In Gratitude

We had the most laid back Thanksgiving in Gullett family history. And that's saying something, because we are the most no-frills family I know. We even eat Christmas dinner in our PJs. But I usually do make more of an effort to at least make the table look nice on Thanksgiving. This year there was a vacuum and a big circular saw in the dining room, and that only made me slightly anxious. We didn't take one photo, and we all wore sweatshirts all day.

For the first time since we've been married, Daniel didn't make the turkey or stuffing, and I was absolutely, wonderfully fine with it. We ordered turkey and stuffing from a local restaurant, I made sweet potatoe soufle and cranberry sauce, and Ali made pecan pie. This year, I just could not care less about dressing things up for presentation sake. I only wanted to hang out with my kids and husband, watch the dog show and whatever that wacky televised Macy's parade thing was. So strange without the crowd, right?

I was exhausted. Too tired to care about place settings and table decor. Almost too tired to enjoy eating our disheveled but tasty dinner. My house wasn't even clean. But, I am grateful for the tired. I am grateful for passing on the stress and fuss of centerpieces and cloth napkins to relax and have downtime with my little family. For the last two months, we have had very little downtime together. But, I am grateful for that too.

See those desks spaced exactly 3 feet apart? Those are desks in my classroom in a real high school, where I have the priveledge to teach English to real, live 9th and 10th graders 5 days a week. And that window with a view? That's my view from that classroom. So I have been busy teaching in a new school and in a year unlike any other, but I am so incredibly grateful to be so busy doing what I love to do. Teaching again has been my hope and prayer for about 5 years now, and I was finally given the opportunity because of this strange year. And, I have the BEST STUDENTS. I mean that...I have always heard about those "Gloucester kids," as if they were scary gangsters. My students are sweet and kind and smart and fun, and say "thank you" as they leave the classroom. Sometimes I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone or being punked. They aren't perfect, and the desire to put forth effort and engage is still somewhat in hibernation, but I believe I am witnessing a grateful bunch of teenagers. They just seem so glad to be able be in school with their peers.

2020 has dished out hard, emotional stuff. And, I have complained a lot - the toilet paper shortage alone caused me much vexation. But through it all, I am reminded of so many blessings. While I really miss my family and would love to spend the holidays with them, I was able to go home and see most of them in February, right before the world shut down in March. While I was layed off from my job during the spring, I was able to take a class (thanks to technology) toward my master's degree, which is directly helping me teach this year. And I had to read...Like actual books! It was a delightful way to spend the summer of solitude. 

So I choose to be grateful. I am very thankful for my husband and children, my home, my students, and my co-workers. It has taken me a very long time to truly love where I live, but this year, I have loved Gloucester more than any other year. Our little fishing town with it's pretty little beaches and blue collar grit and accent, has been resourceful, kind, and resilient. Messages of hope can be seen all over town and acts of kindness have been distributed in big and small ways. Two women, who I don't personally know, even bought brand new books for my students, when I asked for donations of old copies.

Recently, I read an article about gratitude. I found it on Psychology Today and it really struck me. As Christians we are taught to give thanks to God in all things, and we learn to thank God when we are young for our food and family, when saying grace or our bedtime prayers. But, this article says science indicates practicing gratitude can make you a mentally healthier person. And don't we all need simple ways to protect our mental health these days!? I just love when science backs up the Bible like that. I am also a huge fan of Ann Voskamp, and she is the queen of giving thanks and pushing us to see the light of God through the broken darkness. 

Being the nerdy teacher I am, I thought that having my students start each class by writing down for what they are thankful would be a great writing exercise for the month of November. I started off by giving them notecards to fill out each day I saw them in class. The notecards started piling up, so I switched the method to Gratitude Journals, and they kept writing their gratitude daily. With the help of our amazing library/media specialist, I was able to create this tree of gratitude in my classroom. Using the notecards from my students, I wrote down what they wrote on the leaves.

My students haven't complained about my asking them to write their thanks, so I am taking that as a good sign. But, honestly, it has brought me so much joy to read their gratitude everyday and to see my corkboard filled with messages of thanks and hope.

And then, there is my church. My home away from home, even when I haven't been there in person for months. Each week they go through the extra work and effort to livestream the services for those who don't feel comfortable to go to service in-person or whose health situations warrant staying home. [I am guilty of staying home out of comfort and not necessity, but thankful just the same] They reach out in big and small ways to stay connected, to serve the body, and I am always surprised by the lengths they will go.

Yesterday, I opened the door to find this package on my steps, delivered by one of the leadership team:

And inside, was a handmade candle holder with candles for each Sunday of Advent. Delivered in person and handmade by the church staff, this rustic gift offers connection. Connection not just to my family but to the Church all over the world, celebrating this season of expectant waiting.

Inside was a challenge to put on pause some of our everyday habits and exchange them for the habit and tradition of Advent. A challenge to focus on the birth and life of Christ by reading the gospel instead of our Facebook feed. A challenge to pray and wait expectantly for the coming of the Savior. Challenge accepted.

With gratitude,

Ashley

What if

What if the world stopped spinning for a minute. Stopped swirling and spewing, just stopped. 

Please just stop a minute.

What if we dropped to our knees with EARS WIDE OPEN and WIDE MOUTHS SHUT.

What if we sat so silent, so still, and we listened so intently that we could hear the impossible.

What if we breathed so deeply that we cleared out all the noise of sides and agendas and fear and hate.

What if we closed our eyes so tightly all we could see is our mutual story.

Are you listening?

Can you hear our hearts beating and breaking and beating and breaking? Together, the same.

What if to move forward, we have to go back?

Way, way back before American laws or politics or slavery or segregation, colonialism or cotton. Back to a cross on a skull hill where innocent blood set us ALL FREE.

What if, in this still and silent posture, we sit at that cross and remember the cost of our salvation.  

What if we listened to the only words that matter. What if we LISTENED?

What if we had only listened.

What if we actually LOVED with kindness. What if we gave love that is unselfish. What if we always forgave. What if we always pursued truth and justice. 

What if we led with wisdom that is pure. What if we were peace loving and gentle and showed mercy.

What if we showed no favoritism. What if we were all created and treated equal?

What if we cared for the orphans and widows and hungry and imprisoned. What if we see those who are mistreated, as if we feel their pain in our bodies. 

What if we cared more about listening to the creator of the universe than the rhetoric of political parties.

