At the End of Your Worst Day

As time has gone by, refusing to slow down, as it insists, there are a lot of memories swirling inside this twenty-eight year old brain. I could tell you a few from childhood; like when I 'ran away to my Grandma's house' because I was so upset and angry. Or the time I sprinted down our dirt road insisting that I would 'never go back,' because I didn't want to accept that our very old border collie wouldn't be coming back. I can remember some pretty painful experiences from break-ups, lies I had told, mistakes I had made, and friendships that went sourly awry. But as I've grown and aged, it's almost as if those things at this point seem silly--minuet, tiny, not so large in the grand scheme of things. 

As adults, we most often remember and dwell upon the 'worst day' in these present years. I won't ever forget mine, and I'm 100% sure that no matter how big or small, YOU can remember yours. Though it was years ago, it's also practically yesterday. The night out that I had, the very split second that I allowed another man to bump his way into my mind and heart... when the bomb went off, the sirens exploded, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. In that instant, when my brain screamed, "Ashley! This is NOT okay!! What are you going to tell your husband?!" 

For months after the emotional garbage that took place, I was a panicked wreck. Comparing myself to other women, even women on TV shows, swearing at myself and snarling, "They would never do this. Not in a million years. NO woman has ever screwed up like this." You see... growing up I was convinced that women don't screw up. Men do. Women don't think about leaving their marriages, running the other way, being with someone else--MEN do. The wives, the mothers; no, never. Not in a hundred years, or a million. It has to be the husband who causes havoc. 

Except that's NOT true. Not even a little bit. Did you know that females can screw up too? Some of you know my story, our story. You may be wondering from this post, 'What in the WORLD happened?' No, I didn't ever physically cheat on my husband. I didn't even ever come close. But the day some other guy told me that I 'looked cute,' was the day that I started to slide very fast down the relationship avalanche. When I started to care about my appearance, and not for the man that I took vows with. When I started to wonder, 'Did I get married too young? What would it be like if I just left?'

You see, friends? I REMEMBER MY WORST DAY. 

And while recently listening to Bob Goff speak at church (how blessed am I!?!) I was reminded of this perfectly refreshing truth:

"Even in your worst moment, when God looks at you, he whispers, Beloved."

'Who ARE you?' Bob asked. And the answer is this: Yes, I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a teacher, photographer, blogger, and whatever else. But most importantly, I am a daughter of GOD. And I am His beloved. At the end of my WORST day, He was still whispering, "Ashley, you are my BELOVED. Will you please accept and embrace this?" 

I also want to mention that at the end of this worst day, my husband stared deep in to my eyes and said, "Ashley, I will be here tomorrow when you wake up. I choose YOU." Honestly it was so hard for me to hear that; I felt guilty and worthless, useless, and like a screw-up. But that wasn't because anyone who genuinely loved me was making me feel that way--that was because I couldn't quite yet hear the powerful truth and message that my Creator was speaking through the man I married.

Do you have a 'worst day?' Maybe yours isn't as severe or emotional as mine. Honest to God I hope and pray that I never have to endure something as painful as this [as does my husband!], but I know I will continue to have bad days as the years proceed. And maybe you think your worst day is so much worse... Sisters, Friends; I sit here behind this screen and am praying for your heart + soul. May you hear His voice tonight, may you know the Truth that you are worthy. You are beautiful, radiant, valued, worthy, and beloved. Sinner? Yes. Absolutely, because we all are. No matter our fight and chase to the Cross, we STILL screw up. But He is always there, and always waiting. Ready to pick you up, catch you, embrace you, and love you. And, who is there calling you Beloved at the end of your worst day? 

**Whoever you are, wherever you are--may you know that I will pray for you. Send me an e-mail or just simply post a comment that you are ____ and that you need some extra prayer. Thank you for reading, and thank God for His grace; right?!**

Photo by: Jana Glass

Marriage: Cheers to Year #8!

December 20, 2016. Our EIGHTH wedding anniversary and I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face. You see, I asked my husband if he wouldn't mind sharing what eight years of marriage looks like for HIM, and I in turn have a beautiful passage that has crushed my heart AND made it fall in love all over again; all at once. Ladies, I'm betting this might make you tear up and Gentlemen, there's a LOT you can learn from this man. But here, I've already said enough, so please, read it for yourselves:

