Why Horse Hunting is THE Most Stressful Experience I've Endured

"What do you want for your birthday, Ash?" I think after my tenth birthday my parents probably stopped asking because my answer was always the same: 

a horse. 

I finally got to the point where I started just asking for a saddle. If I could get a saddle, then surely I'd be one step closer to owning a real live horse, right? 

I remember a couple of years ago I saw an old English saddle smack dab in the middle at a Goodwill. I don't have a clue how much they wanted for it but I ran over to my husband and exclaimed that I had to have it. "What are you going to do with a SADDLE?" he asked. "I don't know," I responded. "Hang it up somewhere? Just HAVE it?!"  

Needless to say, the poor saddle sat in our dark and dusty basement for another couple of years. Nowhere to display it, no horse to put it on, and back to the Goodwill it went when we sold our house. When we moved from one end of the city to another, I had zero hope that I would be anywhere near horses. We leaped at the chance to own a gorgeous house, newly built, with extra space, and as I glanced around the suburb, I remember thinking, "Nope...no horse for me for a while."  

And then upon driving and trying to get more familiar with the area, we went past a house that had a very pretty Bay horse, grazing in the pasture. I had a feeling that they just had the one, and I knew I had to contact them. If nothing else, I wanted to meet people in the area who would allow me to love on their horse! I prayed as I wrote a handwritten letter and I prayed again when I placed it in their mailbox. A couple of weeks later, and after feeling rather defeated, I had a message in my inbox from the owner. She stated that she would like to meet me and that they would *possibly* be open to allowing me to board one day in the future. 

At first, I texted cautiously every time I wanted to stop by and see their horse, Addie. Nonchalantly once I said, "Do you want me to check in with you when I'm planning to come? Please be honest!" and she said, "Nope! You don't ever need to check in, just come on by." I have told her often that she is one of the greatest blessings in my life, but seriously, I REALLY hope she knows! I started to feel so at peace and at ease and as many of you know, I visit Addie often. She'll see me coming from the yard and I holler, "Hi, Addie GIrl!!!" She whinnies SOOO loudly and mosies over to the fence. I climb through and I always tell her how much I love her. Addie has a Thyroid disorder and she also Founders easily; most often her gait is slow and some days, she prefers to just stay put--but she always welcomes me with her whinny, and rubs her head down my side. I've been telling her lately that I'm trying to bring her a friend, and her owner and I have had many conversations regarding this dream of mine. 

They gave me the green light recently, and have said that mid to late April would be ideal to bring a horse to live there. I want to cry and laugh and sing and dance and cry some more. Guys, this has been my dream since I can remember. I really think it was as young as kindergarten that I began to confess to everyone my love for horses. I dressed up as a jockey in fourth grade (and got in trouble for it because of the 'tight' pants; yeah my 4th-grade teacher hated me). And by my Sophomore year in college, I was hellbent that I was indeed going to leave Michigan, move to Kentucky, and pursue my dream of horses. At eighteen years old, I just did that. 

Flash forward and here we are. I've lived here for almost twelve years and you're telling me that this dream is finally becoming a REALITY!? 

Well, just like no one explained to me some really important things about childbirth and having a baby (like the fact you have to contract for hours on end AFTER the baby is delivered?! OH my word, Y'all! I was TICKED)--no one explained to me how heart-wrenching this process would be. A couple of weeks ago I met a horse and he is beautiful! He seemed perfectly sweet, well mannered, has been worked with a ton and would be a GREAT horse; but I left feeling reserved, unsure, and questioning if that's just what it feels like when you're searching for a horse. The following week I went to a different farm and met two horses: one 16'3 hand Thoroughbred and a 17' hand Canadian Warmblood. The Thoroughbred was tied near his stall and they shortly after brought out the Warmblood. "Both are so beautiful! This doesn't seem fair?" I said. But AS I said that, my feet, without me having any inclination that they were moving, carried me over to the Thoroughbred. Enter my heart falling head over heels in love with THE sweetest and gentlest giant ever, Bossy. 

