Outside the weather tells me it is about to be spring: new growth, new life, new shades of green. The symbolism is not lost on me.
Also not lost on me was the Gospel reading at Mass yesterday. "Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain."
Really Lord? Really?
I couldn't help but laugh. I do want to bear fruit so much like winter brings spring, suffering and waiting in hope brings new life. So in the hope of new life, I've set a new goal for myself today. Keep in mind I'm not sure I can make this goal for all day. But much like Thomas Merton, I believe the desire to please You actually pleases You.
Instead of being angry that the last 18 months of my life seem pointless now, I'm going to rejoice that I got to see a shuttle launch under a full harvest moon.
Instead of kicking and screaming that people in his world don't know the truth of this disaster, I'm going to be thankful I got to know a whole group of people I would have never met.
Instead of harboring bitterness that a family that claimed to love me and want me to be a part of them hasn't reached out at all, I'm going to remember the way his precious niece said my name and how she and I could make each other laugh.
Instead of demanding answers from the Lord as to why all of this happened, I'm going to (with every earnest attempt) say thank you.
No clue how long this might last! In all honesty, it is so much easier to live in pity. But spring is coming and that grain of wheat as already fallen, and I want there to be new life.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Space for Stuff
My desks have always been a place of piles, of constant working, but also of me. I've always kept pictures of people I love, books that mean a great deal to me, and for those of you who know me well- yes, every desk I have every occupied also held a dictionary.
My desk at home is no different: cards from loved ones, the picture of my family with the president in the Oval Office, a beautiful letter written to me by a great friend.
At my last job, I had a massive desk. Honestly, the top was as large as a double bed. Lots of space for stuff. I liked to keep things my staff had produced for the President that meant something to me. A copy of his address to the Knesset, his words at Tony Snow's funeral, remarks from the Pope's visit all graced the area in my eyesight.
When I left the White House and set up my office at home, I wanted all of those things near me; things that remind me what it is like to serve such a noble cause. Because that corner of my desk "needed something" to hold the pages down and bring the space together, I placed upon them a cross engraved with the words from Ecclesiastes: He has made everything beautiful in its time.
Everything.
Not just the stuff that was good already or the things that were easy to make beautiful.
There it is, sitting next me, overlooked all this time. He has promised to make all things beautiful in their time.
These past 24 hours have been ugly. I've been angry. Please don't mention the steps and stages of grief to me or I might just put you in one of those boxes they tell me I pass through on my way to being "normal" again. Anger is not an emotion I handle well. It is hard for me and it always leaves me full of grief for expending emotional capital on someone or something that isn't affected by my emotions.
Nonetheless, I have been angry. Angry that the truth isn't winning out quite yet, angry that I have felt like this whole thing was my fault, angry that the other half of this situation doesn't have to take any responsibility for this, angry that after almost two years, after being so close to saying "yes" to forever, that I can be this invisible and be this forgotten.
But it's still there. His word doesn't change because my circumstances do. Praise Him for that!
He has made everything beautiful in its time.
My desk at home is no different: cards from loved ones, the picture of my family with the president in the Oval Office, a beautiful letter written to me by a great friend.
At my last job, I had a massive desk. Honestly, the top was as large as a double bed. Lots of space for stuff. I liked to keep things my staff had produced for the President that meant something to me. A copy of his address to the Knesset, his words at Tony Snow's funeral, remarks from the Pope's visit all graced the area in my eyesight.
When I left the White House and set up my office at home, I wanted all of those things near me; things that remind me what it is like to serve such a noble cause. Because that corner of my desk "needed something" to hold the pages down and bring the space together, I placed upon them a cross engraved with the words from Ecclesiastes: He has made everything beautiful in its time.
Everything.
Not just the stuff that was good already or the things that were easy to make beautiful.
There it is, sitting next me, overlooked all this time. He has promised to make all things beautiful in their time.
These past 24 hours have been ugly. I've been angry. Please don't mention the steps and stages of grief to me or I might just put you in one of those boxes they tell me I pass through on my way to being "normal" again. Anger is not an emotion I handle well. It is hard for me and it always leaves me full of grief for expending emotional capital on someone or something that isn't affected by my emotions.
Nonetheless, I have been angry. Angry that the truth isn't winning out quite yet, angry that I have felt like this whole thing was my fault, angry that the other half of this situation doesn't have to take any responsibility for this, angry that after almost two years, after being so close to saying "yes" to forever, that I can be this invisible and be this forgotten.
But it's still there. His word doesn't change because my circumstances do. Praise Him for that!
He has made everything beautiful in its time.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Why I Love JJ Heller
Go here and listen to her music.
No really, go now.
