Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

Twenty-five years. 9/11 has literally been a lifetime for some who are too young to remember. It continues to affect the lives of many survivors; many are still losing loved ones or coworkers to delayed-onset illnesses or cancers.

Like you, I remember where I was as I watched the tragic events unfold on live TV. I was not supposed to be home that late in the morning; however, a rough evening the night before delayed my getting started. I actually can remember 9/10 because of what happened on 9/11. The details are unnecessary, but a personal crisis on 9/10 rocked my little 24-year-old world. I thought I was losing control of all that was within my grasp. My own security and structure. My plans. Was my world slipping away from me?

I woke up the next day to see what everyone else saw. Yes, the world everyone shared was still there, yet it didn’t seem like it would stay that way. Was the world slipping away from us? Were our eyes and hearts meant to take in all that we were seeing in real time?

The weeks following were filled with many emotions. After the uncertainty of “what is actually unfolding?”, the feelings of confusion, anger, sadness, and even despair, many Americans had strong resolve – to keep the enemy from destroying our way of life and live it as it should be lived, with rhythms of normalcy and even laughter. Americans putting their own lives at risk, helping strangers, rallying communities, and later sharing healing laughter showed me what resilience can look like.

While we as a nation were figuring out how to survive what would surely defeat our morale, I was also learning to move past a major trial as a young adult who had not yet experienced that personal level of seeming despair. Watching the towers fall challenged and changed what I would consider a crisis. No, God did not take away the things that threatened my security in that moment. Rather, He began to teach me where my security really was: He was my security. My soul was still secure. I could weather any storm with Him, because of Him. The odds before me were not insurmountable. God used 9/10 and 9/11 to teach me to lean in – closer to both Jesus and my husband; everything else was too shaky.

God taught me that my systems of supposed security did not have to be in place for me to be ok. Once my personal neediness was fully exposed and submitted to God, there was not much left to hide. I could be honest about my feelings of despair and frustration, and like a child, expect Him lovingly to carry me through – no one else could. September 11 showed us that survival still has many more stories beyond the pain, and twenty-five years have provided a long season to foster growth, dependence, and trust.

Looking back, I can see that insurmountable odds also exposed how deeply I needed to fully trust my loving Father more than having everything securely in place myself. In 25 years, I’ve still been learning the lesson. Our world may shake tomorrow, or maybe just my own little world. But the psalmist reminds us (see Psalm 46) that God is our refuge and strength.

By Ashlie Miller

I saw it on Monday, the last day of August. I was out on a very early morning walk, and as I approached the neighborhood entrance, fallen leaves of gold adorned the path. I instantly felt a slight, brisk chill despite the early-morning humidity. You’ve likely seen signs of autumn coming as well – acorns or walnuts on the ground or maybe your local barista’s fall menu – without needing to look at your calendar.

In North Carolina, however, we know not to set our hopes up too high. Fall may begin September 22, but Carolinians understand we will likely have a cooler week before that date and still welcome fall with 85 degrees or higher. It’s just the way it is here – still too early to put out real pumpkins. That won’t stop many from preparing, though. Maybe you have already grabbed that first PSL (pumpkin-spiced latte) of the season. Perhaps you plan to put away those summer white skirts and pants. Others will continue living a North Carolina extended summer for 6-8 more weeks with no thoughts or interest in the changing season.

Also, this week, I was reminded of a passage in Matthew 24 where Jesus is preparing His disciples for His departure from them. They had questions about eschatology – the study of end-time things. Picture the kid in the back seat continually asking, “Are we there yet?” They wanted to be sure they would not miss it…or HIM! A fair question, considering the many turn-the-world-upside-down things that Jesus had been teaching them.

He assured them that no man would know the day nor the hour of His return. People would continue to live their lives, unalarmed, just like people were doing during the days of Noah – that time the earth literally was turned upside down in a global flood.