What if we stopped making assumptions and pointing fingers and blame and guns with prejudiced bullets.

What if we just stopped and listened?

Are you listening?

Can you hear His heart breaking and breaking? 

What if we stopped demanding for what's ours and mine. What if instead we asked, what can I do for you and yours?

What if we loved our neighbors as ourselves and treated others as we want to be treated?

What if we rise from our knees and open our eyes only to see through another's?

What if you listen to my story and I see your story and not your skin and we change the world together one story at a time.

What if I hear your cry, and I take your hand and cry with you instead of silencing your tears?

What if I'm willing to lay down my life for yours?

What if it all comes down to this: Life is just a test. And the only passing grade is LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

"Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love." I John 4:7-8

Do Black Lives Matter to Me?

My immediate and gut answer is yes, of course they matter to me! 

But, do they really? 

Is there evidence in my life and actions to back that up? 

Do they matter to YOU? Is there evidence in your life and actions to back that up?

Here is my confession. Here is my invitation.

When the world is on fire from long-buried, boiling over anger, what do we do? That was my immediate response: what can I DO? What can we do? What are we doing?

Uncomfortable with the subject, we get defensive, we get judgey. We post our opinions. We make it political. We make it about THEM and their violence and "shameful" actions and not about us and OURS.

This is a post about embracing our ignorance and hate and the injustice we perpetrate. It is also about GRACE. God, please grant us your abounding, never-ending, hope-filling, amazing grace for our sinful thoughts and our silence and complicity.

Disclaimer: I am sure I will say the wrong thing.  It is a justifiable fear - because I usually do (I come from a long line of footinmouthers) and because I am largely ignorant on the subject of racism. So, I apologize if I offend you. Then again, maybe we all need to be more open to being offended with open ears....But please call me out if I say something out of ignorance or arrogance.

My initial reaction to the murder of George Floyd was anger. As for many, that video was the last straw, coming so soon on the heels of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. And it broke me. Completely. For a week I walked around in a fog, wearing my grief with splashes of anger and sadness, erupting at any moment. I couldn't focus on schoolwork, housework, my kids...pretty much anything else. I wandered around utterly useless with the realization of my ignorance about the state of racism in our country. 

I read articles, blog posts, and bought books. I texted with my best friend, called my sister who is married to a black man, trying to process all the emotion and information. I reached out to a co-worker with whom I have always felt comfortable discussing race. He was gracious. He said, "It's not your fault, Ashley." But I'm not convinced.

I watched movies and documentaries about racism, researched the Black Lives Matter organization. I wrote blog posts in my head about what I wanted the world to know. And rewrote them. And then finally, actually started writing this.

I sat in a parking lot and cried after driving by a beautiful, peaceful protest organized by the children in my town. The CHILDREN, not the town leaders, not our spiritual leaders, but our brilliant teens, who have had enough and are determined to do something.

And I have realized this: I am ignorant, and I am complicit. I am guilty of not caring enough about those different from me to educate myself about their current experience. See, I am educated about slavery and reconstruction, and the Civil Rights era in America (as most of us are). But, I honestly had no idea about the continued and deliberate oppression of people of color in our country.  My white privilege allows me the freedom from that knowledge.

Confession:

I confess to my racism. I am not the antagonistic, attacking, or belittling type of racist, but I am guilty nonetheless. I admit to having prejudicial thoughts and reactions. Driving in Florida through "bad" neighborhoods and locking my car door after seeing a black man nearby? Yes. As an adolescent rejecting a boy of another race/ethnicity because of what my parents might think? Yes. Laughed at or made a racist, stereotypical joke? Yes. 

I am sorry for my conscious and unconscious racism and prejudice. I am repentant for the unconscious ignorance of my youth and the conscious and continued ignorance as an adult.

And I confess to my privilege, which has allowed me to live in ignorance.

MY Privilege Profile:

• Race: Inside and out - I am white. Gleaming bright, southern white from the safe suburbs with nice yards and almost zero black neighbors. 

• Ethnicity: Mostly Italian flavored, because my Mamaw was first-generation and her love was generous and her love language was literally food for the soul, so we simmered in her culture, trying to spice up our American ordinary. On the other side of the family, there is quite a complicated mix of white southern planted with European roots. 

• Socioeconomic Status: Solidly Middle Class (which allowed me to access to an education, to own my own property at 18, to easily finance a car, etc)

• Birthplace & Nationality: Florida, USA (Currently residing in MA, USA)

• Religion: Non-Denominational Christian, founded in the Charismatic variety (for those unfamiliar with this term - the anoint your head with oil, slay you in the spirit, hanky-waving, tongue-speaking kind of Jesus Freaks; similar to Pentecostal)

• Sexuality & Gender Identity: Heterosexual, Cisgender (born female and identify as female)

• Political Affiliation: Registered Independent 

I share that info to show you my privilege and because many of us judge one another on the above criteria. For most of us, our place in those boxes form our identity and thought patterns and decisions, and we rarely listen with ears wide open to those from different boxes.

For some, the categories listed are ALL that is seen or understood about them, regardless of who they really are on the inside. And for many, that first category could equal a death sentence.

I have been given extraordinary privilege. I realize my life has been easier because of the neighborhood where I grew up, the color of my skin, my sexual orientation and even my religion. I have not experienced oppression by another race, the trauma that poverty can inflict, or harassment due to my sexual/gender identity.

And I am guilty. I am guilty for taking it all for granted and not accurately seeing the reality of those who check the "Black" box next to race. 

If you are struggling to understand or sympathize with the chaos and violence filling our screens for the past couple of weeks, please examine your own privilege profile. Picture yourself in the shoes of a black parent who has to educate their son or daughter about interacting with the police. Make sure your hands can be seen at all times. Don't argue. Just do what they say. No matter if you've done anything wrong, comply. Don't ruffle their feathers of superiority. Don't expect justice to be yours my precious child, who is made in the image of God because of the melanin in your skin I passed down to you. 

Now picture your own child under the knee of an officer, begging for you. 

Begging to breathe. For over 8 minutes.

Now multiply that anguish by 400 years. 

When I was younger, I did not understand my own ignorance. I did not understand that saying "I don't see color" or self-righteously, "my children will be colorblind" (yes I actually said that) was just plain ignorant. 

And let me be clear about this: NO WE CANNOT be colorblind. Not only is this an idealistic and dismissive attitude, it is impossible and inadvisable. Because to say I'm colorblind is to say I don't see you as you are. I don't see your pain. I don't acknowledge that you have suffered because of your race. To say I'm colorblind is to say there is no difference in our experience. 

