Remember so you never forget

March 11th. 9 years and it’s like I can still remember every detail so clearly, yet all at once it seems like a life time ago that took place in a fog. 

I was awake many hours last night, after having my—now yearly dream—two gun shots, detectives, babies crying, fear so intense I can’t breath, an affair, lies, a casket, a murder trial. Always surrounded by people but never feeling so alone. 

Every year during this week. Like clock work. I am guessing to remind me how not invincible I am, and to let it all go...all over again. 

So what does it feel like 9 years out? That’s what they always ask, does this get easier? When do you stop looking around every room you walk in for danger; when do you stop being scared to sit with your back to the entrance of a restaurant? When do you get back to “normal”? When do you stop feeling the fear? 

To that I answer...You don’t. Nothing can take you back to be the same person you were before a severe trauma. The fear still exhists because the pain that was...is still real. Memories are apart of you. Those fears are powerful. 

What changes is how you react to them. How you let them react in you. Time doesn’t take away pain...it just gives you tools to manage and work through it. Time doesn’t change what happened, but it gives you lots of moments to be able to see it differently. Time doesn’t make you forget, but it does let you remember. Remember the miracles that happened in the dark. Time lets you remember the light that still exists all around—and inside of—you. Time heals wounds if we let it...but it is a choice—not a right. 

We each have two choices. We can live in fear...or faith. Both take a belief in something we cannot see. Pain comes from living in the fear...and healing is found as you choose to live in faith. 

Thanks for all your sweet messages. I cherish them. And to those of you who only know me from watching me cry on tv...and still send me messages every year on this day, I hope it always reminds you to choose light. I hope you feel the power and love of your God, and every year on this day you are reminded to put your family first, to choose good over evil, to follow a path that will bring you joy...not excitement in the moment—but the eternal kind of joy that only families can bring. I hope every year on this day you choose to forgive someone who has hurt you...and make right any pain you have caused. I hope every year on March 11th, you remember that you are a child of God, and He sent you here to remember how great you are. Show up. Be kind. And live in all the faith you can find. Let your light shine. You were born for greatness...your story isn’t over. 

Always the plan

I have been ghosting all of you the past few months. What started with giving some freedom to someone I thought I could trust . . . ended in a reevaluation of what and who I want to be, and what I want this blog and my non profit A Reason to Stand to become. I have never been surrounded by so many “business” people driven by power and money, than I have the past six months; masked in the form of genuine hearts willing to help.

It has been healing to step back and compare watching others try to take something that didn’t belong to them, and realize that I still had a lot of pain from another time someone came and took from me something that didn’t belong to him. I have felt like my walls went back up, leaving me too afraid to be vulnerable—and in protection mode all over again.

After a month of preterm labor, and now a few weeks engulfed in all my efforts being used up in a desperate fight to no longer be pregnant . . . it is no surprise to me that I sit here at six in the morning, feeling a need to get out of my head what has been on my mind.

Protecting our children.

I am about to give birth to a child that is coming into a different world than the other five have lived. The last time I was here, I didn’t know it, but my world was about to shatter. There have been many moments through the last nine months that I almost felt inadequate to give her a home that she deserved. A pure—un-traumatized—baby why would she want a mother who has been so broken? The dude in my head has had a great time brining me back to the fear that I couldn’t protect my other kids . . . why would this time be any different? He has been truly creative at bringing back inadequacy to a new kind of level.

So I as I have pondered these fears, and worked through some of the trauma I thought had long since passed, I have realized a few things . . .

In this world—though she hopefully won’t experience first hand what her brothers and sisters went through—she will still need to be protected from it.

We live in a world obsessed with two things. Sex and Murder. Glorified at every turn, our children are constantly bombarded with marketing full of images depicting the Hollywood version of these two sins, but what they don’t tell you is how murder really feels for the kids who live it every day.

What they don’t tell you is that both of these choices—affairs and murder—shatter hearts. What they don’t tell you is that these kids effected by losing someone close to them at the hand of another person . . . lose their childhood—their innocence—in a single moment. What Hollywood fails to portray is the years that follow. They want us to think that murder is intriguing, they want our children to think that it is just part of life. Little do they know is how it really feels when it happens to you.

