​“The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”  1 Samuel 18:1.
 
All I wanted growing up was a sister. I had two brothers when my mom became pregnant with number four. I can’t explain how, but I knew I was finally getting my sister. 
 
I sobbed my eyes out when my grandmother announced that I had a healthy baby brother. Another brother. It just about did me in. 
 
Though I never got my sister, God has been so good to me by blessing me through the years with some absolutely awesome friends. Some of those friendships have only been for a season, but they have left a lasting mark on my heart. Others have stood the test of time and are just comfortable and precious. But then there are those few that are different; ones that I have a hard time finding the right words to adequately explain them. 
 
Grace is one of those.
 
Recently, her husband gave her a surprise birthday party. He asked some of us to roast/toast her at the party. He told me that he wanted me to go last and REALLY roast her! 
 
Oh, I got this!
 
 I began to think back over all our years together and to jot down a few roast worthy things. Then I came to my senses and went back and scratched some out because I realized that if I shared them, I would be embarrassing myself, too. And really, I am learning that it really isn’t all about me so the attention really needed to be on her. Far be it for me to take the attention off of her.
 
I realized that we are really different in some areas.
 
She likes to get on these health kicks, and when she does, she’s all in and expects for everyone else to be all in too. I, on the other hand, have no interest in torturing myself or anyone else. In the 90’s she got on this juice kick. It almost killed all of us. I remember walking into her house one morning and being met with a full glass of something unidentifiable that she had just juiced. She said it was carrot, but it wasn’t orange, so I don’t know. When she turned around I poured it down her drain. I am not even lying – the drain spit the stuff back up at me. Obviously, the rest of her family was doing the same thing because they had to call the plumber several times that summer.
 
She juiced 24-7 and she juiced everything. When the goldfish turned up missing, I was suspicious. Sushi in a cup? Just saying.
 
She likes to drive when we go places for several reasons. One, she likes to arrive on time; I do not. Two, she thinks herself to be good with directions; I can get lost in my backyard. One morning we took off to pick our boys up from a camp near Rock Hill, SC. Campers were to be picked up by 10 o’clock so we left pretty early. She was driving because she knew the way. After all, she had gone to the same camp growing up. We arrived to find our boys sitting on their tiny suitcases in the parking lot all alone because the other campers had been picked up 2 hours earlier…at 10 o’clock. If we hadn’t gone to Rock Hill by way of North Carolina, I feel sure we would have been on time. 
 
Did I mention that the camp was in South Carolina and that we live in South Carolina? So I really have no explanation as to why we were in North Carolina.

We are all waiting. Each day we all find ourselves waiting in one way or another. We wait in line at the grocery story. We wait for our flight to arrive. We wait for the stoplight to turn green and we wait for our much anticipated Christmas package to finally be delivered to us. Sometimes we are more patient than others, but through it all we’ve come to understand that these delays are not only to be expected, they’re inevitable. Waiting is just part of life. But when it comes to our relationship with our Heavenly Father, it’s one of the most important parts.
 
To illustrate this, I want to tell you about a tree called the lodgepole pine. It’s a tree that primarily grows in the Northwest US and like so many other examples in creation it tells a story of the Father’s heart toward us. This particular pine is so interesting because of the way it reproduces itself. Each cone on these trees is covered with a very thick resin, which protects and seals the seeds inside the cone until the proper time. As they fall to the ground they often remain under the tree for years at a time, seemingly unfruitful because there is only one thing that can release them. Heat. HIGH heat. In fact studies have shown that forest fires are one of the only naturally occurring events that are hot enough to melt this resin and release the seeds into the soil. A warm summer day or a heat wave simply won’t cut it it. As are result, there are often incredibly dense forests of lodgepole pines simply because of all the seed-filled cones which were grouped together on the ground; each one waiting for their environment to be just right for them to do what they were created to do. And you know what? After the fire has come and gone these trees absolutely thrive in the midst of what seems like complete devastation. Their seeds love the carbon rich soil left over from a fire and their seedlings pop up almost immediately after the blaze has subsided, revealing a brand new creation. To the lodgepole pine, fires are not only anticipated, they’re essential.
 
