Rain & Ash

 (Photo by: Cassidy Dejong)

The smoke is thick as it fills the lungs

my vulnerable lungs ache from the discomfort
my eyes sting and my head throbs like a beat of the drum

yet I continue to walk down the street

Ash falls from the sky, flying through the air

light as feathers they dance white with anger

they land where they please coming from the place where they were burned

the sky is orange and red with anger

as the smoke blots out the sun mutating it into a bloody red omen

and the rain is barred from pouring down

it was a time of chaos and confusion

it was a time of pain and loss

land and homes burned and lay desolate in the flames wake

the Waldo Canyon Wildfire proved itself to be a force to be reckoned with

the mountain side often called majestic was engulfed by red hot towering flames

they moved down its tips into the valleys taking everything in its path hostage

a thousand firemen working day and night face the fire bravely

helocoptars soar through the air and smoke pouring water over the beast

yet it continues to feast

this wildfire on June 26, 2012 was hungry and as it entered the city limits it struck fear into the hearts of coloradians

yet as the fire continues to move and swallow our beautiful forested land

you see people gathering to feed the homeless

shelter and shower the evacuees

there is strength within our ranks

and as pride soars for the firemen

love and pride soars for the people of Colorado Springs who have given much to bless others

we are indeed in a time of mourning for our land, our people and our homes

but as big drops of rain hit the ground with a thud, renewed hope filled our souls

and we sing a new song

that though we have lost much we will recover, we will rebuild and we will be stronger!
 

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Switchblades and Water guns

Picture by: Robert Yager

Back in the day . . . about seven years ago. I used to fight. I know, I know. NOT little miss Ashley! but yes, I had a serious problem with anger, and my fists in the barrio. Well there were worse barrios than the South side of San Antonio, but that was our barrio. The rage would just take over me, the adrenaline would course through my veins like a boiling heat under my skin, my hands would shake and then I would black out. I would wake up with a girl on the ground. It scared me. However, all we knew was to use our fists. Its a cycle of poverty intermingled with extremely dysfunctional communication, and as a result you wind up repeating the cycle over and over. Unless you are willing to change and work hard enough to make a change happen. When I came to Christ and found a relationship with him, things changed. Now i just get angry, and then get over it :) But let me tell you, finding Christ didn't solve my problems, it took painful years preceding salvation to fix the dysfunctional kinks in my life.


When someone purposely does something to belittle me (like today), my first reaction is shock. I go through a couple seconds of, "I cannot believe he did that!" and then after the shock has subsided, the anger within starts to boil over. I can't imagine what I look like from the outside, but from within, lets just say it gets black and red! I can feel the steam start to rise above my soul as I try to keep composed. and then after the waves of different emotions pass through me, I smile a sweet and mocking smile that could make a warm pond in the summer turn to ice.

After they have left, then the anger really hits, because now I have the leisure to rile and complain. I also have the ability to possibly punch something, or scream into a pillow (If available). I think of all the things I could have said, all the low blows I could have caused him pain with, and then i mentally run through all the weapons I have in my arsenal. However, after about twenty minutes of ranting and raving, I begin to slow down. I am most likely sitting or laying down on my bed at this point, and have successfully reached the point of pity. I pity the person that is hurting, or broken so much that they felt the need to humiliate me. It is the oldest trick in the book. If they can get the attention on them, then they feel more powerful, and their perception of their significance seems a little better.

However, the truth is that tomorrow morning the sun will rise, and the birds will be chirping, It will be a beautiful morning and he will wake up, back in the bed he made in life. Most likely in a melancholy disposition, he will take a deep sorrowful and lonely breath. He will get up and cross the room to the mirror, look at himself and realize that he hasn't changed and that nothing in life has changed. He isn't powerful, and the glory from the attention that he had yesterday, by hurting someone only lasted in the moment. He really was powerless.

Yes, I pity that person.

Then with conviction, I ask myself why I wasn't mature enough to pray for him in the first place? I am just as immature as he is. I was imagining different ways (for about twenty minutes) of how I could get back at him with weapons like a switchblade or a bazooka. Man is my mind violent! But the truth is that I don't even have a water gun! What was the motivation behind this? Probably because I wanted the power to get back at him. And so the cycle of offense and hurt goes full circle through his actions, and my reaction. Yes I pity him, but most of all in the end I must learn to love him. No matter how humiliating, painful, or unjust it was, in the end Christ's love is more powerful than my pity.

But loving someone after they hurt you is pretty hard! yes it is!!
BUT, I have to realize that learning to love someone overnight is near to impossible. It really takes time. However, after prayer, personal reminders, a scripture, and a quote about the betterment of mankind, maybe after all that hard work. and possibly talking to yourself in the mirror every morning for the next couple weeks, you will come to a place, where you will be able to love him as Christ loves him.

and that is the conclusion i came to after an incident today :) whew! I came full circle!

