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. 

Why a Beautiful Home Isn't Nonsense

As I've gotten older I have realized that my need for 'stuff' has diminished quite a bit. At one point I wanted brand new wardrobes for each season, and then I quickly discovered that my clothes color pallet exists in this order: greys, earth tones, and more grey. The comfier the outfit the better; give me all the joggers, giant wool cardigans, and an abundance of fuzzy socks and I am GOLDEN. My husband jokes with me that before we were married I would say, "Beauty is pain," (WHO made up that quote?!) and now I fully admit that I actually believe beauty is COMFORT. 

I once had a friend though, that made me feel so terrible about the fact that I wanted to have things. That and drying or straightening my hair/wearing makeup, she called me 'high maintenance.' The literal definition of that adjective is 'needing a lot of work to keep in good condition.' Demanding, challenging, difficult, hard to please--all synonyms of high maintenance. I remember asking Asa, "Am I high maintenance because I want to do my hair before photos?" and he'd say, "No, there is nothing wrong with wanting that." I would talk to her about my desire to have a big beautiful house, two stories, and in it, beautiful things. She would remind me that she didn't 'need' anything; if it were up to her, she'd live in a tiny house and have the bare minimum within it. There was nothing wrong with her desires. But there was largely something wrong with the way I felt most times after hanging out with her.

Over the years and having lots of space between us, I have grown up quite a bit (thank you, Jesus). There isn't anything wrong with me wanting to do my hair, or putting on makeup. It doesn't make me less of a free woman that I often do those two things. My husband and I started our lives in a dirty, one bedroom, dark apartment. Our second wasn't much of an upgrade, but definitely brighter and better than the first. Our first home was beautiful; a restored 1900 bungalow with character that spoke to every person who walked in the front entry. While we searched for the newest home that we are currently it, we both agreed that it needed to LOOK nice. We thought we wanted a fixer-upper, but we didn't. We wanted open, bright, with lots of natural light, and it had to be two stories [my request.] We yearned for a place to host, to gather our people--friends and family that would eat around our table and laugh by the fireplace. 

I recently started Jen Hatmaker's newest book 'Of Mess and Moxie,' and friends, within it she spoke my heart. I often wondered how to put into words what I felt about owning beautiful things or having a gorgeous house, and by golly, she wrote them. 

"Dear one, may I say something? It is not shallow or empty or frivolous to create a beautiful space to live in. It's not silly, not vainglorious, not a waste of time and energy. It doesn't make you superficial nor slides you down the godly scale. We spend the majority of our hours in our homes with our people. Creating beauty and nurture under your roof with colors that soothe, art that inspires, furniture that invites, and textures that thrill is a wonderful use of your small space on the planet" (67). 

If where you want to live is in a high rise in the city, by all means, live that dream. And if your heart longs and loves large and open spaces, sister, you do YOU. We shouldn't make each other feel bad when the desire in our hearts is joy and happiness. We shouldn't label our friends by what they wear or don't wear, eat or don't eat. Jen also says this, which duh, I love: 

"Home is the scene of so much love and happiness, community and pot roasts. It is where you invite people in and say, 'You are so welcome in this place.' It is the reel our children will replay in memory of the leather chair you read in, the farmhouse table you shared, the braided rug where you played eleventy-billion games of Chutes and Ladders. It is your little corner of the earth, entirely. YOURS to make lovely. In a world increasingly dominated by fear and violence and isolation and loneliness, you can claim restoration under your roof, where people are nurtured and loved and fed and embraced, where God reigns and hope is spoken..." (70)

I love that Jesus has intertwined mine and Asa's hearts in that we both love people and more than that, we love gathering with them. I don't like to cook, but he does! And I find joy in cleaning, dusting, and rearranging things like candles and flowers. We love having a beautiful home that has TONS of light, inviting furniture [seriously, thank you Havertys], and there's no shame in the fact that I think white walls are calming. More significantly than the beauty that exists here, Jen was so right when she talks about nourishing and caring for our little ones here. My number one job is to love and serve my husband but ALSO to train up my children to follow and serve the Lord. "Making your home pretty is nice," she writes, "but making it nourishing is holy" (70).

I don't want you to think for a minute though, that the home we chose is perfect or that it has to BE perfect to be beautiful. I actually often talk in the future tense, "In our next home I want to do this differently or add this or change this," because I don't believe this is our forever home. I still long for acreage and horses surrounding the greenery around me, but my heart is happy here, for now. I actually have a gorgeous blue velvet couch that I only once dreamt about. I have a matching console and cocktail table. I have an eight-foot farmhouse table where a TON of people gathered for Thanksgiving. And I LOVE that Jen Hatmaker mentioned how God created the wildflowers and waterfalls and pine trees and hummingbirds and warm sand and mountain ranges and tulips; because He very clearly doesn't think that beauty is nonsense (67). "If God decided to make his whole earth pretty, we can choose to make our little homes pretty without tension, guilt, or shame." For us, we choose beauty to bring people to gather. Our home isn't huge, but it's open and our table is large. 

