That dream of owning just one was fleeting and then just like that, God said, “Here you go.”

Y’all (or most) remember my traumatic fall from Paddy on Mother’s Day, only a month after getting him. 2018 seems like so far behind me and yet it’s still like yesterday. After that fall, I did get back on Paddy, and I was persistent as I tried to become a better rider on him, and become a better rider overall. The truth is though, Paddy in the yard he was living in, was getting more and more aggressive and dangerous to the humans in his life. I’ll never forget when he tore off on a tyrant showing his oats, trying to show all of us in the field “who was boss.” His back hooves came inches from the home owner’s head, and that was it for us. He had become such a liability living in that field with a mare, that I knew he had to go. I also knew that I wasn’t improving in my riding with him. Every spook he had, every time I felt his heart rate pound through him while I sat upon his back, I froze in complete fear. I called my trainer one day after a difficult and scary for me ride, and cried so hard. I told her I thought I had to be done…that this was it, I couldn’t do this.

“Hold on, Ashley,” she said so calmly. (She’s always been my calm since the day I got Paddy basically, and I am so grateful for her still today!) “I think we may have another option horse wise for you…” she said.

We made plans, and I went out to go meet a different horse. ANOTHER tall, chestnut gelding, with a white blaze on his face too. He looked SO similar to Paddy. With his current owner and my trainer we tacked him up and I went for a ride—I cantered freely down a huge open field, we went over some small jumps, and it all came back to me—>I DID know how to ride. I DO know how to ride. The owner told me that she simply wanted him to be loved by a sweet family, one who had kids and who would love him and care for him well. He was a gift to me, and it didn’t take much convincing for me to of course say YES.

So what then, with Paddy? What next? Well, he couldn’t stay where he was, that was for sure. He karate kicked my husband’s thigh, he had charged at he and my children, and he had almost killed the homeowner. Maybe not, but the point was, he couldn’t stay where he was. Little did we know it was just living with a female that had changed him SO much from the Paddy I originally met. . . my trainer suggested keeping him at her farm, and we worked out an arrangement with Rocco to be used as a lesson horse in her program. My board therefore, was a little lighter than expected it may be in moving barn locations. I assumed though, that I would find someone to lease Paddy, or that I would need to find him a new home altogether. I didn’t see how I would ever successfully or confidently be able to ride Paddy. I loved him SO much, and on the ground, he was my heart horse. While I thought I would find him a new home, my heart loved him still so deeply.

I got Paddy in April 2018, and said yes to Rocco in October 2018. Within six months of being brand new to horse ownership…I now had TWO horses!

I began to take lessons on Rocco with my trainer. Before no time, we were trotting, cantering , jumping, and galloping through fields. I started showing him, doing some dressage and jumping. I went trail riding with him at Shelby Trails, I rode him reins free, bridle free, bareback, all of the things. My daughter at first, was obsessed. She would come with me whenever she could, but over time, that changed. It’s okay (I guess..ha), that my kids don’t have the horse gene that I do. They don’t love being at the barn when I go, they bicker and fight and truthfully it’s a lot of work for ME to even have them with me. Especially when they’re together. And these days when Reese comes with me, she gets bored quickly. She’ll ask for a phone or to do her iPad, and I’m left wondering, “how in the world are they my children?” That sounds so harsh, but the truth for me is that it does baffle me how they are so different from me. My friend at the barn says, “It’s okay, Ash, they have their own interests that make them who they are” and I KNOW that’s true. But it’s also hard ;) [I don’t ever want to discredit my family—they have been nothing but supportive of me, a horse crazed girl (woman), and I couldn’t do any of what I’ve done with these horses, without THEM.

The last year, I started feeling the weight of the work and time two horses takes. Last summer as I rode Rocco, I vividly remember thinking, “Maybe I’m not supposed to have two horses anymore…” and then so much guilt and shame and negative thoughts flooded in accusingly saying, “How dare you, Ashley! Why would you ever consider not having both??” Once Paddy normalized, aka hormones went back to normal from living in a field with other geldings, he and I started to grow together again. I started spending time in the round pen with him, doing games and playing and laughing. I began to ride him with my trainer, under supervision at first, and then I got to the place where I could ride him independently. I once thought I’d never be able to canter him through a big and open field, and we’ve now done it many times. He has spooked with me on his back. I have felt his heartbeat anxiously thud beneath me in times he was scared, and yet my fear has dissipated.

Because of Rocco.

Rocco was my healer. My confidence booster. My hero, really, in transforming me as an equestrian. And he has been SO loved by so many other than just me at the barn. His lesson kids love him so much; he’s been used in the summer camp program, and he’s has even done horse shows with kids. Any time he goes to horse shows it seems like people everywhere call out, “Is that Rocco?! It’s Rocco! Awwww, Rocco!” He is so known, and everyone knows how incredible and one of a kind he is. He is patient, tender, loving, and SO smart.

Recently the feeling and thoughts came back, “What if I only had one horse…” Time, money, the kids getting older and busier, it has just felt like a stretch. I dialogued with my trainer and I actually have cried quite a bit at that phrase and nagging question. I kept feeling so much guilt and shame for feeling that way…he was a gift to me, and I didn’t want it to EVER come across that I was ungrateful whatsoever for his Saintly Self. With time and discussion, and LOTS of prayer, I began to feel at peace. Largely because there is a VERY sweet family who has dreamt of having Rocco for several years. These two sweet kids have used him during summer camp the past two summers…after talking with the mom (who is also wife to my horses farrier!) I knew they were his next people.

My gift to them.

My chance to pay it forward. To pass him on.

Nothing will change really, except for ownership. Rocco will now be loved by two little kids whose biggest dreams are to be horse kids. And get this…Rocco has the same birthday as the little boy. Rocco turns twenty on April 9 and Duncan will turn thirteen. How cool and ironic is that?

To those who have blessed me on my journey with my horses (there are so many of you), thank you. Thank you for believing in me, in us, and for never making me feel shamed or less than for downsizing to one horse. I told Paddy recently, “Hey, Buddy… you’re my only horse now, can you believe that…?” As we walked through the field the sun was setting, and I thanked God for the peace He has allowed me to feel. And for the love I have received through SO many in my journey with Rocco.

Without Rocco, I wouldn’t still have Paddy. Without Rocco, I wouldn’t have confidence. Without Rocco, I wouldn’t have experience. Without Rocco, I wouldn’t have trust. Without Rocco, I wouldn’t have the freedom I feel when I am atop either horse. Thank you, Rocco…for being who and what you are.

You were a gift. And you are my healer. Thank you for loving me. For loving your future kids and family. WE ALL LOVE YOU.

xx