change change change

I sat across from a friend who dropped by on a break from her own packing day, having a little chick-fil-a, wanting to hear everything.  She was as lovely and open-hearted as I remember. Sometimes I have to pinch myself where I get to begin in conversations with old friends - its so good. And honestly, as a sidenote, it was one of the things I loved about conversations in Seattle, most people got to things that mattered pretty quickly. Very little chit chat about haircuts and new clothes, not that it doesn't matter, but you recognize them and then get meaty. This friend said after about three sentences of conversation, "I see that your footprint here remained but what do you do with all the ways you come back different? How do you honor what you've learned?" Bingo bango. 

She got there real fast but these thoughts go through my head most days and could be paralyzing enough for me to stay indoors. I can't lose what I've gained at real cost. I answered her that I hoped I could be as open to others as I long for for myself - just enough for it to be okay to say something different or wear something different or care about something new or care about something less - to speak new ideas about Jesus or feel removed from their spiritual journey - to hate sports and love trump (cant picture these but the numbers say they exist)  - Point being I keep wondering can we offer more space to each other?

Just before I begin writing, I was reading a card from a brilliant friend in Seattle who said her wish for me was that Jesus would grace me with spaces big enough and connected enough for my generous, wild heart and gifting. And I thought.... yessss. Thank you for that wish. Me too. For me. And for my friends. 

How can we invite change in those we know the best? Can we be agile and courageous enough to let them free, awaken, heal, change too? I know I prize familiarity and that i have to talk myself out of knowing exactly how someone will act so i behave accordingly to their box. Yet Im learning we all just want a little more give on the boxes, a greater opening at the top, a more robust curiosity for what's inside. So, as I close out this day, that's what I am holding close. I will fight for the places I have been awakened to myself and attempt to be slower and curious with others to see the same in them. Actually, the thought of it has me beyond delighted, because it reminds me how much more is in each of us that needs particular time and space and age to blossom.  Cheers.

Datin

We just needed to get out together. And somehow my friend Kim knew it before I did. So she told me she was coming over to sit with the kids so we could go. She didn't ask, she told me, and I knew better than to say anything other than yes and thank you. We have not sat across a table alone in too long. I miss him and with all the details of our days for the last few months we rarely get to talk about how we are really doing. So, goodness gracias a funky little ramen place on the light rail was the perfect start to dating again in Charlotte. It was a warm Spring night making it just slightly too sticky as we held hands and walked down the rail line for dinner, but we did it anyway. Sometimes I'm surprised at how hard it is to tell the truth to your favorite and closest person of how you are really doing, and sometimes I am still thrilled at how much we love to be alone. The conversations aren't all peachy and easy but they give us space to find each other on the map, even if one person is out to sea. 

Thank you Kim for knowing and making this happen for us. First date for our homecoming check.  

the little teachers

I pulled them both in so close to me I could smell the sugar from the donuts we ate on the way to the airport. Hannah chose Cuckoo for Coconut and Mateo ate his normal Raspberry Riot, and I had the French Toast for our final round of Mighty O donuts. I could hardly believe we made it to this moment. The three of us had been through some yo yo days as we packed and loaded and cleaned, and then lived out of different houses and cars for our final weeks in Seattle. It had been 35 days since Stephen departed for his new job in Charlotte, and in the 16 years I have been married to him I have NEVER spent that many nights a part. As I sat in between my kids I felt overwelmed with a sense of accomplishment and significance. I considered even throwing my fists in the air and shouting, "WOHOO!" Not because we were leaving but because we found our way with each other through a very complex season. 

Hannah and I had many talks of what leaving well looks like. Most days she far preferred just to get on the plane and go, she was SO done with the space in between. I get it. And yet when I saw her in her 2nd grade classroom, I saw the way her teacher and the kids appreciated and enjoyed her.  I knew it would catch up with her the bigness of all she was leaving. Laughing and making others laugh is really the desire of her heart at most times, and yet she is also very serious and aware. Her unique complexity made the days that were not funny at all very defeating and I watched her struggle with frustration, sadness and the body ailments that come with stress. It hurt me to see her trying to figure it all out and to know that some of the pain was unavoidable - we were leaving beauty.  I had to let her feel it to leave well. Many of nights we slept in the same bed and I felt such simple goodness in what the nearness of our bodies could offer one another in comfort and stability amidst so much change. 