The truth is we all see color (even if  you are technically colorblind, because you are missing those little color rods in your eyeballs). We have been raised in a society that sees color by parents and grandparents who were forced to see color by the very laws of the state and in a country that has for centuries defined people of color as less than human.

Life, Liberty, and Justice for All. Unless your skin is black.

How we see the world, interact and relate with the people of the world, our thoughts, our motivations, our dreams, our anxiety and fears, are all products of either our experiences or our education [I don't strictly refer to institutional education]. You and I have not had the same experience or the same education, and therefore we will not share the same feelings about a moment, an event, an idea, a theology, etc. Right now, as you read this, the influences and memories from throughout your life are carving out how you experience this interaction of ours. My thoughts become words becomes digital text that greets you and your eyes and brain give meaning to the symbols floating on your screen.

You read my profile. Based on your prior knowledge, what kind of person do you think I am? Who do you assume I voted for in the last presidential election? Does my profile of race, ethnicity and socioeconomic status tell you WHO I am? Does the data (even with a bit of my personality thrown in) give you a clear picture of what lights up my soul or breaks my heart? 

I don't think so. I don't think we often ask people, who we see as different, to see the nuanced, colorful picture. We take a quick snapshot. A Polaroid profile. And we quickly discard what isn't familiar and comfortable. 

And if we discard the opportunity to see their essence, their trauma, their talent, and beauty based on that profile, we create the brokenness that exists in our society.

What happened to George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery and countless others before them, breaks my heart. Breaks it wide open and leaves me bleeding tears all over my privilege. What happened to those men is inexcusable, unjustifiable, and...God, I just have no adequate words....

Despite what my profile and my own admission of racist thoughts may imply about me, I hate discrimination and superiority and injustice. I write about these issue in bog posts and support organizations and businesses who work to fight against them. But it isn't enough. I have not done enough. Mostly, I have not educated myself enough.

The point of everything I have said so far is that the evidence points to:

BLACK LIVES DO NOT SEEM TO MATTER TO US. 

Fairness and justice have not been granted to black Americans and white America has looked the other way. We have seen their profile written on their skin and discarded them, locked them up, shot them dead, suffocated the very life and liberty our constitution grants us all.

I confess my complicity and ignorance and denial. And I invite you to a conversation, even if we don't agree. Join me on a journey of becoming educated. Join me on a journey to change "The Way Things Are."

My pastor did a very rare thing today. He postponed the well-prepared, originally planned sermon for today to address how we as a church and individual Christians should respond to the current crises. His advise is that we Listen, Lament, Learn, Live, and Pray, and I believe that's a good path on which to take our first steps. (You can watch his address here ). 

I have stepped onto that path and commit to living it out, which means doing more than just educating myself but also taking steps to change "The Way Things Are." Will you join me?

Black lives do matter to me. For people of color who read this: You matter to me. Your children matter to me. Your feelings and fears and anger and anguish all matter. I see you. I am listening. I am sorry.

With a broken heart and ears wide open,

Ashley

Below are a few resources to help us get started. But beyond what I have stumbled upon and listed here, seek out books, listen to podcasts, read articles and blog posts that will challenge you; hear from people outside of your social circles and political affiliation. 

Books:

• The Book of James - found in the New Testament of your Bible, or any Bible app, easily downloaded to your phone. The words of my favorite book in the Bible often point to how a Christian should respond to others.

• All American Boys by Jason Reynolds - This is a book I am reading for class by an author I have recently fallen in love with because of his letter to young men he wrote on the subject of consent. He is a multi-award-winning author, writing mostly YA books. (I will finish reading All American Boys by Thursday, June 18th, and I would love for you to read it and then process and discuss it with me.)

• Beyond Colorblind is a book that I am planning to read to join a book discussion with others in my church. Again, I would love to discuss and process it with you too.

• The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander - I have not read this one either, but plan to when I have more time for reading books not on my class reading list. I have heard good things about it from friends.

Movies & Videos:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7ihNLEDiuM

Megan Ming Francis Ted Talk on the roots of racial injustice, posted 4 years ago but could have been given yesterday.

"13th" - Documentary on Netflix

Fighting to Find Peace

To be completely honest, I haven't been doing well emotionally for the past week.
On Good Friday I could barely function and spent most of the day in bed asleep.
The fun preparations I had planned to create a special atmosphere in my home for Easter were left
unfinished. Saturday, I was able to clean and do the minimum to meet my kids' expectations - filling
their baskets with candy and plastic eggs for them to hunt. 

But even on Sunday, despite the lovely service we watched online, I felt numb and disinterested in
creating a special day for my family. Of course, I didn't need to make the day special - God already
took care of that. Jesus is Risen no matter how I feel, but the joy of Easter eluded me.

At the beginning of the social distancing/quarantine/shelter at home, I was good. Although I was
disturbed and concerned by the spread of the virus and related deaths, I felt almost relieved for a
chance for life to slow down a bit. I had been so busy at work that our closing for a couple of weeks
seemed like a respite from the storm rather than the beginning of one. And for those two weeks I did
enjoy more time with my family and more time alone with God. I had time to clean and cook and just
be. I felt grateful for what we had rather than anxious about what we didn't.

But then 2 weeks became 4 and the world exploded with cases of the virus and thousands began dying.
I learned that I wouldn’t be able to work from home and my staff was furloughed.
And then I was furloughed too. 

In one month, (March 3rd to April 3) we went from 100,000 cases of the coronavirus to over 1 million.
And still, I thought I was handling it all pretty well. I'm not typically an anxious person - at least I
didn't think so. Meaning, in my head, I don't experience fearful thoughts or worry, and I place a lot
of emphasis on trusting God. Yet, I am being forced to accept that I am affected by anxiety whether or not my brain wants to admit it.

Betrayed by my body, I began experiencing some of the physical signs of anxiety, including chest pains and shortness of breath. This past week I felt claustrophobic and moody and unmotivated and frustrated. In my head, I desperately want to get things done in my house while I have the time, but my body felt sluggish and tired and weak. I felt overwhelmed by the uncertainty of things. When will my source of income return? Should I get another job? Will the unemployment check actually appear in my account?

Yesterday, I canceled an interview - is getting a paycheck worth putting myself and my family at risk when I don't desperately need it? Or is that just an excuse I used to avoid doing something that causes me anxiety? I readily admit that interviews cause me a ton of stress.

