Your Past Could Save Someone's Future

Immediately following sharing my own personal story at our church service recently, I was browsing Pinterest and saw this quote:

“Sometimes God redeems your story by surrounding you with people who need to hear your past, so it doesn’t become their future.” -John Acuff

WHOA, I thought. That’s DEEP.

I am hoping to share here soon what I talked about to our church, but I am still praying about the right timing. Nonetheless, prior to me getting on stage with my husband, I was pretty nervous that there would be no way I would have the words to say in front of a BUNCH of people sitting silently, especially because the lights at our church are SUPER bright and it feels like a total spotlight. Asa and I prayed beforehand that it would be the Lord’s words, not our own, that came to surface. Needless to say I was completely in awe that I did just fine. I was a little nervous? But not too bad deep down. I didn’t stutter, choke, or even tear up; the words just flowed. After it ended, a gal holding her baby approached me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I can’t say more than thank you because I’ll just cry harder. So thank you.” I got her name and told her to please find me and talk with me if she felt she could. Then a few more women hugged me and encouraged me. One said, “I felt this was your first time sharing your story but I need to tell you that it shouldn’t be your last.”

So the thing is, with that quote above, we all have a story. Yours might not be that you had an affair, or were an alcoholic, or that you’re addicted to porn. But it’s still important! When a friend told me that she was currently dealing with what I did in my past, I almost started to cry.

“RUN!!!!!” is what I wanted to yell. But we were actually IN church when she told me and well, that would have been weird. If there is ANY way at all that I can spare another woman going through what I did; what I put my FAMILY through, oh friends I would. Do you have something that you wish could help someone be free? It took five years for me to fully heal. To feel okay with friends and family knowing some of my dirty laundry. The fact I was able to share openly in a congregation is 1000% because of the Lord and His healing. You might be thinking, “Ashley, I am not sharing my baggage, in a CHURCH…” But you don’t have to. I am just asking you to be open—if you have a friend or even acquaintance who you think NEEDS to hear your story? Be open to it.

And if you’re NOT there yet, trust the wait. Never in a thousand years did I think I would share the way that I have. Asa’s MOM, his sister, and his brother’s wife all sat in the front row. Stories are hard. Pain, suffering, guilt, shame—all very real things that make us want to be quiet and hush.

Brené Brown said it like this: “Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we will ever do,” and I agree SO much! Your worst chapters might be someone else's freedom. Twenty-year old Ashley got married QUICK and never thought she would really stumble. But twenty-five year old Ashley took a swing and a giant miss at that naive assumption. I don’t have it all figured out now, and you know what, sharing my story is still scary. To me there are a lot of factors; things that can go right and lots of people I can help with it, but there’s also things that can go wrong I am sure. I know that you give Satan an inch and he’s gonna take a mile—but I also know that stories where it is proof that we are HUMAN, are most often the very ones apt to change someone else’s life.

Quote by: author John Acuff

I Want a Horse... (Oh, Wait!)

Growing up, all I asked for was a horse.

No one can remember exactly how old I was, but I don’t remember a single year that I didn’t ask for one. I know I was young—probably Pierson young (6 or so?)

Recently I had this overwhelming sense of gratitude when I was leading both of my horses, yes, BOTH, out of their pasture. Many of you follow me on social media and therefore, have followed my journey with each boy. Paddy was gifted to me back in April, and Rocco in September. Paddy and I had a coming to Jesus when I fell off of him on Mother’s Day, and I’m still learning how to ride him fluently, not defensively. (When you get practically a Stage 4 Perineum tear, fear is bound to happen, or so I think anyway? Especially when you never fell off of a horse prior to that…….)

But anyway, back to my feeling of gratitude. I managed to halter both boys in their 13 acre pasture, and without letting the other geldings escape through the gate, I walked right in the middle of them as we made our way to the barn. You BOTH are MINE, I thought.

I actually had a lot of people unfollow me on Instagram when I started to post all my horse ‘stories.’ The bigwig influencers tell you that you shouldn’t stress when people unfollow you, because that means they aren’t ‘your people.’ They aren’t part of ‘your tribe,’ and they aren’t passionate about what you are passionate about. Okay, I get that—really, I do! If you don’t really like horses, and you’re sick of clicking past them in my social media posts, it’s super simple to click unfollow. But what it started to feel like was that a lot of women were having a hard time with the fact that I wasn’t passionate about “only” being Mom. I was no longer posting majority kid stories/photos/etc.