My husband and I went to dinner that evening after he basically PULLED me from the barn and this horse. The entire time my mind was flooded with thoughts of Bossy, wanting to go back, missing him, wishing so badly I could just bring him HOME. The next day we had friends over and after they left, Asa said, "Go see Bossy. I know you want to, and it's okay." He didn't have to tell me twice; I changed clothes, grabbed a winter hat, and drove an hour to go kiss Bossy. Part of the problem though, at least for me, is that from the getgo, I have stated that my first horse HAS to be a sound horse. And it does. And it was very evident that this sweet, sweet horse has some stiffness, and that like all stiff joints, there has to be an underlying issue. Does it have to be big or drastic? No, not at all. Maybe he feels more comfortable with shoes? Perhaps he has a little bit of arthritis starting? And maybe he IS just simply sore from being worked and getting back into the routine of regular riding. There's absolutely ZERO way for me to know until I get a full pre-purchase vet exam. And waiting for that to happen is literally wrecking my heart. 

I've never done this before. I've never owned a horse; I've ridden most of my life, and am very comfortable around horses, regardless of how big and intimidating they may be to others. I literally feel like they are my soul mate, and don't hate me but I never dreamt of being a wife or a mom--I dreamt of being a horse owner. Thank Jesus that He called me to BE a wife and a mom and that I may just get the best of BOTH worlds, but this has to be one of the hardest things I've ever gone through. I can't put into words what I'm feeling--I've been telling Asa and my mom that daily. I find myself just choking up and beginning to cry every time I talk about Bossy because I want this to work out SO badly. All my horse friends reassure me that my horse is out there. "If it's not Bossy, I promise you it's someone else," they say. And I KNOW they are right. I know that ALL horses are special for someone.

A gal on Instagram recently messaged me and said, "God has the perfect horse in mind for you. There'll always be another! They'll be DIFFERENT, but each one has their own special things to teach us." (Thank you, Ali, for this sweet, sweet message that really and truly, brought me peace this morning.) 

It's mostly hard because my heart hasn't been through this before. Sure, I've loved horses. Lots of them! And I love Addie! But there has never been the prospect of one being MINE. Guys, I used to pretend a gigantic red tricycle was a horse [his name was Ol' Red] and I tried daily to "walk" it around the front of the house to the windows I KNEW my mom could see me through, so she could SEE how well I could take care of a "horse." Oh. My. Word.

I envision my horse being an oversized teddy bear. One I can train to be a gentle giant to our family. Who I can teach our kids how to ride on. Who I can run to and bury my face into when I have good AND bad days. 

Is it Bossy? I don't know. Really I don't. His current owner is so kind and very patient with me. I hope to go and ride him this weekend, and his full vet check will be later next week. I'll have more answers then, and I'm just praying [hard] that I can keep it together better than I have the past couple of days in the meantime. I'm truthfully scared of the answers, regardless of what they're going to be. Pre-purchase exams are expensive, and on top of all the things I'll need to actually BUY said horse and get the things and products I need, it's just a LOT. That is one thing I am not naive about. I'm not a silly little girl living in la la land, dreaming of frolicking in pastures with my future horse one day. Except don't get me wrong, that WILL happen...but I KNOW horses are expensive. More than I can even imagine, necessarily budget for, and there are so many unknowns. 

I don't LIKE unknowns. 

But I was created by a God who KNOWS me. 

And as I often preach to others, I know that I have to release my anxiety, my fear, my questions, my doubt, and hand these rollercoaster emotions over to Him. 

I thought house hunting was stressful but by golly, this definitely has me beat! 

Lord, please be with me. PLEASE take the reins, and be with my future horse. Protect him, keep him safe from injuries, and show me exactly WHO he is. Be with my heart, as it's more than a wreck. I'm tired, I'm anxious, I don't want to do the wrong thing. I'm scared of failure--more with this than ANYTHING else. And I need YOU to tell me it's going to be okay. That you have my back. That you WILL tell me yes or no. That you will open and close doors. And that I will BE okay when all is said and done. I love you. And only want what you want. 

The Oops That Became Our Biggest "Thank You, Jesus!"

Dear Sisters, 

There have been several of you who have asked to hear my story about "the time I found out I was pregnant with our daughter," or as I like to call it, "the time I put an extra emphasis on the F Word and how God used it ALL for His good." I wrote an e-mail back to a mama recently and decided that I would share it here in this space, with all of you. 