Once I named it, things started to change. Writing it down and admitting out loud that what I was feeling was anxiety and depression, I began to feel better. Once I recognized that I needed to lay it all at the feet of Jesus instead of hiding in my bed, I could get up and get on with life.

In my last post, 7 suggestions for surviving this storm - which I wrote not because I have all the answers, but because I was searching for ways to get through myself - my number one suggestion was "Focus on the Good." That suggestion didn't originate in my mind but from a scripture verse that always strikes my heart when I read it. Philippians 4:8 (NLT):

...Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.

Sounds good. Sounds peaceful. But honestly? It sounds really hard to find in our world. And I don't mean just because of the pandemic. Scrolling through Netflix or Hulu, I can't find much to watch that focuses on pure and lovely or excellent or worthy of praise. And we certainly aren't finding it in news reports about COVID-19. And, maybe binge watching all 6 seasons of an apocalyptic show filled with violence and strife didn't help with my increasing anxiety and depression...

But what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable can be found if we search for them and train our minds to look for things that are excellent. I find them in Jesus's words and in His sacrifice at the cross. I find them in God's creation. I find them in human acts of kindness.

But I often let myself get distracted. And as Ann Voskamp claims, "Get busy, get distracted, and you can forget God. Forget God, and you lose your mind and your peace. Forget God, and all you remember is anxiety. Anxiety can give you God-Alzheimer's. Forget the face of God, and you forget your own name is Beloved." (The Broken Way)

Right before the verse I mentioned above, Paul writes, "Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then, you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7 NLT)

Prayer + Asking God + Gratitude + Focusing on the Good = Peace. When I rely on God and am thankful and remember I am his Beloved, that is when anxiety melts away and joy can seep into this stressed-out soul.

Amen

7 Steps to Surviving this Storm

Since the beginning of March, I've been recording the spread of this terrifying virus in my journal. Apparently, I only journal when life gets really rough. As I read a few pages written in my journal from almost 15 years ago, I noticed a trend. My penmanship only spells out stress and anger and loneliness during hard times.

When we first moved to MA from Florida, we knew no one. My husband worked from home, went to grad school at night, and I worked as a stay-at-home mom with two kids under 3. And we fought. A lot. In one entry I wrote,

"I am tired of fighting, tired of being cold, broke, and alone. And never being alone." 

Social distancing was our everyday life, because we had no family or friends or even a workplace or co-workers for company. I went for days without talking to another adult, besides Daniel. We bought an old house that had no dishwasher, no shower, and no clothes dryer; and it had a ton of stairs - 4 sets. Up the stairs for potty training, downstairs to do laundry, and up the stairs again, carrying the one-year-old, kicking me in protest to having his diaper changed. By leaving our modern home and supportive family in Florida, we created a life more difficult. Major adjustments had to be made, and we all acted out. It was all really stressful and depressing. But eventually, we found jobs, friends, and a great community church. That time was just one stormy season in our lives, just as this pandemic will only last for a season.  

This is hard. Americans are out of work (myself included), out of toilet paper, couped up at home, trying to teach their own kids, while constant access to stressful news about the virus streams in. Watching the death toll rise to almost 10,000 here in the U.S. in little over a month is devastating. We are experiencing trauma and grief and may not even realize it. 

When I think about the parents of little kids right now, stuck at home, perhaps with decreased income, no social outlet besides Facebook or Instagram, and only their spouses to depend on for face-to-face interaction, I am overwhelmed with empathy.

However, I know that we can do hard things, and we will get through this together. History has proven that we are a resilient race - we don't give up. Our parents and grandparents have weathered storms more severe, much more deadly, and with greater sacrifice. That knowledge may be of little comfort while we are battling to save our businesses, our finances, and our everyday way of life. But, it gives me hope to hold on to the fact that this is temporary. 

But how do we survive today, tomorrow, and perhaps the next few months?

Here are 7 realistic suggestions (that don't include washing your hands or wearing a mask) to keep our emotional and mental health steady and strong.

1. Focus on the Good. Read about the goodness of God - read a daily devotional, the Psalms, or prepare for Easter by reading the gospel of Luke. Focus on the goodness of humanity. Watch Some Good News with John Krasinski. Focus on the beauty of nature. Drive to the beach just to listen to the waves. Watch the sunset, or get up early to see it rise. 

2. Turn off the news and turn on some music. Avoid reading or watching the news first thing in the morning or before bed at night. We need to stay up-to-date, but allowing thoughts of doom and uncertainty to permeate our thoughts all day and into our sleep at night, is not in our best interest. Instead, listen to your favorite music. For me, music is so healing and instantly improves my mood. You can even get a workout in by dancing along. Some of my best memories from when my kids were little was having dance parties in our living room. Here is a list of songs that seem perfectly made for this time:

•  "Thy Will" by Hillary Scott
• "You're Gonna Be Okay" by Jenn Johnson
• "Tell Your Heart to Beat Again" by Danny Goake
• "Don't Give Up on Me" by Andy Grammer
• "Count on Me" by Bruno Mars

And here are few that are fun to dance to or sing at the top of your lungs on a drive (from reggae to Disney, selected with appropriateness for kids in mind)

• "Be My Baby" by The Ronettes
• "Can't Stop the Feeling" by Justin Timberlake
• "Dancing Queen" Abba
• "Happy" by Pharrell Williams
• "Shake it Off" Taylor Swift
• "Better When I'm Dancin" Meghan Trainor
• "One Love" Bob Marley
• "Bye Bye Bye" NSYNC
• "Stronger" Kelly Clarkson
• "Living on a Prayer" Bon Jovi
• "Party in the USA" Miley Cyrus
• "Let it Go"

3. Don't stress about schoolwork. One of the greatest challenges facing many parents right now is having to homeschool their kids. Please hear me. Don't let your relationship with your child become damaged from fighting over learning. Encourage them to complete the assignments given, offer help when needed, but phone a friend or email the child's teacher if they (or you) are struggling. Take a deep breath and stay calm.

The most important lessons that kids can learn right now are: how to adapt to change, keep kindness in the midst of chaos, keep hope in times of darkness, and to love one another well. 

