Author: Ashley

Connecting with God When All You Have Is a Moment

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment

dawn-nature-sunset-womanOnce upon a time, I was an adventurer. I was fearless. I lived each day to the fullest. Carpe diem and all that. I climbed mountains and flew across oceans. My passion to share Jesus was a fire burning, and I wanted to spread it across the world. I prayed aloud all the time, whether in the arms of my dearest friends or with complete strangers at the next gas pump.

As time passed, though, that fire died down until it seemed only embers remained. I think I got lost in the haze of day-to-day life. Over the last decade, my adventures have consisted mostly of navigating Walmart with three kids without causing a major public incident. The only mountains I’ve climbed have been the lofty peaks of laundry I step on to get to the dryer.

When I became a mother, I think I hit a pause button on being me. I think this self-imposed hiatus is something to which all caregivers can relate. It’s in our nature to give and give and give to our families. That’s part of what makes being a wife and mom so fiercely beautiful. This system we’ve set up seems to work–until the time inevitably comes when we have nothing left of ourselves to give.

That’s where I was just a short time ago. Drained. Short-tempered. Exhausted. Spiritually parched. Easily frustrated. One day, I suddenly realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prayed aloud. There were the bedtime prayers and meal blessings with the kids, but other than that, it just didn’t happen anymore. I’m not sure why. With church and small group and Bible study and MOPS meetings, there were plenty of opportunities. I would just sit there, though, with the weight of the pause pressing on my shoulders and the heat of the moment burning my cheeks. It’s not like I thought my friends or church family would jump to their feet, laughing and pointing at me. Why was I so self-conscious? I realized it was because I was out of practice.

I was disconnected. In my frantic need to take care of everyone else, I wasn’t making time to connect with God, and that disconnect was spilling over into all the other parts of my life. My identity is found in him. Unless I am spending time with the One who created me, I am bound to lose myself…

This post was challenging for me because it felt very vulnerable. Vulnerability is scary but authenticity is so worth it if even just one person is encouraged or says, “Me, too!”

To read more of this post, please visit The Glorious Table:
http://theglorioustable.com/2016/06/connecting-with-god-when-all-you-have-is-a-moment/.

To the Parent Whose Kid Didn’t Get Any Awards

~ Ashley ~ 4 Comments


to the parent whose kid didn't get any awards

I saw you over there from my seat on the back row.

We stuck it out, you and I. Two tedious hours of an elementary school awards ceremony to acknowledge all the hard work throughout the year.

Two hours of a seemingly endless list of names called out, a few over and over and over again.

I saw you clapping for each and every one of those names. Even when the same name was called out for the 17th time. I saw you smiling congratulations to the parents tripping over themselves to get the good photo spot in the aisle.

I noticed your smile grew a bit tight as the long minutes passed. I’m sure mine looked exactly the same as we waited, you and I.

The number of awarded kids grew and grew while we waited and waited for our kids to have their names called.

We knew going in that our kids probably weren’t the top grade earners in their classes. We knew they weren’t the captains of any sports teams. But surely there would be something. Some reason to hear their names called and to feel a bit of pride to be ending well.  Something.

I saw you look over to where your child was using empty hands to cheer on classmates collecting handfuls of awards. I saw you quickly wipe away that tear. My heart hurt with you.

We’re stuck in this gray area, you and I. There’s a tug of war between the two sides. One says, “Give every child a prize.” The other says, “The world is a tough place that makes us earn it and so should they.”

We’re torn. We understand both sides. We’re the ones in the middle.

The children who won all those awards should absolutely be celebrated and acknowledged. They worked hard. Their parents should be so proud.

But we should be proud, too.

While our children might have come home empty-handed, feeling embarrassed and left out, we still have so many reasons to celebrate.

Because there are plenty of achievements that don’t come with certificates.

He always showed up, even when it was hard.

She often shared lunch with a friend who had none.

He could be counted on to encourage classmates who were sad.

She worked harder on that project than she has ever before worked on anything else.

He invited the whole class to his party, even that one kid no one likes.

She is that one kid no one likes and yet she didn’t give up.

