Chapter One: We Should be Friends

Photo by Aubrey Renee

I am not a love expert and actually am pretty far from it. I was never the girl who had it all together when it came to relationships and guess what--in my seven years of marriage I still don't have it all together! What I do know though, is that a story like this one is absolutely worth reading.

 If you had told eighteen-year-old Ashley that she would be married in two short years, she would have straight laughed in your face. My freshman year of college brought me heart-ache, disappointment, unsafe situations, unpredictable bosses and all of those things just proved to me that marriage was not something I felt called to. I wasn't the Christian girl who prayed for her future spouse and her hypothetical children. I didn't pray for his purity or his heart because honestly, I didn't trust too much that he was out there. At one point before I moved out of my Michigan home, my mom and Grandma suggested to me that I may need to learn to cook just in case I did get married someday. "No I don't," I responded. "God knows the desires of my heart." And guess what? God did. I wasn't concerned with cooking for a man or him cooking for me; if I had to eat cereal and Easy Mac every night, I was going to college and would celebrate my independence.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be with someone. I've been a hopeless romantic since I was a little boy, claiming that I would marry my mother and live with her forever. It was no big secret. I spent most of my teenage years falling hard and fast for different girls. Some relationships were certainly better than others, each one was important in my growth as a man. To be fair and honest, I learned the hard way that I was needy and clingy. I wanted so desperately to be in a romance like you see in the movies, to be with my forever love and to live out our happily ever after. I am positive along the way that I creeped more than a few girls out. Truth be told, I've thought about emailing an apology to them, but even that sounds creepy. I hope they have chalked my exuberance for love up to being immature.

After my heart had fallen, broken, repaired and fallen more times than I really can remember, I started writing in a journal. It wasn't a fancy handmade leather bound journal, but I thought it was pretty.  This journal was the outlet my heart needed. I wrote love letters and notes to my future wife. I told her that I was praying for her, and day dreamed about lazy snow days together, and the exciting trips we would take. I speculated where we would meet, and hoped that where she was, she was happy. I used this as a journal to temper what I was saying to my girlfriend (whomever she was at that time) so that I could try to hide the fact that since I was eleven-years old, all I ever wanted was a wife.

I entered Sunergos Coffee Shop on Preston Street one crisp morning in October of 2007. I wore black gaucho pants (I am so glad those went out of style, but then again maybe they weren't ever even IN style...??) and a black and white striped tee. I had a speech that morning to give that was worth a doozy of my overall grade, three finals and a ginormous paper due that wasn't quite yet complete. With my arms piled high with textbooks and a laptop (I was the weird one who has never carried a bag, or at least a useful bag), the Barista offered me a free cup of coffee. He began making casual conversation, smiling a lot, and when I told him the giant workload that welcomed me that day, he said, "I hope you have someone at home who can rub your shoulders at the end of all this!" I smiled and without really thinking twice, said, "We should be friends." I sat down, chugged my cup of Joe and went on my way. Little did I know, those four words would be the most important thing I said all day.

During my undergrad, I worked the morning shift at Sunergos Coffee. I had to be at work at 6:00 AM to open, and lived a good twenty minutes away. So naturally I woke up every day at 5:45. I loved working there. Let's be honest, everyone coming through the shop at that hour needed the drug I was serving, and so they were all really friendly. I knew most of them by name, all of them by their cup of coffee. On October 4th, 2007, someone new walked into the shop. She was blonde, gorgeous, carrying a huge stack of books and went straight to a table where Pastor Tim (Coffee, Room for Cream) was sitting and started talking to him. I knew Pastor Tim, and I knew this girl was beautiful, so I did what any hopeless romantic would do: I flirted shamelessly and unabashedly. I'm not even sorry.

