United as One

This past Sunday during our lesson Tytus opened to the weeks chapter and immediately pointed out this picture. He said, “Mom do you think Jesus knew what would be happening in our country when He told the artist to paint this picture for this exact week? There are white sheep all around him, but Jesus is holding the black one.” 

I have been at a loss for words the last few weeks—trying to find my voice in an array of many emotions. Hurting for black mothers who are scared for their babies; hurting for minorities that don’t feel part of a country that was founded on welcoming and bringing all races together. Hurting for other families that have been thrown into the fear and chaos that murder brings. 

I am not an expert, and I have not been where so many of you have been. I have felt like I have no words to try to comfort—or even understand—anyone because I have not lived through racism, or acts of hate because of the color of my skin. 

I don’t have all the answers...but I wanted to share some truths, because I know that it is in truth that—many times—I have felt comfort...even without having all the answers to the “whys”. 

I know that divisions among equals is wrong. There never has been a time where one person—or race—is better than another...that has always been a made up delusion by insecure beings to make themselves feel better or bigger than someone else.  It was always wrong, and it will always be abuse when someone hurts or belittles another person because of a difference between them or their beliefs. It always was, and always will be murder if a life is taken out of hate. 

Just like body size, and eye color...skin color does not give us our worth or make or break who we are. Hitler was wrong. Our ancestors were wrong. Skin color, eye color, hair color...these are just traits that make us unique—beautiful in our own way. We weren’t meant to be just like each other; we weren’t meant to be the same...but we were meant to love each other. 

Jesus has wept for so many of His brothers and sisters who have felt lost and forgotten, targeted, trodden down, abused, and unwanted. He has cried for you, and with you. He loves you. He has counted every tear and I know He will remember all that we do, or fail to do to protect and care for each other. He will remember all we go through at the hands and ignorance of others. There will be a time—if not now—that we will all be held accountable for the actions we do, or fail to do. 

I know that it is His light that can take away the darkness that has racked our country with hate, decades ago and still today. Hate, anger, revenge...those feelings are so real...but they never do bring light. Darkness never has been chased away by more dark. It is the light each day that brings morning. It is the light in our hearts that brings peace. It is the light of Christ that brings healing. 

His gift to see us as God sees us is what we need. To see each other as the worthy, beautiful, valuable souls that each need to be loved, honored, and protected. We are all one...sons and daughters of the same Creator. 

I believe in us—a country...a world...that has been stuck in confusion that is ready to be real. Ready to STAND for what’s right...STAND for truth...STAND for love...And STAND for light. 

We all need to change: to be better than we were, stronger than we are, striving for what we can all be. United. United as neighbors and friends. United as strangers who see way past ourselves and our fears...and see the goodness of every soul. United as cities that see the value of every life and honor the value of every being, race, and culture. United under God—as beings created in His image, and valued in His grace. United in light. United as one. 

Silence didn't break us

March 11^th.  It is hard to believe it has been eight years. At moments it feels like it was thirty seconds ago, and others feel like it could have been a few hundred life times that have passed.

The fog always seems to try to find its way back into our hearts—I wonder if that will just always be a thing around March—yesterday I had more than one child struggle with the memories of this time of year. Memories can bring a lot of pain, anniversaries of trauma . . . those seem to be pretty instilled in the person that experienced them. It is hard to endure in your own mind . . . but nearly impossible to comprehend watching it in your child.

Since the moment I sat on my couch eight years ago—and was told many stories by detectives who had just left a crime scene, I have had more than a dozen people say to me how lucky I was that Emmett was killed, that I didn’t have to go through divorce and having him not want me as a choice.  And though I know they have meant well—and many of them only knew him from different murder mystery shows about our story (those never really portray the “body” as a human being)—I  have never once looked at that day as lucky. It was a moment that has tried to break me—and the five little people I was asked to protect—for the last eight years. I know if you asked them, they haven’t felt lucky, but blessed—we have been blessed. Blessed to have each other; blessed to see who are real friends are; blessed to see grace in our lives; blessed to fight for a relationship with our Savior; blessed to comprehend just how precious every moment of our lives really are; blessed to smile again; blessed to laugh; blessed to see each other, and share this journey together.

For them, I like to make this day about the love they had—in an imperfect man who died in a horrific way—and the love they get to carry with them through out their life . . . from each other.  So to my little warriors, on this day that is so hard . . . I want you to know you are my best friends. You did not deserve the pain you have had to face—but you absolutely deserve every blessing that has come as you have fought through it. Thank you for choosing me, believing in me, and holding me up on the days when I couldn’t stand. You are five of the bravest people I know, and by the amazing lives you are living . . . you are showing not only your Heavenly Father, but your father in heaven, just how brave you can be. Just like us—the parents who you hear cheer you on every day—I know they are too, and they couldn’t be more proud.