And for my little buddy, I have been in awe. That his little body has endured the confusion of a dad gone for endless days when time makes no sense other than its too long. When you are driving different cars and staying in different houses and still you smile, and sing and sleep - oh my gosh you are an incredible small person I am cherished to watch grow. I am learning so much from you. And when you break down, you really really really break down, and its hard for me to be as big as I need to be in those moments, but when I can, and when I do, i am so dang glad that all you really want to do is curl in as close and tight to my body that life can feel remotely safe and known. I hear you buddy. I get it. You are incredible and resilient and teaching me. 

We did it wee ones. We endured some rough days, but I know you better know. I know myself more. I see that you actually caring for one another more. As the days carried on, I saw that your hearts too were drawn to one another, that you were holding each other more, and looking out for each other more - like you knew - we need each other the most. Thank you for teaching me so much and growing my heart for you in new ways. We made it to Charlotte and I love you more. 

First Fifty or Second Really - Day 1

I woke up easily even though the night's sleep was rough, my body slightly on edge with my radar up to hear Mateo's cry. He had cried out multiple times in the night, he was unusually restless and when I picked him up to comfort him I noticed his check was damp from tears and his body let out a different cry than I was used to hearing. I wondered if this precious brave boy was trying to process the many many hugs, high fives and goodbyes that were offered to him that day. The fourth grade boys who have been like big brothers to him had one by one picked him up and put him back down with words of missing and departing. As an adult it was a very dear leaving sight, but who knows what his nearly three year old mind and body were feeling through it all. And now he was attempting sleep in a pack n play in another new location surrounded by others carrying heightened emotions. Sleep often seems hard to come by when you are most desperate for it. 

After quickly downing a cup of coffee I laced up my tennis shoes for the final time on that coast. I saw the early morning light streaming through the windows and felt glad to not close out this season with a run in the rain (although that would make sense). I had only hours left before we would be boarding a flight to return to the East Coast and all I knew how to do was run what had become a pretty sacred loop for me. As the sound of crunching gravel began and my lungs started to find its breath, I thought about my first few runs around the lake and the joy I felt that we got to move to close to this beautiful water and trail. Then I thought about some of the funny sights I had encountered while looping including a woman walking her pet turtle on a leash, a man rollerblading in his underwear only, unicycles and dogsled practice, cats in strollers and everything in between. My mind then wondered to the times I ran when I thought my heart might break and the way the faces and the water and the Spirit met me to give me strength for that day. Running became space for me to be and to care for myself.  I remember when we faced the crushing and surprising unemployment and my adrenaline was high as anxiety coursed through my body and I ran so fast.   Then there were months when I would find myself crying as I circled the lake holding all the images of caring for my mother and then letting her go. And then the season came where I had to reintroduce running with a stroller as we welcomed Mateo to our family, and I prayed like heck he wouldn't scream the whole loop and I showed him every dog and duck I could spot. 

As I ran that final loop for this season of life, I felt surrounded by so many memories that mirrored the years we had journeyed in seattle - full, complex, beautiful, heartbreaking, stretching.... rising. And as terrifying as it all felt at time, I hope the rising continues as the paths change. 

not disqualified

Nothing can disqualify me from how Jesus loves me. I read that this morning and I wanted to overlook it like it was saying something I have heard 100 times. Except then I heard it for today. Just for today. And I thought, you mean if I totally blow it with my bitterness today, you mean if i curse under my breath, you mean if i have to apologize to both of kids at bedtime for my lack of patience, you mean if I attempt again to control my house, my body, my family image... then still I am loved. Like still loved, like deeply loved. Thank you Jesus. 

And here I am closing out the day with way less spiritual thoughts but still important notes I don't want to forget. 1. Carolina won the National Championship tonight. It was not a pretty game. Its slightly hard to feel excited even. Maybe they had Jesus too because it didn't totally seem like they "deserved" it and yes still they did. And I can't ever hate a W. 2. Hannah is really growing up. And I am delighted and terrified. She's gonna outsmart me in a second so my A game is back on plus I gotta start reading more again. I cannot miss opportunities to engage her heart. 3. When the sun is out, people are happier. PERIOD. It was a glorious day and I saw it on a lot of faces. 