"You look like you have quite the day with all those books, your coffee is on me." As I started making her a Café Miele, I asked her about the day. She was describing to me the tests and speeches and papers that were ahead and that she needed a place to get some work done. I remember saying "I sure hope you have someone to rub your shoulders tonight after all this." I was testing the boyfriend waters. She said, "We should be friends. I live with Jill, but I don't think she'll rub them." (Jill, Peach White Tea, keep the leaves for a second steep).  "We should be friends, I'm Asa".

I left Ashley alone to study. I didn't want to be any more forward. I knew how to reach out to her if I wanted. Pastor Tim and Jill I saw every day. I'm very sure I was much happier and friendlier with everyone else who came in the shop that morning. I was hoping Ashley would take note of my good nature- Hoping she would want to talk some more. She didn't. She had work to do. She brought me the empty mug and thanked me for her coffee, and I watched her leave. I finished my shift wondering if and when I would see her again.

Later that evening, I attended a Cru event (Campus Crusade for Christ) and I just started to crash- emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I was tired. I hardly slept the night before but I thought, Hey, this will rejuvenate me and I'll feel so much more rested. Five minutes in, I was ready to walk out. The topic was marriage and the guest speaker was talking about how college was such a great place to meet your future spouse, especially in ministries and events such as the one we were in. Whatever else he said apparently royally offended me and struck a nerve because I walked out sobbing hysterically. That night on my drive back to my house I called my mom in tears. "It was stupid, Mom. I didn't come here to find my husband. I especially didn't enroll in college to find one. I came to pursue horses, get an education, and stand on my own two feet. I just don't get it--what is the BIG deal?! Besides, if I ever get married, which I won't, it will be to someone like the man I met today at the coffee shop."

It was so late, and was probably even crossing into early morning, but I (like most college kids) wanted to check Facebook.  I stooped a pot of tea, washed my face with hot water and changed into comfy clothes (my love language to myself). Opening my laptop, I decided to search. How did I find him? I have NO idea, because I don't remember us exchanging names, and surely not first and last names? But with a name like Asa, perhaps I searched all the Asa's local to Louisville and I recognized his face immediately. Not in the mood to 'friend' him, after all, he had only given me a cup of coffee and we had only just met; I messaged him instead. "Thanks for the cup of coffee," I wrote. "It really helped me get through my day." I remember closing my eyes that night, wondering why my heart skipped a little beat at the thought of him messaging me back.

Then I had an idea: (This is why I owe a lot of girls an apology for being creepy...But again, still pretty sure that's a creepy thing to do.) Ashley told me she had a Biology mid-term and a speech to give for her Communications class. I knew the school of Natural Sciences and the Communications building were just across the street from each other. So I went and found a bench in between them to "read" and get "fresh air". I waited on that bench for longer than I care to admit hoping to see her. I went to the coffee shop on campus hoping she was there getting refueled. And I left campus, not sure if I would ever really see this girl again.
Defeated, I went home. I'm sure I buried myself in homework, TV, or any other number of distractions. The hard part about hiding is that you can't escape your own head. And I couldn't stop thinking about the Blonde in the white and black striped shirt. I couldn't stop hoping she had been successful with her tests and speech; wondering if she was happy and finding some rest at the end of this long day. I prayed for her, prayed that despite the stress of life that she would have peace, and a reason to smile. And just as I was climbing into bed I got a Facebook message. "Thank you for the cup of coffee". And I knew it was time to fall one last time.

Milky Magic

Raise your hand if you're always on the hunt for toddler friendly activities! I've created a new board on Pinterest where I can start Pinning all the activities/lesson and kid-friendly stuff that I think my two and three-year old could handle. We are currently working on Reese's colors and she's having a little bit harder time than Pierson did identifying them. I am therefore looking for color specific activities and today's is a GOOD one! All you need is milk, , Q-Tips, a shallow dish, food coloring and some dish soap, I used Dawn.

I found this activity from another blog, Lemon Lime Adventures. There Dayna has lots of other creative things regarding playing, sensory processing and even teaching. She used Palmolive, but I didn't have that brand of dish soap, hence why I used Dawn. 