March 11, 2011: Silence Breaks

True Healing

**After a long conversation with a new friend, I have felt the desire to share some of the things we opened up to each other about. So after getting her permission to do so, this post was created.

This week I got a chance to talk to a new friend, who had attended the conference, this past weekend. The conversation soon turned to this, “So what about those of us who God doesn’t love—or people like me who don’t even believe there is a God . . . anymore—how are we supposed to heal. You guys stood on the stage telling everyone how your faith in Him got you through, I am calling bull shit. He has his favorites . . . and I am not one of them. So how am I supposed to make it through this hell? How are the rest of us—the forgotten ones—supposed to heal?”

Her words caught me off guard. I had never thought that maybe God had favorites—and I can promise her, looking back on my life I would never consider myself one of them if He did. I didn’t even know how to respond. I asked for clarification, “ So tell me again what you are asking? You don’t believe in God . . . but you are afraid you are not one of His favorites?”

She responded with a stern voice, “Ya. If He loved me, I wouldn’t be here right now. He would have made things right by now. I wouldn’t be ten years down the road still fighting to make it every day. So how do I heal, without Him?”

I took a deep breath, and with a love for my new friend and my faith in our Father responded, “You don’t. We all want an easy answer, and can’t look past needing to know all the whys. There is no easy fix for the messes we find ourselves in. There isn’t always an answer to the why’s that we ask over and over . . . but that God you don’t believe in—but are dying to know that He still believes in you—He is the answer. You need Him. You need His Son. You need grace, and love . . . but first you have to remember your faith. He loves you. He loves me, and the best part is . . . He has the capacity to love us all. You are a parent, you know that your heart is big enough to love each of them, hurt for each of them, but genuinely work to protect each one of them. He feels that way about you. No matter how many days you spend mad at a Being you say does not exist . . . He is spending those same days loving you right where you are. So, you ask me how you can heal without Him. I want you to know—deep in my soul, I know—you cannot.”

It was very silent; when my friend finally spoke I had begun to think I might have lost her with my sincere honesty. The next few minutes she talked about a Being—her Creator—that was greater than us all. She shared her journey with me. It was full of trauma, pain, abuse, neglect, and death. Her life story—full of darkness and secrets and pain—and she shared with  me her journey to believe that she had always been—and always would be—forgotten.

We talked for some time and shared our hearts with each other.

Today I got a message that my new friend had said her first prayer in 10 years. “And I felt His love for me.”

She was willing to let me share this story with you guys, and she wants you to know . . . God is there. He is real. We need His Son, and with His grace we have the power to heal even the darkest of moments in our lives.  You are one of His favorites, not because of anything you have done, or haven’t done . . . but because of who you are and who you were created to be. His child. A child of God.





My favorite talk on this subject. His grace is sufficient by Brad Wilcox.

Miracle in every storm

Karen shares that there is a message and a miracle in every storm . Parenting advise that just might change the way you view our fight as a mother or father. Her journey of divorce, betrayal, and helping your children connect to their one source of light...Christ. As Karen learned to step back, she saw that what her son needed was a cheerleader, he already had a Savior.

Perfect Love Casteth out all Fear

I want to share with you a very personal experience. Not because I am proud of it . . . but because I am tired of the shame that I feel when I have experienced it, and hope that this visual can help you understand a little more about the voice in your own head, and the dark trap it can feel like.

This pregnancy has been a big struggle for me. I know I talked about it briefly a few posts back, but I want to get a little more real with you about some of the battles I have been fighting. The battle of “Am I enough?” has been a silent one for me for a long time. I have shared with all of you the times in the past when I have had to face that deamon, but I wanted to describe ways in which it still tries to show up now.

Being enough isn’t just a one-time battle, but a lifetime pursuit.

Every day we will face triggers—reminders of trauma from the past—that try to take us to our weakest points. Sometimes we will feel armed and ready for them, other times they will shake us to our core. Fear of inadequacy is not always a fight we will be prepared to win.

For the first time in months, this week I finally felt pretty good. I went out and bought maternity clothes—so I would stop trying to squeeze into my old pants and feel depressed when they didn’t fit. A few weeks back I had discovered I was low on iron and it was really messing with my emotions—and that was finally leveling out. Morning sickness had faded away, and I had stopped dry heaving every time I walked into a room. I had overcome a lot of the triggers that had come up during the early months of my pregnancy—I talked about a few posts back—I was feeling ready to embrace this changing body and just enjoy the miracle that was growing inside of me. Life was feeling pretty good.

I couldn’t wait for my doctor’s appointment—and hear that reassuring sound of the baby’s heart beat. Everything went smoothly, until my doctor stepped right onto the landmine that I had thought I had covered pretty well. She looked up from her chart and said, “My only concern is . . . you have gained a lot more weight then we want you to at this point.” I looked over at Scott with a get me out of here look on my face. I tried to hold back the tears as I listened to her remind me of the “healthy choices” I should be making.