Make sure they know that what they accomplished this year is worthy of celebration.

Because the world is tough. It wears on our souls.

And this tough world sure could use a few more people who are compassionate, kind, and determined to make it a better place.                        Tweet: This tough world sure could use a few more people who are compassionate, kind, and determined to make it a better place. via @ashleydpooser

 

The Hindsight of Motherhood: 5 Lessons I’ve Learned from Looking Back

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment


hindsight of motherhood picmonkey

We realized we were done having babies. Our youngest was almost five when I watched some men load up our crib and changing table into the back of a pickup truck. They drove away, carrying all my original plans with them. We’d always said we wanted three or four kids.

That night, I had a good cry and some good wine, and let go of my expectations. We counted our blessings. We had two amazing kids who daily taught us life lessons of love and faith and perseverance.

It was almost exactly one year later that I found out Abby was on her way.

We never expected a six-year age difference between our youngest kids. We would have never planned it that way. They say hindsight is 20/20 and I have definitely discovered some major benefits of having our last baby so much later.

1. Everything is more relaxed.
With our first two babies, schedule was king and every hour of our day was dictated. I found that I was homebound most of the time due to naptimes, playtimes, and mealtimes. Now that I’m older and wiser, I know I have the power to create flexibility. Also, I’ve seen the other side of the mountain. I’ve lived to see that truly, one day they really will sleep. Or be out of diapers. Or be able to face forward in the car. Or whatever my current frustration is. I know it’s just the briefest of moments in the grand scheme of things.

2. Going along with #1, I’m not as rigid in my thinking or expectations.
There is freedom in knowing that I don’t know it all. And it’s okay that I don’t know it all. I don’t think I even want to know it all. Each kid is so unique and one method will work beautifully for one and not at all for another. I’ve actually saved myself quite a few headaches in approaching baby #3 as a blank slate. We’re learning what works best for us together.

3. Kids are stinkin’ resilient.
In my early days of motherhood, I was completely convinced I was screwing up so badly that my kids would never recover. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, you name it. Now that I’ve been mothering for almost a decade, I’ve learned that my kids are just awesome in spite of me. God is on His throne and my stupid mistakes in parenting are not going to thwart His plans for my babies. I just have to show up every day and do the best I can and He’s got it covered.

4. It really does take a village.
I once worried almost daily about each kid getting his or her “share” of me. I just knew for sure that I was failing at fully meeting any one of my children’s needs. Guess what? I was. One human being cannot be the ultimate meeter of needs for any other human being. We are not created that way. We have to delegate. I always thought the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child,” was all about the kid, but it’s just as much about the village. It’s a beautiful, mutually beneficial balance.

5. If parenting is hard then you’re doing it right.
I’m planning a whole separate post just on this point. Parenting is hard. Sometimes it hurts. There are countless, priceless, golden moments scattered like diamonds throughout this parenting journey. There are also moments when you feel like banging your head against the wall because you’ve doled out the same consequences for the same offenses over and over. It takes a lot of work to be consistent. It’s frustrating and exhausting. If it were easy, you’d be doing it wrong.

What hindsight would you add? Share in the comments!

Community Is the Best Gift We Can Give Ourselves

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment

I am so thrilled to have a post up on The Huffington Post today! Here is a preview of my post and I hope you’ll click through and join me to read the remainder of my story!

When I was a little girl, I was fascinated by the story of Cinderella.

Here was this girl who had a rough go of it but she worked hard and followed all the rules and her life turned out happily ever after. She made it seem so easy. As a teenager, I assumed if I worked hard and followed all the rules, my life should turn out happily ever after, too. Makes total sense, right?

(I know, I know. Quit laughing.)

These days, when the dishes and the laundry are piled up and there’s some unidentifiable stain on my clothes and I have to think really hard to remember if I brushed my teeth this morning, I want to throw something at Cinderella. Seriously. Even during her floor-scrubbing days, she looked perfectly lovely and was always ready to try on new shoes.

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Most days, I feel like the laundry is going to eat me alive.

I think Mommy Groups can be a lot like Cinderella.

