Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

Spring fever takes on different forms for each of us. Are you eager to clean or declutter? Perhaps you’d like to remove the weeds and prepare the garden beds. Has your beloved has begun working on an extensive list of household repairs – a “honey, do” list? The grill is beckoning you to give it a good scrub and fire it up. Or are you thinking about leisure in nature? Maybe you’re planning a coastal getaway as soon as the weather is consistently above 70. Or perhaps you just want a day trip with friends on a hike.

While many of those are beckoning different ears in my home, a family and friends hike was recently a welcome call to each of us. We met up with friends early one Saturday for a climb up Crowder’s Mountain, one of the more accessible adventures that allows time for other activities and plans.

Having been only once, I referenced my photos of a previous hike, reminding me of the payoff at the end – a pretty great view helping you forget you’re anywhere near a big city, even if for but a moment. Though the morning began with mist and fog, somehow, it did not affect my hopes of a good view later.

Something you should know about me, I love to take my time in nature. I may not know the name of each shell I pick up on the beach, but a beachcomber, I am. I like to ramble, maybe I’m a strand-loper, a wanderer, a saunterer. I may be aiming to end my walk at the pier, but my focus is on sea-foam hitting my toes, collecting sharks’ teeth, seaglass, and shells, or watching creatures retreat to their safe places. In the forest, I like to feel moss, snap photos of roots and mushrooms, and admire lichens. Maybe I’m a nemophilist, a dendrophile, a micro-nature enthusiast. Don’t ask me the names of each tree whose bark and leaves I am drawn to touch, but I will point out the interesting and lovely ones. I like the journey. I like noticing things.

But when on a hike with friends and family, the destination (and surviving steep inclines) is the goal. I don’t want to hold anyone back, but I miss so much on the way up! On this hike, I had a realization about journeying through life. We did eventually arrive at the top along with many other hikers. But, instead of gazing far across a wide expanse, fog and mist limited the view. There was still joy to be had. Victory in making it up! Rejoining other hikers we had met at the base. Catching our breath before carefully scaling down a long (and slightly slippery) flight of stairs. Still, reaching the summit did not meet expectations.

Don’t we often look at life with summits in mind instead of the journey up? Various milestones and mountains we climb, thinking,“If I could only get to the top, it will be worth it” or “Focus on the payoff, don’t get distracted.” I get it, completion is important. But sometimes I get too busy focusing on the end goal that I miss it – the beauty in the little micro-worlds happening all around me along the climb. Missing the things set before me along the journey that are not actually in the way, but rather a beautiful part of the way.

We may make it to the top of our climb only to find out we overlooked the loveliest parts. Take it slow, meander, mosey, saunter a bit. Pausing to observe, admire, and wonder can still get you there and nourish you along the way.

By Ashlie Miller

“Daffodowndilly”

By A.A. Milne

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet

She wore her greenest gown;

She turned to the south wind

And curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbour:

“Winter is dead.”

Though Wadsworth’s “Daffodil” poem is more well-known, I love the last line of this children’s verse by Milne. Daffodils are among the first buds I notice in my neighborhood, at times pushing up defiantly through small banks of snow. Unlike many other flowers that would perish under such conditions, this hardy yellow maiden perseveres.

It has endured and is ready to make its appearance, signaling hope, joy, and healing—inspiring thoughts after a long, cold winter. What a welcome presence the jonquil is!

Early spring can bring out the best in us as well. Weekly, I take my youngest children to a local park to meet other homeschool families for a time of play. Families we have not seen in weeks (or even months) come out when the weather warms, eager to absorb vitamin D while reconnecting after weeks apart from each other. We re-form our bonds over shared stories and laughter, while recounting stories of surviving less-than-ideal times in recent months. We have lived through rough days, and here we are, ready to start anew, much like this hardy narcissus.

Daffodils offer a paradox of being toxic to animals but potentially medicinal for humans (extracts are used in treatment for Alzheimer’s and certain cancers). It reminds me how God’s Word meets hearts, either hardening the hearts of those already rejecting the message or melting the hearts of those receptive to the healing balm.

Many landscapes incorporate a few bulbs of daffodils, but at times, you can find fields of them that have multiplied over time, even nestled in wooded trails like those in Daffodil Flats (Linville Gorge). I recently saw a clump of them growing under a tree alongside a busy road. They seemed out of place with a large commercial building looming in the background. I wondered if they had been planted by a family in another time. I have learned that they bloom for up to 50 years in a field, and bulbs can survive for over a century! What longevity, what story!

