Home again, home again, jiggety jig

This little pig.

:)

I'm home again! YAY!! It is wonderful to be moved back in with my roommates, and I almost feel like I never even left. Oh the irony.

But then I think back to the many long, silent nights where I was entertained by one of several things: dvd's, phone conversations, worship, cooking, reading, or...well...that's about it. And then I remember what I went through before being home again, home again, and everything is once again "jiggety jig."

Work is swell. I jumped right back into things. Still haven't recovered from lack of sleep. But somehow I'm awake and thriving. Probably all of the adrenaline from being back home.

Also, fyi: things are much better concerning my faith. I have walked through the valley and survived. Still pressing on toward holiness. Many questions remain unanswered, but then I didn't expect them to be answered wholly. That'll happen eventually. I just know that, for some reason, this awesome God I serve actually loves me--the sick, sinful, blackened Ashley. And he doesn't just love me, "the King is enthralled with [my] beauty"--and yours too. Sometimes, you just have to battle the lies in the mind and defeat it with the truth of Christ and Scripture. He's set us free SO THAT we might be FREE INDEED. Hallelu.

Waiting waiting, still waiting...

I've packed my boxes, (still need to clean), and had to throw away some food (which I hate doing) ALL because I am coming home!!! WHOO HOO!! I can't believe it. I mean seriously, I feel like it was just yesterday that I had dropped off my roomie at the airport at DIA (Denver International Airport) and began the laborious 1.5 hour drive from Denver to Brush--my teeth chattering, my nerves afray, and every pore crying out to God that He would have mercy on little ol' me.

And He did.

Through the thick of nights through which I didn't think I could make it alone, I survived.

Through the slime of loneliness, I survived.

Through the joy of living on my own, I survived. And I was safe--that in itself is testimony. I was never in harm's way (that I knew of) but enjoyed safety as a single woman traversing a few wild cities by myself.

P.S. And lastly, I lay in bed last night with the biggest grin on my face and in my heart. I love my boyfriend. Many people are happy for the future I have with this man, but some revel in the surety of my youth. But I am so happy with him. Not just happy, but ready and willing to be married. I am young, yes--but not as young as I could be--23 is a happy age. I am oh so excited, oh so BLESSEDLY assured that God is and will be pleased, and oh so content in my heart of hearts. I was smiling. I am smiling. God is good, and He has blessed me with an incredible man of God. I don't intend to lose him.

And then...

So my journey is tough.

I wrote the psalm below early today, and then I embarked on a grand journey outside at the park. Nobody was around, the sun shone brilliantly on my white skin, and the storm clouds raced in in the distance.

I am battling. The shofar blew.

My faith is dwindling. Catch it, Jesus. Catch me.

An incredibly important thing that I learned in my talk/prayertime/cry to God in the park was...

My lack of faith resides in the fact that, slowly, my thirst for God has been drying up. My hunger for His Word: fading. It didn't happen all at once, but slowly. So slowly that I have been walking around a lame, starving woman for long enough that I didn't even realize it until my life began to hold no joy. Because my thirst and hunger were dying, I didn't even FEEL like I needed Him. Instead, anger and bitterness, jealousy and rage, began to take the places of sweetness, joy, and patience in my heart.

I don't like that person I have been slowly becoming.

So the shofar blew. The war of decision waged in my mind. Would I choose to remain obedient, or act out in my starvation by filling it with what my flesh wants in my own timing? Would I choose to confess Jesus as Lord of my life? As Lord?

Would the delude of doubt flooding through my thoughts and infecting my words break forth and dominate me? Would I look back and be turned into a pillar of salt? A pillar of nothing but dust, with no depth or shape or meaning?

I cried out. Instead of continuing to hold back the emotions, the pain, the frustration, I let them free in speaking with God. I was real with Him. Aren't we supposed to be?

And when I was finished, all of my strength was gone. Nothing left. Just a lone woman, sitting on a blanket in an empty park, with my knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them, hair blowing in the wind--vulnerable, weak, empty. But so desperately hoping. WANTING Him to ride in and deliver me. O God, SAVE ME.

So I surrendered my life. I confessed it again. In faith--believing without seeing. I have several Scripture verses memorized, so I spoke some of them aloud, to the wind, to God who inclines His ear to me, believing that if He said it, He will do it: "Draw near to me, and I will draw near to you." So I made every effort to draw near to Him, coming just as I am, and believed he would likewise fulfill His end of that Scripture.

I did not have, what I like to call, a "see-the-light" moment where I was overcome by the presence of God and KNEW He was there. Instead, I asked for Him to begin to show me about Himself. About his peace, about his grace, about his love. That He is loving. And that I am His beloved. As my boyfriend loves me...well...God loves me more. As my parents love me, God loves me more.

