Fight the Worry to Hear the God Whisper

September 21, 2018

Sometimes I can get pretty deep in my own headspace. Deep, deep. Like, throw your favorite piece of jewelry into the deep blue, only to dive in to frantically search. Holding your breath and propelling yourself as far as you can go knowing full well you will never find it again, headspace. Well, unless you are Rose from the Titanic and you have a team of submarines searching for the Heart of the Ocean.

Driving is when my headspace and I like to sit down for therapy sessions. Oh, and at 2:38, yes, 2:38 am when I seem to spring awake and toss and turn trying to solve every life issue from horizontal in my bed. Headspace you see can be a scary place. One that leaves you with regrets for things you haven’t accomplished, things you wish you said, or done different, moments in time you can’t take back, and sometimes the worse, the corner of headspace where worry likes to creep in and nest.

I am the ultimate worrier. You know Negative Nancy and Happy Harry (I made him up). Well if there was a person for me it would be Worrying Wanda. Every situation, good or bad, I fret. The anxiety that plagued me, yes plagued me, in my mid to late twenties has since disappeared. I credit that to having a child and being busier and more consumed by her and her feelings/needs than my own. But the worry nest still exists and has cute little eggs that like to hatch and chirp around causing me to dive deep into my headspace and fret over the future and most of the time, things out of my control.

If you know my father, you know he is a quiet guy. A man of few words. Just sitting with him quiet but near is really routine and nothing out of sorts. However, he is often full of guidance and sharp words to snap you back into reality, such as “Stop crying. It gets you nowhere.” I heard that a lot as an emotional teen. But as an adult when I worry, it tends to be, “Ashli, is it out of your control?”

“Yes, Dad”

“Okay, well worrying won’t solve the problem then.”

Or sometimes, I will hear, “Is the issue of life or death?”

“No, Dad.”

“Okay, then there is no point of worrying.”

This may be the reason the man has incredible blood pressure and an amazing heart rate.

You know where I go when I find myself drifting off into headspace la la land? I go to a place of purpose in life. What is my calling? Why am I searching so hard, so quietly within myself to know God’s plan for my life? That is my worry. And, I then worry even harder because I know it consumes my mind so much that I am indeed not acting upon my calling, and not hearing what my digital friend, Leslie Means refers to as God Whispers. The little voice you hear in your head saying, “Go for it,” or “Take the leap,” or “Yes, my friend, I do indeed mean that.” Indeed the worry is muffling my cell phone tower, aka communication line to God to really hear him and know what he is calling me to do.

Another digital friend, (I know I have a lot – blogging will do that to you), shared with us this week the death of her beloved sister-in-law. This young woman learned of her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer and within three short months, passed away. She left behind a husband, son, and countless family and friends. I do not know her, but suddenly hearing her story, how hard she fought, and the love her life brought others, has me trying really hard to not allow the worry within my headspace to win.

Oh, I am going there. To my headspace that is. Realizing how short this life is and feeling so sad that it takes tragic events in life to make us hit pause and reevaluate our positions, priorities, and paths. So, I go there ready to fight. Saying Lord, let this worry of not doing, not living my passion, not following my calling subside so that I can hear the God whispers and know what you are nudging me to do. Because I can feel your nudge. It is there. There is just a door shut and locked not letting Your calling out.

And, as the quiet man, I call ‘Dad’ says, “Okay, well the worry won’t solve the problem.” He is right, be gone with you, worry. Get out of the way. I can feel you slowing me down and not allowing me to reap the benefits of what is to be.

So today, I share this with you to urge you too to stop and pause and listen. Fight the worry and fear of what others are thinking or will think of you. FIght the urge to allow everything that scares you to turn you walking the other way. Fight the need to find excuses for why something cannot work. Fight the feeling of guilt for taking care of yourself. And instead, be open and listen, so you may find the God whisper that is trying to get through to you.