I thought about that phrase “in the days of Noah.” Like any preschooler who attends church or has ever been in a nursery, the first image you probably envision at the mention of his name is the ark that Noah built. If you have seen the replica in Kentucky, you know how large the original vessel was. It was not easy to miss. Depending on the theologian you follow, the building of the boat took anywhere from 50 to 120 years! Again, word would have gotten around – not an easy project to miss. Yet, somehow, they did miss it – the message. They continued living their hedonistic lives, knowing full well what Noah was up to. They mocked him for it or willfully chose to ignore him – until it was too late.

That is what the coming of Jesus will be like. Many world events indicate that the stage has been set maybe for quite some time. Sometimes it is as evident as a massive boat under construction for almost a lifetime. Jesus’ soon coming is, well, sooner than it was before. There are warnings and calls for repentance, but we continue living complacently or willfully choosing to reject or mock the warnings.

Do we really need to know the date of Christ’s return to know that He will? We still live ordinary lives, but perhaps we should live them differently, knowing something extraordinary is coming. Can we ignore the evidence of a coming season because we do not know its arrival? The signs of a season do not announce a date, but they do tell us a change is coming, whether we are ready for it or not. Are you?

By Ashlie Miller

Whether you think Heaven got a little sweeter or the earth a little sadder since Dolly Parton died last week, you are among many other like-minded people. Maybe you were a huge fan of almost every aspect of her life. Maybe, like me, you didn’t follow her music or keep up with much of her life. I did respect the work she did for her Tennessee community and that she seemed to put her money where her mouth was. She also enabled many homes to encourage literacy among children with her Dolly Parton Imagination Library, where children under the age of 5 receive a free book monthly. My own family benefited from building our little library for a few of my children. We still love family read-alouds!

Perhaps you have more intimate stories. I was amazed by how many of my friends had personal encounters with her, either working with her, for her, or getting to meet her in some way that impacted them. That certainly changes the way you respond to this great loss.

I have younger friends who often respond with very heavy hearts when there are deaths of public figures. It isn’t that they are necessarily devotees of the celebrity or national leader. Sometimes, they confess they are not even sure why they feel the loss so profoundly. Maybe it is, in part, because in the last 25 years, much of their life has been engulfed by large, national tragedies. With our instant access to news (usually bad), loss and tragedy are part of our daily lives. We hurt more because we know more.

My husband and I have found great solace in a book entitled “Every Moment Holy, Volume II: Death, Grief, and Hope.” In it, Douglas Kaine McKelvey offers liturgies for seasons of death, dying, and grief. It has been a source of immense help and encouragement to us personally and in sharing with others. His liturgy: “Lamenting the Passing of a Public Figure” provides some insight as to why deaths such as Dolly’s impact us so deeply:

* We have access to so much of their life, and they seem more familiar to us than they truly are. Dolly was known for making time for people, even at risk of her own health and safety at times.

* These passings stir our emotions in memory or anticipation of deaths closer to us. Loss was not meant to be a part of the life that our Creator intended for us in His original design. Death was not supposed just to be part of life. We may not realize it in the moment, but our heart is resonating with a greater sadness of what life was supposed to be – immortal enjoyment of God.

* Although every life is of equal worth in the eye of the Creator, we may notice the loss as a whole community differently. Their presence was big on earth; the hole left seems enormous. Dolly may have been petite, but she was a big personality and was generous in many ways. That will certainly be felt for some time to come. For some, that hole feels more personal because of other attachments. Perhaps Dolly encouraged, inspired, or helped you through dark times. Maybe God allowed her to be a conduit for His Grace and Mercy in your life.

What now? As with any death, we learn to live with grief. Perhaps, though, we can see in this sadness what God was trying to teach us through someone: He has image-bearers on earth to show us beauty, creativity, and glimpses into His character or even His message (no matter how flawed the individual may have been). He is teaching us about love, and also that loss was not His original plan. But even His created image-bearers have an end date. Hope found in temporal things or beings is…well…temporal. He has an even GREATER Hope and Peace found in Jesus – the One who will never fade or end.

I pray you find this hope.

Ashlie Miller and her family live in Concord, NC. You can contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

Photo by Ashlie’s son!!!