So don't worry about teaching them Algebra or Chemistry or if they fall behind in their reading. They are learning a whole different subject; they are learning survival skills. So, set a good example. Give them extra hugs, speak calmly and kindly, and take advantage of fun learning opportunities you wouldn't normally have while they are at school and you are at work. Bake with them. Make them help you with yard work. Teach them to sew or knit or anything else that interests them. Here are a few great resources that many homeschool parents use:

• Outschool.com - a huge assortment of online classes your child can take - from raising chickens 101 to how to write a 5 paragraph essay. There are costs associated with taking classes.
• Khan Academy - a non-profit and free resource for parents and teachers.
• National Geographic - that old yellow magazine that your grandfather always read is now an amazing online resource of learning

4.  Seek out ways to help. Use your gifts for doing good. Sew some masks. This tutorial is shorter with no talking if you are a visual learner. You can find a variety of methods online - even on news outlets. If you don't sew, see how you can help your local food pantry keep feeding the people. Need soap? Preemptive Love Coalition, an amazing organization, living out love in Iraq, sells soap and other products made by refugees. And, they are trying to meet the great need of feeding those in quarantine.

5. Engage your mind. Tap into your creativity. Learn a new skill or a new language. Have you heard of Master Class? For $180 you can access all classes. From Neil Gaiman to Bobby Brown to Timbaland, you can learn from the best in a variety of industries or artistic genres.

Even if you aren't crafty and have never been especially interested in art, pick up a paintbrush and see where it takes you. Write down your story, or make up a silly one to read to your kids. Even if you don't have a literary bone in your body, journaling your feelings or prayers during this time is a great way to unburden your mind.

6. Schedule a weekly spa day (or at least an hour). Make an appointment for self-care. Put on a movie for the kids, or put your spouse or oldest child in charge. Make them understand you are not to be disturbed. Take a relaxing bath, slather on a face mask, and give yourself a mani/pedi. Need a root touch-up or want to change your look? Here's a safe DIY option that I've used in a pinch: Madison Reed. I've also heard good things about Overtone.

7. Create a schedule. Close the kitchen. Is the absence of structure driving you crazy? Forgetting what day it is? Kids in the kitchen 24/7? Make a schedule and don't feel guilty about it. Specify times when the kitchen is open for meals and snacks and when it is closed for your sanity. Having a hard time keeping track of how long they have been staring at screens? Make a schedule - and stick to it! They are used to schedules. (They will say they hate it, but they actually crave consistency). The school day is broken up into chunks of time, and there is no reason that you can't implement something similar at home. Following a schedule helps develop self-discipline and will help keep you sane. That being said, having some flexibility is fine too.

I hope that some of these suggestions are helpful. More than anything, do what's right for you and your family. There is no judge or jury. No best ways to survive a pandemic (other than social distancing and washing your hands.) If you want to "unschool" your kids during this stressful time, go for it. If you have a glass of wine every night...who cares.. Know that you are not alone and this WILL be over eventually. And if you need to chat or someone to pray for you, I am here.

With Love,
Ashley

An Attitude of Gratitude

Today I'm feeling very grateful. Despite the corona corral, gratitude is pouring out of me.

Grateful for the everyday blessings we tend to take for granted. Technology and electricity and clean (and hot!) water. Although we are trapped indoors, we have computers and phones to keep us connected; electricity to keep us warm (or cool) and to power all of our devices; and clean water to drink, cook and bathe with and do our laundry. Yes, I am even grateful for laundry - or at least more time to get it done. Grateful for the sun. Even though spring seems to be hiding from us up here in New England, today the sunlight is highlighting the gifts.I'm so grateful to the medical personnel out there, carrying on like soldiers fighting on the front lines of this virus. Grateful for those in the delivery business and those who have added delivery to their business - the truck drivers, mail carriers, Amazon workers, local shop owners who are keeping us in essential supplies and stocked with puzzles, books and vacuum bags.

Grateful for morning moments with my husband, who is able to work from home (because of the electricity and technology). I love being at home with my people and being able to kiss and hug on them throughout the day. To be able to grab my girl and give her a kiss on her porcelain forehead or receive a hug from my boy, smelling of shampoo fresh out of the shower.
Grateful for waking up to coffee ready to drink and time to spend soaking in God's presence each morning before getting started for the day. Grateful for my church and ministry team, teaching sermons to a camera and singing to an empty sanctuary; so that we can gather in our homes on Sundays and worship online. Grateful for youth pastors who put together Zoom meetings to stay connected to our kids.
What are you grateful for today?

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable." - Philippians 4:8

Fighting at Forty

When we've crossed off 14,600+ days tangled up with ourselves, we start really noticing the blemishes and bruises. Our emotional shortcomings and annoying habits no longer hide behind youthful ignorance. Sometimes these self-aware truths reach right out and slap you across your middle-aging face. And maybe, if we're honest, sometimes we embrace them. Hugging them close as parts of us that create our identity. 

But when I crossed 40 years off and yet still get emotional and ugly red-face cry in public and run from contact with other humans, I just want to slap myself and scream, "put on your big-girl britches and grow up!" Because...for the love, why are you crying? Why in the middle of an average Tuesday where nothing has gone wrong, why am I crying?

Because at 40, I'm still fighting. Fighting harder than ever.
Fighting to keep my pride in check
Fighting disappointment
Fighting for my voice to be heard
Fighting to keep my children innocent
Fighting as an introvert in an extrovert's world
Fighting for my faith - to keep it, to uphold it, to cherish it
Fighting for equality and dignity.
Fighting to end slavery in the 21st CENTURY!?
Fighting, but hitting a wall.

Because at 40, I'm not where I want to be -
Geographically, financially, spiritually...
Because at 40, my country is far from where it should be.
Politically, economically, humanitarian-ally.
Because in a world of ultra-electronic connectivity,
We, as a society, are L O N E L Y.

Because the rate of adolescent suicide increases,
And mass shootings at schools erases...lives, dreams, peace, safety.
Because we are left empty. Empty of the words to say,
Empty from changes not made.
Because in a world full of all the things, we are empty,
Empty, but full of A N X I E T Y.

So, at 40, I cry, but not for the wrinkles that time has earned me. Not for my youth, because I am as young as I want to be. I cry, my country, my country, why have you forsaken me? Forsaken a nation under God. Forsaken liberty and justice for all. Instead, you cry, "build a wall!" Keep the immigrants out. For the king has said, they are hungry and thirsty and naked and homeless, but we have no resposibility. My country chose her own safety over her blessed history and elected arrogant pride and selfishness. 