As we enter this Christmas season each of us is likely waiting on something far more important than a much anticipated gift or the thinning of a grocery line. We are waiting on God. Some of us are waiting for a better health report. Some may be praying for restoration of a family member and many still may be waiting for direction on what feels like an impossible decision. No matter what we are looking to Jesus for, he knows our struggle. He went through the fire too. And just like the lodgepole pine, he is carefully crafting us to be used by him and for him at exactly the right time. The heat that we experience in our trials and struggles is certainly uncomfortable, but it is beautifully essential to our growth in Christ. You see it is in the heat of the waiting where we discover what we were made for. It’s a refining process where we move beyond just knowing about our Father and we’re lead into a place of deep intimacy and trust in him. We learn to depend on him in our trial because after all the things we thought defined us are burned away, he’s all we have left.  As we intently seek the Lord in our waiting and in our fires, we will always find our purpose and discover his heart. Nothing is wasted.
 
So if today you find yourself in the fire, be encouraged. What often appears to us as complete devastation, certain death or total loss is at this very moment being carefully re-made by the hands of our loving Father. So whatever it is you find yourself waiting on, it’s not the end. It’s the beginning of a brand new miracle.

The other morning I woke up, sat down, prayed that God would show me something in His word and then asked that He would tell me what to do with it... here it is.

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I’m currently reading the book of John chapter 4, where John recalls Jesus declaring His Messiahship to the woman at the well. He begins describing this metaphor for living water and never thirsting again, but in this passage she just wasn't following Him. Jesus was trying to speak to her spiritual needs and when that didn’t work, He kind of called her out.


Now, I don’t want to make Jesus sound rude or insensitive, but He knows us, right? Sometimes (often times) we need to be told straight up, how things are in our lives. I am a real person and I need to be talked to in the same way. Too much fluff and flowers and you can lose my very direct, straight forward mind.


This woman at the well had been with several men and Jesus brought it up to her. She was at the well at a time when no one else was, due to what I imagine was great shame and shunning by her community. But Jesus met her there AND acknowledged her.


After talking with Jesus, the woman was so moved by her encounter with Him, the one who knew all of her sins and still offered her an eternal “well of life."  He showed up and her shame left.  Scripture says that she left her waterpot at the well and went straight to the townspeople in the city to tell them of her experience with this man called Jesus! 

But here, in just a moment... it was gone. And as a result, she reached out to others who were then so moved by her words, her testimony, that they left the city and went to find Jesus. 
​

How often do we let fear of others or influence of others keep us from sharing what God has done in our lives or better yet, BROUGHT US THROUGH? We've all done things, said things, experienced things that we are not proud of. That's called sin.


My name is Ashley, and I am a sinner. I sin. Every day. Major bummer.


Ok, now that that's out of the way, guess what?....


There is forgiveness for that, BUT....and it's a big one...there is also an undeniable influence in that! When we turn our shame into a testimony of what God has done, that brings Him GLORY! And glory is evidence of Him; it's showing the world that my God is real, and here's how...


"But I don't want to share this horrible thing with others!" ...no one is making you, but if you have come out of it, whatever situation "it" is or was, there is a story to tell. Maybe your ending was better than you could've imagined, or maybe it was worse than anything you've ever experienced...either way, don't let the shame keep you at the well by yourself.

Maybe you're there, at the well, pulling up your bucket and you don't even see Jesus anywhere, so how could you possibly hear from Him?


Invite Him.


Ask Him to meet you at the well. Sitting by yourself with nothing but your shame, looking for something, anything, that will fill the longing you have. the thirst. the hunger. 


He will meet you. But you've gotta be at the well...that place of humility where you know no one else is gonna show up and sit with you. It's gonna be hard. But if we don't all go there at some point, our shame will keep us so far from the one who takes away our sin. The one who breathes life and love back into us again. 


I think that's why God gave me these words. Too many people I know are walking through tough things right now, but not sharing it with anyone because of their shame. Because of their concern with other people's perception of them or their situation. 


Maybe you know someone who is walking through something right now. And man, it looks bad. It's covered in filth and what looks like a long road and so you've just checked out. You've left them in the middle of their shame, all for a little less "ick" and a lot more comfort on your end. I get it. I've been there before too. But maybe try and revisit that person or situation. Maybe it's only in prayer, but maybe it's also in person. There's nothing that says "I'm here for you" like a warm, living, breathing, body knocking on your door. 