By Ashlie Miller

Photos and videos of families dropping off children at college have filled my social media feed in August. Family and friends made treks to colleges near and far, tools in hand, supplies being stocked, beds and desks being assembled. There are smiles and hugs but also tears.

While releasing our children can bring bittersweet tears, tears are not necessarily the only measure of love. The heartache of this moment does not look the same for each family.

Some families rejoice in new chapters as they see their children spread their wings, while also mourning their empty nest. Perhaps the child contributed joyfully to the environment of the home. Their absence in the daily routine will be greatly felt.

Other families are almost paralyzed without their children at home. Sometimes a parent’s identity is wrapped in parenting for 18 years. While children are finding themselves at college, parents are wondering if they have to start all over, finding themselves as well.

Still, for other families, the feelings may be things they do not want to say out loud. There is a sense of guilt in being glad at the release. Maybe, like some birds that leave the nest, they dirty the nest in the months and weeks leading up to departure. “Why has she or he been acting so distant? Why is our relationship strained when it wasn’t before?” Some argue that this is a defense mechanism as these young spirits are anticipating change that they may not even be fully ready for. Others have been dirtying the nest for years – rebellion, loss of love, confusion. Many things can put a strain on relationships despite a parent’s best efforts to provide a loving environment.

Wherever you find yourself in these scenarios, here is some encouragement:

* Your child does not have to navigate this new season alone. The children of Israel were encouraged that their God would go before them as they entered the Promised Land, facing insurmountable odds. He would not leave or forsake them (see Deuteronomy 31:8). God cares for your child (and you!) as well. We can entrust our children to their Creator’s care for their physical and spiritual well-being.

* If you’re uncertain (like many parents) that you did enough to prepare them for all that is ahead of them, recall how God was faithful to His people in the Old Testament during their distressing time of exile. Through raging waters and fiery trials, He was with them (see Isaiah 43:2). We, too, are often unprepared for hard times. We can pray our students will lean into the One who loves them and can protect and direct them. (See Psalm 121 for more encouragement.)

* For those whose goodbyes were marred by a dirty-nest departure, you do not have to feel guilty about feeling peace when your child is gone for a season. Just as Jesus left His disciples with a declaration of leaving His peace with them upon His departure, He can do the same for you, even in the midst of strained relationships. He can even do the same for your child. Pray that they will know that Peace is a Person.

By Ashlie Miller

Summer may be for leisure, but this summer I did a lot of learning in the form of a small teacher – my elementary-aged daughter. It was a summer of indirectly teaching and inspiring others by just being herself.

The first observation came at the end of a vacation Bible school (VBS). As a homeschooler, she has learned to express gratitude to other teachers leading various events and learning opportunities. During a VBS at a friend’s church, she wanted to make a thank-you for volunteers who led her group. Her friend caught the excitement, and together they managed to get all the children in their group to sign a card the two of them made. Shared gratitude is a thing of beauty.

Later in the summer, she attended a week-long Christian camp that encourages memorizing several Bible verses, ready to recite on the first day of camp. They are rewarded with fun prizes and points for their teams. Needless to say, it can spur a little bit of competition for those who choose to participate. Last year, she became both the youngest and the first camper that week to complete the challenge. This year, we learned that other young girls were inspired by her determination to try, and they, too, worked hard over the summer to complete their challenges.

Even her use of idle time became fruitful inspiration. While at camp, she learned to make a simple craft using yarn and pony beads. They made so many fun creations, and upon returning home, her first request was for more supplies to make them. She spent an entire waking day making numerous creatures that she later shared with friends at the park. One of those friends had just moved back to the area, her home still filled with many unpacked boxes. Her mother sent me a text later that day with photos of beaded yarn creatures she had made after scouring the moving boxes for her craft supplies.

Nothing she has done has really been extraordinary. They are just things that have been noticed. They have been noticed because of in-person relationships, conversations, and presence. She is not worried about a social media image or branding herself. She is inspiring simply by sharing good things with people she already knows.