Steps:
1. Gather your materials BEFORE the experiment, since getting anything ready WITH toddlers is well, challenging.
2. Pour the milk in the dish, just enough to cover it is totally fine.
3. Let the kids (using your discretion) pour some drops of food coloring sporadically into the milk.
4. Smother a Q-Tip in the dish soap and just let it DRIP into the milk.
5. Watch the colors integrate and turn into a beautiful milky mixture!

The kids were so excited and Pierson claims that it looks like, "HOT LAVA!" I thought this was a cool comparison and Reese was equally as excited. Her being fifteen months younger, her attention span was a bit shorter BUT she did proudly identify the colors as Pierson cheered her on! (Success in my book!) Pierson wanted to try adding another color so we threw yellow into the mix. This is so easy (and so cheap) so I definitely recommend trying it with your Littles. Anything that's easy to put together AND clean up is a huge plus in this household. Have fun experimenting and I would love to hear how yours turned out! (I wonder if the type of dish soap matters??)

Becoming My Mother

"Mom, tickle my back," my three-year-old, Pierson, says to me as we snuggle under his covers. We just finished our typical routine; bath, a drink of water, lights off, another drink of water, prayers and now the tape player is on and we are here in the dark. He always used to be our excellent sleeper and then something happened in June when he turned three. He transformed into a brand new kid.  He has been trying to figure out what it means to be a step up in toddler-hood, what it is to really be big brother to his sister fifteen months younger than him, and how to seek independence, yet still rely on us, so greatly.

He has gone back and forth for months, between sleeping great but then needing either my husband or I (or both) several times a night. It wasn't too long ago that he screamed bloody murder as soon as we left his room. That was fairly close to us returning back to work after having had the entire summer off as a family, but that was a long season. As soon as we thought we were making progress with defining consequences and helping our three-year-old sleep again, it would plummet. There was never any predictability. It didn't seem to matter if he napped or didn't nap during the day, the times would differ that he woke in the middle of the night, and we were all just tired.

My mom listened to me vent about my exhaustion over the phone every single day. I call her daily on my way home from work. It's only about a ten minute drive, sometimes less, that I have time to catch her up and tell her what's been going on. "Ash, you always fell asleep listening to lullabies," she said. "I really feel like it would help him to listen to music. Then maybe you could just sit in his rocking chair a minute before leaving his room. That's what I always did with you kids.”

Soon after one of those talks with her, I had a small package waiting on my front porch. I brought it inside and gently opened it, smiling when I pulled out an old-school tape player with a dozen or so tapes from my childhood. That night, I showed Pierson the tape player and told him that I used to listen to these when I was his age to help me fall asleep. We prayed and then I explained that we would listen to a few songs. Then I would move to his rocking chair to just sit silently for a few minutes. 

I popped one of the lullaby soundtracks into the machine and closed my eyes. 

Within seconds it all came flooding back: my tiny childhood bedroom, the stark white furniture set, the little picture frame that held a photo of Jesus next to my bed. And then there she was.  She laid beside me curled into a ball each and every night. Her hand would run up and down my back, across my shoulders, through my hair and over my face, giving me 'sleepy-time glasses,' as I drifted into a peaceful sleep. Some nights it took me longer to fall asleep and I remember her wrist would slightly drop in the crook of my back, going still and limp... I knew she was falling asleep. I would lightly twitch or pretend like I needed to re-situate, praying, "Please don't be done yet. Just a minute longer." 

My eyes opened and I was back in Pierson's room. The only light visible was from the faint twinkle of his glow-in-the-dark stars above us. The woman singing this lullaby was one I had heard time and time again. I like your eyes. I like your nose. I like your mouth. I like your ears, your hands, your toes. Tears started to trickle down my cheek as I remembered, "This was the song that she sang to me every night." My hand paused slightly in the crook of his back and I felt his little body twitch. I almost laughed aloud as I wondered, Is this desire to have a back scratch genetic? I tickled his a second longer and then ran my fingers through his hair. While I switched to sleepy-time-glasses around his eyes, I breathed him in, smelling his freshly shampooed hair. My first-borne baby was not so much of a baby anymore, but on the cusp of full-on boyhood. Sigh. I turned the tape player off and silently moved from the bed to his rocking chair.