I don’t mean that offensively, or… I hope it doesn’t come across that way. I LOVE being Mom. I love my beautiful, feisty baby girl and my athletic and smart son. But the truth is, I didn’t dream about being their mom. I had no idea growing up, all those Christmases that I asked for a horse, that God actually had it in His plan to gift me what He would: two strong, healthy children AND two horses.

How does that happen?

Anyway, throughout the beginning stage of horse ownership, as my numbers on Instagram began to drop, I wondered, “Aren’t moms allowed to dream? Or to have a burning passion outside of their children?” You all know the answer to that question, I know.

YES. Women are allowed to dream, and women should be empowered to pursue their dreams. Who cares if it happens when they are thirty years old, not six? Women should empower OTHER women, period. Right? Here is where I want to add that while my social media began to change quite a bit, I started to come in contact with some new and very incredible women; ones I probably never would have met if I hadn’t started this horse journey. So many direct messaged me on Instagram after my accident, asking if I was okay, offering advice or just to be a listening ear. And through all of my fears and insecurities and anxieties of whether or not Paddy was really destined to be mine, I felt normal. I felt okay. And I felt so grateful!

It has been eight months. Eight sweet, strenuous, anxiety ridden, exhilarating, overwhelming, and joyous filled months. Paddy has since been moved to my trainer’s farm, where he almost immediately calmed down and went back to his ‘normal self.’ (You don’t know what you don’t know will ALWAYS be my motto. How could we have known how significantly environment affects him as a horse? You live and learn, right?) I am so thankful for the time we had when he was just a mile down the road. A couple days before he was trailered away, he was dealing with an extreme abscess creating almost total lameness. I drove over, parked my car, and sat in his stall right beside him as he munched on his hay. I then proceeded to sob my eyes out, apologizing to him that he was moving and I wouldn’t be so nearby anymore. I told him I felt like a failure and I just didn’t know what the future looked like for us anymore. When I stood up to hug him, he wrapped his entire head and neck around my body.

Rocco was introduced to us in September, a week before my daughter’s birthday, how cute is that? I’ll never forget when my trainer told me about him and she said, “He’s Chestnut too…he looks a lot like Paddy.” I felt so hesitant because of that; that was when I was pretty convinced Paddy would need to leave our family permanently and I wasn’t sure I could love another Thoroughbred Chestnut. Then I met him, looked in his eyes, and I said, “Okay! I think he is supposed to be ours.” I’ve so far had three months of loving Rocco and y’all, he is my healer. Legit, Y’all…he does anything asked of him, including being ridden on 25-degree December days, and he has been nothing but patient with me. We even recently won two blue ribbons together at my first show of over twenty years!!! Because of him, I have regained so much confidence and was able to ride Paddy successfully several times since he’s been at the new farm! Oh, and Paddy and Rocco are obsessed with one another. Within MINUTES of Paddy being delivered and being set out to his new pasture, he and Rocco were inseparable.

Sometimes I still can’t believe it. This is my reality. Two. Two giant Thoroughbred boys.

(Good Lord, guys…my husband is going to kill me.)

I have zero clue what the future holds, as usual, but I wanted you to know about this season of gratitude that I am in. There are unknowns, unpredictable worries that come from owning said two horses, and it’s a lot of work. (Ask said husband who may or may not kill me.)

This year for Christmas though, I don’t need to ask for a horse. I don’t need to ask for a saddle (because yes, I eventually used to ask for a saddle in place of a horse, because I thought that may temporarily fill the void I felt. I even got MYSELF a broken and falling apart English saddle from a Goodwill when I was in my late 20’s!!) I have TWO horses. I have two wonderful, incredibly bright and thriving children. And I have a husband who has chosen me for over ten years, even and especially during this new horsemanship journey. (Thank you for not killing me, Frank. I love you more than you know!)

I’m curious, friends…what are things that you used to dream about when you were a child? Did that dream shift? Did it stay the same? Did it come true?

And what today are you feeling grateful for?

Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley

I haven't been to the gym in like, a decade. After running the Mini Marathon I decided that I needed a break. Sooooo, except for the few occasional outdoor runs I've done, I've pretty much done absolutely nothing workout wise. When my friend Liz invited me to go this morning, I said yes. Mainly because I missed her and we desperately needed to catch up, and also because it was a perfect chance to get my daughter out of the house to play with some friends her age [my son was spending the morning with a cousin.] As we 'briskly walked,' as we like to call it, I confided in Liz my frustrations spiritually in this season.  

"It's not that I'm suddenly denouncing God or walking away from my faith," I said. "I am just in a season of struggling to find hope." We went on to talk and I told her that I just didn't get why MANY things were happening. Like my oldest brother who has severe special needs for instance. He suffers, SO MUCH. He has colitis and osteoporosis and a motility disorder, and really, the list could go on. But why? For what? It's so hard sometimes to believe the good in a Heavenly Father when you witness the most innocent man on the planet suffering; it just is. And then the five acre horse farm that we put on offer on, that we didn't get. That night I sat in our backyard, told my husband I needed to be alone, told my mother I couldn't talk on the phone because I wanted to be alone, and I just sobbed to God. When I can't talk to those two people, you know I'm not in a good place.

"It sounds like you're living the Judy Blume book, Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret," Liz said. I laughed and said, "OH my word, you nailed it!!" 

Tuesday of this week a photographer came and took pictures of our house for the future sale listing. Wednesday late afternoon, the listing went live and within a few minutes, our first showing was scheduled. Wednesday MORNING, as tears fell down my cheeks the second my feet touched the ground, I prayed this: 

"God, I'm not really happy with you right now. I don't believe that you care where we end up. I don't have a lot of trust in you. I don't have much hope. But if you could make something cool happen today? That would be great." 

Here's how it looks getting ready to show our house: 

-Quickly bake chocolate chip cookies
-Set out the printed letter(s) to prospective buyers, as well as the renovation sheet
-Sprint to make sure all the rooms are in excellent order and trashes are taken out
-Put a bowl of water outside, push the black cat Sammy outdoors
-Put the orange cat, Alfie, in cat carrier to take with us
-Load the dogs in the car and drop off in one of the siblings' fenced backyards
-Load the kids and Alfie in the car, and be gone for however long

I took an Instagram story video yesterday of the litter box on my lap, Alfie sandwiched between the kids, and the dogs panting, Humphrey barking in the trunk. "I hope our house sells quickly," I said. 

We returned home, saw that most of the cookies had been eaten, and there was a note that said, "Thank you so much, your house is BEAUTIFUL." No sooner did our shoes come off was our realtor calling my husband. We both thought that for sure if it was an offer, it would be below our asking price of $175. I heard Asa laugh and say, "Wow, before I just tell you yes, I know that I still need to talk this over with Ashley." Um, what? Duh you have to talk to me! 

We had just been given an over our asking price offer. They were approved for a conventional loan, said that they loved the house exactly as it is, and were flexible (July 31st) with a close date. They wanted an answer by 10pm last night. If you follow me on Instagram or are friends with me on Facebook, you've already seen what we decided: a big giant YES! 

No more house showings? No more stress or trying to keep the house in perfect show ready condition? No more animals being shuttled, no more drop of the hat living? YES! I knew that I needed to thank God, because very clearly, this was a God given offer. I believe that He was so generous that when I had asked him that morning to 'do something cool,' He responded with, "Okay, Daughter. Here." I mean, who sells their house after ONE showing, to the first family who walks in the door?? US, that's who! 

 I am grateful, and I believe that was a God ordained gift. Except I can't lie to you. I am still having a hard time trusting the next steps. Does He CARE where we end up? Does it matter to HIM which house we end up in? What part of town? Does He care that I want a horse; that my heart LONGS for a horse? Wasn't it Him who created me with my desires, with these dreams? I have to believe yes. Even though it's hard.

My sweet sister-in-law Ali in Rhode Island texted me yesterday and I have to share her words when I explained to her my loss of hope: 

"There is Biblical evidence that God can and DOES order the most specific, tiny details of our lives. Not to mention the flowers dressed beautifully or the sparrows that He knows. He is looking out for you guys. Even when, especially when, it hurts." 