What are people learning from me as I live and share my life with them in person? I wonder if I have ever told those friends who have indirectly taught me just how they have impacted my thoughts and behaviors, the way I express gratitude, or even challenged me towards being artistic or productive with my idle time. Today may be a good day to let a friend know just how they have impacted you and your way of living and enjoying life.

By Ashlie Miller

Many children (and some adults) gravitate towards collecting something, particularly things found outdoors. Our cabinet of curiosities is a veritable natural history museum, housing glass containers with various seeds, nuts, feathers, butterfly wings, snake skins, old nests, and seashells. Small tubes hold sharks’ teeth or tiny gemstones sifted from buckets of dirt. There are books with pressed leaves. Then, there in the corner are the current favorite walking sticks. Each of my children has gravitated towards certain textures or specific finds, but my youngest, whose name happens to be Shepherd, loves a good walking stick. How appropriate. This love was magnified when his grandpa found a small shepherd’s crook on a mountainside and gave it to him.

Sticks are humble extensions of something grand, often victims of a storm or a rotting tree, and then released to a forest floor. While that sounds like the end of a story, the more observant and thoughtful admirers of nature see great potential.

A sturdy walking stick provides support when we are weak. On an unpaved road, knee scooters will not serve you very well. And while one can acquire telescoping aluminum poles for two-handed use on a hike, a long walking stick can still provide great assistance. On a steep hill, a stick may keep you from falling and help you steady your steps. It may even serve to help someone else by pulling them up from behind you – an extra-long arm, if you will.

Sticks are good for clearing, poking, and stoking. Clear a path ahead to avoid thorns and briars. Poke the stick down into the ground to determine whether the covered terrain is unsteady or stable. Help a fire continue to provide warmth and light by stoking it to provide more fuel and oxygen. When things are just out of reach, a good stick will knock it into place, out of the way, or sometimes get into the right position to be grasped by a hand.

Others see even more grandeur in a humble stick, envisioning clever art to whittle into the head or staff of a rod. Why have a simple walking stick when you can have a conversation piece?

It reminds me of the shepherd’s staff in Psalm 23: “Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.” A rod and staff in the hand of a good shepherd is not merely a weapon or a tool of discipline, although guidance for dumb animals like sheep is a necessity to keep them safe. The staff gives support and help to needy creatures. It may clear out danger ahead or provide a sense of stability when crossing uneven terrain. Perhaps a fallen sheep can be scooped up by the crook of the staff and comforted by a warm fire tended to by his loving shepherd.

I have a Good Shepherd who serves me daily through His Holy Spirit and His Word. These helps are more than just a crutch, though those poor in spirit enough to recognize their weakness and need are indeed blessed (see the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5 in the Bible). They are my constant comforts and companions.

Do you have a good walking stick?

By Ashlie Miller

Where do you get the best tomatoes, perfectly ripened for a good ‘mater sandwich? Some grocery stores rank higher than others, perhaps. I do like a good farm-fresh market or road stand, though I confess I do not make enough time to stop by those. If I grew them myself, that would be a sweet reward, but alas, my gardening efforts always suffer (I have tried more than once). I suppose I’m more suited for other things.

But if I had to say for certain where I get the best tomatoes, it would be from a neighbor who just knows I’m the only one in a house of seven who enjoys a raw tomato and rarely buys them for myself. They seem to have a sweeter taste than any other tomato. I love the way they adorn a plate of meat and side veggies at supper (that’s “dinner,” for those who have transplanted from other regions). These tomatoes level up a BLT so much better than the store-bought variety. What else would I put on a white bread and Duke’s sandwich? (Who said, “Hellman’s”?) Ok, I do sometimes sub tomato for canned sliced pineapples. Is that weird? I grew up on those. Anyone else?

I’ve enjoyed other produce and herbs lately – namely squash, cucumbers, and basil. There have been some years I think my husband, the pastor of our church, is the minister on The Little House on the Prairie, receiving the bounty of a summer harvest from congregants.

