He is... here

"Hey-- I'm here."

It's His voice.
I didn't initiate.
He did.
A reminder.
He knew;
He knew this place is uncomfortable for me;
scary.
So He reminded me-- He's here.

I hate being home alone.
I've always hated it.
Night time.
Alone.
My mind has the chance to wander to the "what ifs."
I've dwelt my fair share of days in the "what ifs."

This didn't develop overnight.
It developed over many many years.
Elementary school;
middle school;
high school;
college;
and to now.
There aren't many nights of being alone now.
One of the perks to being married.
But every once in a while,
I get the "opportunity" to be again.

I remember the many times in college when my roommate would leave for the weekend.
How scared I was.
I was intentional the only way I knew how.
I'd pray myself to sleep.
Would often take me hours.
I hoped it would eventually subside.
That the fear would lessen.
Has yet to be my experience.
I'm finding that,
The fear doesn't change.
Our response to it does.
Our persistent-intentional awareness, declaration, gut-knowing belief that we no longer remain a slave to it.
It doesn't have to change.
It doesn't have to leave.
It can stay, even.
And we can become so beautifully unaware of its being-there; arms length away.
Because we are so aware of Him.
So trusting of Him.
He wants to walk with us into that awareness.
Into that place in Him.
A place where we don't even have to pray ourselves to sleep;
only to have to do it again the next night.
Instead it's a constant reminder that-- He's here.
Always here.
Always trustworthy.
Whether we believe it or not.
Until we believe it.
Until it is a deep seated knowing in our spirits.
It's then,
that those words;
that reminder:
"Hey-- I'm here."
is enough.

I am...sourced in Him

I fear writing this as I don’t want to perpetuate the picture that many people have already painted of me:  

That math girl.

To be honest, it’s not my favorite picture.

Don’t get me wrong;

I love that part of me.

I love me some affirmation in that area.

And yet-- I don’t want to be known for that.

It limits me.

And it also has me responding by putting much undo pressure on myself. 

(I realize that’s not anyone else’s fault.  Rather it’s a long practiced response on my part.)

To perform.

To understand.

To be the best.

To be perfect.

Let’s face it—math is a DOING activity.

And I want my DO to come out of my BE.

I don’t want to just be the math girl.

 

So, at the risk of being misunderstood...

My relationship with math has always paralleled life for me.  

And this is how I see it:

 

Our relationship with learning difficult math (the math we are required to do at various times in life anyways) tells us a lot about how we approach life.

What is our attitude when we begin?

How do we respond when we don’t understand?

Do we keep going?

How do we respond when we STILL don’t understand?

Do we STILL keep going?

Do we ask for help?

Do we go in with an open mind when receiving help?

Do we feel stupid?

Is our confidence in ourselves shaken?

How much of a time commitment and investment are we willing to put forth to ‘get it’?

How much of an emotional commitment and investment are we willing to put forth to ‘get it’?

Are we striving for perfection?

Are we trying to just get by?

Are we looking to understand or just make the grade?

 

Things that are hard for me to hear:

The attitude that “I can’t do it” or “I couldn’t ever do that.”

The attitude that “It just comes easy to you, Ashley.”

It doesn’t always come easy.

In fact it usually doesn’t  (at the very least FEEL like it) comes easy.

It’s usually super frustrating.

It’s an emotional rollercoaster.

I often spend hours getting nowhere.

Followed by an hour or two of many tears.

When I say I can’t come out to play, it’s not that I don’t want to.

I do.

I SO do.

But I am aware that I have many more hours ahead of me that night—attempting to understand.

There’s no definite foreseeable end point.

Not just one more page to fill in writing, a final edit, and a complete paper.

Math is not more difficult necessarily.  Not really comparable if we accurately evaluate it.  

But different.

Recognizably different. 

It creates a different relationship with the material than most other subjects.

No, no definite foreseeable end point.

Other than a long awaited and hoped for opportunity to confidently write “QED.”

No measurable completeness of one more page.

Rather, pages of scratch paper.  

Pages of getting nowhere.

Pages of maybe getting somewhere.

Pages of SO close.

Pages of, “crap I so thought I had it until someone showed me how wrong I was.”

And then somewhere down the line—a potential answer, maybe.  

Hopefully.

Hopefully by the deadline.

Hopefully before my mind is jello and I’m forced to just lie down and give up for the night.

In hopes that my dreams will reveal the intricacies and perspectives of everything I couldn’t conjure up in my waking hours.

I truly believe I am mostly good at math.

Not because I’m just good, but because of how I’ve responded to it.

How I’ve responded to the difficulty.

True, there is likely some raw talent (particularly in my math rapping abilities) but there is much to be said for my practiced, intentional mathematical responses. 

Same is true for us in life. 

 

So now I’m back at it.

Learning more and new (to me) math.