And thus, here I sit writing you the story of my day. The journey of my day. I'm exhausted. Things aren't perfect now, but in confessing out loud that: "I WILL be faithful to God, in whom resides my hope for salvation through His risen Son Jesus Christ," I am better. I must not allow my hunger and thirst for Him to dry up. Because if it does, then that's all that will be left: a dry, barren wasteland. But I, Ashley, am not created to be a dry, barren wasteland. I'm created to be filled to the overflowing with life. To radiate the Son. To radiate warmth, hope, joy, and love--life that is not just around me, but INSIDE me.

My psalm

Sometimes a psalm is the only thing I'm capable of producing to express the deepest experiences of my life. This is a glimpse of my cry right now.

Tired of guilt
Tired of pain
Where are You?
O God, where are you?

Incline your ear to me and meet me
For I am drying up.

A wretched maid am I
My soul twists and burns within me.
Deliver me. As deep cries out to deep,
Deliver me!

My spirit is weak. My spirit is WEAK.
But O Lord you are my strength,
My portion forever.
Do not hide Yourself from me for long.

Please God, incline your ear to me and meet me
For I am drying up.

I will say of the Lord: He is my strong tower.

For rivers of living water will flow from your belly.

Dust mites in your bed???

It's true, you have thousands of dust mites in your bed. Yep. Every time you go to curl up in your nice warm covers, you're curling up with thousands of miniscule little buggies. Eew. I'm getting the jeebies.

Besides the fact that I hate bugs (well, hate is a strong word. I just hate when they are near me. I know they're crucial to the environment and all that, you know, REALISTIC stuff, but ick), bugs are also incredibly scary. Yes, that's right, I said scary. They creep and crawl, bursting around corners unexpectedly, dropping stealthily from ceilings, jumping at you for no reason. HORRIFYING!

But you know what? I do like a few bugs. I say like. Not love. I still have a respectful fear of the little creeps.

The following bugs are those that I like (and my reasons behind this tentative "likeness"):

1. Butterflies. They're pretty, of course. I'm a girl, did you really expect another bug to be first on my list? :)
2. Lady bugs. They're cute. Except one did pee in my mouth when I was riding my bike as a child. That was gross.
3. Potato bugs. They don't move that fast and they curl up when they're scared. Me too.
4. Lightning bugs. So cool.
5. Worms. I don't know...they can't bite, they can't move that fast, and they are sorta helpless. My motherly instinct almost kick-in when I see one.
6. Dust mites. Yep, it's true, they're on my list. Why? Because if we didn't have these little buggars in our beds, the little flakes of skin that rub off when we sleep would be in heaping PILES in our sheets and mattresses. That is even sicker than the mites. (fyi, what made me think of these dust mites is the fact that I got a sunburn this past weekend and it is now healing. Of course, with healing sunburns comes peeling of white flaky skin. I hate flaky skin with a passion. So, I'm especially thankful that these small bugs eat my dead skin flakes. Yes, I'm sorry, once again: SO GROSS.)

Toodles. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite.

(By the way, "bed bugs" are not dust mites. They are little red bugs that are incredibly nasty. They really do exist. But hopefully...just not in your bed.)

Cruisin' the countryside

So I enjoyed a bike ride with a lady from work (and her 12-year-old nephew) this evening after work. It was rad.

First off, the nephew is the coolest. He does 4H, has his own calf he's raising, and seems to have a grasp on some of the important things of life. Like the fact that money is not everything (I'm always impressed by kids who can live happily without the most expensive items).

Second, we biked for about 4 miles. Yep. My legs are a wee bit sore. It was great.

Third, the lady's relatives are German. Her mother grew up in Germany under Hitler's reign, and the mother's 2 brothers served in Hitler's regime. At one point, they were both POWs before Germany started losing the war. It was fascinating because this mother had NO idea what Hitler's army really did until later. She really remembers thinking (regarding the Jews in her neighborhood who suddenly started disappearing) "Where are all the Jews going?" No idea until later that Hitler was insane and a murderer. Fascinating. Hard to imagine. Something like modern day North Korea?

Fifth, I'm so torn! I love the city AND the country. Maybe I'll have a little farm in the middle of a city. A happy medium.

Sixth, honestly, I'm a little nervous to move back into our small apartment with my roommates. I've had so much space here by myself. And now? Sharing a teeny room, with a teeny closet (shared by TWO girls), and sleeping in a small bunkbed? Eek. It does not sound appealing! :) I love my roomies. But I'm going to miss the joy of breathing space. Sleeping space. Whoo, I hope I don't feel like I did last summer. Ashley, pray. Breathe. You can do it.