It’s a lot like a simple sandwich made by the loving hands of a mother or friend, tasting so much sweeter. I know that when I receive a tomato or a handful of seeds, there was a lot of selfless work and even toil involved. Planning, planting, weeding, watering, protecting. Blessings birthed from such effort are precious gifts.

I have always been a saver of most things that I wanted to savor later.  I remember as a little girl when Oreo did not make 100+ varieties of cookies, but they would make a fudge-dipped Oreo in a special sleeve. I would get a pack for myself (quite a splurge!) and hide it in my sock drawer. I would savor what I saved for weeks. Today, I may still do the same thing with the single tomato given by a friend, using a couple of slices for a sandwich and saving a slice or two to go with supper or even my over-medium eggs the next day.

The gifts the ground produces with the help of my friend and the hand of a Sustaining Creator bring a smile to my face and make me grateful to be content with simple things shared in love. I’m grateful for those who share their bounty with those not quite as adept at growing a garden or perhaps who cannot make the time in different seasons of life. Who has shared with you lately? Who have you been able to bless with something you may think is just a small thing?

Ashlie Miller almost kept a mint plant alive and thriving for all of three months. You can send her your gardening or other advice to mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Christmas in July is something I have shared previously. It served to boost my family’s morale in the midst of a very rough year. Turns out, it is not a newer tradition – a recent issue of the magazine Our State shared a piece of the possible origins at Keystone Camp in Brevard, NC, during the 1930s.

Yes, thoughts of cooler seasons in the midst of too many days in the 90-degree weather is a welcome embrace. Enjoying treats, Christmas movies (or even an entire channel dedicated to the genre), and summer-equivalent tradeoffs for Christmas bucket-list activities brings a smile to many faces. Pass the red and green watermelon, a snow cone, and maybe some lemon-iced sugar cookies.

But why stop there?

Each year, I am blessed to receive emails, books, pamphlets, and more with advent reading plans, devotions dedicated to the season, and suggestions for acts of kindness to perform with the family. Just last week, in a Little Free Library at the local park, I picked up a book titled “How Far to Bethlehem” by Norah Lofts, who wrote many historical fiction titles. Sadly, there is not enough time in December to relish these thoughtful liturgies.

Our church is in the midst of a daily Bible-reading plan this year. We transition this weekend from the Old Testament and its prophecies to the arrival of Christ in human flesh in the New Testament. What timing! It really can be a Christmas in July celebration in our spirit. How refreshing!

I plan to read through some of the gift books we have received over the years for Christmas while on the porch, perhaps sipping some ice-cold sweet tea. These longer nights with the twinkle of lightning bugs and the hanging strand of lights in the backyard are the perfect backdrop for a birth that was likely not in a bleak midwinter we like to imagine. Instead of carols, wind chimes, birds chirping, crickets, cicada, and toads are the soundtrack.

Yes, the lazy, dog-days of summer may be just what my mind and spirit need before life cranks back up with school, schedule changes, and too many plans stacking up at the end of the year like a multi-car pileup.

Reminders of the first advent resonate with our heart’s longing for a second advent of Christ – and the December calendar does not have to have the market on stirring our hearts towards that story.

Do you have a favorite Christmas book or devotional? I’d love for you to share it with me.

Ashlie Miller lives in Concord, NC. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com

By Ashlie Miller

One of my earliest memories as a young girl is being outside with my mother and baby brother. I had a bright yellow balloon in hand from my dentist visit, but whether it slipped from my wrist or I accidentally released it, the yellow orb drifted away. It felt like a slow-motion view of something happening quickly. I remember asking my mom if she could reach it for me. She was realistic but kind with her reply. I then thought that perhaps she could get a ladder to grab it. Still, the answer was no.

They say our earliest memories are pretty foundational to how we see things. I guess I have always been looking for yellow balloons. They are the cheeriest of colors, radiating with sunshine and joy. I am pretty serious; some may even call me intense when they first meet me. Introverted and painfully shy as a child, I was slow to warm up and willing to sit in the wings and wait my turn, unless a bright, bubbly thing noticed me and invited me into the excitement.