That marks the random thoughts for day one of our new gigs. 

always learning goodbye

Saying goodbye is usually quite complex. There are the times when you are actually waiting to leave. There are times when instead of saying goodbye you hold on to the next time so there is no real goodbye. There are times when your insides turn because you know what you are leaving is precious and significant and even if you return you can never return in this way. 

Stephen is beginning our goodbyes as he heads for Charlotte in two days. I basically want to sit in his lap constantly for the next 48 hours because I cannot get all the warmth and comfort out of him to carry me until we are together again. This time it actually will not work to focus on the next because it is too long to hold onto these last days and hope that they can take up enough space in the ache of his absence. As we have anticipated his going first, we have come to realize so much more of all that he offers to our rhythms and our home.

As Hannah so knowingly said, "so things are going to get hectic around here." Containment and strength are headliners of the way he offers himself in this home. So even as her 8 year old heart anticipates the weeks without her dad, she knows, things are a little less calm and bound without him. Its a second pair of hands and much more its a second set of arms to hold and hug and care and nurture these kids. Its another pair of eyes that offer love and adoration. 

It feels crazy to be realizing that the first step in this particular move, this particular goodbye is accepting that we will face much of it without Stephen's presence. And we are all a little apprehensive and already longing for him. Much of this unbelievable significant life out here I will try to close out myself with the help of friends and family.  Again, as my wise daughter said the other night as tears streamed down her face, "this is one of those times when it would be really really good to have SuSu around. She would just know how to help me." Yes. yes. You are right. Exactly right. So here we go wanting to soak in every hug, every meal, every eye connection before we start our train of goodbyes. We adore you Stephen. 

I see you 39

It was a crisp perfect northwest day and we decided to take a last minute Saturday adventure. We got onboard the ferry heading to Bainbridge island with the sun warming the dock. I took a selfie with Hannah while we were sailing. I wanted so badly to post the photo because Hannah's face glowed, but i was stopped in my tracks as I looked at my face. The lines and creases I hadn't noticed before, suddenly seeming so obvious and pronounced. as did the baby gray hairs poking out under hidden layers of chocolate hair. I felt both distraught and proud. But still, not quite brave enough to share as the face still seems somewhat new to me. So I took a second picture of just myself that I could bear. One that I try to be more gracious towards. As I looked out at all the creative beauty around me, I asked myself again if I could include myself in that unimaginable good design and beauty. Even with those deep lines. 

I tell that story today because it resembles so much of what my 30's have felt like to me. Today I am 39 and i know that is not 40 but I am feeling particularly nostalgic to this decade of my life as I step with great intention into this last year of my 30's. Here's a quick snapshot of the 9 - I gave birth to my first child at age 30 setting the tone for a very new decade indeed. We have lived in 2 cities, Charlotte and Seattle, and 5 houses in the last 9 years. I've had 3 significant job moves between launching a new department at a large public university, my first go at being a stay at home parent, and directing philanthropic efforts for a small graduate school. We've been to Jamaica, DisneyWorld, Palm Springs, Victoria, Vancouver Island, Hilton Head, Asheville, Portland, Vancouver, BC & Mexico, on fun adventurous trips of which i am incredibly grateful to have experienced and shared. I've run two half marathons (one homemade and the other with a bib). I met an incredible woman who chose Stephen and me to parent and raise the son she gave life to and we grew our family to 4. Cancer moved into our lives in too prominent a place with my mother and I said goodbye (for now) to the most meaningful influence and presence of my life thus far. I attended my 20th high school reunion, celebrated my 15th wedding anniversary, and marked the 12th year of life around a dinner table with our beloved Grub Club. I met incredible new people in a foreign city, joined meaningful nonprofit boards, and witnessed the wildest ride of politics in the last 9 years I could possibly imagine. 

Here's the thing, I feel embattled in my 30's, and for that I am proud of every mark on my face because I have spent a good deal of the last decade in unknown territory  And also my palate is as refined as I could have ever dreamed as I have tasted and seen goodness I had not imagined on this side of heaven. I enter this last year of my 30's feeling the very sweetness of knowing both death and life in tangible molding ways. I cannot be the same and will not be the same and my life is only speaking louder and louder to what I hope will be the good I may uniquely offer back into the world because of each story I hold. This last year in particular has been a regular tension between wanting to lay down and surrender and rising with others so tall beside me that I found I had room to stretch out and up too. These 9 years have led me away from the concern of comparison and need for acceptance from those around me to a deep desire for understanding and acceptance within for my guidance and strength. And for that, I am immensely relieved and strengthened. 