So what does growing up in a world of murder feel like? It feels like panic attacks at school when a Hollywood version book about murder is read out loud to a group of 8^th graders. It feels like anxiety for weeks after a 12 year old plays a shooting game with all of his friends. Haunting nightmares after accidently seeing a commercial during a football game—a commercial about a cereal killer. Little kids scared to go up to their room alone. Kids afraid to go to school after a lock in drill. Tears in the night after someone says a simple phrase when not wanting to do a task at school,
Just shoot me in the head.” Words that in any one else’s world seem so simple—to children of murder—brings about an image that is all too real.

So to those in Hollywood who make light of taking a life . . . I want you to know that murder isn’t just a cool topic that—as my daughter’s eighth grade teacher put it—“keeps their attention because kids like this stuff”. Kids only like this stuff, because we have let it become commonplace in their life. I know for a fact that we wouldn’t let them read books about 10 different ways a sex addict raped someone—so why is it ok to have them read a book about 10 different ways a serial killer murdered people?

Our kids are being told lies. They are playing games that take away their view of the preciousness of every life. They are watching movies that glorify and give power to sex and violence. They are surrounded by images that take away the importance of fidelity and protection of life. Then we wonder why young kids bring guns into schools; we wonder why they do it in a way that they have no empathy for anyone else . . . it is because we have taught them that it is ok . . . and not just ok—we have let them come to believe that it is cool.

Our kids deserve more. They need us to care about what we let the world put into their heads. We need to protect them from the numbing effect of stories and games that fog their view of reality and fantasy. They need us to filter out the world, and teach them right from wrong. They need to learn empathy.

I learned the importance of this by parenting what the world might call “broken children”. But guess what . . . the world is the broken one. God wants us to have empathy. And my unlucky children learned that the day their father was shot in the head. They care about what others are going through and how things feel for them. They care about every emotion I feel—sometimes to an obnoxious level. They cry when their friend’s parents get divorced, because they don’t want them to hurt. They ask for an extra ten bucks when their school is raising money for a student with cancer—not because they know him well—but because they ache for another in pain.

Emapthy is what we have to teach our kids, to care about every life that is around them. Empathy—heart for another person’s needs—is what changes everything. Empathy is what this pure child who hasn’t felt the effect of trauma is going to learn from her siblings who have lived a life full of it.

So little baby. You are coming to a family that some days has felt a little broken . . . but what I finally figured out: this was always the plan. You won’t see them as your broken brothers and sisters—you will see them as brothers and sisters who learned at a young age what it is like to care. They will protect you on a fierce level at every turn, because they will never want you to hurt. They will be your warriors, because they learned a long time ago that life is precious. They will give you their hearts, because they know what it feels like for hearts to be broken. You won’t see them as broken, because it is in their broken past that they learned how to love.

Empathy is love—caring about the life and needs of another person. In a world full of empathy there is no room for the world’s view of what makes us broken. God doesn’t make any mistakes . . . so little baby, I am ready to be your mom. I am worthy to be your mom. This was always the plan. My heart is ready to do it again, and I have faith that this time it will be different. It won’t be perfect—no life is—but what I can promise you is that it will be beautiful. A perfect kind of mess. The world isn’t what we are bringing you into . . . you are coming straight into our hearts—and we can’t wait.

God’s plan is beautiful . . . and I am so glad you choose us. This was always the plan.

Life after losing a child

Alesha Penland sharing hope after the loss of her son Lincoln. I love her perspective on forgiveness and moving forward. Thank you Alesha for being brave today and sharing your heart with me.

There is hope

I have received many messages from people asking me what my story is. So if you are new here—welcome—and let me take a moment to introduce myself. My name is Ashlee. I am a mother to five kids (13,13,11,9, and 7 years old). The Moments We Stand is the name of my blog that started as a healing journal for me after a month long murder trial didn’t lead me to the peace, I spend almost two years, imagining it would. 