When I walked into my first MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group, I was such a mess. I felt like I was failing at just about every aspect of my life. Just that morning, I yelled at my kids, snapped at my husband, and the dishes from last night’s fairly unhealthy convenience meal were still in the sink.

The ladies I met that Wednesday were very welcoming and sweet, but I honestly considered never going back.

They were all so put together. They had real clothes on. They smelled nice. It sounded like their families were perfect. Being there in the presence of these moms, I was forced to let go of the idea I’d been clinging to that no mom was perfect and no one had it all together. Because these women obviously did.

They were just like Cinderella.

To continue reading, please join me at The Huffington Post! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/community-is-the-best-gift-we-can-give-ourselves_us_5730cb33e4b046ff51c0e292

Lessons from the Middle of the Night

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment

“Babe. Wake up.” I shook my husband’s shoulder as he lay sleeping peacefully. “JAKE! Seriously! Get up! We have a gas leak!”

I was sitting straight up in bed staring at the ceiling and walls of our bedroom as they swirled before my eyes. My husband finally rolled over, still half asleep, and looked at me with concern. “Ashley. We don’t even have gas. You’re hallucinating.”

Hmm. That might explain the purple bunny I thought I saw hopping down the hall.

I was five weeks into my second round of motherhood and apparently not handling the sleep deprivation especially well. The two-year-old and the baby seemed to work together as a team to keep us hopping all night. Hooray for sibling bonding!

Fast-forward through seven years of glorious sleep, and despite not growing the third arm I was convinced was necessary for a third baby, we have a precious new lamb. She is nine months old and a firm believer that sleep is for slackers. So while my husband is working night shifts at the hospital, I’m working the night shift at home. Despite the occasional vibrating eyeballs, there have (mercifully) been no more hallucinations.

With or without purple bunnies, I have been learning quite a bit during these countless sleepless nights.

I’d love for you to click through to join us over at The Glorious Table to continue reading about the important life lessons that can be learned in the middle of the night. http://theglorioustable.com/2016/05/lessons-from-the-middle-of-the-night/

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The Joy of the Lord

~ Ashley ~ 2 Comments


The joy of the LordWe were getting ready for a dinner party but ended up in the emergency room. I was six weeks pregnant and an ultrasound confirmed my fears. There was no heartbeat.

This was the first loop of the roller coaster.

Two days later, I followed up with my doctor. There was another silent and still ultrasound. There were tears. There were a lot of labs drawn. There was a brief glimmer of hope in the doctor wanting to wait before making a final treatment plan.

More loops in the roller coaster.

And this is where we were on the day my husband and I were to head out of town on a very rare getaway to see Rend Collective in concert.

I packed my overnight bag in a daze. We had been so looking forward to this trip. They are one of our very favorite bands and we’d already bought the tickets. Even though we were emotionally exhausted, we decided to make the best of it.

The entire four hour drive was spent waiting on pins and needles for the nurse to call with my lab results. I called her twice with no success.

Finally, as we were pulling into the parking lot, the phone rang. The labs were inconclusive.

I walked into the concert not knowing if my baby was alive.

Hindsight is a precious gift. At the time, I could not wrap my mind or heart around what was happening and the timing of it all.

But now I know the lesson God wanted to teach me that night. And His timing provided the best way to learn.

The concert was not a show. Not at all. It was a night of worship. And, if I’m honest, I was not in the best emotional place for that.

But God is on His throne and the Holy Spirit is not deterred by emotions. The Lord ministered to my heart and I could not help but worship the Creator.

My Creator. My baby’s Creator. I knew I had to trust God in His plans. No matter what the outcome might be.

There was peace. Such peace. And there was joy. Which seems so improbable. But the joy of the Lord is not situational.

God was merciful to us and the following week showed a strong heartbeat and a growing babe. We named her Abigail (“the Father’s joy”) and we’ll be celebrating her first birthday in just ten days.

God’s divine timing had us in the right place at the right moment to truly learn about the joy of the Lord. In spite of our emotions, we worshipped with abandon and chose to glorify Him no matter what. We got a chance to deeply experience the peace that passes all understanding.