So I cry as we make enemies of our allies and incite violence from our enemies and boast about women being assaulted in our company. I cry for the poor example that is set for our children...no wonder they are full of anxiety. Look at the world we have chosen for them. I cry because I am guilty. We are guilty. My country is guilty.

And we cry, "why God have you forsaken us?" To a God whose voice we've silenced, whose face we've slapped, whose commandments we've broken. Whose love we've abandoned. But has he abandoned us? Or has he given us what we have chosen for ourselves?

In 2016 Just Trust.

So this is where I am. This is what I learned in 2015. I don't expect everyone to be here with me. This is just a truth I stumbled upon in my path...somewhere in the middle of living life and seeking Christ, this is where I've found peace.

In the new year, there will be expectations and desires and joys and hurts and inevitable pain, There will be horrible acts of senseless violence and evil crimes committed. We will loose loved ones. We will mourn. We may go into full on war. We may elect a terrible choice as our leader.

But you know what? It DOESN'T MATTER.

"Trust the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take." Proverbs 3:5-6

Just Trust. That's the big secret, the epiphany I've found for this new year. 

Sounds so simple doesn't it? So Freeing. Just. Trust. 

Problem is, it isn't easy to do.

We worry. We let fear guide us. We hide and put up walls and create laws and policy and shut out others who are not like us. We hold onto our things and our comforts and push real, living people away. We let them drown so we can hang on to our safety nets. We hoard our lifeboats and preserve our standard of living, high on the drug of materialism. We shoot up with our addictions, so we can't feel other's pain.

Why? Because we stop trusting. And when we stop trusting, we get unhappy. I believe there is an absolute link between worrying about the THINGS of this world and discontentment. And discontent develops the links that lead to the chains of bitterness, jealousy, and resentment, all made from the corrosive metal of fear. We put our trust in ourselves, in our partners, in our jobs, in our government, even in our children. But we aren't enough. They aren't enough. So we fear. Our minds can't wrap around a great big God who cares for all of us at once. We can't conceive of the limitlessness. And the science of it all. It just doesn't make any sense. So we choose fear.

"But you are a tower of refuge to the poor, O Lord, a tower of refuge to the needy in distress. You are a refuge from the storm and a shelter from the heat. For the oppressive acts of ruthless people are like a storm beating against a wall, or like the relentless heat of the desert. But you silence the roar of foreign nations. As the shade of a cloud cools relentless heat, so the boastful songs of ruthless people are stilled." Isaiah 25:4-5

Let me tell you a secret. It doesn't matter who's leading, winning, or running the world down here. DOESN'T MATTER. Here's the truth. It doesn't matter what kind of job we have, how much money we make, what kind of car we drive, the clothes we wear, if we wear makeup or how we accessorize. It doesn't matter how many letters we can put after our names or how many degrees we have. Titles, ranks, likes, followers. They DO NOT MATTER. They don't impress HIM much.

All that matters is how much time we spend down on our knees beside the manger. It doesn't matter how far we get up the mountain. What matters is how far down we are willing to go to reach Him. Because the King of all Kings came to see the condition of our hearts and asked us to just trust in him.

"Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. O my people, trust in Him at all times. Pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge." Psalm 62:5-8

SO. What if we choose to Just Trust God in 2016. In all things, everyday, in all situations. Just Trust. What if we stopped caring about keeping up with the Joneses or the Kardashians. What if instead we tried to keep up with Jesus? What if instead of fear or worry, we have faith and hope in Christ?

"Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And if worry can't accomplish a little thing like that, what's the use in worrying over bigger things?" 
"And don't be concerned about what to eat and what to drink. Don't worry about such things. These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers all over the world, but your Father already knows your needs.  Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need." Luke 12:25, 29-31

Without seeking first the kingdom, it's impossible not to fill up our concerns with worries and wants of the world. Let's seek Him. Beyond all else.

Faith. Hope. Love. But the faith comes first. Without faith, there is no hope. Without faith, it is impossible to love the way we are called to love.

Just like love, trust is not a feeling, but a choice. It is an action we choose. Will we choose Fear or Faith? Let's choose to just trust in 2016.

Wishing you Peace and Joy in the New Year,

Ashley

1. 
   

Deconstructing the Doofus Dad: A Dedication and Determination

This post is dedicated to my babies' daddy, aka my husband, Daniel.

The Doofus Dad.

You know this guy, right? The one who can't find his car keys or the Dunkin coffee or cook or clean or diaper children properly? The man who's wife is always giving him that "you're a moron" look as if he never does anything correctly?

Over the years, I bet you've seen a bunch of men like this. I know I have. . . on TELEVISION. But not so much in the real world.

A few years ago, my husband started making fun of these Doofus Dad commercials, and I started noticing a-not-so-nice trend. In way too many commercials and on family sit coms, the men are portrayed as idiots who are out of touch or just plain incompetent.  I know they bother Daniel. And the commercials really started bothering me too. And they should.

The Doofus Dad, who emerged on screens across America about 20 something years ago, can't be trusted to do anything right. Even in his own domain - the tool box - Tim Taylor (Tim Allen) just couldn't ever get the job done without making a mess of things. And Homer in the picture above? Lord help us all if Homer Simpson was ever in charge of actual real live children. Then, there's Al Bundy and Roseann's Dan, who seemed to forever be glued to their couch or chair. I know all TV dads can't be the Pa that Charles Ingalls was to Laura and Mary, but where did all the real good men (TV characters) go?

I know the cause, and I understand that it's mostly just about comedy. So, I'm not going to get into debating the nuances of sexist stereotypes and what women's liberation has done to the role and image of men in society. This is NOT that kind of post, and I DO NOT want to start that conversation.

My point is that this doofus dad image just doesn't ring true in real life. Not in my personal experience anyway. And, I do absolutely believe the media should have a certain level of responsibility to reflect and men and women more accurately and positively. The absolute truth is that both men and women are multi-faceted, multi-talented, different but equal HUMANS.

 And we are not all DIFFERENT in the SAME ways.

Based on the two fathers with whom I have the most experience - my own father and my children's father - the incompetent man, or doofus dad, persona doesn't apply at all. My dad, Bob, had a successful career, was (and still is) a great father to four girls, and he is pretty good at domestic duties as well. Even though he enjoys fishing and watching football and a cold beer after mowing the grass, he is also a great cook, who even cleans up the kitchen. My Bob Dad is a good listener, a good planner, a good Christian, a loving grandfather, and most importantly, he's a nice human. Yes, he has his flaws. He has "doofus" moments. He makes corny jokes. Sometimes he says the wrong thing or wrong word at the very wrong moment. Like that time he said orgasm instead of organism while talking to our pastor... 