By the time I got to my car I wasn’t really embarrassed and ashamed of my body any more—I was just pissed. Angry that a fear I had been working through for weeks now had voice again. I said a little prayer, “Heavenly Father, I see what he is trying to do. Get me all worked up about my changing body and lose my focus on the things that really matter. I know what I can do to help my body and my baby be healthy, please help me stay focused and not let this fear creep back in and make me lose track of the progress I have made in working through this truma and help me to be able to see pregnancy as the blessing that it is. A few extra pounds—I don’t care about that—I just want a healthy baby.”

The night went on. We put up all of our Christmas trees and had fun decorating the house. Morning came and I got all ready in one of my new maternity sweaters. Everything fit, and I actually felt pretty in my own skin. I walked into the kitchen where Kaleeya was sitting at the bar. She looked at me and in the sweetest little voice said, “Wow, Mom! You don’t even look pregnant in that shirt, you just look fat!” A meaningful complement I am sure, sunk deep into my heart . . . where it met the little voice that spoke even louder than it had for months, “You aren’t enough—Scott isn’t going to love you with that disgusting body.”

My soul sunk low—believing every fearful word in my head. I got the kids off to school and as I walked in my house and shut the door, I burst into tears. Every fear—all the dark memories of the past—surrounded me. I felt trapped. For a split second I was taken back to a moment when I was sitting in the bathtub almost 8 years ago.  Tytus was just a few weeks old. I had already started to feel the tension and knew that something wasn’t right. Emmett came walking into the bathroom. After weeks of wondering what was wrong whenever he was around, I had come to the conclusion he didn’t want me because of my just had a baby body. All I needed in that moment was for him to look over and tell me I was beautiful, but instead he looked into the mirror, checked himself out for a few minutes and then announced he was heading out.

The fear came back as strong as it had been that day, and in the few weeks that followed. Chaos is what followed. Murder. Truth of affairs. A life turned upside down. Somehow my little mind was just sure, it all started with a changing body—a body too fat to love.

And there it was again—this toxic feeling of wondering if I was going to be enough.

I changed my clothes, got in my car and drove to the only place I know where pure darkness cannot follow. As I sat in the chapel at the temple I opened up a set of scriptures to a random page. I looked down in the middle of the page and there was a scripture I know well.

“For perfect love casteth out all fear”. Tears filled my eyes as I was taken back to another memory—the day I had to write Emmett’s funeral. In all my anger, and fear, and shame, and guilt, and humiliation . . . that was the only scripture or quote I read that felt worthy of being on the bottom of the program. Everything else seemed like a sham—in that moment, those were the only words I could believe.

So again those words spoke to me. As I sat there I tried to picture perfect love. All I could see was the Savior. He is perfect love. He is the only one who can take it all away. The fear, the pain, the unknown, the uncomfortable, the guilt, the anger, all the ‘I am not enough’s, the grief—losing a loved one, or losing a relationship you cherish . . . He has the power to carry it away and bring peace. He has angels standing around us daily ready to go on errands, just for us. To take away the darkness we feel trapped in, and to help Him carry in the light.

With that truth, no amount of fear can take us down. We have to remember we only have one enemy, and his goal is to bring us fear—to remind us often that we are not enough—it is never from God.

We all have scars. Instead of shaming the parts of us we think make us not enough, I was reminded that—because of Him—I have the power to love me, which makes me even more capable of loving those around me. I have the gift to heal after divorce, abuse, infidelity and murder. I have a healthy body capable of creating life. I have a strong spirit and a trusting heart. Because of Him, I have the power that can help me find my truths, over and over again. I can move forward. I have the ability to let go of the pain of losing a relationship with a stepdaughter I adore. I have the chance to forgive the people who have hurt me in my life. Because of Him, I can be forgiven when I have forgotten who I am. I am capable of anything. I am worthy of fighting for.

Because of Him, we can overcome. Because of Him, we can feel light. Because of Him we can one day feel perfect love. And because of Him . . . perfect love casteth out all fear.  

Here we are 13 weeks. We will find out December 20th if it is a boy or girl. What do you think?

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. 

Light it up

Lately I have been noticing some themes in the emails I receive, so I was thinking it would be fun to write my thoughts about these topics in posts on the blog as well as try to answer people personally. And though I truly believe in groups of people that can support each other, I know that todays topic is one that can help us find strength in ourselves. 

Today I wanted to talk about the power of personal revelation. The key word is PERSONAL—revelation that is just for you—insights into your life that you receive in a personal way.

How does personal revelation come?