Finger Paints and Philosophy

The daycare was slow, and the students were less in number than usual. As a result of such a warm lazy day in the summer, the teacher decided today would be a great day to finger paint. With the bottles of rainbow assorted colors they set out for the classroom. The girls were giggly with excitement as they trudged down the hall. They felt important as they each helped the teacher carry the bottles. ponytails and braids swayed from side to side as they moved down the hall, as excitement filled the air.

Once they reached the class, construction paper of many colors were pulled out, t-shirts to get messy in were put on, and paints were poured on paper plates. The teacher said, in the most game show host tone like voice possible, "let the painting begin!" Loud giggles, screeching, talking and playing began as the shirts darkened with use and hands became slaves to the thick paints. Butterflies, hand prints, bugs, and plants were painted out on the paper! imaginations were set free, as what was in the children's heads were set free through their imaginations! It truly was a beautiful time!

"You can go to extremes with impossible schemes

 You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams

 and life gets more exciting with each passing day

 and love is either in your heart, or on its way."

-Frank Sinatra

That is when I entered the classroom! I saw all the fun and excitement, the girlish giggles from the three five year old girls and my best friend (the teacher) painting her mom. I laughed as I watched her try to make brown out of the glittery paints (that looked like a shade of poo) and laughed even more as the girls told me to sit at the child size table and make butterflies. As i tried to position myself in a sturdy kids chair at the table, I grabbed a white piece of paper and began my masterpiece. With hot pink, blue, orange, and purples i created butterflies, and with green made a flower and grass! 

However, as I was sitting there with the children, enjoying the moment, I realized a profound truth. When you are young, life seems so much simpler. Many things that are deemed as important outside the four walls of the intensely decorated classroom are no longer prevalent. Because, when you are sitting in a miniature chair, next to little girls asking you to draw butterflies, and your fingers are messy from the grit of the paints, you realize that life is so much more beautiful and fun when you are young at heart!

"Don't you know that it's worth every treasure on earth

to be young at heart

For as rich as you are, it's much better by far

to be young at heart."

-Frank Sinatra

I Natasha, and a White Donkey

Because I, this poor one,
love beautiful Natasha,
snow falls thickly tonight.
As for loving Natasha, I do,
and as for the snow, it falls thickly as
I sit sadly alone drinking soju.
As I drink, I think-
Natasha and I,
in the evening as snow piles up deeply, we will ride on a
white donkey.
into the mountain. Let’s live in a grass hut deep in the
mountain village where
the echoes murmur.
Snow falls thickly, and
I think of Natasha-
no way she won’t be coming.
She has already come quietly and talks to me inside.
Going to the mountain is not surrendering to the world,
but
leaving it and all its filth.
Snow falls thickly,
the beautiful Natasha loves me,
and somewhere a white donkey may cry for joy of this
night.

-Baek Seok (North Korean Poet)

This poem is so beautifully melancholy yet equally balanced with committed love and devotion. the longing for his lover is so apparent. I can feel the desire and pull through his words! how beautiful! 

At the Park

With a chilled green iced tea from Starbucks, black wayfarer shades, pen and paper, my handy dandy computer, my rainbow polka dotted backpack and my homework spread out about me. With all those things I successfully feel like a college student as I sit at a little round table outside Starbucks. K-pop music plays in my earbuds as i read my online homework about "Ethics in Leadership"
I catch myself lifting my head every few minutes pondering the little things in life. I ponder things such as laughter,  happiness, life, time, purpose. I wonder why I think of these things at such a young age. Is it ok to think of these things before my retirement? I don't know, but I do. I wonder what destiny holds, or what life holds concerning purpose. I wonder why certain things happen to people, why there is pain in the world. Why tears exist and how unfair life can be.

These are strange thoughts that pass through my mind. This goes to show how distracted I can get when reading case studies on organizational leadership. :) blech.
I have been pretty grumpy these days. I get grumpy when I am disturbed in my soul. That's when I know something deep within me is stirring and in pain. And there is most definitely a stirring.
Here is the truth of the matter. My motivation for actions in my life (no matter what it is) is driven by convenience, the path with least resistance and confrontation. Because, the thought of feeling anything that hurts many times is to much for me to bear. An example for the present would be my iced tea. My fingers are chilled at the tips from my iced tea and I am uncomfortable, but the slight discomfort in the end is worth the sweet taste of the tea.