Look, Bob Dad can even carry gifts and smile at the same time!

But I would never describe my father as incompetent or lazy like the guys in commercials. One summer he even took up the straps of my swimsuit for camp, because I had this funky short-waisted body that no swimsuit we could find would fit and my mom was out of town. So, he did what needed to be done and sewed. And he didn't screw it up either. Perhaps my father sets the standard pretty high, but isn't that what we should be selling? 

Then, there is Daniel, my husband and the father of my children. He might just be the most competent man (or woman) I have ever known. No, I'm not just saying that because he might read this. And believe me, I am not blind to his faults either. But honestly, he is incredibly resourceful and reliable. If he doesn't already know how to do something, he keeps researching until he learns how to do it. Whether it's a car problem or how to repair an old wooden door, he will figure it out. He thinks his constant researching drives me crazy, and maybe sometimes it does, but mostly I LOVE it.

I love that I can trust his opinion. I love that he is highly educated and widely read. I love that he loves the X Men movies and superheros, but one of his favorite movies is The English Patient. I love that he loves to travel and likes going to the theater and art museums, can quote Shakespeare, and always picks out the BEST books for me to read. But, he is also super analytical and technically savvy and can run electrical work and do plumbing and create pretty much whatever he sets his mind to in his workshop. I love that he is a manly, complex man. Far from the fumbling dad in the sit coms, his DIY projects always turn out, eventually, and they are done the right way, according to code and his own high standards.

When we both worked full-time  jobs, and I was pregnant, Daniel made dinner every night. When our daughter was an infant and inconsolable, it was his super swaddling techniques and embrace that calmed her. When he was in graduate school and was in-between jobs, he stayed home with the kids, looked for employment, and wrote for his classes, while also doing the laundry and cooking and other household duties. . .I could go on about his amazing work-ethic and self-discipline and muscular thighs, but you are probably getting nauseous already.

My point is not that he is perfect. He isn't. He doesn't always say the sweet, sentimental things that I want to hear, and he is pretty sensitive to criticism and very defiant. After all, he is just a man. But he is a great person. A great husband and father.  He is the man that I chose. I fell in love with his writing and stayed for his chocolate cake, and the rest is just icing.

Daniel and our son, Gabriel. 

Here is my point: Our men - husbands and fathers - bring a lot to the table. They may not parent the way we do or the way we want them to. They may not clean as well as women do. They have their issues. (Don't we ALL?) But they aren't all dumb, inept monkeys. What they give and the different methods in which they do their thing are IMPORTANT. And they should be appreciated and respected and cherished and not made into flat, doofus characters.

Maybe I just got really lucky with the men in my life. But most of the fathers I see, are smart, involved dads, who work hard at their jobs and spend time with their kids. They show up. They do the hard stuff. And, if we want the next generation to appreciate men and have high expectations for them, we should probably change the conversation they hear.

Thankfully, I think that advertisers have wizened up due to a few good men who stood up and said we've had enough. Watching the commercials during the Super Bowl this year, I noticed a complete departure from the funny beer commercials and doofus dad ads. But, I think in our own personal lives, we need to change the way we talk about men. Give our husbands more credit and less grief. Let our children hear how much we admire and appreciate our men. Let our boys see examples of men they can aspire to be. Let our girls see men who are worthy of loving.

And now I'll shut up and leave you with these links that prove we can show that men know how to dad.

Answer the Call

How to Dad

In Love With My Man,

Ashley

Crazy Confessions of an Introverted Hibernator

If you're looking for a bit of inspiration or wisdom here, keep looking. This is not that kind of blog post. I just feel like I need to get something out in the open. I might be just a lot crazy. I may be the only person on the planet who feels this way. But here it is: 


I like BIG warm BEDS and I cannot lie. 

And I like big blankets. If there is one item that I would need to bring with me to a deserted island, it would be my big down comforter. Or water. It's a toss up.

It is the beginning of February, and in case you haven't heard, we just had an actual, official blizzard last week. Which is basically just like a frozen hurricane. There was a lot of wind and a lot of snow. We were blessed with 5 foot drifts in our backyard. Yay! Sledding. We had to shovel a lot but were very fortunate and very thankful that we never lost power and we had no damage to our home. Thank God. We had an experience, a little life-snow adventure. Yay us!

Another deep secret about me: I like storms. Snow storms, rain storms, thunder storms. Love them all. Well, as long as I get to stay home all warm and cozy in my big warm bed until they are over. And as long as the snow plows shut the BEEP BEEP BEEP up! I even like snow. Freshly fallen snow on a sunny day is a beautiful sight. As long as I don't have to drive in it, or shovel it, or walk in it....Oh. But sadly, I do.

There is literally tons of snow surrounding us. It is piled everywhere. You can't see around any street corner from the mountains of displaced snow that were plowed into heaps of the now dirty, packed white stuff. Roads that used to be two-lanes have pretty much become single lanes of terror. Backing  out of  our driveway is like playing Russian roulette. Is there a car coming? Hard to tell. Will I get hit? There is a goood chance, but 's really, what's my option here? Walk. But where did all the sidewalks go? Under the banks of snow.

Here's the thing about me and winter weather - it transforms me into a serial hibernator. My spirit animal really must be a bear. I just want to curl into the fetal position (but in my big, warm bed and not in a cave) and sleep until spring. Problem is I get really hungry in the winter. Like HUNGRY. And I have to get up to make something to eat. Occasionally, I even need to feed the CHILDREN. But I don't WANT TO. Nor do I want to go anywhere or do anything, especially NOT the LAUNDRY. Goodness. We could store meat in our basement....but then it would smell like dirty socks...

So, I am in the middle of winter: cold, hungry, and sleepy. So, for the love of all humanity, can't you see? Don't you understand that hibernation is imperative? That is, hibernation with hot coffee and warm baked goods....and my big comfy bed.

BUT then today happened. Today we had another foot or so of snow dropped on us. Which is fine. OK. Whatever. More snow. Just another day to hibernate, right? Children home from school. Husband home from work. Mom doing random household chores, trying to be alright with this home invasion on a Monday.