How do I respond now?

I can’t say the first few weeks have been a pretty picnic.

I’m sure Trayer would testify to this, much to my embarrassment.

But it fiercely reminds me of my need to respond.  

Intentionally respond.

Lean into Him.

And respond from that place.

Well, if anyone was at Bible Study last Wednesday, you’ll remember us talking about just sneaking away with the Lord.

Mark used me as an example.  

People should be asking, “Where did Ashley go?”

She snuck away for 10 minutes.  
To be with Him.

This new math relationship has created an obvious need and opportunity to sneak away. 

Consistently.  

Daily. 

As my food.

And also during my teaching moments in responding.

Our responses must be trained to be sourced of Him.

We can't give up in a specific area when that specific area is an opportunity for the general. 

I don't know if I am to finish this degree. 

I don't know if the actual monetary investment is completely worth it in the natural. 

I don't know what it will all look like.

But I do know that this class, this semester, is for Him to draw me into my source of response. 

In math, and in life. 

We must be sourced of Him. 

In all things.

[and all, in the Greek, means all]

 

 

I am loving

I am switching how I do this.

I am loving--with no expectation of change.

I am loving--realizing I could continue to get hurt.

I am loving--realizing I could be hurt even more and bigger than before.

I am loving--where they're at. 

Right there in the midst of the thing I used to try to call them out of. Thinking that outside of that thing, would be the answer.

But no, the Father is right there in the the midst. 

In the midst is the answer.

No need to bring them out. 

Love them there. 

See them there. 

Let Him do the wooing out when they've tasted His love in the midst;

and their hunger rises.

They must encounter Him; His love.

We partner with what He is already doing.

Already doing --right there where they're at.

Taking them out of that would be taking them out of what He is doing in them. 

No, don't force them out-- Join them there.

Love them there.

Feast on what the Father is doing there. 

For it is good.

He is good. 

I AM Gold

Each year I journal in preparation for the new year.  Usually a crafty journal like the two above. Because obviously crafty equals more fun.

2014:
2014's picture ended up meaning a lot of different things to me.  But it wasn't until just now that I think I have the owl figured out.  I had a very pressing desire for the word "Hope" and to make that owl in January of last year. I didn't know why.  I think I do now-- Last year was "Hope in Wilderness."  And it was one of my hardest years to date, but it was also one of the most beautiful.

2015:
2015 can't be wilderness anymore.
I've been there too long.
And He's been good to me there,
but the only one keeping me there at this point, is me.
If there's going to be difficulty or struggle at this point,
it can't be in the wilderness.
It has to be while I'm on my way out.
Or better yet, while settling into the new territory.
  
I find it no coincidence that as I began creating 2015, placing the stickers on to spell "steady," I spelled it wrong.  I had to remove one of the letters only to leave an imperfection in its spot and knowing that when I'd move that letter to its proper spot that it was not going to lie flat.  I contemplated starting all over.  Throwing out the paper and the sticker letters that I already barely had enough to begin with.  If I'm going to engage in crafty Jesus time it's got to be visually satisfying so as to be spiritually satisfying.

But I didn't throw it out.
I didn't start over.
I need to do it --imperfectly.
Because that's okay.
Imperfect, is okay.
Not wrong as I so often immediately define it.
Imperfect, indicates courage and boldness to move ahead.
Imperfect, indicates learning and growing and maturing.

Steady is in gold.  (Mainly because I didn't have enough of the black letters.)
My imperfect steady letters are in gold.
My imperfect gold.
But here's the thing:
Imperfect gold --is still gold.
About the gold:
Remember my description of  my heart?  (Go back and read, "I AM...full of Him and Icecream")
The door of the back room of my heart?
Solid. Gold. Door.
Folks, you're looking at gold.
A Foundation of gold.
A foundation of Him --pure gold.
About the imperfect:
The Father showed me another room of my heart recently.
A room with a bed.
I was jumping on the bed and Father was standing there watching me with a big smile on His face.
After a few jumps, I fell.
I sat, disappointed at my fall.
The Father just compassionately grinned.
He handed me a cookie, a sort of encouragement for jumping and encouragement to try to again.
I stood back up and began jumping again.
And again, I fell.
And again, He handed me another cookie.
And again, I stood back up to continue jumping.
Before long I noticed the wall on the other side of the room was lined with long tables.
Tables, filled with cookies.
Thousands of cookies.
He gave me a cookie when I fell?
At the moment when you'd think that there would only be disappointment at the mistake or the error
--the moment is met with reward?
Maybe there's a better word, maybe it's not a reward.
Nonetheless, the fall is met with a positive as opposed to a negative.

Imperfections do not mean He's not standing there.
Imperfections do not mean He's not right there with me.
Imperfections do not necessarily mean He's not grinning His proud Daddy grin.
Imperfections do not mean He's disappointed.
Father is there with a thousand plus cookies waiting to remind me to stand back up and keep going.