I see this 39 and I hope I get to meet it with intention to keep taking up space I am meant to occupy for the reasons that match the stories that have led me to this time. And only those. I'm hoping for less distraction, good boundaries, real presence, more risks, continued opening, dreaming and strong movement. I hope for space to stretch out and up and a little less time down and scrambling. So today, I found myself around a table of woman enjoying grapefruit mimosas and dark coffee and we laughed and shared stories that mean something to us and we received them from one another with delight. And I think, yes, 39, yes closing out this decade, let's do this! 

Legacy thoughts on her Birthday

When my mom starting getting sicker and my dad wrote a post about it on a mighty oak blog, a colleague of mine at the time, came into my office and said, "I feel for you because I have this sense that you have both the privilege and burden of legacy." I'm not exactly sure what he said before or after, but that line continues to ring in my ear providing me guidance and understanding.

This are the ornaments Stephen and I made this year in her honor and gave out to friends at the party we hosted on her birthday. 

Over the last year there have been mini moments I've held that legacy close where for example i looked up from the frenzied mess of my house and saw my son's longing in his eyes for play or my daughter's direct invitation to play and I got down on the floor and entered in with the mini's in my home and let the mess stay for an hour longer. And then there have been other big moments I've held that legacy close like saying yes to The Allender Center's lay counseling certificate program this year (which i am now half way through). I find so much strength for the soul work there while imagining my mother's smile and nods as she sees me enter into my own story and pursue more understanding and healing for who and how God has woven me together. And today, what would have been her 68th birthday, I feel amazed as I think with more depth on the incredible redemption story her life told. I am allowing my mind to be full of images of her and memories of her and feeling such awe and grief as I give over to them. 

Although i do believe many individuals get much sweeter in their death, as I consider my legacy whenever I talk about my mom is to honor the fullness of her story and not to offer some picture perfect image of her life or my childhood. In fact, that cheapens the whole to deny parts of the reality.  So let me state clearly that I believe that I was raised by a incredibly good woman who had the capacity and heart for her family and community because Her God was MIGHTY to save and was THE source of strength, healing and passion for her days in very tangible ways. She was not perfect and harm was not evaded for her or for any of us. 

When I think about the whole of her life I am in awe of the reversal, the grand redemption story that her life tells. I wish I had asked more questions of the years I was scared to know about in her life. I wish I had asked for permission to share the pieces I do know. In light of both of those things, all I can say is that I am a daughter to a mother who embodies tender care, strong sight, logistical prowess, deep faith, unencumbered curiosity, truth telling.  A mother who also grew up in fear and learned to take care of self and siblings very early in order to stay out of the way of addicted and abusive parents. Knowing that I grew up with a woman who delighted in me, who sought repair with me when any harm or conflict came, who honored all my uniqueness and cheered me on my discoveries every step of the way. A mother who especially later in life could not be bothered with all the culture rules for girls but who always wanted time to dream and wonder and connect with my heart. 

On her birthday, as is the case with most days, I would give just about anything to be with her, hug her, ask more questions and thank her. I think on what life has looked like since I lost her and I sometimes worry she wouldn't be so proud. The burden of the legacy feels too much and I am curled up in a ball instead. And even then, i hear her voice telling me that she loves me, that I live with that same MIGHTY God and if I am connected to Him even balled up in a corner, then that is exactly where I should be. All legacy for His glory not ours. And as I think on those words, I smile, imagining that the angels must be really whooping it up celebrating her life and the glory indeed that was given to God in her lifetime. 

Happy Birthday mom, miss you much and still, you are with me. 

Advent Thrill

Every advent i have this strong drive to not miss a morning of getting up early. i tiptoe down the stairs and turn on the Christmas tree lights, pour a cup of coffee and sit by the quiet glow before all the hustling begins. Allured by the light and the extra sense of invitation I covet more minutes to wander. Most days right now when i close my eyes I just say God what, what am i missing?