Take some time this season to ponder what lies ahead of you by looking back at what you’ve endured recently, celebrate the healing, hopeful winds of early spring, and wonder at the continued cycle of life, hope, and rebirth.

Ashlie Miller delights her children by placing daffodils in colored water. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

After a cold February, are you counting the days until spring? If you have a student (or teacher!) in your household, they are likely counting down the days until summer. Recently, our family had a countdown for a special trip. It was part of a Christmas gift. 60 days seemed like a big number – a long wait – at the time. Although I could see the passage of time as we ripped off a page each morning, some mornings I was astounded by how quickly it was passing by. Finally, day 0 was on the board.

Time is a funny thing, isn’t it? “The days are long but the years are short,” I’ve been told and have repeated many times as a parent. The crisis that we live through feels like an eternity in the moment, only to be vaguely recalled with the passage of time.

Waiting and time are closely intertwined, and more often than not, waiting has a negative connotation. Rather than hopefully anticipating, we slowly and impatiently wait.

The children of Israel were not good at waiting for anything. For example, when Moses went up to the mountain to talk with God for forty days, the people felt like it had been an eternity. All hope was lost, and impulsiveness and impatience led to the terrible decision to make a golden calf as a stand-in for the God who brought them out of Egypt. God saw it, and He told Moses that they quickly made that decision (meaning, they hadn’t been waiting long, really).

We see impatience in the New Testament, particularly among the friends and disciples of Jesus, who waited for Him to heal, stop storms, raise the dead, and feed people. But Jesus is not one to be hurried into anything. 

We even see it in our own lives. Perhaps we can recall from our past, a year ago, last week, or maybe even today, waiting on God’s provision, answers, counsel, clarity, or action. But rarely are we content to wait in quiet stillness, no answers, trusting for God to meet us there when the time – His time – is right.

I experienced this recently with a routine medical scan. Results came back (why do they send them early to us when we are not the experts?), I did not understand them, but I became anxious about what I read. But God clearly said, “Wait.” My callback appointment was delayed longer than most of us would want, and still, I could hear, “Wait.” What? Can’t I just look up some things online? No, that would definitely make things worse; what could I even do with that information if I could comprehend it? Do I spoil today with worries that can only be met head-on tomorrow? No, that would only ruin today for me and impact those around me who need my attention and care.

How did I hear this counsel? Was it audible? No, not truly; nothing mystical but no less fantastic. Echoes of truth came through daily scheduled reading, as well as personal times in the Psalms. When you read the word “wait” or “hiding place” enough times consecutively, you know that something greater than the universe is talking to you!

So, wait, I did, and the peace washed over in great, comforting waves. Hopefully, I will remember these things the next time (which may be only a week away!).

What about you, who or what are you waiting for? How can you improve your waiting? Can you look back and see where the wait really wasn’t as long or as horrible as you thought? Maybe there is as much to reap in waiting as there is in what you’re waiting for.

Ashlie Miller lives in Concord, NC with her family. She will *wait* for your email at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Beautiful routines have been developing in my home with my best friend. We occasionally meet on the front porch together, often with our books in hand, to read separately or to observe the environment. We may or may not interrupt each other with conversation, but mostly, we end up in the same place, sharing space and presence.

Towards the end of 2020, my husband and I looked for ways to spend time together since we could not get away from home for many dates. We developed a new weekly routine of late-night tea time. Sure, we enjoy the little treats we would not usually indulge in, and tea is quite comforting. Still, more than that, it is simply having that uninterrupted time together. Sometimes the time includes reflections on the day, but the goal is to focus on each other, not even the tea.

Lately, now that we have teenagers who can manage, we sneak away once a week in the early mornings for coffee (for him) and tea (for me). These usually have an intentional purpose of looking at our calendar for the week, looking for ways to be productive, and talking about matters of importance.

These frequent, regular meetings did not occur with the expressed purpose of strengthening our relationship. They naturally happened because we enjoy each other’s company and can’t get enough of each other. There are times we seek each other for company and different times of intentional scheduling. Our focus is not on the words we will share; it is on shared time and communion, enjoying each other’s presence, and growing closer together. Making time for each other grows organically because we genuinely enjoy time together.

In the book “A Praying Life,” Paul Miller (no relation) compares our prayer life to a family meal – time together, no rush, enjoying each other’s company with laughter and discussions. We often approach our prayer time, if we even have one, as a duty, a daily checklist, or a Christian discipline. But, as Miller points out by sharing Revelation 3:20, God wants something more wonderful for us than that: “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” Yes, he wants a relationship, but the God of Heaven also wants to feast with us! He is not waiting for us to approach with a perfect prayer framework, although those can be helpful. He simply sets the table and opens the door for us to spend time with Him.