Guys, I am SO super thankful to Jesus for selling our home within HOURS of it being on the market. I think that is a miracle that HE performed, that HE orchestrated. But I hope you can still understand that there's a big giant part of me over here, curled up in this home of mine with my arms stretched high and I'm asking,          

 "Are You There, God? It's ME, Ashley."  

Where will we go? We aren't sure just yet. I guess you'll have to stay tuned ;) 

Let's Dance

Women with kids, I don't know about you, but come eight o'clock every night, I. am. done. 

Like, I put whoever's turn it is down for the night, turn around five seconds later to hug him or her five more times, fill that cup of water, blow their nose, put socks on their suddenly cold feet, take socks off now increasingly hot feet, and then I fall asleep outside their door. Okay, that falling asleep part doesn't happen. I usually head to the computer, turn my desk lamp on, and get to work editing photos and/or reaching out to companies/respond to e-mails. You can usually find my husband in his comfy grey chair [formerly known as Reese's rocking chair], remote in hand, kicked back and ready for a couple of hours of unwinding. Sometimes I remind myself that everything I THINK is important after being mom ALL day, just isn't. And I join him on the couch, after grabbing my favorite fuzzy blanket, ready to potentially pass out for the rest of the night. 

Parents, I don't know about in your household, but our routine pretty much looks the same, every. single. night. 

Is that just us? We have a schedule, we have the things we each enjoy doing, we kind of separate ways, and we hunker down to do whatever we want to do. Sometimes that's together, and sometimes that's apart. It's eight years of marriage and it's not BAD, it's just comfortable. Comfortable is sweet, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, you need to switch things up. 

Recently as I tucked the kids into bed, (plural, because they each need me to tuck them BOTH in AFTER Asa has done whichever one)--I was missing him. Staying at home feels SO different than being away from him teaching. Because teaching, we were doing very similar things all day long: teaching 3-5th grader emotional and behaviorally challenged children. And we were both apart from our own children, but we shared a common thread. Now that I'm taking some time off, and my conversations are almost solely with a 3 and 4-year old around the clock, I miss the heck out of him! 

I walked down the stairs, probably hunched over because I was so tired, and I KNOW I was feeling ready for bed that particular night. But I came over to my computer, searched "songs to slow dance to" on YouTube, and started playing the first one that came up. I went over to the TV, turned it off, and grabbed my husband by the hand. He looked very confused, but was already starting to smile. I stood on his feet, like I always do, and rested my head on his chest. "What motivated this?" he asked. 

"I just miss you," I replied. 

We danced through the whole song, he spun me in a few circles, and then planted a giant kiss on my forehead. We exchanged I love you's, and then instead of going to the living room to crash and watch TV, we sat at our eight foot farm-table instead. We talked and laughed for an HOUR. And I realized that what was once a typical and mundane Tuesday night, had turned into the most amazing and absolutely needed date night. This is it: 

Marriage. 

Dating. 

Love. 

Romance. 

Exhaustion. 

Sharing. 

Caring. 

Vulnerability. 

Risks.

Eight years of marriage.

We had the honor of being a part of a friend's wedding this weekend and I was the only bridesmaid who was a wife and mother. As teary eyed as all the rest of the ladies were staring at the bride and groom, I looked over at my husband who was being the epitome of SUPERDAD with our two kids in the front row; trying to keep them quiet, rested, attentive, and to help them get through however long the ceremony was going to be without a ginormous toddler melt down. Of COURSE I was SO excited for our friends who were exchanging vows and sharing in communion with each other, but tears welled in my eyes when I looked over at him and his eyes locked with mine. It hasn't been easy. There have been so many arguments, so many selfish remarks and comments and actions [mostly on my end...ALL on my end???], disagreements, forgiveness being plead, grace being begged for, and just LIFE. 

SO MUCH LIFE...

housed in these eight years. And I looked back over to this gorgeous bride and groom and thought, "May you ALWAYS dance with each other." 

And I suppose that's my recommendation to all of you. When you're tired and feeling weary, when life feels boring and more than mundane, when you've wiped a million boogers and changed thousands of poopy diapers... look to your spouse, your love, your person. Take him or her by the hand and whisper, 

"Babe, let's dance." 

If you want to hear the song that has always been our absolute favorite, the one we call "our song," click here!