My days feel especially recycled right now and the weight of the monotony gets to me. I have to wrestle down to my kindest settled self to know this season is not forever although it has felt so long. My dear friend gave me this beautiful card and the front just says A Thrill of Hope. I keep staring at it feeling the utter disconnect with the word thrill or hope related to this season. Last year this season was covered in dark. I have countless memories of pouring rain drives to visit my dying mother and then back to town for some festive event for my daughter. It was an impossible stretch. There was no thrill and actually very little hope. We were staring death in the face and in the very last face I wanted to see it on - and so I have no clue how to revisit the very season that is about anticipation and light and life when right now it only floods my head with memories of darkness and loss. 

and YET generously I am receiving this lure to relationship with God in a way I am actually unfamiliar. Because I haven't been given many words at all for understanding it. I am tripping over my own senses as I begin to reach out for this hand that is much softer than i imagined, the grip less overwhelming and gentler to get hold of me as my body wants to drop on the floor.  and I even get the sense that this God will sit right next to me and keep holding my hand if the floor is where i need to be. I picture showing to be with God barefaced and still being beautiful. It is one of the very few times in my life I see myself with God and it is not a productive scene, meaning we aren't accomplishing, saving, rescuing - I am learning again. I am curious and longing to know more intimately God.  

And so i keep showing up in the early morning by the lights with what is actually quite A Thrill of Hope - to shed and to receive more and new imagination for relationship with God. A relationship with one who can bear my condition and sees the dark I hold this season.  To hope that we may soon be up to much good work, and also that their is much more healing for me. 

Advent invitation

The season is inviting me to allow the space to pull the words that are circling my head and heart at a wild pace. I will need to make this space to stay alive this season, and by alive i mean remotely in my body through the days. I found myself floating through so many moments over the last 10 days that I literally had to tell myself, “your daughter is talking to you, your son is crying in the other room, you are in public at the store….” i sound a little crazy writing that down but I am coming to know the truth of grief again. It seems it can take you so extremely far into yourself or so very far out of body but either way, you do not sense a ground below you. 
As I was quieting myself this morning to welcome what may be out there for me this Advent season, i read from Communicating Across Boundaries Blog and stopped on this:
“It strikes me that there’s a profound difference between burying my head in the sand and lifting my eyes up to see above the muck. Both refuse to focus on the crud and horror of what’s happening. But one gives me permission to welcome what God is doing. Looking up allows me to make eye contact with a broader perspective and with Hope itself! If I look up I see above the landscape, I see the horizon, wide and eternal, stretching beyond what I now know, making way for what’s to come.” 
and i thought - YEEEESSSSS.  I devoutly committed a lot of good energy and years waving my flags of ignorance is bliss, I'm on a need to know basis, why focus on the past….my head in the sand. And in the last decade as i attempted to lift my head, I have felt like i have been facing oncoming traffic going 80 miles an hour then leading to an eternal red light. And as groundless as I felt for the last 340 days of living in a motherless world, staring nowhere, I am now resolute in my eagerness to lift my eyes. Even as I write that I think, no, you don’t get to do that yet, the pain is still so strong it will pull you under like quicksand. Looking up is denial Ashley, stay at the red light. Face nowhere while the grief rides out its endless loops through your body. 
And a deep breath later, I think, there is a horizon - wide and eternal - stretching beyond what I know, making way - you can get a glimpse Ashley. The glimpses are part of the healing. The hope that there is light out there - could I dare to believe with all my body is holding that there is goodness in the landscape ahead - goodness for me? Goodness to remind me that a MIGHTY God and LOVING son Jesus exists. And even to imagine a feminine MOTHER spirit that is beckoning me to look up, to receive the comfort of embrace, to be washed over with encouragement so that I may find footing again. Very much like a  waddling child, stuck in the sand, up again, seated for a long while with hopes to put one foot in front of the other, to stand without wobbling quite so much. 
Words do not seem apt to share the shakiness of my legs to near the mark of a year without my mother. Typing the words dries my throat out and soaks my eyes, it cannot be. Desperation runs through my shoulders as I deeply miss the comfort of her arms, her powerful words, her kind face… and there it is that I hear the faintest voice calling me towards new names for the God I’ve known since a little girl but haven’t called forward ever in this way - a MOTHER God? A comforter on my behalf? She who wants to give me goodness for goodness sake, A God that offers me rest and that looks at my face and smiles in delight? I can hardly believe this invitation, this new horizon that is so softly calling me into this Advent season. And my response is, “Thank you Jesus. Thank you. I had no idea.”