Baby W 2.0 Is A…

August 23, 2018

In case you missed it, I am pregnant, and in case you really missed it, I shared this post yesterday testing out popular Old Wives Tales that are used to predict the gender.

I remember when I was pregnant with Lo I swore she was a boy. It was just my intuition, and then every darn one of these Old Wives Tales pointed me to a majority report that she was also a boy. So when we hosted our family at our home for a gender reveal in which we learned the sex of our baby alongside our family, I was shocked when pink balloons came out of the box we opened.

Well, the verdict is in for baby number two and by the verdict, I mean the sonogram tech who asked us, “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” To which we responded, “YES!”

Drumroll please…

It is a Boy!

Yes, we learned this week that we will be having a son. It was a super emotional moment that we shared as a family, including Logan. This time we opted to find out with the tech actually verbalizing the sex versus last time when the tech wrote the sex on a piece of paper for our reveal party. When I was pregnant with Lo, the tech wrote, “It looks like a girl” on our printed sonogram. Not, it is a girl. So this set me into a panic for the next few months as I obsessed over the word, “looks.”

Lo has so far taken the idea of a brother well even though she was certain and excited for a sister.

The news also goes against most of the tested Old Wives Tales I shared, as a majority pointed to a girl.

We are super blessed for this life God has given us and grateful for the next journey.

Baby Reveal!

August 22, 2018

If you missed our little family’s BIG news, no worries, that is what direct links are for. See here, or, just read along.

Clearly based on this post we are having another baby and super excited to grow our family.

The first trimester brought a lot of toilet hugging, food aversions, crankiness, and tiredness, while the second trimester has brought my appetite back, creative dressing (as the belly is growing much quicker than with first), charlie horses at night, and night waking. One other addition the second trimester has provided, another glimpse at baby number two and the sex identity.

And, while we plan to announce soon, I thought I would have some fun with Old Wive’s Tales that are typically used for gender prediction. I thought it would be fun to see how these obsessed over predictions truly stack up to the ultrasound tech’s version of Baby W 2.0 (that is what I am calling it.)

So, let’s have some fun!

Carrying the Baby: Low is a Boy | High is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Heartbeat: Lower than 140 is a Boy | Higher than 140 is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Cravings: Salty is a Boy | Sweet is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Skin: Clear skin is a Boy | Acne breakouts is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Morning Sickness: Not a lot is a Boy | A lot is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Moodiness: Smiles and happy is a Boy | Moody is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Side You Sleep On: Prefers the left side is a Boy | Prefers the right side is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Protein: Craves meat and cheese is a Boy | Doesn’t crave meat and cheese is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Headaches: Yes is a Boy | No is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Heartburn: No is a Boy | Yes is a Girl – Winner: Girl
Swollen Ankles: Yes is a Boy | No is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Dad’s Weight: Stays the same is a Boy | Gains is a Girl – Winner: Boy
Chinese Calendar: Winner: Girl
Mayan Gender Prediction Test: Winner: Boy

Total Tally: 8 for Girl and 6 for Boy.

Only time and a sonogram will tell. Stay tuned… announcement coming soon.

PS – The Coffee Is Cold

August 12, 2018

The last two weekend mornings I have rolled quietly out of bed in the early hours, adjusted the curtains so no sign of approaching sunrise sunshine can peek in and reveal the call of the morning, tippy-toed out of the room, and pulled the bedroom door closed. Why? Because for some time our three-year-old has been failing the “sleep in your own bed” nightly quiz and finding her way to our bed sometime between the welcoming hours of oh say – 2 or 3 am, each night.

This results in me tossing and turning and bracing myself for impact as I cuddle against the edge of our queen sized bed. I am not sleeping. And, with my growing pregnant belly, I am forced to get creative in how I find comfort.

So when 6 am rolls around, I have had it. I am spent. And my only saving grace is the thought of a hot cup of coffee, and some quiet alone time while Logan and Nathan sleep.