Prayer is one of the most neglected works of the Christian, maybe because we look at it as work. In modern, hurried times where eating a meal is just a duty and necessity, we do not know what it is like to feast with a friend, slowing down, relishing the moment and the company.

All great, big things begin with a small step. What would happen if you took a small step to slow down, lean in, and find a small moment to talk to the King and Creator today? It may start with spending time with a close, earthly friend and tasting what that type of relationship is like. As I said, beautiful routines have taken shape in my home with my best friend, actually, two of them – my husband and my Lord!

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, live in Concord, NC. You can contact her on ashliemiller.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Decimals – little marks that make a huge difference in answers. I’ve been helping my daughter work through decimals recently in mathematics. I introduced her to the concept of multiplying or dividing by 10s, 100s, or 1000s, which simply means how far over you move the tiny little point (.). She got it and enjoyed that that was the extent of the lesson.

It reminded me of when I was first introduced to them myself. How could anyone recall something so trivial? Well, it was the circumstance in which I was taught. I was attending a local Christian school at the time, which included elementary through high school. My 4th-grade teacher was married to a junior high school teacher. One day, she came to me during recess and asked me to come with her for something. Maybe she told me why, but being a compliant child who made good grades and didn’t get into trouble, I heard nothing about the details after she called me to come with her. That was usually a sign of trouble (or bad news). I was already shy, and now I was pretty frightened. However, we made it to the trailer classroom where a math lesson was already in session. I was brought to the front of the room by the chalkboard, with my teacher by my side. Her husband began explaining decimals and their placement when multiplying or dividing. After the brief lesson, he handed me a piece of chalk and asked me to demonstrate where to place the decimal in the equation. As an adult, I probably would have thought it a trick question, but at the time, it was easy to just quietly but confidently answer. I looked at my teacher, who smiled down on me, her husband thanked me for the answer, and I left with my teacher. Although uncertain of what took place when I left, I imagine he must have then said to his students something along the lines of, “See, it really is simpler than you are making it.”

This is not so much a story about one’s self-confidence as it is about the confidence others have in us. I am grateful for teachers in my past and friends in my life today who have seen strengths where I see weaknesses or press me on to do just a bit more than I think I would be comfortable with. I’ve been spurred to lead students of various ages, speak in front of others, get into running, get into writing, consider homeschooling, and many more things that have challenged and enriched my life. I wonder at times how long it would otherwise have taken me to embrace each of these things on my own.

While there are several passages in the Bible about stirring up and rekindling flames already within us, there are likewise several that prompt us to encourage others toward love and good works. For many of us, we need someone else who can see what we are capable of and hand us the chalk. Church leadership refers to this as the ICNU (“I see in you…”) principle. Often, when we let people know that we need them to use their gift for the sake of someone else, they will step up even if it is reluctantly. But reluctance can lead to confidence and growth! And particularly in the kingdom of God, it can lead to building up a whole body of believers.

When is the last time you encouraged a friend, peer, or student towards something you knew would enrich their lives as well as the lives of others? When is the last time you reluctantly accepted a challenge that a friend or leader knew would be good for you to help others? Are you ready to take that next step?

Ashlie Miller attended Christian elementary school in Salisbury, NC. She currently lives in Concord. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

February can be a dreary month. To brighten things, each February, my children set out small, tin mailboxes in hopes that some cheer will greet them each morning leading up to Valentine’s Day. Often it’s a small note, an edible treat, or maybe a token of a gift. Little Debbie heart-shaped snacks are always a welcome treat, particularly after the coveted Christmas tree cakes.

After picking up a box recently from a local grocery store, I came home, opened the box, and emptied the contents. To my surprise, out came 4 packets of Great Value grits (not even the same house-brand as this store!) and three packets of fruit snacks. I was so confused, I looked again at the front of the box as the contents were making their way out. This was followed by suspicion – had someone returned this box? This led to creating narratives – was this a result of a prank? Or maybe the giver thought grits and fruit snacks would speak greater volumes of love to someone who doesn’t actually like the snack cakes.