After the birth of our fifth child my husband Emmett was shot two times—once in the heart and once in the forehead—by the husband of a secret mistresses I didn’t know he had. I spent the next two years waiting to take a breath as the murder trail got pushed back month after month. As the trial finally ended, I realized the magnitude of the chains I was wrapped in. I had become a victim—literally on the bench in a courtroom and by the fears in my own mind. Then one day God gave me a gift. He asked me to own my story. To write my fears and vulnerably share my insecurities with anyone who asked me how it felt. And that is the mission I have been on ever since. Seven years later I am a remarried, divorced, widow on a mission to help others know they are not alone, find their worth, and remember their truths. And guess what? I am happy. Widowhood, divorce, parenting, remarriage, and murder are not the things that make me who I am—they are just parts of my story. Who I am is a daughter of God who has learned so many lessons—on a path I didn’t choose—that was created just for me, to help me keep striving to become the best version of who God sent me here to be. I am enough. And so are you. Whatever your story, whatever dark paths you have walked—YOU are loved, valuable, unique, and YOU are enough. Heavenly Father makes no mistakes and I believe if we remember Christ on all the paths we walk—our story will be filled with His grace. 

We can be a light no matter how much darkness we have had to endure. You can find my story on my blog or books. Start at the beginning! I hope you feel the grace that has been part of your journey as you read about mine. Miracles, are real, they don’t always take away the pain, but they always bring the light! There is hope. 

Hi 5 Live with Ashlee

I was asked to be on a Facebook Live show called Hi 5 Live. Somehow my phone saved the recording. So bonus. I posted it on Youtube. It is Emmett's birthday today, thank you all for sending love for him. We will take it on to his family this weekend at their annual birthday celebration. Have a great weekend.

To read more about these stories I shared on this episode click on the link below:
A few hard days and then faith in the plan

Day 3: LOOK UP

Look UP

She stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the rocks fall beneath her feet. It was hard to see what was on the other side through the fog. She looked behind her—all that was left of the trees were trunks still smoking and black. She looked down the canyon—left and right—the water rushed through the gorge, the caps were white and she could feel the chaos that churned in their power—each rapid reminding her of the storm that raged inside.

At this point she had only two choices: jump—and never have to feel any of the pain ever again—let the water take it all away; or turn around and try hard to find her way through the wreckage— back to the place that took everything from her, alone to pretend life was worth living.

Time stopped as she stood at the greatest crossroad of her life. Looking down . . . nothing seemed promising, a fatal steep drop, the easy way out. Looking back . . . a darkened broken picture of what once was.  The view of the mess sent chills down her spine and a pit of fear in her stomach. She didn’t want to die, but she no longer could live as if she were dead. Her eyes didn’t know where to turn their gaze, every direction a reminder of her worthlessness. She was not enough. Yes, this was all the evidence she needed—this moment made everything so clear. For the first time in her life she had nowhere to turn, and worse . . . no one by her side.

Did anyone care she was alone? Would anyone notice if she wasn’t there? Her life—or her death—wouldn’t effect anyone else, so what did it matter? She wanted to just jump and make it all go away. Each thought and each glance brought about more and more fear. She was frozen, broken . . . and alone—her darkest hour. She thought about her life, each moment leading up to this day—all the broken promises and pain. She thought about her death and wondered if she had already been forgotten. She didn’t know who to be angry with: herself, everyone else . . . maybe God?

“Hey God . . . are you out there?” She could hear her voice echo through the canyon walls. “Can you hear me? Can anyone hear me?” She looked behind her again . . . no one. She looked down the canyon—right and left—nothing. She held her head down and stared at her bare feet. “I am going to die here . . . and no one will care . . . and no one can even hear me.” Her pleas began to grow loud, “I am going to die here . . . please don’t let me die alone. Please let me just have one do-over. I am so scared, and alone, and humiliated . . . and so . . . so . . . forgotten.”

Soon the fog began to surround her. It was so thick even the canyon view began to grow black—she looked back to more darkness. At the edge of the canyon the world went black and she was surrounded by her fear of being alone—she stood in the darkness battling her demons. Hours passed, each one bringing more and more panic for her need to look down and check behind her. Total darkness, utter isolation. Her eyes began to scan the world for any glimmer of light—and that is when she realized she would have to look up.

As her eyes gazed toward heaven she felt a peace unlike any she had ever known. For a few minutes time stood still and she could finally see. Like a movie playing on a screen, she could see herself living a life—her life. She saw a glimpse of light in her eyes, and beauty in her soul. A magnificent love surrounded her and for a split second she knew in her heart that God had a plan. In that moment she could see herself on the other side of the canyon. She was not only living, she was laughing and smiling . . . and she was standing tall.