Soooooo yes, our son Pierson was seven months old when I discovered I was pregnant AGAIN. Which means he was SIX months when it happened. I blame our anniversary, my hyperthyroid, and my husband. Duh. 

I sat on the toilet, please keep in mind that I am a Christian and love Jesus dearly; peed on the stick while my husband cooked us lunch, and our son was napping. It was Martin Luther Kind JR day and the reason I remember is because well, first off, it was traumatizing, but also because we had the day off as school teachers. 

"What the F***K are we going to DO!?!?!?" I screamed when my husband entered the bathroom. He looked down at the stick, kissed the top of my head, and said, "We're going to have a baby!" 

I then sat there and wept into my hands, refusing to leave the toilet. I called my mom and barely got two words out before she said, "Oh honey..." and then I lost it even more. 

I had some pretty terrible thoughts those early stages, I will be 100% honest (and vulnerable here). I remember at one point thinking that it would be OKAY if I didn't have this baby and it would be OKAY if God decided I couldn't carry it. I'm talking, EARLY EARLY, like before 8 weeks of pregnancy. It is an AWFUL thought to have as a mom, but I'm human. And I was hormonal x 10000. I, of course, did not do anything to try to hurt my belly or baby, but I wondered if somehow it could or would just go away.

I then began to have super irrational worries [aka the most trivial, strangest, random thoughts EVER]:

We lived in a house with a lot of stairs going from the street to the front door. I remember thinking, legit, HOW I was going to go up and down stairs with TWO kids?! 

C'mon, Ashley... women have sextuplets... 

Girl, I wondered how I would grocery shop. 

Oh, wait... my husband primarily does that. Like 99.789% of the time. So it was another really dumb thing to panic over, but I definitely panicked. OH, and again, women have sextuplets, Ashley, CHILL.

I started to crave sweet things: chocolate, LOTS of chocolate, and NO red meat or sour things [which is what I craved w/ my son]. My face started breaking out galore and I just knew it was a girl. Which is what I wanted if I was having another baby, which clearly I was. We had a gender reveal and sure enough, the cupcake inside was PINK. 

I FINALLY started to bond with her... I FINALLY started to feel okay. Once I embraced WHO was growing in my belly, I actually began to LOVE her. And pray for her. And get excited to meet her. 

So this giant novel is written to express to you that I DEFINITELY freaked out. Like, more than the average mom I am suspecting...? Maybe?? And it's okay if you have or do TOO. Because you do have a long time to continue growing him or her. And he or she IS a miracle. You wouldn't be pregnant with him or her IF there wasn't a plan. And I'm positive God has a beautiful one in mind. 

My Reese tests and challenges me like no one EVER has in my life. I have never disliked someone so strongly and yet LOVED them so deeply; the emotions are a whirlwind often, but she literally makes me laugh out loud and is one of THE funniest humans on this planet [and she's FOUR.] I pray deeply for her as a girl who will turn into a woman; she has a STRONG personality, a very strong will to be seen, heard, and loved. She is going to move mountains, FOR REAL, I am just certain. 

If you're wondering how the transition will be, well, you may as well stop worrying about that :) There's NO way you can really plan for it. Pierson was fifteen months old when we brought her home. Barely toddling around himself and here was his mom, pulling out her boob to nurse this brand new BABY. I can remember some difficulty when he wanted me at the same time as I was feeding. But I very quickly learned how to time and gauge those moments. 

-Make sure he has a snack WHILE I am feeding her, and make sure it's an easy one he can feed himself! 
-Turn on the TV or something that he can watch for 20-30 minutes WHILE I nurse
-Praise him and love him and laugh with him, as OFTEN as I can 

Those were just a few. You'll learn. And he or she will just fit. And you won't know it any other way. I often wonder what life would look like if ours were 2+ years apart [my goal was 2.5 because my brothers and I are all 2.5 years apart!] Clearly, God's plan was different. I was on the pill and nursing and still got pregnant. Soooooooo not much more I could have done!! 

I hope while you're reading, you've laughed a little, and you can breathe a little easier. Tonight as I sit here typing I'm actually a little envious of you! Isn't that funny!? My husband got a vasectomy when Reese was six weeks old (for his 30th birthday, lol) no joke; because I just didn't want my body to go through it so quickly again and I feared it would. But I do miss it!! The wonder and excitement, the RATIONAL parts of the fears, the movements and hiccups and the belly growing each month. Sigh. See? It's ALL going to be okay. 