I AM steady

This isn't exactly how I wanted to start.
The race for perfection;
the pressure of perfection;
the pain of perfection.
It crushes.
No one's standard for me but my own.
I put this weight on myself.
My perceptions allowed the weight --however wrong those perceptions.
I live in one of two extremes:
Perfection, or not trying at all.
So naturally, I only live in the one extreme --not trying at all.
You fall, because you've forgotten.
You've forgotten, because you've been distant.
I've been down this road before.
Further down it.
The off-road walk back isn't far off at this point.
I've already gone ahead of you --trail is blazed. 
Come home.
The robe is washed and ready to put on your back.
Its weight doesn't crush, it fits --perfectly on your shoulders.
The crown is polished and shining.
It doesn't fit anyone's head but yours.
Come home.
Actually --you are home. Already.
Come back into the palace.
Stop wandering around the courtyard in circles.
You have access to the inner courts.
Come past the curtain you've so carefully rehung.
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
No matter how many times You say those words,
my whole self can't find a way to connect them to belief.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
No matter how many times You say those words,
my whole self can't find a way to connect them to belief.
Yet, I hear them.
There is nothing wrong with these ears of mine.
They hear everything.
Every word.
Every encouragement.
Every correction in love.
Lackluster feeling does not indicate stagnation.
Uneventful does not indicate wrong.
What makes you think I don't have you right where I want you?
What makes you perceive defeat?
This transition from just being to also doing, does not feel good.
This transition from doing sourced from law to doing sourced from being feels like failure.
It's not.
It's simply transition.
It's simply progression.
It's connecting and unifying the whole.
I see no defeat.
Steady heart keep going.
Your foundation is solid gold.
Nothing shaken there is damaged. 
It's time to build the rest of the house.
Steady heart keep going.
The pounding of the hammers;
The dust in the air;
These are just the rest of the house being put into place.
Steady heart keep going.
Rest on the Foundation.
It was so carefully and intentionally and solidly built.
Steady heart keep going. 

He is with us.

This is perhaps my favorite Christmas song.  

All I hear in every lyric, is how He is with us.  

SO powerful.

Give it a listen or two. 

I included some lyrics (with a few additions) below.

It's worth your time.

Lauren Daigle

Light of the World

The world waits for a Miracle
The heart longs for a little bit of Hope [the heart longs for Him]
O come, O come, Emmanuel [o come, o come, be with us]
A child prays for Peace on earth
And she's calling out from a sea of hurt
O come, O come, Emmanuel [o come, o come, be with us]
And can you hear the angels singing

Glory to the Light of the world
Glory the Light of the world is here [in us]

The drought breaks with the tears of a mother
A baby's cry is the sound of Love
Come down, come down Emmanuel [come down, come down and be with us]
He is the song for the suffering
He is Messiah
The Prince of Peace has come
He has come, Emmanuel [He has come, to be with us]

Glory to the Light of the world
Glory to the Light of the world
Glory to the Light of the world
Glory to the Light of the world

[For ALL]
For ALL who wait
For ALL who hunger [and ALL hunger]
For ALL who've prayed
For ALL who wander
Behold. Your. King.
Behold Messiah
Emmanuel, Emmanuel [God with us.  In us.]

Glory to the Light of the world
Glory to the Light of the world
Glory to the Light of the world

Behold. Your. King.
Behold Messiah
Emmanuel, Emmanuel [God is with us.  God is with us.]

The world waits for a Miracle
The heart longs for a little bit of Hope
O come, O come, Emmanuel [He's come. He's come. He's with us]

This Wilderness

And now

I will allure her

Lead her off into this desert place

Speak softly toward her

She will respond as in the day

When she was fresh out of bondage

The chains they fell

Freed her hands 

With Me she came

And said...

I will meet You in this wilderness

See You through all of my pain and my distress

The confusion and hunger

I won't be crushed under

For You my rock supply me with a life giving water

And I will meet You in this wilderness

And now

She'll call Me husband

She will no longer be called slave

I will betroth her

To Me forever and always

In deepest love and compassion

See through her flesh 

And past her stains

Call forth this daughter

And she'll say...

I will meet You in this wilderness

See You through all of my trials and all my tests

All the doubts and the fear

Will not cover the real

For You oh Lord my manna 

Spread and cover this field

And I will meet You in this wilderness 

And now

You've called me higher

Shown me glimpses of promised lands to come

Flowing with milk and honey

I won't believe the reports that say there's none

Just one foot forward

The water's gone 

Ground is dry

And I'll walk on

And say...

I have met You in the wilderness 

Saw You in and through every single step

In wanting and plenty

In all seen and unseen

My heart it trusts Your heart

You've put Yourself right into me

And it is time to leave this wilderness