May we never forget our dream of hosting and creating, regardless of where we end up next. (Please be on land, please be on land, please be on land!) And may YOU believe that where you are and what you dream about is beautiful too. 

*Please don't allow anyone else's negative comments or shaming hurt you. You were created with visions and dreams, passions and talents. It's an ongoing battle that I continue to go forward with comments that have hurt me, but time has been a healing agent and I just want you to know that YOU are wonderful!!!*

Chapter Four: Babies on the Mind

Well, readers, its definitely been a while hasn't it? January 2017 Asa and I wrote our last chapter, Chapter 3: Love is Enough. If it's been a while for you too, click here for the first chapter, here for the second, and last but not least, the third. I sat down knowing I needed to backtrack, to see where we had left off and what we had written. As I proceeded to read, slowly scrolling...tears completely pooled in my eyes. "Man, Babe," I texted him. "We should write a book!"

I'm not saying that because I think we are the best writers around; bless us, no. But I can literally see every sentence playing before me, as I relive every memory and moment of these first three chapters. I don't think I will ever forget our love story, but maybe I will? And if I do, I want to always be able to relive them as either I read our words or someone reads them to me. So with all of that said, where did we leave off?

At the end of chapter three,  we were talking about our early years; how we were poor and that it never seemed to bother us. We talked about our date nights in, the quiet moments and the love we began to build. So much has changed since that first year and since the first few. Somehow we are soon celebrating our ninth year of marriage, but we have a lot that happened in the meantime. Growing up, for instance, I always told my friends that I wasn't ever having children.

"But, Ashley. You have TWO children," you might say. In the fourth grade, my oldest brother had a Grand Mal seizure and almost lost his life. I honest to God thought it was my fault because I can remember envisioning the night prior what life would look like if Nathan was different. I realize that sounds AWFUL, but my thoughts were very innocent in that; I honestly just wondered how our family of five would look if my brother didn't have the severe special needs that he did and does. I am the youngest and I have two older brothers. I woke to the sound of my mom screaming for my middle brother's help. When I ran into the room to see what was going on, I bolted and hid in my parent's bed. Dad was at work already, and Mom was on the phone with an EMT. Sean, the middle child, yelled at me to snap out of it because I was literally hysterical. [He's not a jerk, promise, but he too was terrified and overwhelmed and feeling as though he had to be in charge to help our mom AND to calm his baby sister down. It was a lot.] In the days to come, I remember being positive that I had heard the Lord speak to me, telling me that someday I would have a handicapped child. I allowed that fear to captivate my thoughts my entire childhood, and throughout the early adult years. I love my brother Nathan [who has Cerebral Palsy] DEARLY, but I knew firsthand what caring for such a special child looked like and in my heart and mind, I never thought I could be as strong as my mother in that regard. Asa and I talked about kids on our very first walk at the park together. We BOTH actually said that we didn't really want to have kids and that for sure there had to at least be a 'five-year rule.'

My whole life I wanted a family. Remember, I’m the kid who got a high chair and crib for stuffed toys when I was 8 years old. Something about family has always had my attention. That’s why in the early stages of our marriage I didn’t seem like myself. I legitimately didn’t want kids. I had grown accustomed to Ashley, to our marriage, to live with just her. Late night movies, sleeping til whenever we wanted, eating where we wanted when we wanted…we’d only been married 3 years but I was so accustomed to her, and I didn’t want anyone to change that.

Flash forward to our third year of marriage, when we were living on the second floor of our second apartment. It was small and quaint and had LOTS of windows. Asa and I were doing well; we loved walking our dogs around Old Louisville and we genuinely just loved being together. We had started going to a new church and became really good friends with a couple who we soon discovered, lived RIGHT across the street from us! My dear friend Allyson, oh how I loved and still love her! She had this really cool Christmas tree with 3D lights and you could wear special glasses to watch them do crazy cool stuff. She loves Friends as much as Asa does, and I would often go there to curl up in a blanket and watch episodes with her. One day, excitedly and nervously, she proclaimed to me that she was pregnant. OHHHH I was so pumped for her! But then why when I crossed the street to go back to our apartment, did I feel so angry and so bitter?! I remember being kind of mean to Asa in the coming days. I was short tempered and emotional, moody and irritated. I talked with my mom daily [go figure] and I asked, "Mom, why am I so upset about Allyson being pregnant?! I'm happy for her!" My mom, who pretty much has never been wrong about me EVER, replied, "Ashley because you want a baby." It all started to hit me so hard, that I even cried in an episode of Scrubs when someone found out they were pregnant. As I sat on the couch, feeling sorry for myself in a completely non-irrational way, Asa joked, "Ash, if you want a baby we can have a baby." I remember looking into his eyes and just melting into a gigantic love puddle. "First though, you'll probably have to come off the pill." 