I'll wait.
I left lunch with an amazing friend today, got in my car, and sang with JJ.
"No matter how the wind may blow, it cannot shake the sun."
Sing it girl.
What a great reminder. The wind sure is blowing a lot lately. From every direction. So many prayer needs, so many burdens, so many questions to the sky.
But what grace! What stability! With every breath of my soul, I know it cannot shake the sun.
Let's rejoice in that today!
No really, go now.
I'll wait.
I left lunch with an amazing friend today, got in my car, and sang with JJ.
"No matter how the wind may blow, it cannot shake the sun."
Sing it girl.
What a great reminder. The wind sure is blowing a lot lately. From every direction. So many prayer needs, so many burdens, so many questions to the sky.
But what grace! What stability! With every breath of my soul, I know it cannot shake the sun.
Let's rejoice in that today!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Dreams Over Coffee - Very Honest Dreams
A few nights ago, I had the true honor of sharing a cup of coffee (and a cup of grace) with two of my beautiful friends. The two of them are married, one with a child and the other struggling to have children.
As I sat there, listening to the things they are praying, I fought the urge to say "But you both have your match! You have someone to love every night. You have your Forever."That's when I realized the three of us are still seeking- one a job, one a child, and me, some moments it overwhelms me the thing I seek- the restoration of a dream.
We were all seeking something.
We all seek.
The beauty about what binds the three of us together is the seeking of God. My sacred scriptures tell me that I will find Him when I seek Him with all my heart. In the midst of dreams just beyond our reach, these beautiful friends of mine awakened my soul to the deep and purposeful need we all have to seek peace, Grace, love, to seek the face of the One who created.
These past few weeks have forced me to lean. Forced me to seek the face of the Almighty. Forgive me for my honesty, but I would have rather not. I know that I am learning and growing so much in Him. But in the deepest parts of my soul, I would still rather not be here in this place of my heart.
Don't get me wrong, I love the way He has wrapped His arms around me, the way He lets me scream and cry and beg for a redo, the way He hears my earnest prayers to change time and take me back to that day and let me try it again- this time with grace on my tongue and in my heart. I've told God countless times this week that He created the laws of space and time and He can bend them.
That's how much I've wanted this miracle.
But He isn't bending the laws of space and time. He isn't letting me go back to that moment in the car when everything changed. He isn't giving me a redo.
He is letting me know every day, sometimes every minute, how much I am loved.
And He's reminding me, over coffee, that we all continue to seek. This side of glory our hearts will be restless.
Which makes me feel not so alone.
As I sat there, listening to the things they are praying, I fought the urge to say "But you both have your match! You have someone to love every night. You have your Forever."That's when I realized the three of us are still seeking- one a job, one a child, and me, some moments it overwhelms me the thing I seek- the restoration of a dream.
We were all seeking something.
We all seek.
The beauty about what binds the three of us together is the seeking of God. My sacred scriptures tell me that I will find Him when I seek Him with all my heart. In the midst of dreams just beyond our reach, these beautiful friends of mine awakened my soul to the deep and purposeful need we all have to seek peace, Grace, love, to seek the face of the One who created.
These past few weeks have forced me to lean. Forced me to seek the face of the Almighty. Forgive me for my honesty, but I would have rather not. I know that I am learning and growing so much in Him. But in the deepest parts of my soul, I would still rather not be here in this place of my heart.
Don't get me wrong, I love the way He has wrapped His arms around me, the way He lets me scream and cry and beg for a redo, the way He hears my earnest prayers to change time and take me back to that day and let me try it again- this time with grace on my tongue and in my heart. I've told God countless times this week that He created the laws of space and time and He can bend them.
That's how much I've wanted this miracle.
But He isn't bending the laws of space and time. He isn't letting me go back to that moment in the car when everything changed. He isn't giving me a redo.
He is letting me know every day, sometimes every minute, how much I am loved.
And He's reminding me, over coffee, that we all continue to seek. This side of glory our hearts will be restless.
Which makes me feel not so alone.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Back
Friends, it's been a long day. It's almost too much.
It's this beautiful baby boy who needs our prayers.
It's being back in this apartment. Where every inch of this tiny DC space hold memories: the movie nights on the couch, the dinners I cooked that he pretended to enjoy and I'm sure went to McDonald's on his way home, the many trips I've packed for and unpacked from, the night I came in and slept so well because he told me he loved me and wanted me to be his forever.
It's listening to the Daniel Doss Band sing about the wide-open arms of God.
It's these stupid plastic ducks that are a part of my life. For our eventual wedding, I bought Bride and Groom ducks. I joked that they should be the centerpieces.
It's realizing how much I am loved.