"Mom, sing just one song?" he asked.

"Okay, baby, I'll sing a song." Mine to him from the moment he was born was You Are My Sunshine and the words effortlessly escaped my lips. I closed my eyes and prayed for a few minutes in the dark. His fan humming, the glowing stars lessening their light. I slipped from the room and whispered, "I love you," closing the door. That was the night we were reminded of peaceful sleep. It hasn't been perfect and with winter illnesses especially it has been up and down, but for the most part, the magic of that tape player and the lyrics that sing from it, have proven to be a success. His night time routine is slightly longer these days but that added length brings so much added sweetness.

He is growing so quickly, changing each and every day. Many days I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness knowing that I won't have 'babies' for too much longer--but then I thank God for this phase that we are currently in. This phase of a few lullabies every single night, when I am given the chance to remember my own nights with my mother and I realize: I am becoming her. At some point in early adolescence this was a realization that kind of frightened me. But I think once we women are given our own children, and we are able to really and truly grasp how much we were loved--well, I hold tightly to what a blessing this inheritance has become.

Just Smile

My mom drove me down the long dirt road and together we waited for the school bus--the school bus that would take me to a brand new place, my first public school. I was leaving many friends behind at the Christian Academy I had attended and it was the first time that I wouldn't be in a place that my big brothers were. We spotted the big yellow vehicle in the distance, coming up over the hill. "Just smile, Ash," she said sweetly. "You might get nervous or scared but you're great at making new friends and showing people Jesus; so just smile at them when you feel unsure."

Fifth grade was a tough year. I loved my teacher, Ms. Guy; she rode a sweet blue Harley Davidson motorcycle and she made us laugh while we learned. I made a ton of great friends, some who remain among my favorites to this day, but one of the girls in my class was just mean. She was hateful and vindictive and strongly disliked me because the fifth grade heart throb developed a crush on ME, "the new girl." When she sneered things under her breath at me, I remembered my mom's words: Just smile. When she at one point, years later, turned our entire crowd of girlfriends against me, that phrase still remained. I held my head up high, I tried to still love the heck out of them and I smiled.

Looking back, there is quite a bit I would change about the way I did friendships back then. That fifth grade girl strongly impacted the next several years of my life. Through my smiling I also endured a lot of heartache, grief and even fear some days of just going to school. I didn't realize then that the 'friendship' I strove to have with her would never last. It was never of any substance or meaningful value, and in my 'I should be friends with everyone' mentality, I wish I had been more okay with the fact that I wouldn't. I wish I had recognized that not all friendships are worth fighting for; sometimes when the girls run and play in the opposite direction, you can still smile, but you should also believe that parting ways is for the best.

Friendships are a thing that as a twenty-something-year-old, I still think are just weird. There are seasons of life and with those seasons, friends come and go. You move to college and make brand new girlfriends. You join small groups and Bible Studies and you click with just a few other people. Some women like you and well, others don't, at all. As a woman, I've realized that jealousy is never something that will phase out with age--Freshman year of college, I vividly remember a conversation I had with one of my friends, and it could have potentially ruined our friendship, all because of jealousy. Once, I asked a girl to grab a cup of coffee with me. We had lots of mutual friends, she was even roommates with one of my good friends, and I frequently slept at their apartment. I wanted to be friendly, I wanted to get to know her better. But she was one who ignored me when I entered a room, looked the other way entirely; a crowd of people could be surrounding us, they all leave except for me, and still she couldn't make eye contact. "I really don't see the point in getting a cup of coffee with you," she responded. "Having a friendship with you is not something I think will be beneficial." Ouch. I appreciate honesty but dag, not that much! I won't tell you that I didn't care, because I did. My heart hurt and I didn't understand what in the world I ever did to this girl (nor will I ever). She may not have desired to be best friends with me, but she could have at least been kind. She could have smiled and carried on a conversation and we both could have been completely okay that we would walk away without any real intention of ever pursuing one another again.