It started off as a “hypothetical” conversation (we all know what that really means). To be honest, I didn’t have as strong of feelings about kids as I had imagined. I wasn’t jumping at the chance to have my big family, and I wasn’t mourning the loss of “our time” but felt oddly at peace, content might be the word for it. Our conversation quickly turned into planning. When should she come off the pill, when should she start prenatal vitamins, would we need to move, can we afford this, are we ready for this, etc. At the time I heard a piece of advice that I believe is true in most situations with major life choices. There will always be a reason NOT to have kids, or NOT to get married, or whatever the major life event is, but you’re more ready than you think you are. 

Once we made our decision, I remember joking about how I dreaded the whole “trying” part. “Sex every day? Damnit!” But truthfully I kept waiting for horrible mood swings, and Ashley to change her mind. I kept waiting for medical issues, or something wrong to just happen. But the truth? The truth is the idea of starting a new life with Ashley brought me so much peace that nothing else mattered. That’s when I started to daydream about kids starting at Christmas trees, and Saturday morning pancakes, when I thought about first steps, and first words…how could I not want this? How could I not want to watch Ashley share her heart with someone that was half her and half me? And so? We

I remember meeting with my doctor and she instructed me to start prenatals and to be on them for three months [ideally] before getting pregnant. So Asa and I did calendar math, and I prayed a lot. The fear that I had felt for ALL those years had diminished. It wasn't 100% GONE, as I had a lot of fears of the unknown along the way, but I felt at peace which was something I hadn't before. We talked about how we really wanted a summer baby because we were both teachers, and we wanted my maternity leave to coincide with our summer schedule. It's funny how God works things out and how when letting go of the control and demands, He just shows up. We started trying to get pregnant mid-May, and for three months we saw that it wasn't the right timing. Someone gifted me ovulation sticks in September, and it was incredible to me how technology could show me by a smiley or sad face if I was ovulating or not. I remember the exact time the smiley face appeared, I was going to photograph my friend Erin's son for birthday photos. Tonight's the night, I thought to myself. I KNEW I was going to get pregnant! 

Sure enough, about 3.5 weeks later in early October, my period was late. Only by a day, but I took a test anyway. The lines were SO faint, and I had to squint REAL hard to see them. I remember calling Asa up to the bathroom, giddy with excitement, but nervous that I was wrong. I called my sis in law Jana and she sped over. "Oh, you're pregnant! That's positive!" She actually took some photos of Asa and me, and I was starting to get SUPER elated. I called my mom and told her that I wasn't 100% buying it but that I would take a digital test at work the next day and let her know. Jana and I work at the same school, and she brought me the test. I can remember drinking SO much water that morning and holding my pee for what seemed forever. It was a no-kids day, and I texted Jana that I was going to use the bathroom. She met me at the restroom and we waited there, laughing and talking for a few minutes while we waited for the flashing symbol to read the news. Two minutes, (felt like twenty), minutes later, the word PREGNANT appeared. We squealed and laughed and hugged and I called Asa as soon as I got back to my room. [Yeah, I'm terrible at surprises, Y'all]. 

Children are such an interesting creation. I could easily paint a comical picture of all the hardships associated with being a parent, but they’re cliche and old. The truth is, it’s so hard to articulate how much your heart will grow, how much love you can feel because feelings this euphoric are not typical. But as I type this,  I watch my son run around the room playing, and he stops to stare at the snow. As his little inquisitive mind forms new questions and his little body surges with energy and he smiles so big his eyes close, I can tell you that my heart is full. Watching Ashley grow from a young lady overwhelmed with tests in a coffee shop, to now being a mother of undeniable character, gentleness, patience and unconditional love, my heart is full. But the best part of having Ashley and the kids is that my heart is never actually full, they always seem to know just the right way to make it grow.

The nine months of that first pregnancy were magical. I didn't mind one bit my body stretching and growing, the bump growing from the size of a lime to that of a pumpkin. There were times towards that the end that I feared something was wrong, maybe that he wasn't moving enough or he hadn't hiccuped that day. Asa would pray aloud each time and I always felt a surge of peace. Our son was born June 15, 2012--a healthy 8.2# babe, and we had the sweetest summers of our lives. There are a lot of fears that I'm sure are normal when planning for a baby, but I am so grateful that I didn't allow mine to hold me captive. From one baby to two, and my multiple fears within that predestined OOPS; I realize the blessing that is children, and specifically, OUR children. Watching Asa go from a husband to daddy, to the protector and safety of our home, I fall in love with that man multiple times a day. We often ask where time has gone, when did our children go from babies to the four and five-year-olds they are, and we know that these days are fleeting. Watching me grow from a small child to a grown woman, I believe that God has smiled, knowing all along of the two babies he would create for me. 

**Thanks to my beautiful sister in law Bethany, for snapping some photos of us for our anniversary! And happy 9th, dearest Asa!**