Tomorrow night, we are getting a chance to worship with Rend Collective again and I am so looking forward to it. Our life has been less dramatic lately but still tough.

The icky things of daily life pile up one after another and it’s hard to shovel through when you’re not sleeping.

I’ve just been so worn.

I’ve found that sometimes a strong faith comes easier in the dramatic valleys of life than it does during the long hot trudges through life’s deserts.

Thankfully, the joy of the Lord is not based on my spiritual geography.Tweet: Thankfully, the joy of the Lord is not based on my spiritual geography. http://ctt.ec/LGX28+

I’m looking forward to celebrating Him tomorrow night.

On the Need for Community

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment


on the need for community

Over Spring Break, I got a chance to sit out on the back porch of my parents’ house. They live in the quiet countryside of north Florida, surrounded by pine forest.

All throughout the day, the only noise is ours. Someone puttering in the kitchen. Someone else calling the dogs back in. Laughter and playing and the occasional argument between the kids.

But at nighttime, the woods come alive with a loud symphony of sound. Sitting on the back porch, with the frogs and crickets and birds all shouting their songs, God reminded me of something.

Each individual creature is tiny and fragile. On its own, it could be overlooked and not noticed. It could be forgotten, easily stepped on or quickly dismissed as insignificant.

But together? When they come together to raise their voices? It’s a choir that can be heard for miles. It will not be ignored.

The same can be true for us.

Individually, we feel fragile. But together, we are strong.

We are made for community.

I recently had the privilege of witnessing this firsthand.

Jennie Allen, a popular Christian speaker and author, was alone in a hotel room, trying to finish a book and realized her own need for community. With no real expectations, she tossed out a link for a Facebook group.

As of this writing, in the week since its birth, “Our Village” currently has 4,983 members.

Almost 5,000 people. Mostly women. Who immediately felt the need in their own hearts to connect and jumped in.

In the last week, I have seen hundreds and hundreds of posts. They mostly sound a bit like the one I wrote in my head and never posted:

Hey everyone. I wasn’t going to introduce myself because there are just so many people to know but I thought I might as well go for it. I’m so-and-so from somewhere. I’m a wife/mother/friend/sister/daughter/teacher. I’m glad to be a part of this group because _________.

And where that ________ is? Insert any one of five thousand incredible, unique, God-given stories. A story that might not have been told because there are so many stories that have already been shared.

And we tend to feel like our voice and our story isn’t as needed or as exciting or as important as the others.

But we are made for community.

We need to hear each others’ stories. And we need our stories to be heard. God made us that way.

For every reluctant introduction, the need to be known finally outweighed the fear of being overlooked. The need to be a part of something bigger than ourselves was stronger than the fear of rejection.

Strangers.

But strangers who are now a part of something bigger than themselves.

I have seen women jump to congratulate and cheer on successes. I have seen women humble themselves and bravely tell their truths once held hidden. I have seen women shower grace upon grace.

Strangers no more.

Sisters.

In community.

And again I’m reminded of the frogs, the crickets, and the birds. Each one a tiny creature. One small part of a much larger whole.

But together, we are strong. 

We are made for community.

But What About Saturday? Finding Hope in the Wait

~ Ashley ~ 6 Comments

Mom Confession:
Easter week has completely caught me by surprise this year. My excuses reasons: (1) We are on Round Two of strep throat in the last month. That would be six cases of strep in the last four weeks. That’s 120 doses of antibiotics. (2) We are on Jake’s eleventy billionth shift in a row. (3) Each kid has had a different school project. (4) Full moon. (5) No sleep. (6) First Easter away from family and our regular traditions. (7) General loss of mind.

So in a last ditch effort to reclaim some of the holiness of Holy Week, I spent some time talking with the kids about the days ahead.

We covered it all. Maundy Thursday, when Jesus and his disciples shared the Last Supper and Jesus was arrested. Good Friday and all of the events of that sad day when Jesus died on the cross. Then Resurrection Sunday when Jesus conquered death and rose from the grave.