Chin up, sister. You've got this! And if I can help whatsoever, know that I am here and willing!!!! 

One Day at a Time: Goals for the Year Ahead

Last year's Reflection post [what I'm calling it anyway] covered a lot of things--how good 2016 was, how many blessings arose, and the ways in which God wowed my socks off. "Look at all the GOOD things God did in our lives this last year," I had written. "And yes, I'm saying this firmly to myself. All of those things do not mean that 2017 is going to go KERPLUNK. I don't need to have ANY answers right now, all I need to do is to take one day at a time. Starting Tuesday, in just two short days, I will literally be a stay at home mom and working from home. That's a HUGE dream turning into a reality!"

2016 consisted of a crap ton of hustle in order to fulfill that dream (staying home) and then guess what, 2017 was spent with me being home with our kids and really not working at ALL. I look back, however, and think that's just how God wanted it. I had dreamt of doing crafts and baking and going to parks with our Pierson and Reese before he started kindergarten. In order to do that, I photographed 8 weddings the year prior, took every paid partnership I could get my hands on, and basically booked every possible photo session. We saved every cent and I worked 6-7 days a week. I thank God OFTEN that the prayer was heard and answered and that for almost eight months (summer vacation included in that) I was "just" Mom.

It was a different kind of hustle and one that didn't exactly bring IN money. 

Thank the Lord for His provision, friends. Here were my questions walking into 2017: 

Will I be a good stay at home mom?
Will the kids like it? Will I like it? Will I be strong enough?
Will I be able to book a lot more weddings?
Will I be able to take this blog further? (What does that even mean?!)
Will I ever have another beautiful home NOT in our current neighborhood?
Will I ever live on land?
Will I have a horse?
Will I go back to teaching? Will I teach forever? Will we stay in Kentucky forever?

If you've followed along with me, many of you know how those questions panned out. I think back very fondly on my time home with the kids and being a 'stay at home mom.' The kids too have fun memories and tell me often that they loved reading Bible stories and doing crafts and learning about school. Some days I didn't LIKE it; [once I even threatened that I was going back to work if they didn't knock it off] or something super-rational and Mom of the Year statement worthy. But in hindsight, I loved it. 

I shot three weddings last year. All three blessed my socks off but one left me with a little sting and a little hurt; communication wasn't the greatest with that one and I walked away incredibly bummed that they didn't want me to blog their special day due to privacy. Lots of things learned though in that regard, and realized some tweaks I need to add to my photography business! 

We DID move to another beautiful home, NOT on land, but just one mile to my new favorite horse who I get to visit as often as I want. Well, not as often as I want because that would be 24/7 and ya know, mom life, work life, wife life and such... but still--HUGE blessing! 

I DID go back to teaching, and halfway through the school year here I am wondering, "What am I doing with my life?!" Ha! My heart is with my children, and though they are in school (kindergarten and full-time preschool), I just want to be here. As I type our son is spiking yet another fever. He had one for FIVE days the first week of December and missed five days of school! He just went back to school TODAY from Christmas break and I'm like, dude. All the stress of "whose turn is it to stay home?" and "great, this means Reese will be next." I miss last year when that was never an issue because I knew my husband would go to work and I'd be home anyway...

I wonder what's out there--if I WILL teach forever, or if God will expand my photography and blog tenfold. I think the next best step would be for me to somehow teach part-time and that's probably a more realistic goal; I'm just not sure if even that can happen? There's a lot of factors to consider: student loan debt, new house payment, if I get a horse this year [what?!?! Yes, that's the dream but hasn't it always been? Ha ha]. Benefits and health insurance. Retirement. Life in general because let's face it, extra spending money is WAY more fun... 

Let's go back to the new house though, can we? So many blessings have surrounded this home, and honestly, mostly thanks TO my photography and blogging business. (Being able to offer high-resolution images, blog posts, and other social media benefits for companies). I did a lot of research about what brands I wanted to work with, and the types of things we wanted here. We quickly learned that our style is more of an industrial/rustic/farmhouse one, and are having SO much fun designing rooms and spaces around that. It was SO fun working with Havertys Furniture to help us plan and furnish the living room--the main space where we bring people to gather (other than our giant dining room table). Definitely add that to 2017's TOP praise and to my favorite partnership list.