I remember the most intense pain I have ever felt, it was when I was young and I was swinging in the park. I used to love to swing as fast and hard as I could. I would swing with all my might until it felt that the swing would flip me over the bar. It was exciting and exhilarating to feel as though I was flying. But as I began to grow overly ambitious I felt  confident enough to lift my feet straight up in the air when I swung forward. I did this over and over! it was so fun to see the sand on the ground as i lifted my feet as straight and as high into the air as I could. My brown hair would sweep the sandy ground as I flew by, with each swing, and the warm breeze ministered to my young heart. I was carefree. but I began to get to confident and as a result I cared less about safety. With each swing I grew more careless and before I knew it i had landed roughly and firmly on my back and all the air was knocked out of my lungs. I had hit the ground so hard, that for seconds, if not a couple minutes I could not move. Breathing seemed impossible, and my chest seemed to have lost the ability to capture anything worth saving me and my very bones screamed out in protest from the impact. I laid on the ground immobile and writhing within. The most heartbreaking truth of this story was that no one was there to save me. I was in pain alone. The pain was so intense. I remember thinking, "Oh the pain! Stop the pain." and later (at such a young age) I pondered the measures it would take to never feel that pain ever again. The few moments of pain for me wasn't worth the endless hours of fun I gained on that carefree day at the park. I learned through the years to be careful, and in some ways to never take chances, because if I did, I could end up hurt.

Now I am perfectly content with swinging ever so slightly on the swing. I enjoy watching my feet sway back and forth across the dirt as the creak of the chains sing a song to me. I especially enjoy those quite swings at night when I can look up to the sky and see the innumerable amount of  stars twinkle down on me. That is when I feel lovely peace. But how much of that enjoyment comes from precaution. Have I just conditioned myself over the years to enjoy a few moments of swaying my feet, when I could enjoy the full potential of flying into the sky? Am I holding myself back simply because I fear feeling pain again? I ask myself this question in true wonderment.

yes my iced tea has watered down, and the sky has darkened. The breeze has picked up and my homework still lies unfinished. But this question still troubles me. With recent death all around me, I have revisited this question out of concern for myself. Ashley maybe it is time to swing with all your might. Maybe, it's time for you to take a chance and throw your feet straight into the air. Don't fear the consequences because the swing can only take you so high, just as the fall can only take you so low. there is a limit to both. It's time to swing with free abandon. It's time to set yourself free.

An Apology to The Cliche

How do you begin an apology? How do they all sound to the ear? empty? half truths? White lies? Or sometimes can they really be deemed as sincere and full of remorse? I have been pondering life lately, and i believe i need to apologize to myself. I believed when i had written "Goodbye to the Cliche" that it was in all unbiased sincerity the only way to survive the past by forgetting it. but i learned that just because the cliche could not be real in the past doesn't mean the future doesn't have the potential for it.

Many times i catch myself looking at my life from a mirrored lens that has already aged and withered. But if that were the case, my skin would be wasted away already, and years of disappointments would have left its mark on me much deeper than it does now. I forget many times that in the now, in the present i hold the power to make the beautiful cliche a reality.

I can have the porch swing. I can have a husband that kisses me before work, and have a ranch home that looks out across half an acre of land :) I can make as much iced tea i want and sit with my children and listen to them laugh. I can buy the baby clothes and do my daughter's hair. I can have the cliche! It's up to me to believe that all that can come true. If i don't want a husband that yells at me and doesn't respect me then i won't marry a loser. i will marry a wonderful man of God that serves him with all his heart and has a heart to hear me and respect me enough. I can have reading hour, and cook him dinner (not around a tv, but at the table) I can have all that. I don't have to give up the cliche simply because I have never had it before!

and so i apologize to myself for believing that those beautiful things can't come true. I apologize for setting limits on myself. I apologize for being the pessimistic me :)

I FEEL BETTER! :)

The Grey Door Called Death

Sometimes when I think of death, I think of a grey door that is cracked open. One side of the door is dark and shadowed while inside streaming from the crack is light that is radiant and bright. But i stand at such a distance that I cannot see the mystery of where that light comes from. Many times I have wondered what it would be like to finally turn the door knob and open the door wider. I wonder what it would be like to have that white radiant light warming my cheeks as it touches my face. But there is a mystery of death that no living soul can fully understand. There are certain aspects we can grasp but as a whole we cannot touch the door, nor enter it because we are living.
Tonight I lost my Papaw and last week my dear friend lost her husband. But i didn't find out about his death until tonight. And as a result it turned into a double blow. I know they are both in better places but my heart aches and i wonder about that door.
I wonder why when I think of death I see a door. something that is so final yet full of potential. It is simply a door. A way of passage from one side to another but in passing through, you experience two different and completely unique settings. I miss my Papaw, but most of all I wish my mommy wasn't crying. I wish, she didn't have to experience the pain of 'losing someone.' Just as I wish I could heal the pain of Linda losing her precious soulmate. Through their pain and loss i ache just as deeply and I find myself once again contemplating the grey door called death.
The problem with this special door is that for the most part, once you step through you cannot come back. And a person's soul that once inhabited flesh now just becomes flesh. Empty, soulless, and quiet. I think that is the most perplexing aspect to me. Not death itself but rather the emptiness of the person once they are gone. That i think is the most painful part. Knowing that though that body may look like your loved one, may still feel or smell like him or her, it isn't them anymore. Yes I think that is the most painful part of all.
And I wish many times humanity didn't have to experience that kind of disconnect. And so i resolve to continue to see the grey door, cracked open, and I still wonder what lies on the other side. But as usual I sit here broken and mystified.