I call these people my “yellow balloons.” They are the ones who are usually very optimistic, exuberant, joy-filled dreamers, hope-filled encouragers, often spontaneous, entering a room with a bright smile, never meeting a stranger, sometimes with a healthy dose of FOMO (fear of missing out) – much to my opposite.

They have helped me through life. Several have seen something in me that could handle a job or opportunity I would not have sought. Others have pushed me toward fun or challenges I would have let pass. They make me belly laugh at their silliness and fearless approach to humor, even in public. Their optimism and hopefulness of the future challenge me to be the same.

But, they need me, too. What am I? I affectionally call myself the balloon weight that keeps the balloon grounded at the party. I have my own pizzaz – or rather, interest. I help keep my balloons in place so they don’t drift off into ways beyond reality. I bring my own flavor of encouragement when windy and cloudy days come, reminding them of seasons and the beauty in each and the promise of their end. I stick to plans and goals, find connections, and help them to figure out how to make dreams come true. I remind them of truth when emotions blow them into storms. I am slower and more deliberate at times, helping them slow down, enjoy Sabbath, and notice small wonders in life.

We need each other for balance. Sometimes it looks like a true marriage of opposites – a covenant recognizing the need for dependence on another for a lifetime. At other times, it is a held-fast friendship. The dynamic can even show up in mentoring, coaching, and teaching relationships. Both gain wisdom and encouragement from the other.

If we are surrounded only by those like us (all balloons or all balloon weights), it becomes a silly mess. We were not made to drift about or be inflexible. Are you a yellow balloon with your head in the clouds? Call your steady balloon weight and thank them for keeping you grounded. Are you the steady weight in a relationship? Text or send a note to your yellow balloon and thank them for stretching you a little and helping you dream.

Ashlie Miller lives with a few of her favorite yellow balloons in Concord, NC. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

If you have a toddler in your life, you know they can become obsessed with almost anything. For many, it’s choo-choo trains, earth movers, cartoon characters, dinosaurs, and rocket ships, but there are plenty who have very specific fascinations with unique objects.  Just this week, I saw a video of a tiny toddler who puts his hand over his heart anytime he sees an American flag – on boxes, packages, canned items, and more (hooray for goods still made in the U.S.A.).

As a mom of five, I have ridden the waves of multiple obsessions. One of my favorites was my oldest’s discovery of cuckoo clocks. Back in the day of dial-up modems, we would often take a few minutes a day to find videos of a German clock-maker’s collection sale. My son was entranced and could identify all the parts of these clocks when he was 2 years old and didn’t mind sharing his knowledge with anyone who would listen.

He carried that obsession for several years. At one point, he started praying that God would give him one. As a one-income family keeping track of every dollar we needed, we did not seriously consider the luxury of such a clock.

One Tuesday morning at a midweek ladies’ Bible study, we were discussing prayer. I must have used this childlike prayer as an illustration of some prayers receiving a “no” for an answer. About two weeks later, a lady from that group came up to me at church saying with a knowing grin, “I have something for you. Actually, it’s for your son.” Without any sense of decorum whatsoever, I blurted, “I think I know what it is!” I am not sure why such boldness exploded from me at that moment, but she laughed and said, “I have had this cuckoo clock for years in a closet, unopened. I would like for him to have it.”

Surprised, delighted, amazed – these reactions were shared among our small family. The story is part of our family folklore – stories demonstrating God’s care and concern for the things that delight us. Since that time, our family has seen many more answers to prayer. Some have been big and others, seemingly trivial, but not to the one asking.

When was the last time you asked God for something that others would deem as trivial? If you’re above the age of 13, it may have been a long, long time. It seems we stop asking in childlike faith far too soon in life, before we even understand the beauty of the relationship with a Heavenly Father.

Life’s circumstances and troubles often leave us jaded; the world we live in may leave us pessimistic and disillusioned. Yet, if we know God as our redeeming Father, He is still there, waiting to be asked, waiting to experience the playful relationship and the childlike faith and trust that come with asking. Pray for the big things, but pray for the simpler things, too.