But how could this be? A broken girl, with a broken soul . . . she could never be whole, or loved. She could never be enough. Or could she? With nothing but a glimpse of a promise, she set out on her journey in the dark. She decided she would move forward even if she had to take just one step at a time. For the first time in her life she would live each day with grace, knowing that she could not change the past . . . but she would have a future. She was still stuck in the fog at the edge of a deep canyon, but she was going to live.

And that is what she did. Some days she could barely see with so many tears in her eyes; some moments she couldn’t breath with so much pain in her heart, but day-by-day she began to find herself. You see, the angels couldn’t just pick her up and set her down across the canyon . . . but they walked with her through darkness, they battled with her through the valleys and the streams. They showed her the pathways to take and the hurdles to cross, and eventually they helped her find how to become that girl—the one smiling and standing on the other side of the canyon. 

She saw many miracles in those dark days, but the greatest gift she received was the rocky course—the bumps and the bruises—that taught her how to fight.  It isn’t until she hit rock bottom that she realized she was only half way living when she was at the top. Strength came when she had to find—for herself—just how strong she was. That fight is what showed her that she had worth—that she was enough for God. It wasn’t an easy road, or a paved path . . . but she fought every step of the way. And as she looked toward heaven, she was reminded how—not why—her journey was different than the one she had planned, and she knew without a doubt that she was never alone. He was there through that fire, He was standing with her by that raging water, He was catching the pebbles that crumbled under her feet, He felt every pain, He heard every fear, and He wiped every tear. He was always there, but the moment she could finally feel Him . . . was when she decided not to look down, not to look back and wish for what was, but . . . to LOOK UP.  

 (pic by Holly Marlin)

Bullet Proof

The minute I heard this song by Sia I connected with it. I have cried it out many times in the quiet of my car. But hearing it come from my eleven year old daughter in front of a room full of people at her school talent show—made it even more powerful! We are strong friends. All of us have different types of bullets that have tried to bring us down...this girl just happens to be singing about two very real bullets—that killed her dad—that she will not let make her fall. This her testimony of strength. And I couldn't be more proud.

Bailey never stop shinning. You light this world unlike anyone I know. 

Our greatest honor

This morning I got my kids off to school. I cleaned up my house for a few minutes, and then went into my office, wrote in my journal, and did ten minutes of sit ups and push ups. I got on my computer to get some work done for my January conference coming up in Arizona—opened up my email to see a few new emails from Bailey stating boldly she finally decided what to do her debate paper about: Why Guns should be Illegal. Accompanied with a graph that showed the percentage of murders by weapon—guns being the greatest source of wrongful deaths.

An all too familiar feeling took over my body. My heart started racing and my breathing felt heavy. I looked around the room—in slow motion—as I could feel my body racing back in time. Images, thoughts, fears, anger, sorrow . . . the usual wave of triggered emotions engulfed me within seconds.

I haven’t sobbed so hard in a long time. First of all . . . for the pride that swelled for my brave daughter as I knew this decision must be part of her healing process, but second for the fears and insecurities that beckoned inside of me. For a few minutes at my desk I felt like a failure—reality of my children’s childhood blaring at me across a screen. Thoughts began beating me down—You didn’t protect them from this. You are a joke of a person. Clearly you haven’t survived anything if your daughter still hurts this much. You let them hurt. You can’t fix this. You are a pathetic loser, and not even a real mom. If you had been a better wife none of this would have happened to them—they wouldn’t have to spend the rest of their life hating guns, and trying to figure out how they can fix this world you ruined for them.

For a minute I let the thoughts have their voice in my head. I felt confused and panicked and alone. I felt trapped, and dark and full of fear. Tears kept on coming as I whirled through the facts that proved all of those thoughts true.

And then all the sudden I realized something—they were all lies. I said a small prayer and begged for angels to come take the darkness from my mind. I closed my eyes and pictured what I know grace to be—a Savior who loves us and holds us through our struggles, a brother who never leaves us alone, a friend who understand ALL of our pain, and a partner who stands by our side—I knew more than anything I needed Him in that moment. And guess what? Within minutes the fog faded, I opened my eyes, and stood up and walked out of my office. Not just feeling ok, but feeling strong. I felt confident and proud of my daughter who was fighting just like me.