It comes in many forms that are just as personal as the answers one receives: ideas that just pop into your mind, answers to prayers that show up at just the right time, or promptings to take a different path. Some people tell stories of hearing a certain song that helped them feel the truth to a message they needed to hear. Sometimes answers come in an inspirational talk or a podcast.

Some people hear words in their mind when receiving personal revelation. Other people describe it as a light feeling that won’t go away. In scriptural times, angels came to deliver messages from God and there are many recent stories that help us see that angels are still part of our every day lives.

Prayer is the key in starting our communication with God in hopes of receiving inspiration and revelation in the things He wants us to do.

So you pray. You listen . . . and then you wait. With a promise that all our prayers will be answered, we have to make sure we go into prayer knowing that sometimes the answers will be different than what we think we want or need. Just like in scriptural times, sometimes that answer will take longer than we had hoped in our plan—and sometimes they will come before we think we are ready. But when we go to God—with a sincere desire to do His will—we will always get an answer. He has a plan for each of us.

So lets say you start gearing your prayers to something you feel strongly about and soon you get a prompting for a new relationship, a life change, or a new career path  (or whatever it is you feel is time to change or do differently). You feel good about it in the moment. You feel brave, excited, and a little scared, but pumped up with this idea that you just know is an answer to many prayers. You start making plans in your head and just can’t wait to share it with your partner, or your parent, or someone you love. You are ready to take it all on and you can’t wait to have someone to celebrate with.

Here is where a struggle can come. In your excitement, you share your prompting with people—or the person—you couldn’t wait to share it with. Sometimes your change, your new idea, has not been anticipated and is greeted with doubt or questions that make you start to wonder if you really did receive personal revelation or if you just had a hair brain idea pop in your head that you really shouldn’t waste your time on.

Defeated, you walk away full of doubt, feeling a little dark, even doubting if you have the ability to receive inspiration for yourself at all. Thinking maybe your mom, or your co-worker is the one who is right. You start thinking about all the times you have failed in the past and realize that starting a new path will probably just end the same. So why try?

You let that idea fade away. Sometimes you look back and wonder What if? But never really feel brave enough to ever go there again. So you don’t really fail . . . because you never started . . . but you don’t really feel like you are succeeding because where you are is just safe . . . not because it feels right, but because it has just been what was easy.

Fear of failure. 

Maybe this hasn’t been your story. But I have heard thousands of stories just like this. And you know what? It makes sense. What better way to keep us from success than to send those we love to make us doubt? Especially ourselves. Satan is a clever one isn’t he? For a lot of us—in these moments—it just takes one doubter to stop us. Or one fear to keep us stuck in our tracks.

So today, I am proposing a new way. Maybe it won’t work for you, but it is something that I have learned the last few years that works for me. Before you turn to another person for advise in your life, first ask in prayer for your own personal revelation to know where He needs you to be. So when you are secure in your plan and turn to others for their support you won't be blown back and forth by the noise —their fears, their thoughts, and their expectations of you. 

Personal revelation is a gift—for you—from God.  It is answers to your prayers to strengthen your faith and help you make decisions on your path. Once you find that answer, you have to move forward with the knowledge that there might be many who are sent your way to try to stop you from using your gifts to do good. Mean comments on social media, doubts in your abilities from people you thought would be excited for you (this one happened to me when I was pregnant with the twins), fear, frustrations, doubts that come into your mind, and even the fears others share with you in their belief in you as a person, can—and will—try to stop all of us from walking on our own path of light.

Fear. Anger. Hate. Struggles with forgiveness. These are all part of the process—opportunities for us to get back on our knees and ask for more light to help us grow in our own unique way. Sometimes we have to fight for light on our own. We have to be able to be humble enough to admit that we need grace—the strength that cannot come from another mortal person—the light that can only come from Christ.

Nobody ever got big muscles asking others how to lift weights, but never lifting anything. We have to do the work. Spending our time asking others what they would do—if they were us—doesn’t help us figure out where God needs us to be.

As sons and daughters of God, we can communicate with Him, through prayer. We don’t need another person to use that gift and we don’t have to do anything perfect in our lives to earn that blessing. He will hear you, no matter where you are or where you have been because you are His son or daughter and He cares about YOU.  It is never too late and you have never gone to far to say His name. His grace is enough. I promise that if you are seeking an answer from Him, you will find one. Maybe not the answer you were hoping for, but it will be the answer that is right for you.

You have unlimited potential. Do not let the fears and hate of others hold you back from becoming everything God sees in you. You are worthy of His love because . . . you are you.

God doesn’t get us to change by sending fear. He leads us to the light.  Follow that light. It will never fail you. And remember, nobody can give you more love than the love they feel for themselves. If someone is sending you hate, it isn’t you they can’t stand . . . it is themselves.

You don’t need to listen to the noise. To be genuine is to be you. You are one of the greatest gifts God gave this world. So go be bold and let your light shine. You were made for this life thing. Light it up.