People, so far this weekend I am 0 for 2. I swear my toddler has a built-in magnet that connects her to my body or some weird internal radar that alerts her when I have exited the bed, specifically on Saturdays and Sundays. Yes, on those days the radar is particularly so strong. What I want to know is who the heck turns it on during weekends, because weekdays, she could give two cares less if her peaceful sleep is interrupting my need to get out the door and to work on time.

Both attempts this weekend for some alone time have included a successful cup of coffee being brewed. I have indeed cozied into the couch and took advantage of On Demand, to catch up on any TV show that does not include the words Mickey Mouse, Doc McStuffins, PJ Masks, or Fancy Nancy, but just as I settle in, I hear footsteps and the door open and the whine begin.

Usually, her first words are “get me some milk” or “turn on a girl’s show.” Good morning to you too, precious one. And from there the demands continue and pile up.

This morning within 30 minutes and all before 7 am, I had already canceled my On Demand, found a “girl” TV show, made her a cup of milk, put in a movie since the TV show was not quite jiving. There was a baby doll that needed dressed, a baby’s hair that needed to be combed, I got yelled at for tossing the baby on the couch and being miserable (I was). We cried because she wanted me to stop drinking my coffee to make “Daddy one” (even though Daddy was still sleeping). Bitter? Maybe. We needed a blanket. We cried for a popsicle. We settled for blueberries. We asked what our plans were. We spilled the blueberries all over the couch.

No wonder we feel depleted some days before the sun.

I love this little girl with my whole heart and soul. She brings me joy and fulfillment and every ounce of happiness one could, but for the love of all things magical, this tired Momma could use a Mommy timeout or break, or just an hour alone in the grocery store today. Anyone else picking up what I am putting down? Empathy please.

Cue the sappy violin music.

PS – Coffee turned cold.

We Have An Announcement…

July 19, 2018

If I am being competely honest, 2018 has been a really tough year. Actually the last nine months have proved to be full of trials and tribulations. Moments marked by fear, sadness, heartache, and unnerving anxiety.

Last October, Nathan suffered an unexpected accident which impacted his sight in one eye and left us on a journey of unknown. Trips to a specialist an hour and a half away. The first week consisted of daily appointments which became multiple a week for weeks, dwindling to multiple a month, and then slowly spreading out over the course of months. We saw multiple doctors. We were introduced to the lead doctors at the eye institute as a mere, “must see,” given the rarity of his case. We tried a second opinion three hours away. Slowly this became a new stressful norm, and sure enough time has been our biggest ally. It eventually brought answers, peace, healing, and adaption.

New Year’s Eve weekend I miscarried. It was a heartbreaking experience followed by surges of hormones, emotions, and lots of what if’s and self blame. Being seven weeks along I felt afraid to feel or express the loss, yet I clearly dealt with the sadness associated with losing something. I quietly processed my emotions with very few knowing the reason for my sudden emotional change, because very few knew I was pregnant to begin with. Considering how many women experience a miscarriage, which is 1 in 4, it was a lesson and harsh reality in how uncomfortable the topic still is for people to talk about. Sharing this today took a deep breath in and giant exhale out.

The Saturday before Easter, life suddenly stopped. I woke up with a missed call and a very early morning text from my mother asking if I was awake. Looking at the time the text came through I knew something was wrong. My grandmother suffered a sudden respiratory illness which left her unconscious and on a ventilator four hours away from us, as she was visiting family for the Easter holiday. A week and a half later they removed her from the ventilator and moved her out of ICU. We were relieved by the idea of her progress, so I drove with my Mom for what we thought was going to be a trip to discuss moving her by ambulance to a rehab or hospital near home. Instead, we were blindsided by a prognosis that her lungs and heart were failing. I held her hand, and was able to exchange an “I love you,” before slowly watching her fade mentally and physically from us in a matter of hours. The absolute pain of seeing a woman I admired my whole life, a woman who was so strong, and unbreakable during hard times, lay helpless before me was one of the hardest, if not the hardest moment of my life. I could barely handle the breathtaking pain of realizing the magnitude of the news, so I excused myself from her room multiple times in hopes that helpless wandering through the hospital halls would help me find my breath. If you are ever faced with knowing that you are in a moment that is your last with someone you love so much, let me express that the walk away will be the hardest steps you take in this life. April 14, 2018, she died in the same room I kissed her goodbye in.