Grace in action. He promised us He died for all of our pain . . . but how come in those moments we almost always forget that promise?

Moms. We do so much. We hurt for our babies, we cry for their pain. We plead for their peace. In a small little baby fraction of a way we know how powerful the Savior’s job must be—not just for a few—but for all of us.

I have talked to thousands of moms about the battles they face. This post is dedicated to those moms in this world who never stop fighting.

First I want to start by talking about a few of the fights that I—and other moms—have battled. These phrases are direct quotes from moms who have been there.

Survival mode. (Also known as denial)

No progression. Stuck. Frozen. But not debilitated. Fake it until you make it. When the damn breaks it is hell...cause that pain comes oozing out. Shakes, upset stomach...constant companion. Hard to eat, or to stop eating.  Hard to find joy in anything . . . but try purposefully to remain neutral on bad things as to not upset the fear that is keeping you alive. (I lived in this mode until long after the trial)

“This is reality” mode: when everything you thought would bring happiness is over—or finally yours—but you are still hurting. Closure isn't in your vocabulary. Everything seems harder than in survival mode, because your fog of denial has been lifted—this is reality. Debilitating fears. Panic attacks. Hard time. Constantly overwhelmed. Harder to fake your smiles. Not even surviving . . . just breathing.

Fighter mode: when every life trial that comes feels so overwhelming that you literally have to fight every day for your life. Something goes wrong every day. Feel like you are constantly overcoming something hard and looking to its end for relief . . . only to find that another trial comes to replace it. Feel like the universe is against you. No rest. Sitting at the window looking into the dark. Feeling unsafe wherever you are. Always on guard.

“Too Overwhelmed so I avoid” mode: Even the simplest of task—like the thought of helping a child with homework can shut you down and make you want to scream . . . or run away. Pretending to be in the bathroom for long stretches of time, seeing everyone else’s perfect lives. Wondering why you didn’t get the life you deserved. Kids watched a movie all day. House is destroyed all the time. No order. Just chaos. Kids out of control, won’t listen. Always fighting with siblings. Turn to addictions: working out, shopping, eating, social media . . . just to avoid the overwhelmed feeling of the lists you need to complete. But the more you avoid the lists . . . the more overwhelmed guilt engulfs you. This cycle is one of the craziest, because until you stop it—on purpose—it takes over your life. But you usually can’t even see you are in it, because those avoidance tactics feel so much easier than facing the battles.

Ok, these are just some of the stories I have heard, or felt in my own life, when it comes to parenting through struggles. Some of these woman say they have no reason to be dealing with this stuff—AKA no huge trauma that brought on these struggles—so what we are going to clear up first and foremost is that thought, because even just thinking that your battles aren’t worthy fights causes more guilt that ultimately creates more failures in our homes. The idea that your struggles can’t be as real as someone who has been through a traumatic event is absolutely not true. Each person’s dark fogs are as real for them as they are for anyone else.

So here is the deal . . . we all suck sometimes—some of those sucky parenting moments are “justified” because of the life experiences we have been handed . . . but whether we are aware of why we are triggered—with overwhelm and anxiety—or not . . . it is happening, or will happen at some point along the way.

So this post—though I could spend seventy years writing about the failures that I justified because of the failure I perceived as my life—is to empower us moms to not just fight the battles in survival mode. . . but to fight them with intention. Make a plan against the enemy who wants us to spend this life avoiding—not doing anything “bad”—but forgetting where we are going to make the most impact, or seeing where we already have.

We have the power to undo the damage that Satan does to our minds and our souls. We are not worthless; we are more powerful than we even know. He wants us to forget it every day—don’t let him. We have to fight through the fog.

So let me break this down for a second.

We have to start every day with a plan. Write down a few goals you want to accomplish. Do something every morning to get spiritually centered, because when mommies are off . . . aint no one going to have a good day.