So, now what? 

Lord help, because I have no idea, Y'all. I felt as if last year God was telling me to BELIEVE, and there were a LOT of moments when I needed to be reminded of that. I mean I literally wrote a post called, "Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley," because I was struggling to believe he had this home destined for us. Within that, I said, "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." But ultimately I did believe because He continued to show His face through the pain and through the questions that I had. 

We are three days in and 2018 already has me wondering. 

Asa's car broke down on the way to his job yesterday, the first day back TO work after our break. I came home to dog poo in our bedroom for the umpteenth time because we have senior dogs and one of them in particular [ahem, Humphrey, ahem] has questionable intestines. Our cat Manny [my favorite] was let out (pretty much like normal) and then proceeded to be gone for like 15 hours in subzero temperatures. Me being super-rational, proclaimed him dead and gone on my way to work this morning, positive I would never see him again. *Side note/praise: our awesome neighbor went looking and together she and another neighbor noticed him on our back deck while we were at work. One of them proceeded to quietly enter our backyard, grab him, and she kept him safe in her house the entire day while we were at work.* Pierson is more than likely going to end up with another virus/bug this winter which all sorts of bums me out. I just want him to be WELL and to be able to enjoy kindergarten and not miss a million days! 

I seriously wrote this sentence last year: "But wait, Ashley. One day at a time."

And I think that's what I hear Him telling me again. 

One day at a time. My sweet friend Sarah recently told me, "2018 is going to be your year, Girl. I just know it." And for whatever reason, I feel more hopeful than not that it is. What's that mean? Psh, I don't know. But I think regardless it will be good. 

Instead of making to-do and checklists, here are a few things I want to work towards this year: 

-Experience more, worry less. 
-Be more intentional in every aspect: husband, kids, community
-Love our people, always. 
-More grace, less shame. 
-More strength, more rest, more joy. 
-More faith, less doubt. 
-And dream, always. 

Asking for a Miracle, Join Me Won't You?

The Energizer Bunny. 
Medical Miracle. 
Happiest Human Alive. 
Innocent. 
Survivor.
Truly Wonderful. 
Fighter. 
Overcomer. 

Above is a list of what I classify, "The Nathans." Not just any Nathan though, our Nathan. My oldest brother who just turned thirty-five on December 18; the man who wasn't 'supposed' to live much past the age of eighteen. Born with a severe blood disorder, later diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy, this guy has seen it all. 

I'm the youngest in my family. Nathan is the oldest, and then there's Sean, who is the middle. Many of my earliest memories consist of me reading to Nate, playing cards, watching movies with him in his bed, and playing school with him. I have always loved him dearly and have been super protective of him. Once in middle school, I punched a boy in the chest because he referred to Nathan as my "other brother." I defended, bragged, prayed for, and loved my brother. Once though, I can remember running down our stairs yelling at my mom, "I WISH I WAS HANDICAPPED TOO!" [NOT my best moment as a daughter or sister.....] I just write that to show you it wasn't always sunshine and roses. As the youngest, there was a lot I didn't understand. How he required more attention for instance; I mean, I got it, but at the same time, I didn't get it. Not fully. I didn't understand his medical needs or list of allergies, I couldn't fully grasp what HIS life looked like, nor did I have a great respect for it in my adolescent years. And then I grew up. 

Throughout his ENTIRE life, Nathan has fought to live. And so far, he's overcome. He has beaten the odds so many times I can't even count. Blood disorder as a baby, countless seizures including a Grand Mal, acute liver fail with NO WAY TO LIVE but miraculously his liver regenerated and came back to complete normal function. His heart has stopped, he had total organ failure (which includes the kidney) in Toxic Mega Colon (doctors said 1% chance of survival with that one)...I mean seriously guys, he really has been through it all.

Every time that something has happened, I find myself asking God why. Why NATHAN, God? If anyone deserves goodness and happiness and peace, it is him. And then I stop to wonder, if I have always believed that everyone has sinned, do I believe that Nathan has? No, I suppose I don't. He doesn't understand what it is to be mean or have hate. He knows what those things look like though--Nathan went to school just as we did, and I'm sure he endured many uncomfortable stares and conversations. He has sat in hospital beds with doctors, nurses, and surgeons conversing with my parents, speaking and acting as if he is not even present. He's had many good medical staff by his bedside, don't get me wrong. And several amazing home helpers, but frankly and bluntly, not enough. Not enough whatsoever. 