Not being able to let anything just be, my mind thought of the lesson to learn from this odd illustration. Valentine’s Day marketing has done love a disservice in many ways. The expectation is that love is sweet, rich, decadent….impractical. While I don’t suggest that a husband buy his wife a vacuum or most other household appliances as a Valentine’s Day gift, acts of service really can speak volumes of love, sometimes more loudly than another box of chocolates. As children grow into independent adults, they often no longer have a long list of things they want but rather are truly delighted by thoughtful gifts of provision and care. Gifts that sustain and nourish us (like grits instead of snack cakes) can often forge deeper intimacy than those that only momentarily satisfy.

Sometimes God works this way, too. He loves too deeply to settle for only providing us momentary happiness. That is not to say that He NEVER grants us small, trivial delights. But more often than not, because He sees what we cannot and even knows us better than we admit to know about ourselves, His gifts more completely nourish and sustain us. He quenches our thirst; He fills our hunger. Sometimes what He gives us doesn’t match our expectations of His love – If He really loves me, why did He allow ___________ in my life? Sometimes our disappointment is so profound that we fail to appreciate what is before us and only lament what we did not receive.

As an imperfect parent, I can sometimes focus on finding gifts that tickle their fancy or that I think they will like. It is easy to forget that showing love through practical, nourishing gifts can express a great deal of love, which hopefully will be well-received.

I did not keep this false box of snack cakes. I wanted to provide something I knew my kids would enjoy (although they do like grits that I make and enjoy an occasional fruit snack). There is definitely a time and season for a frivolous sort of love. But hopefully I won’t forget the lesson that the most nourishing love does not always come in the most attractive packaging.

Ashlie Miller is blessed by several little valentines and her main Valentine in Concord, NC. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

What do you get when you borrow three snow shovels and bring out your gas-powered leaf blower (aka a red-neck snow blower)? Well, when the conditions are right, you get a block party!

Normally, our family observes Sundays as the Sabbath. We gather for worship with our church, enjoy a lunch at home, and then rest and refresh before another busy week. Work completed on this day is that which displays care for others or an “ox in the ditch” situation (see Luke 14:5). While we own no oxen nor do we have ditches as part of our landscape, the snowpocalypse that greeted us on Saturday left many of our neighbors, particularly those with shaded, steep driveways, in a fix.

While one of my sons and I were making our way back from a long winter walk, we saw several neighbors out, making the most of the sunshine while clearing driveways of the fluffy white stuff, thankful that most of it was not yet compact and hardened (icy!). One set of neighbors had three of the most beautiful things (well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and the right setting) – three glorious snow shovels! What a novelty in the South, where dirt spades work only marginally better at snow removal on a driveway than the garden shovels adorning most garages and tool sheds. Our neighbors down the street had borrowed snow shovels from their next-door neighbors, who, in turn, loaned them to us.

At 2 p.m., something glorious occurred in our cul-de-sac –  as other neighbors came out to thaw and began making the most of their garden shovels, a gathering of sorts appeared. Children came out to run around, make giant snow bases for snowmen with some of the adults, or to help shovel a neighbor’s driveway, even if only for five minutes. Teens had a chance to flex their muscles by shoveling in record time (thanks to the lightness of the snow!) and use their brains by repurposing the gas-powered leaf blower to clear out paths. Adults connected with some neighbors for the first time, while others reconnected. Babies were held and made over, and even the pups relished the freedom of socializing. All the hustle, bustle, and movement helped stamp down much of the cul-de-sac in a more delightful way than a snowplow!

After almost two hours of work, play, and socializing, neighbors returned the shared shovels, shook hands, and offered thanks – not just for the tools and muscles, but also the impromptu block-party that was much needed. After all, we are Southerners, not accustomed to consecutive weekends of isolation (at least, not the sort we don’t choose for ourselves).

Sometimes, the burdens we can lighten as acts of Sabbath mercy and care are piles of snow on driveways. And sometimes hospitality is shown less through soups and sweet treats (which I’m all for, and receive gratefully!) and more through snow shovels and leaf blowers being shared in the cul-de-sac.

By Ashlie Miller

Before bed last Saturday night, my youngest son was preparing for the worst, which would have been an ideal scenario in his little mind. Visions of a house lit by candles or lanterns, board games adorning the tables, perhaps a pop-up tent in the living room by the fireplace. We had prepped him for no snow, just ice, and he seemed okay with that. Needless to say, he (and I) were delighted to see enough snow to cover our roads, trace amounts on the yard, and enough in the backyard that it is still hanging around waiting for another snow, as the old wives’ tale goes. We did not lose power, much to his dismay, but there were still plenty of adventures and treasures that awaited us on Sunday.