For me this looks like: writing a letter to God, listening to an uplifting talk or inspirational video, uplifting music (my favorite is Paul Cardall’s Pandora station) at least ten minutes of some sort of exercise (even if it is dancing around with your newborn in your arms) and a morning prayer. I know the physical part doesn’t seem like it goes with spiritually centering yourself . . . but it is what engages your body to be able to get centered on where God needs you to be each day . . . here on earth. Healthy food, drinking more water, living within your means, getting out of debt, and cleansing your surroundings are other ways we can show God we are taking care of the vessels He has placed us in to fulfill our mission. (I will cover a few of these in some later posts)

So once you feel connected to God, and to the earth . . . you can better be able to figure out what your day is to look like for Him. Visualize the connection—vertically up to Him and down to this earth. (Horizontal connections keep us in the fog . . . ex: depending on other people’s approval before doing anything, addictions we use to avoid life, waiting around for a new outfit to make you feel pretty enough to find your confidence) And that part about also being connected to the earth—it is where we are and the place we have to be to find our purpose and mission. We can spend all day trying to get close to God, but if we don’t allow ourselves to be content in the path we are on . . . we will continue to avoid the inspiration He tries to send us.

So this is the first step—always—when overcoming the fog. NO other person can take it away, just Christ. That is what grace is—it is His mission alone to carry us through and help us fight our way through our battles. Notice I didn’t say OUT of our battles . . . because if we don’t work through them, they will only come back stronger. We have to feel and allow ourselves to be vulnerable to really heal and overcome the hardships and triggers in our lives.  

Ok, so now we have the first step. With the fog cleared we can find our center, and in our center we can find our mission and purpose each and every day. When we know who we are and why we came here—we are powerful. As mothers, as wives, as friends . . . in all the roles we play. So that is why Satan wants us to forget. Our greatest battle we will ever fight is to keep remembering our truths.

So here is the truth: I want more than anything in the world to be the wife and mother I believe I can be. I want to be patient and loving. I want to teach my kids how to physically and spiritually find their way. I don’t want to let them use any excuses of their past to ever live under their full potential. I want to teach them to be respectful and kind, and how to tell the truth. I want them to be loyal. I want them to know they have good inside of them. I want them to one day see—as I am still fighting to do—that we don’t have to be afraid of guns. I want them to be proud of the men and woman they are going to grow up to be. I want them to always remember me as a mother who took the time to listen, who made the most of every moment and who wasn’t afraid of the dark. I want them to know how to find the light in their lives, and remember the miracles that we have seen. I want them to grow up to be warriors, who never give up or give in. I want to keep my promises, and show them how to do the same. I want to teach them how to stand, because their story has so much good in it. I want them to be proud that the one consistent in their lives is Christ. I hope that each and every day I show them how to live like Him.

We are going to make mistakes moms. We are going to stumble and fall, and some moments are going to hurt. But we aren’t alone. I know from the bottom of my soul we have a Creator who made us to be just the way we are, and sent His Son to live and die for us. Grace is for us too, in those moments when life feels like it is letting us down—again. Your story is beautiful, you just have to fight to remember why.

They won’t remember the perfect pictures, they won’t remember if their socks matched or if your kitchen floor was always mopped and the food was always hot . . . they will remember your smile, your warm embrace when they were scared, your bright eyes that told them they were safe, and your soft hands that wiped their tears. 

We cannot take away all their pain, but we—with the Savior—can show them how to win. The real failure will not have anything to do with the awards we did not recieve, or the sites we did not see . . . it will be if our babies grow up without us because we were so wrapped up in waiting for something more.

You are there. Live in this moment, today. And do it on purpose. No regrets. What they will remember most is the easiest to do, but also the easiest to forget . . .

You are doing a great job. Don’t you dare give up. Put down those phones and laugh like you have never laughed before. Not because everything is finally how you thought it should have been . . . but because it is exactly where you were born to be. Motherhood is the greatest work we will ever do. The world might fail to recognize all the sacrifices you have made, but God has seen EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.



P.S...
(I got on here to write some recipes, requested by a few of you on Instagram Story. Apparently I got a little distracted. I will work on those in the morning, also a post on my mommy store I shared on Instagram Story!! Thank you for always encouraging me in the little things. If you have read my first book, you know that cooking used to be a HUGE trigger for me. It has been fun to get back to finding passion in it again. I will be honored to share those recipes and ideas on here! Thank you so much for asking.