A few weeks later I sat in my doctor’s office. After the previous miscarriage and nearly two years of being unable to successfully grow our family, I learned my struggle was not without reasoning and was referred to a fertility specialist for some further discussion.

So, you can imagine my surprise when well before my upcoming appointment I learned we were pregnant.

Clearly, Logan is excited. I mean she has only been asking for the last year, with puppy dog eyes, why she doesn’t have a brother or sister.

Now you may be wondering why I led this announcement with such a backstory?

Well, first this is why I have been so quiet here. My mind has been swirling the last few months, and then the first trimester reared its ugly, “I am going to make you feel less human head,” and I just did not have the mental capability to write.

Secondly, I never want this space to be about a perfect life. Gosh, we all know there are enough blogs and influencers out there with picture perfect portrayals which has never been my thing. I want to connect, and hopefully relate. I also want to reiterate that I am not looking for pity. This is a story, my story, and leads me to my next point.

Third, life has a way of dealing us a deck of cards with winning and losing hands. If these turbulent nine months have taught me anything it is patience and surrender.

I have prayed, pleaded, bargained, screamed, and cried to God. I have started my prayers with, “I know this is about me again,” far too many times. I have questioned Him with “why?” And, yet, through all the sadness, heartache, pain, and tears, here we are nine months later rejoicing in His goodness, and this exciting blessing.

It is amazing how much can change in such a short period of time. God does not promise a life of happiness, absent from heartache, and He doesn’t deliver us our sorrows. What He does deliver is the promise to trust in Him through the highs and lows of life. To surrender to His timing, and to have patience in the journey.

While I give Him all the glory of this exciting new chapter and life, I can’t help but smile thinking my Meema had a good sit down with him in Heaven about this new little blessing.

We are excited to share this new story with you and clearly I have some great new content for this space and my social channels. Have I told you how much I love you? Thank you for being a follower and reading along.

Someone Is Missing

April 21, 2018

The day of her funeral I found myself feeling an immense sense of emptiness, sadness, and exhaustion. If you have lost someone exceptionally close to you, I imagine you can relate. The feeling is numb, with pangs of sorrow that stab your gut out of nowhere.

After the service had ended, after following the hearse, after a brief, intimidate family moment at the cemetery, my husband and I were en route to pick up our daughter from his mother’s house. The only way I know how to describe what my body and mind was going through is to relate it to a plug hidden somewhere on my body that had been released. You know, the plastic plugs that are placed on inflatable balloon toys? Someone must have pulled it from me. But, BAM out of no where, as if someone decided to blow hot air into the deflated balloon, bringing it back to life, I would be hit with the deepest sadness and reminder of her being gone. Sobs would overcome me and I ached in a need that I knew nothing could fulfill.

Family and friends gathered after the service for food and togetherness. I still find it odd that we as American’s observe the conclusion of death services with a lunch/dinner service. Usually eating is the last thing on most of our minds, yet we gather and try to carry on some sort of conversation with those around us.

As I walked into the room, holding my three-year-old’s hand, searching for a seat, I found myself subconsciously scouring the room. “Who is missing?” I recall thinking, my eyes gazing up and down the rows of tables and chairs, seeing face after face. “Someone is missing.” I felt anxious, identifying my siblings in the room, to make sure they all had made it back from the cemetery. There was my mom and dad, paternal grandparents, and cousins. As I made eye contact again with my mom, the words were on the tip of my tongue, “Who is missing?” But quickly before the breath turned into a voice, a heavy weight hit me, it was her. She was missing.