You see, me and Monday have a thing going. And typically, we get to do our thing [QUIET is our thing] ALONE on Mondays. And I love this thing we have - this blissful quiet that follows the weekend of noises. But my children just don't get this. And now, it's 7:30 pm, and they ARE STILL TALKING TO ME. After talking to me and their dad and each other and their friends over the XBOX. All. Freaking. Day. Long.

And NOW. The superintendent of schools has the nerve to call and say there is NO SCHOOL tomorrow.  He dares to CANCEL school on Tuesday too. That's 4 days straight with my people all talking to me! And now I don't want to hibernate anymore. I want to throw my children to the wolves of the public school system and go out into the world and see amazing things like art and other adult people.

And at this very moment, I want my children in bed. I want hot shower, a tall White Russian, and some Downton Abbey. Alone. Yes. That might just be the thing that will retract my claws.

And maybe tomorrow this mama bear will not want to eat her young every time they speak to her of Minecraft and Kindles and Instagram. Maybe she will feed them and cuddle them and play games with them....maybe.

Good night, fellow hibernators. And good luck.

Ashley

Death. And Life in 2015

2015. Happy New Year!

Even though I absolutely wish it for anyone reading this post, that phrase is actually hard for me to say. This year didn't start off very happy. There have been a few very happy moments, but the end of 2014 and beginning of the New Year was rather devastating for my family and also for a few of my friends' families.

Death just literally sucks.

In the span of 2 weeks time, Death came and took the life of my aunt, my lifelong friend's grandfather, a childhood friend's father, a new friend's cousin, and my niece's young friends. Along with those lives, death sucked a lot of joy, hope, peace, and happiness from us survivors.

For me and my family, it was the sudden death of our Princess Diana - my only aunt on my father's side of the family, that deleted the happy from the beginning of our new year.

Aunt Di and her Prince William on their wedding day.

My Aunt Diana was beautiful, inside and out, and she will forever be remembered for the legacy of love and family she left us. She was 77 when she passed away, and she had lived a very rich, bright and full life as a big fan of Jesus, babies, and beaches. So, at her burial and memorial services, my family tried to celebrate her life more than mourn her death. But, I have to tell you, there were many tears flowing and tissues used while we all recounted how she touched each of our lives.

I am still struggling and even a bit angry that she is gone, even though I know that she is happily dancing with the angels in heaven without any pain in her knees. Aunt Di wasn't just my aunt. She was pretty much the epitome of what every aunt should be. She was an active participant and positive role model in the lives of her nieces (and grandchildren and great-grandchildren).

I have books inscribed by her, hand made gifts from her, photos that she copied for me; but what I will cherish most are the honest conversations she took the time to have with me. The words she softly shared that forever marked my outlook on life. As my sister Andrea said, she made us all feel that we were the favorite. She had this way making you feel like she was sharing a great secret with you when she spoke; she would lower her voice and punctuate her important points with a wink and a wide smile. And as my father said, she was the glue that continually bound our families together.

She wrote on the back of this picture, "Dancing at The Pavilion"

Even though she lived in the Carolinas and we lived in Tampa, she was present in my life. Despite her own aches and pains, she was there, packing up the house when my grandparents moved, making dinners, and spending time with her parents in their old age. When my grandmother began to loose her grip on life, Aunt Di was there, helping my parents care for my Mamaw. And when she died, it was Aunt Di and my mom, who watched my grandmother take her last breath.

Many of my memories of Aunt Diana were of the Christmases our families spent together, which were pretty big gatherings, combining her four children and my dad's four girls. And then later, when we all married and had babies of our own, which made sharing Christmas together difficult, there was always an open invitation to spend part of July at the family beach house, The Sonfish. In that big, bright peach (a color only Aunt Di would choose) house and on the beach, 2nd and 3rd cousins played and bonded and became friends, 1st cousins shared the joys of parenthood and got to relive a bit of their youth (thanks to babysitting provided by the older generation) together. Trips in the boat, full of sunkissed littles, to The Pavilion restaurant became an annual tradition. And behind all these priceless scenes of family - not always blissful - togetherness, Aunt Diana would be there capturing it all with her camera or video recorder.

Alexandra sitting on the porch of The Sonfish

Gabriel enjoying Holden Beach

The whole Birchfield/Boyer clan together on the beach. 

I'm not trying to make my aunt sound like a perfect saint - she had her areas of selfishness and pride just like everyone else - but she was our saint. Patron of dancing, bright colors, wide smiles, loud laughter, memory making, and family glue. It is because of her legacy of love that I received several random hugs from my sweet adolescent cousins when we were together this past weekend. It is because of her that I heard the young adult cousins easily say to one another "I love you."  It is because of her legacy of family that we plan on getting together this summer at the beach and next Christmas at my cousin's. It is because of her example that many in her family have relationships with Jesus Christ.

Death happened this year. It is hard. It is sad. But we can learn from it. Here are 15 things my aunt's life and death taught me about LIVING in 2015 and always.

1. Death can happen suddenly. Never miss an opportunity to spend time with your family.

2. Dance anyway. Despite the pain, dance like everyone is watching and that you don't care.

3. Every life is important. Make sure those in your life FEEL important.

4. Spend time with babies. Suck up their scent. It's magical.

5. Turn your eyes upon Jesus and surrender it all to him. In every situation.

6. Invite strangers into your family. Adopt. A pet. A kid. An elderly person. Anyone who needs one.

7. Show your children and grandchildren what's really important in life. Don't just tell them.

8. Read whenever you can't sleep and sleep in whenever you can.

9. Eat less. Food is just fuel for you body; it's not love. (Actually, her son Craig taught me that one).

10. Exercise every day. (Yeah, I know, I don't either, but I should start.) It will make you feel better,         and if you ignore your body, it will give up on you too soon.

11. Live most of your life in the Carolinas. Because they are in the middle. And New England winters       and Florida summers suck. The. Life. Right. Out. Of. You.

12. Be a Beach Bum. The ocean is free therapy.

13. Give your time and money to charitable organizations and causes you believe in.

14. Be good to your nieces and nephews. One day they might just write your obituary.

15. Smile and wink a lot. It makes people feel special. And they will always remember how you       made them feel.

She made us all feel like we were her favorite.

Aunt Di, we miss you so very much. But you will never be forgotten, and you will live on in our hearts until we see you again. Until then, we will be jealous of the angels.

Here is Allen Reed's video memorial of our Dancing Queen. https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10205739524552588&set=vb.1390063842&type=2&theater