It's knowing I have the strength to put one foot in front of the other.
It's my wonderful girlfriends who are calling to spend a night with me just because.
It's being so afraid of what happens next, but so confident that the Lord's grace and goodness and mercy will guide my heart.
Friends, it's been a long day. 34 of them in the making.
It's this beautiful baby boy who needs our prayers.
It's being back in this apartment. Where every inch of this tiny DC space hold memories: the movie nights on the couch, the dinners I cooked that he pretended to enjoy and I'm sure went to McDonald's on his way home, the many trips I've packed for and unpacked from, the night I came in and slept so well because he told me he loved me and wanted me to be his forever.
It's listening to the Daniel Doss Band sing about the wide-open arms of God.
It's these stupid plastic ducks that are a part of my life. For our eventual wedding, I bought Bride and Groom ducks. I joked that they should be the centerpieces.
It's realizing how much I am loved.
It's knowing I have the strength to put one foot in front of the other.
It's my wonderful girlfriends who are calling to spend a night with me just because.
It's being so afraid of what happens next, but so confident that the Lord's grace and goodness and mercy will guide my heart.
Friends, it's been a long day. 34 of them in the making.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Who Says You Can't Go Home?
Love that song. Love. That. Song.
http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3FWgUbVzXI
And how true it is.
I've spent the past four weeks at home. A whole month in the house that saw my first dance recital costume, that still smells the same, that still wraps me in love. This time has been good, been healing, been holy.
But this town! This town has literally wrapped its arms around me. Women that taught me in Sunday School have caught my tears, people I worked out with at the Y have prayed for me, beautiful friends I walked through school with have heard my story in the aisles of Wal-Mart (or is it Walmart now?) and stood in the gap with me.
I shouldn't, but I remain surprised.
After almost four years in a town that starts each conversation with "now, what do you do?", it has been humbling to spend a month with people who knew me before the commas-
Ashley Elizabeth, employee of the White House
Ashley Elizabeth, girlfriend and part of the young DC power couple
Ashley Elizabeth, speechwriter for GSA
Ashley Elizabeth, baker of one mighty poundcake
The people here, the souls that make up my home knew me before the commas and now that nothing but empty space and the grace of God follow behind my name, they still love me.
Bon Jovi was right- there is only one place they call you one of their own.
Commas or not.
http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3FWgUbVzXI
And how true it is.
I've spent the past four weeks at home. A whole month in the house that saw my first dance recital costume, that still smells the same, that still wraps me in love. This time has been good, been healing, been holy.
But this town! This town has literally wrapped its arms around me. Women that taught me in Sunday School have caught my tears, people I worked out with at the Y have prayed for me, beautiful friends I walked through school with have heard my story in the aisles of Wal-Mart (or is it Walmart now?) and stood in the gap with me.
I shouldn't, but I remain surprised.
After almost four years in a town that starts each conversation with "now, what do you do?", it has been humbling to spend a month with people who knew me before the commas-
Ashley Elizabeth, employee of the White House
Ashley Elizabeth, girlfriend and part of the young DC power couple
Ashley Elizabeth, speechwriter for GSA
Ashley Elizabeth, baker of one mighty poundcake
The people here, the souls that make up my home knew me before the commas and now that nothing but empty space and the grace of God follow behind my name, they still love me.
Bon Jovi was right- there is only one place they call you one of their own.
Commas or not.
Monday, March 16, 2009
My Cup
From a beautiful blog - thepipers.wordpress.com
I’m gonna drink this painful cup all the way down, just drain it. And I’m gonna ask the Lord to make it something beautiful.
Indeed. This cup hurts. Each day it hurts worse.
But each day, there is grace to drink.
And beg the Lord to make something beautiful.
I’m gonna drink this painful cup all the way down, just drain it. And I’m gonna ask the Lord to make it something beautiful.
Indeed. This cup hurts. Each day it hurts worse.
But each day, there is grace to drink.
And beg the Lord to make something beautiful.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
We Have a Choice
Consider this your warning. If you don't want to read a post heavily influenced by my faith, stop now!
Forgive my blog absence. It's been a heavy couple of days starting with a retreat with the Dominican Sisters of St.Cecilia's where the Lord showed up and completely moved in my heart. In the middle, my Mom had surgery - an important reminder of life expanding as a whisper. And ending with this very hard realization:
I am not blameless.
I. Am. Not. Blameless.
It's been a month. And still, whenever people hear the story, they always say that something doesn't make sense, doesn't add up, that a part of this is missing.
In the past few days the Lord has shown me what part of this story is missing- my actions.