It is a moment, a feeling, and a reality I will always remember when I think back to her services. She was missing. She will always be missing.

And, that is the part that lingers with someone’s family after death. A feeling I have never experienced fully until she left us.

When someone suffers with grief – noticed I said with, not through, because we never get through the grief, often friends and family with best intentions will say things such as, “It will get better,” or “Every day it gets easier.” The sentiments are meant well, but being so fresh off of her death, it feels too soon to imagine those days. The reality is there is now a point in our lives that we will always refer to as with her in it and with her gone. Living now in the “with her gone” phase is a mix of guilt and sadness.

I find myself wishing for more time to make every day count. I should have visited her more. I should have called more often. I could have taken Logan to see her more and made more time. More, more, more – everything is about the more I wish I could have done.

Then there is the sadness part. Realizing every major milestone that now lies ahead of us, she won’t physically be here for. She is missing. A giant void is now in her place.

I am a Christian. I believe in God and I know she is living eternity in Heaven. I rejoice in knowing she watches me and her bright spirit is around us. We breathe her in. She walks beside us. She lives through us, she lives through me. But, I am here on Earth and she is not, and right now that does not feel like enough. That is where the sorrow begins and doesn’t end.

I read a quote shortly after my grandmother died, “Grief is love with no place to go.” Oh, how true. I have nowhere to send all this love since she is not physically here to receive it. Instead it sits inside my heart spinning round and round, and I sit here missing her.

– – –

Today you can honor her or someone you are missing by sharing kindness. I encourage you to spread love and a random act of kindness in their name.

Have Courage and Be Kind

April 15, 2018

Yesterday we lost my grandmother. A woman whose life I could never rightfully honor in one blog post, through one story/message, or in the character counts allotted by social media accounts.

Too soon to write? No. My Meema loved words. She was an avid reader. In fact, she could read a book in one day/night. It often amazed me, as I would typically gift her a book for her birthday or Christmas, and laughed when she would call me the following day to tell me how good it was. “Seriously? You read that already?” I would ask every time.

She loved my Blog. Often I would send a transcript of a piece, usually the really personal ones, and she would review them through Facebook messenger before I posted to go live. It is in these somber moments that I am so glad I picked up my laptop many years ago and decided to share my life with you. As writing is therapy for me, it has fruitfully provided me with a digital collection of moments between her and I that I can keep forever.

Every morning my husband provides a subconscious love language gesture. He brings me my coffee in bed. Every morning. He could be running late for work – coffee. He could really dislike me for words the evening before or a martial spat – coffee. It is a steady routine that I note and don’t take for granted. This morning was the same.

Although, on this morning I laid in bed, staring out the window as the morning sun arose, the windows open from this unseasonably warm weather, listening to the birds chirping as a new day began, and feeling the deepest of sadness, questioning whether to get up or just continue to lay there in silence.

“Have courage and be kind.”

Of all the mugs that I own, which are stacked on top of each other, and shoved into the kitchen cabinet, this one made its way to me. “Have courage and be kind.” I smiled and thought of her.

I have always said that the most beautiful thing in this life is that on our darkest of days, the moments we find ourselves in the Valley, the sun still rises. God willing, our eyes open and gift us another day on this Earth the most powerful thing each of us will do every day is to sit up, place our feet on the ground and RISE. We rise up. We stand. We pick ourselves up and live. When we feel like giving up, when we want to wallow in sadness, when we can’t go on, when we question every single thing swirling around us, we wake up and we rise. This simple act that we overlook every day is our resilience in this life. It is our courage to go on.

So I rose.