“But, Mom? What about Saturday? What happened that day?”

My daughter’s question took me by surprise. I guess I had never really thought much about Saturday. We tend to skip over Saturday. “Jesus died on the cross and on the third day was raised from the dead.” Growing up in Sunday School and Bible School and Youth Group, it became rote. Just as 1+1=2, it was too often more like “Jesusdiedonthecrossandonthethirddaywasraisedfromthedead. Time for pizza!”

But Grace’s question got me thinking about what the followers of Jesus must have been feeling on that Saturday.

They had sold out completely for Jesus. He was Messiah. This was the real deal. Jesus was The One sent to save the Jews in what they most likely anticipated to be a dramatic and triumphant fashion.

They had literally up and walked away from their lives as they knew it to live on the fringes of polite society. But it was worth it because everything was on track for them to have a front row seat to history. And as they came into Jerusalem, they must have been riding high as the people celebrated Jesus. I can only imagine the adrenaline and jubilation.

How quickly it all changed.

In a matter of days, their hero who was here to deliver Israel, the one who held all their hopes, was arrested, mocked, tortured, and killed.

And on that Friday, the sun set on all of their expectations.

On Saturday, the sun rose. Life went on even though the story they thought God was writing was dead.

Can you imagine how long Saturday felt?

They had watched hope die on a cross. Their faith, so strong just days before, now broken and bloodied and lying lifeless in a borrowed tomb.

I take Saturday for granted. I say it all in one breath, “Jesus died and rose on the third day.” As if it were just the blink of an eye.

But even in the most important work in the history of ever, there is waiting.

There’s a day in between. A long, dark Saturday when all seems lost. When it feels like we’re completely on our own. When it all seems to be unravelling. When all we can do is look around a world of confused faces and wonder, “What now?”

Thank God he doesn’t leave us there in that place of loss and confusion. When we’re floundering somewhere in the middle pages of our story, he is not surprised at the twists and turns in our lives. He knows every page.

The Author knows how our story ends. He knows the stone gets rolled away. Darkness is defeated. Love wins.  Tweet: The Author knows how our story ends. He knows the stone gets rolled away. Darkness is defeated. Love wins. http://bit.ly/1pAIkfl

In the craziness of this world today, it often feels like we’re living in the tension of a lifetime of perpetual Saturdays. When our expectations of how our story is supposed to go have been shattered, we’re looking around a room and wondering, “What now?” We’re feeling abandoned.

Oh, friends. Hold on.

It is a cold and dark Saturday right now. But Sunday is coming!


What About Saturday blog

 

 

Dear New Autism Mama

~ Ashley ~ Leave a comment

Dear New Autism Mama,

You’ve never met me, but I think we might know each other a little. If you come sit next to me for a bit, you’ll find we have something in common.

You see, I’ve been there.

It probably started with a funny feeling. I know that feeling. It almost feels like a little flip of your tummy. That odd feeling leads to questions that you’re not quite ready to ask out loud just yet. And you worry if you give a voice to your fears, they might become real.

When you finally found the courage to release those fears you once guarded and protected, you might have found they were disregarded, belittled even. You might have been told you’re overreacting. You might have heard you’re paranoid. Attention-seeking. He’ll outgrow it. He just needs discipline. We’ve heard it all, haven’t we?

Then you probably entered No Man’s Land. That frustratingly long time between the first tug on your mommy’s instinct until you have an answer. For me, this was the worst part. You now know you’re a part of something different, but you’re not completely sure just what it might be. You do a lot of soul-searching. You do a lot of research. You consume every book and article you can get your hands on. You begin to see your sweet baby in a new light. No, he hasn’t changed. But his whole life will flash before your eyes. You’ll begin to get acquainted with the idea. You’ll want to reach out to people who get it. You’ll want to hear their stories and tell yours. But you won’t have an exact answer yet. You might feel like you need a membership card that you haven’t been given yet…

To read more of this open letter or to share it with a friend who might need to hear she’s not alone, please click through to visit Chronically Whole! I am honored to be sharing some words over there today. http://chronicallywhole.com/606-2/

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