So I want to challenge you. I want you to think about your life, or maybe it's someone else's life that comes to mind, and I want you to pray and ask God to help you. Maybe helping you looks like bringing you to a place of humility, so that you can make your way to the well. Or maybe helping you looks like the Holy Spirit giving you courage and grace to step back into someone's life who could really use a friend...and if you have a box of donuts and a movie, those wouldn't hurt to carry on you either.


​Sometimes we need those too. 


With love & laughter,



​Ashley 

1st Photo by Qang Jaka on Unsplash
2nd Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash
3rd Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash

For those of you who are walking through a difficult season right now this excerpt from A Praying Life by Paul Miller might be exactly what you need.
 
 
People of faith live in the desert. Like Abraham, they are aware of the reality of their circumstances but are fixed on hope. Paul describes how “in hope (Abraham) believed against hope” (Romans 4:18).
 
The hardest part of being in the desert is that there is no way out. You don’t know when it will end. There is no relief in sight.
 
A desert can be almost anything. It can be a child who has gone astray, a difficult boss, or even your own sin or foolishness. Maybe you married your desert.
 
God customizes deserts for each of us. Joseph’s desert is being betrayed and forgotten in an Egyptian jail. Moses lives in the Midian desert as an outcast for forty years. The Israelites live in the desert for forty years. David runs from Saul in the desert. All of them hold on to the hope of God’s Word, yet face the reality of their situations.
 
The theme of the desert is so strong in Scripture that Jesus reenacts the desert journey at the beginning of his ministry by fasting for forty days in a desert while facing Satan’s temptation. His desert is living with the hope of the resurrection yet facing the reality of His Father’s face turned against Him at the cross.
 
The Father turning His face against you is the heart of the desert experience. Life has ended. It no longer has any point. You might not want to commit suicide, but death would be a relief. It’s very tempting to survive the desert by taking the bread of bitterness offered by Satan – to maintain a wry, cynical detachment from life, finding a perverse enjoyment in mocking those who still hope.
 
God takes everyone He loves through a desert. It is His cure for our wandering hearts, restlessly searching for a new Eden. Here’s how it works.
 
The first thing that happens is we slowly give up the fight. Our wills are broken by the reality of our circumstances. The things that brought us life gradually die. Our idols die for lack of food.
 
The still, dry air of the desert brings the sense of helplessness that is so crucial to the spirit of prayer. You come face to face with your inability to live, to have joy, to do anything of lasting worth. Life is crushing you.
 
Suffering burns away the false selves created by cynicism or pride or lust. You stop caring what people think of you. The desert is God’s best hope for the creation of an authentic you.
 
Desert life sanctifies you. You have no idea you are changing. You simply notice after you’ve been in the desert awhile that you are different. Things that used to be important no longer matter.
 
After a while you notice your real thirsts.
 
The desert becomes a window to the heart of God. He finally gets your attention because He’s the only game in town.
 
You cry out to God so long and so often that a channel begins to open up between you and God. When driving, you turn off the radio just to be with God. At night you drift in and out of prayer when you are sleeping. Without realizing it, you have learned to pray continuously. The clear, fresh water of God’s presence that you discovered in the desert becomes a well inside your own heart.
 
The best gift in the desert is God’s presence. We see this in Psalm 23. When you go through “the valley of the shadow of death,” He is right next to you. The protective love of the Shepherd gives you the courage to face the interior journey.
 
When you don’t receive what you pray for or desire, it doesn’t mean that God isn’t acting on your behalf. Rather, He is weaving His story. Paul tells us to “continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving” (Colossians). Thanksgiving helps us to be grace-centered, seeing all of life as a gift. It looks at how God’s past blessings impact our lives. Watchfulness alerts us to the unfolding drama in the present. It looks for God’s present working as it unfolds into future grace.
 
Watch for the story God is weaving in your life. Don’t leave the desert. The best is yet to come.
 
 
Excerpts taken from A Praying Life by Paul Miller 

Pain in this life is a given.
 
It is unavoidable.
 
It will happen.
 
It is a foolish endeavor to attempt to avoid it touching our lives. Seasons of pain come and go. Sometimes the season is short but sometimes those seasons seem endless. Sometimes the pain is of our own doing, a consequence of a rebellious spirit. Other times, we are blindsided by life and we find ourselves in the crosshairs of a fallen world.
 