She was the kindest soul I have ever known. She was selfless, and throughout her years she gave and she sacrificed. Oh, the stories of her acts of kindness could write a novel. Something we talked about. Knowing my love for writing and hers for reading, she would always share her sentiments behind a story of her life. Whenever someone did her wrong, her way of handling the situation was to love a little bit stronger. I see my mother in her, and I see how much every one of us could honor her by being kinder to others and ourselves.

Today hurts. Tomorrow will hurt. Forever without her is going to hurt.

But I can honor her today by having the courage and being kind.

Loves Of Our Lives

February 14, 2018

I do not remember the day I fell in love with you, Mom and Dad. I guess that is what it is like when you are a child. You enter this life with complete reliance and trust. Strangers hands that God placed you in. You have no say in where you landed, but you instead, just land, and by the grace of God I landed in two sets of hands of a mother and a father who gave me a privileged life. Not in the sense of money or things (although I know, having a child myself, children cost a great deal of money and I never went without), but more a privilege to be in a loving, healthy home. A true gift of present parents who not only sacrificed in their own ways to give me and my siblings a life that was kind, but were so involved in our lives, we never had to question if our parents would show up. In fact, I never knew such a worry in life, because they always showed up.

And, because of all of this, my mother and father are natural loves in my life. It was never a love I had to fight for or stress over. Instead, it was an easy, steady, and constant love that has shaped and carried me through my life.

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Today You Are Three

December 20, 2017

Today is the day my baby girl, turns three. THREE! Seriously, I still do not know how that possibly could be. I look at the clock now, and think back to three years ago today, when she came into this world three weeks too early, but right on time for me. My little Christmas baby and present. A joy and complete whirlwind arrival. I think of her tiny little fingers and nose and swear I can still smell her sweet newborn smell if I think really hard. And, while I very much find birthdays for myself exciting, for Lo, they are all too often bittersweet. She has grown. Another year down. And, yes, I am grateful and blessed for this past year, it is too nostalgic to really think how quickly time does pass and every moment and milestone you thought just would never come, has come and gone. But, instead of focusing on my pitiful sadness of watching my baby turn into a little lady, I celebrate her and the many joys she has brought to me.

Today you are three!

Your imagination and the wonder in your eyes. Watching you pretend play is like living every day in theatre. You are so committed to your imaginary world and bring us in with your stories and play.
Your uncanny ability to hear a song play once and then be able to sing the lyrics upon the second time it plays. I cannot tell you how many times your Dad and I have looked at each other, “Oh my goodness can you believe this?”
How when we say our nighttime prayers, after listing all our family, you pause, giggle and say, “And, waterparks.”
The fact that you can without certain, determine if I have heated your bottle to the perfect :35 seconds.
Your sense of adventure and exploration. A distinct characteristic you must have gotten from your father.
When you ask to eat at “Chic FOR Lay” 🙂
Your idea of a Saturday. Shopping! Girl, your father is going to be in trouble.
Your my cuddle bug, and I love when you curl up in my arms.
Speaking of that you are my baby cakes and honey bee and if I address you anything different you quickly remind me that those are your names.
When you take your little hands and squeeze our checks and announce, “I love you!”
Your obsession with the movie ELF this holiday season.
Your big blue eyes and bright smile.
Your giggles and laugh really are my favorite.

Today you are three! But, as I explained to you last night as I put you to sleep, while two is now gone, my sweet baby, you will always be. Remember, you promised!

Happy Birthday, our sweet girl. We adore you and love you.

In Sickness and In Health

November 11, 2017

We stood in the farm field. It was a warm late-August day. The summer sun peeking in and out behind delightful white puffy clouds, shining through enough to give us bursts of warmth, but hiding enough to be our photographer’s dream.

The day was everything we had imagined and more. I, an anxious, worry-wart, managed to summons the calmness from the depths of my being. Unbeknownst to me, this chillness did exist and I was ever present at our wedding. Looking back I know I am a lucky one. Too often brides stress their way through their big day, but I truly enjoyed every second of our wedding and lived out each moment presently.

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