Tonight I went to Target for the 17th time this month. I bundled two kids up in winter coats and warm hats. I put on three pairs of socks and shoes, (because they still can’t do it themselves) and hurried all four of us to the car like we would somehow be late to a store not closing for another six hours. I belted Christmas carols at the top of my lungs to make the kids laugh, (okay, and to annoy my wife), but mostly to drown out the bickering from the back seat. I bribed them with ice cream to behave, and rewarded my wife and me with Starbucks as soon as we walked in the door.
After trolling the dollar spot (because we can't just NOT), I lead the march onward to the items we actually came for. Somewhere between home goods, a trip through the Christmas section, and getting a box of Rice Crispies for our future peanut butter ball baking escapade, I had a funny realization…I was living my wildest dream. No seriously. The cheesy Christmas music, the bundling of the kids, the settling petty fights, and most importantly, doing it ALL with her…actually, this is better than my wildest dream.
About ten years ago I battled depression. Clinically diagnosed with major depression disorder, I saw a cognitive therapist every week and took 600 mg of Wellbutrin and 45 mg of Lexapro. I frequently had debilitating panic attacks, and just couldn’t muster the strength to do anything. There were days when I sat in my room and didn’t move. I didn’t read, I didn’t play video games, I sat. Shortly after therapy started I had a terrible day/night and highly considered running my car into the median rail because I was convinced that I would at least feel something before I hopefully left. If it hadn’t been for a good friend in the car with me, whose safety I was worried about, I likely would have done it. I remember trying to unpack all of this with my therapist, and even though I hadn’t given a lot of details I’ll never forget what he said to me. “Girls can really fuck a guy up. I know what you’re feeling is awful.”
You see ever since I was a little boy I yearned to be a husband and a father. I used to swear I’d marry my mother, and I begged Santa one year (full disclosure, I was EIGHT) for a high chair and a crib for my stuffed toys. I wanted to care for those I loved. I fell in love with nearly every girl who would talk to me, convinced that surely I would marry this one and that my happily ever after was about to start. You can’t imagine how often I used to fantasize about mundane pancake breakfasts and cups of coffee. I was fourteen when I first started writing a journal to my future wife. Yes, FOURTEEN. So at the age of twenty-three, (though in hindsight that was still very young) my therapist could see through me: the biggest part of my self-identity, my deepest desires, they were missing.
When Ash and I began talking about what this year, the eighth year, means to me, I told her that it's peace. For nearly twenty-five years there was chaos in my heart, constantly yearning for my dream to come true. So, in the midst of drawing pictures, decorating cookies, microwaving fish sticks, peeling stickers’ off the wall, folding laundry, pouring her a cup of coffee, vacuuming up endless amounts of pet hair, and kissing her forehead, there is peace. Peace in the realization that eight- year old Asa has real live children to care for, and fourteen-year old Asa did finally find his forever. Perhaps the most pivotal moment of my life wasn’t when I stood in front of everyone and said “I do” but when I handed a girl a cup of coffee and she said “We should be friends."

See, y'all? I told you he's good. But now it's my turn and how do I even come close?! I suppose realness is valuable and that's the best that I have to offer so here it goes:

Most of you know that I was a whopping twenty-years old when I married this man. And before him, I basically had a boyfriend of some sorts since kindergarten. Somewhere in my late high school years I turned a little cold and bitter, and I started to tell myself that I really didn't 'deserve' a wonderful man. Actually? I just didn't really have too high hopes that one was out there. I thought I'd marry my high school sweetheart, but we kinda broke each others' hearts after I moved away from Michigan. He changed, I changed, you know how it goes. I never kept a journal to my future husband, I honest to God even didn't know how to PICTURE said husband. But when I walked into Sunergos Coffee back in 2007, I left knowing that I had found him. It was a busy day of tests and speeches and presentations for me and this cute 20-something year old guy jokingly said, "I sure hope you have someone at home to rub your shoulders later." I laughed and then said, "We should be friends!" Many Facebook messages later, a walk in the park with his dog, finally exchanging phone numbers, and spending every waking minute together, we were official. I had no idea what the future looked like, I was hell bent on marrying this man, and then suddenly--here we are. Eight years later.

If you could actually somehow peek inside, these eight years would reveal many scars on our hearts. Tears have been shed, doubts have been had, mistakes have been made, grace has been given, and yet love lives on. We didn't know how to fight when we got married and we still don't, but thank God we've improved. I try hard not to slam doors, he works on not yelling too loud, and we work hard to make sure that the kids are NEVER involved or hurt by us. We've moved three times, gotten four pets together, had two babies, been through too many awkward moments to count, and yet there was a never a day that I cared if he stood in the bathroom while I used it. I fit perfectly inside his six-foot frame, he knows the precise way I like my forehead to be kissed, and there's no one in this world that could care for me like he does.

 Our biggest roles right now are raising our two beautiful children, but most importantly, it's still finding ways to love each other better. We had the phrase "I choose you" tattooed on our arms in July 2015, as a daily reminder that even when we screw up, even when we fail, even when we feel like life is too hard; we still choose one another. This man loves so deeply, so gracefully, and so beautifully; I am blessed to be the one he has chosen.

All of these beautiful pictures were taken by my sister in law Jana Glass, who is the photographer at Looking Glass Photography. I'm so humbled she spent an afternoon with us in all our awkard posing glory and moments of just completely cracking up. I'll cherish these forever!

And if you've made it this far, you can read about how this hunk of a man and I met HERE!