What do we do when we find ourselves in a season of unrelenting pain and hardship? If pain is inevitable, then there must be some kind of help out there for the afflicted, some Divine provision for a hurting soul.
 
Maybe we need to change our understanding of pain and it’s purpose in our lives. Sometimes it just helps to know something has purpose.
 
What would happen if we saw pain as a tool? Then recognizing how that tool is used in our lives would be hugely significant.
 
Let me explain.
 
If pain is a tool, then we need to recognize whose hands hold the tool.
 
If the tool finds its way into the hands of the enemy, we can be sure that it will be used to cripple us, maybe even destroy us. We know the enemy wants to steal, kill, and destroy. John 10:10
 
But, if the tool finds itself in the hands of a loving Father, then we can be assured that the tool will be used to chisel and shape us into something beautiful. We could then claim Romans 8:28 with absolute certainty. We could know beyond any shadow of a doubt that, “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” Armed with that assurance, we could stand up under the weight of any pain.
 
We don’t often have a choice as to whether pain enters our lives or not, but when it does, we do get to choose whose hands will hold the tool.
 
Choose your carpenter wisely.
 
Have a great week,
Louise
 
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  James 1:2-4

Yesterday was a first of an upcoming year of firsts. In January, my mom went home – to her real home. So this was my first Mother’s Day without a mom, without my Mama. I really wanted to just move on past the day and pretend that it wasn’t Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way so I just kinda muddled through the day.
 
I was so blessed to have precious friends send sweet texts throughout the day. One even made the most amazing cake to let me know that she was thinking about me. I was blessed to have most of my children with me but, and I hate to admit this, I just wasn’t feeling overly grateful for the blessings that were around me.
 
This morning a sweet friend said, “You made it through your first ‘first’. You did it.” She knows what she’s talking about because she has walked this same road. She knows that there will be many “firsts” this year. As I left her house to head home, I started thinking about how much I don’t want to just make it through the next year of “firsts”. 
 
As I drove, I began to become so aware of my ungrateful heart. God had so lovingly surrounded me with loving friends and family and I had just neglected to recognize it. But then He brought a precious memory to my mind. I want to share it with all of you, especially any of you who, like me, have a year of “firsts” ahead.
 
Back in January, early on a Monday morning, my Dad called to let me know that he thought Mama had just had a stroke and she was in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. We had made several trips to the hospital over the last few months. Her health had been declining and her body was worn out. I remember that my only prayer on the way to the hospital was just that God would be merciful and that her suffering would not escalate even more.
 
When we got to the hospital, she was on a respirator and was heavily sedated. We were told that she had had a catastrophic brain bleed. After a few more tests and much prayer, the decision was made to remove the respirator. That night, her family surrounded her as she took her last breath.
 
One by one, family left the room until the only two left were my son, Dalton, and me. His eyes were swollen and red and I knew his heart was crushed. I didn’t want to leave him in the room by himself so I just stood there, watching him out of the corner of my eye. My own heart was so heavy as the finality of what had happened sank in.
 
But as we stood there in that dark, cold room the most amazing thing happened. All of a sudden, Dalton’s eyes grew wide and his whole face lit up. “Mama, just think what she’s seeing right now…can you imagine what she’s seeing right now!” It was as if God had cracked the door to heaven just enough to allow us a tiny glimpse of what the real reality was. The whole room seemed to light up.
 
His words washed over me like a river of healing water as I was reminded that the empty shell lying in the hospital bed was nothing more than just that, a shell. But my Mama, well, she was face to face with her Savior. No more pain. She was free. And maybe, she was even dancing.
 
The reality of what death is for those of us who belong to Christ had escaped me for just a moment. But my son’s words reminded me that the truth is, “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” (2 Cor. 5:8)
 
Who was I to want anything else for her?
 
So, as I drove home today, I realized that I, again, had lost sight of the truth. I confessed my ungratefulness to my Father and asked that He renew a right spirit in me. I told Him that for the rest of my year of “firsts” without my Mama, I was going to celebrate her year of “firsts” with Him. I was going to just imagine what she was seeing and how she looked now that she was fully healed.
 
I also had to smile because I’m pretty sure she is rearranging all the furniture in the Mansion and telling the angels what to do.
 
Have a great week!
Louise