People have given up on Nathan, walked out on Nathan, and refused to treat Nathan. But yet he doesn't give up. 

One of my favorite things about him is the way that he laughs. When Nathan laughs, you KNOW it is genuine. It is the most heartfelt, innocent, contagious sound that as I type, I wish I could hear. However, currently, my big brother is kicked back [insert sarcasm as I attempt not to cry] in yet another hospital bed, being poked and prodded, talked over and talked about. 

He has pneumonia, again [something he has fought MANY times], and really needs our prayers. My heart currently feels so emotional, so drained. It was December 21 when I hugged him, telling him we were headed back to Kentucky the next morning and we wouldn't see him then. He gave me a head hug, said, "Bye," then continued flipping on his laptop going through endless photos [one of his favorite past-times.] I've talked a lot about Nathan here, which is the sole purpose of this post, but I feel it's equally as important to fill you in a little on my parents and their role. 

My mom had Nathan when she was twenty-four years old. Her first born, her first baby. Her first son. She and my dad were only married for three months when she got pregnant, and I don't think she'd mind me telling you that she wasn't exactly excited [heck, would you be??] For the last thirty-five years though, she's devoted her entire life to caring for him. She fought so that he would have a good education, she made sure he walked down the aisle at his high school graduation, and she worked as his advocate, always. On top of that, she raised my brother Sean and I. She kept extensive baby books [my first tooth, all my report cards, handwritten notes and countless pictures] and she made gigantic scrapbooks for our high school graduations. I mean seriously, these things are so WELL done, you'd think she took classes or went to school for design. (She didn't.) When I had my two kids, she packed all the bags and got in the van with Nathan and my dad, I'm sure telling him to HURRY the entire six hours. She gave me endless back tickles, massaged my sore calfs when I entered the sports stage, helped fuel my passion for horses, never doubted me, and didn't bat an eye when I told her I was moving to Kentucky to pursue my dreams.

My mom is my superhero, there's just no other way to put it. 

Then there's my dad...the guy that I think can literally do and make ANYTHING. He is a master plumber and HVAC guy by trade, but he also helped build the house I grew up in from the ground up with the help of my grandfather. He can build anything, tile floors, repair leaks, and it always makes me laugh how good at math he is [I am TERRIBLE]. Most of my memories are that he worked, a lot, to keep a roof over our head and provide for our family. But he also found the time to take me to horseback riding lessons and shows and to leave me notes in my car that read, "Love you, Myrtle," with a $20 bill for gas money. I got in a pretty bad car wreck freshman year of college and totaled it; my first car, a silver Dodge Stratus. I was hellbent on having another Stratus, (why am I so weird??) and he and my mom found me a navy blue one. He drove it six hours to me in Louisville and took a 1-way flight back to Michigan the same day. My brother Sean and I are pretty concerned in that we don't think he'll ever actually be able to retire...my parents need to still pay off the home, and Nathan's medical bills are well, as you can imagine, pretty intense. My dad is sixty-four years old and when he comes home from a full day's work, he does his best to pitch in with Nathan. 

All of this to say that my Dad is one strong fellow. He is a quiet man, but his heart is big. 

At the end of the day, our family is kind of a miracle. Life wasn't easy, but I doubt that most of you can say that yours was either. And ultimately, I am praying for something positive, something profound, something miraculous--to happen for my mom, dad, and Nathan. I have a healthy and happy family in Louisville, Kentucky. Two kids, a boy, and a girl; my husband and I are full-time teachers, I'm of course a professional photographer and blogger. My brother Sean and his wife [who was his high school sweetheart!] have been married for nine years and live a successful and happy life in Nashville. We don't need too many more blessings, but Nathan does. 

Whether you're a Believer or not, please just offer up prayers for him tonight, and continuously since you've now read this post and know his story. He needs another miracle to overcome the odds, to beat the hospital bed, and to make it home safely [and in good health] once again. Scroll through these few photos below to see how loved (and wonderful!) he is.