At the retreat last weekend, one of the beautiful sisters spoke about the call we as women (sorry if by chance any men read this!) have with the relationships in our lives. We can act like Mary, showing love, grace, humbleness and choosing to make holiness our first thoughts towards others. Or we can live like Eve. We can complain, seek our own way, think of our needs first, and cause division in our relationships.
It took three weeks and countless tears to realize I spent the last month of our relationship acting more and more like Eve.
After a year and a half of loving him, praying for him, laughing with him, and resting in his kindness, I threw all of that away. We didn't fight. We never learned how.
1338 miles and a great schism came between us.
Silence. Instead of love, I gave him silence. Instead of patience, silence. Instead of prayerful words that could have healed the small fracture in our relationship, I gave him bitter silence.
Eve would have been proud.
Please hear my heart, please don't hear my words and think me a doormat. That is truly not the case. We both made mistakes. Mistakes that wounded me at the core.
Of my choice however, I am heartsick. Each day we make choices. My persistent choice those last couple of days to place my sinfulness above the Lord's call to holiness causes me great sorrow. And I continue to pray, as the Lord forgives my horrible deeds and makes me to grow more like himself and his mother, Psalm 119:175 Let my soul live that I may praise you.
Lord, let this relationship that you ordained and set apart, this relationship that your two children royally screwed up, let this relationship live if for no other reason than to bring you praise. And if your answer is no, Lord let me still praise you.
Forgive my blog absence. It's been a heavy couple of days starting with a retreat with the Dominican Sisters of St.Cecilia's where the Lord showed up and completely moved in my heart. In the middle, my Mom had surgery - an important reminder of life expanding as a whisper. And ending with this very hard realization:
I am not blameless.
I. Am. Not. Blameless.
It's been a month. And still, whenever people hear the story, they always say that something doesn't make sense, doesn't add up, that a part of this is missing.
In the past few days the Lord has shown me what part of this story is missing- my actions.
At the retreat last weekend, one of the beautiful sisters spoke about the call we as women (sorry if by chance any men read this!) have with the relationships in our lives. We can act like Mary, showing love, grace, humbleness and choosing to make holiness our first thoughts towards others. Or we can live like Eve. We can complain, seek our own way, think of our needs first, and cause division in our relationships.
It took three weeks and countless tears to realize I spent the last month of our relationship acting more and more like Eve.
After a year and a half of loving him, praying for him, laughing with him, and resting in his kindness, I threw all of that away. We didn't fight. We never learned how.
1338 miles and a great schism came between us.
Silence. Instead of love, I gave him silence. Instead of patience, silence. Instead of prayerful words that could have healed the small fracture in our relationship, I gave him bitter silence.
Eve would have been proud.
Please hear my heart, please don't hear my words and think me a doormat. That is truly not the case. We both made mistakes. Mistakes that wounded me at the core.
Of my choice however, I am heartsick. Each day we make choices. My persistent choice those last couple of days to place my sinfulness above the Lord's call to holiness causes me great sorrow. And I continue to pray, as the Lord forgives my horrible deeds and makes me to grow more like himself and his mother, Psalm 119:175 Let my soul live that I may praise you.
Lord, let this relationship that you ordained and set apart, this relationship that your two children royally screwed up, let this relationship live if for no other reason than to bring you praise. And if your answer is no, Lord let me still praise you.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
I Did a Dumb Thing Today
I looked through my emails.
I know, I know, I shouldn't have done that. But I did.
Just a week before all this happened, one week, there were the sweetest emails. They were funny and kind and telling my how much I was loved.
We had this inside joke about being undecided about the other person. It was our way of talking about marriage without freaking each other out. And then when talking about marriage didn't scare us so much, the joke stayed. Any time a request was to be made, it usually started or ended with "I mean, I know you're still undecided and all."
It always made me smile and laugh and giggle.
Now it mocks me. Gmail has proof he once once loved me. That we had been set apart for each other.
I know those emails weren't lies. Despite the last three weeks, he really used to be a very honest and kind man.
But now he is undecided.
And that doesn't make me giggle at all.
I know, I know, I shouldn't have done that. But I did.
Just a week before all this happened, one week, there were the sweetest emails. They were funny and kind and telling my how much I was loved.
We had this inside joke about being undecided about the other person. It was our way of talking about marriage without freaking each other out. And then when talking about marriage didn't scare us so much, the joke stayed. Any time a request was to be made, it usually started or ended with "I mean, I know you're still undecided and all."
It always made me smile and laugh and giggle.
Now it mocks me. Gmail has proof he once once loved me. That we had been set apart for each other.
I know those emails weren't lies. Despite the last three weeks, he really used to be a very honest and kind man.
But now he is undecided.
And that doesn't make me giggle at all.
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