Since moving to Kentucky, I've been blessed to stay friends with girls who I have known and loved since I was five-years-old. It's not that we haven't endured hardships or awkward adjustments to not living in the same state, but no matter what, I know they'll always be there. There are the select few who I know I can call in a state of emergency or simply because I miss them and need to laugh. Some of those I met later down the road, in middle/high school and of course, college. It's like as we've all entered adulthood, many of us motherhood, we know the bond between us won't ever be broken. Those are the friendships that I hope and pray my children will hold on to as they develop them. There's been the women I've been blessed to text in the middle of the night as we were both up nursing our infants. Some of us have walked through our pregnancies together, had our babies days apart- and we may live on opposite sides of town, life may be simply too busy at this time; grabbing a cup of coffee or scheduling a night out may take some real planning, but that doesn't mean we are done with one another. They know they can call or text me and vice versa, and we will always have that bond.

Recently my family walked to the playground across the street. A few days prior, just Reese and I walked and we met another family riding bikes and playing. The girls in that bunch immediately included Reese, picking her up and helping her up and down some steps to the pavilion. We came home and she proudly exclaimed, "I made FRIENDS!" So when we walked back a few days later, she of course went with the intention, "I play with friends." We got there and there were only two elementary aged girls. They were running up and down the steps to the big blue bridge and in deep conversation with each other. Reese drifted away from us and began pointing to the dogs. "That's Elsa and Humphrey," I heard her excitedly attempt to tell them. "And that's my mommy and daddy and Pierson!" One of the girls just stared at her. Reese continued, "Look! Watch. Watch me! I can climb!" The other very quietly said, "I'm watching." Her friend though, convinced her to run off to the second playground and Reese's eyes filled with giant tears. She pointed and whimpered, "My friends! My friends! I play with friends!" Oh I wanted to scoop my daughter up! I wanted to reassure her that this was a prime example of smiling and letting go. Her two-year-old self couldn't grasp the fact that the girls five or more years older than her, just didn't see a benefit of becoming 'friends,' but that this was OKAY!

It dawned on me that evening, Reese has a giant piece of me in her sweet growing heart. The piece that longs to amend friendships that never even existed by buying cups of coffee. The part that doesn't understand when mean things are said, when friends turn and look the other way. There is that characteristic that I see developing in her and I know now, my daughter is going to have her heart so badly broken. She is probably going to be the one in Kindergarten who can't quite understand why all twenty-five of her future classmates can't all just get along. She will be the one who longs for deep and meaningful relationships, the one who works hard to love others well. This part of Reese somewhat already breaks my heart; I hope and pray that she can choose her friendships wisely. I hope that I can teach her that not all friendships are necessarily worth holding on to or fighting for. That there are seasons of life and these seasons are absolutely okay--friends will all come and go, and there's many that will stay consistent. But all of them, each and every one, are placed there for a reason. It's okay to be friendly, to smile and be kind. It's not hard to spread joy and kindness to everyone; but over the years I have learned that simply because you spread love, does not mean everyone is going to be your friend.

Through these seasons, through my children growing and developing, making rational as well as unwise decisions, I will strive each and every day to be the voice (the help) in their heads that say, "Just smile and be Jesus to as many as you can. And it is completely and one-hundred percent okay to cling tightly to the friendships that mean the most while letting many of the others go."

*I would love to hear YOUR thoughts! What are things that mean the most to you in your current friendships? What have YOU learned over the years, as you've ventured into your twenties, thirties, forties, beyond? Leave a comment below and thanks so much for reading!*