Early Sunday morning, before I could tell them to double-layer, my youngest ones were out with plastic sleds to ride in our backyard. We have a small collection of barely-used sleds, like any NC flatlander may have acquired from yard sales of downsizing households in our area. Thus, we are set to be the heroes of the neighborhood, at least among the youngest neighborlings. They quickly set off toward one of the better hills, and as I trudged through the icy-covered snow, I noticed a gathering of neighbors we already knew as well as some we had been neighbors with for years, but never met. Neighbors shared sleds, hot cocoa from a thermos, and some electric hand warmers – each family contributing in some way to group fun.

We opened our household to welcome families for more cocoa, treats, soup, and conversation as little tykes (and big ones!) continued sledding in the backyard. Eventually, as families returned to their respective homes, I noticed a couple of teens and a tween missing from my brood. After touching base with the neighbors about the kids, we realized that some of mine were missing in action. It’s an easy thing to do, to get caught up in something as novel as our rare winter storms in search of the perfect hill, and join in with another adventurous family you know. Because many were in Sabbath mode, the idea of carrying mobile phones around the neighborhood did not seem necessary to either my teens or other neighbor adults enjoying the day. As a result, I, along with two other mothers, set out to find my wayward children. After searching all the cul-de-sacs and good hills, we learned we had just missed them, and sure enough, they were in the care of one of the best neighborhood families that we know and love. All was well. The worry that could have absorbed me had I trekked alone, looking over hill and street, was assuaged because I didn’t have to walk alone, consumed with catastrophizing thoughts.

The treasure of the weekend was not a thick layer of fluffy snow or even (at least in my son’s eyes) getting to survive a power outage. We did not get to gather in person with our church family. Yet, we did find other treasures – Bible study together, forging new relationships, and strengthening other bonds with friends and neighbors. Sometimes treasures are waiting in the midst of storms – even the icy ones. 

By Ashlie Miller

Does the weekend weather have you bundled and boarded up for maybe the next few days? It may be the perfect time to recalibrate a slow restart for 2026 and embrace your “Granny Era.” In case you haven’t heard the term on TikTok or from GenZers the last few years, it is embracing the crafts and hobbies of our grandmothers – think crocheting, painting, making things you could easily buy (like candles and soaps), and completing puzzles (hence, last week’s piece I wrote).

I embarked on an embroidery journey last year thanks to a Facebook stitch-along called Abide Embroidery and some sampler sets I found on Amazon. I continue to write in a journal with an ink pen instead of an iPhone app and began copying parts of the Bible in my handwriting. Time will tell if I prioritize and stick with these projects, but they have done a lot for my daily disposition as I incorporate my day with these slow endeavors.

Why are so many embracing handicrafts and hobbies of yesteryear? One need not be enlightened to realize why, when everything is fast (fashion, food, and even answers and counterfeit relationships). We crave stillness, rest, being fully present and undistracted, and dare I say a chance to develop patience and steadfastness. There is much to learn in the deliberate and steady acts that accompany the crafts and activities my grandmothers embraced.

Winter presents us with its occasional gifts of long, quiet evenings. I do believe each week in January has had at least 10 days in it! While the trees and plants are in their dormant state, not resisting their rest, we can ask: how are those around me affected when I resist seasons of rest, refreshment, and renewal? Do I journey through the rest of the year with a depleted disposition?

I consider Jesus during His time on earth: He walked everywhere, would withdraw from crowds after a gathering to spend time in conversation with His Father, but would be fully present when the crowds gathered, or the individual sought Him. He was at least a second-generation carpenter. He may not have had to take the time to measure twice and cut once, but surely He did not rush the process. Though we read the word “immediately” often in the New Testament, especially in the gospel of Mark, to convey the sense of urgency and limitations of time of Christ’s time on earth, it is clear that He was deliberate with His time.

In our highly productive world, there is the ever-present pressure to focus on multitasking towards many accomplishments. What if we turned our attention to being, well, attentive? Noticing things. Training our mind and perhaps even our fingers to be intentional in not laziness and idleness, but in activities that invite our full presence and solidarity of focus on a simple task. To breathe, enjoy, rest, and allow quiet growth.

Maybe this weekend of the unknown weather results, some canceled plans, and possibly being homebound will provide us all with opportunities to embrace our own “Granny era” and maybe invite a young person finding their own into our circle.

Now, where did I set that pin cushion?

By Ashlie Miller

I have a fondness for puzzles; maybe you do, too. Five years ago, puzzle and board game sales increased as people found themselves housebound for weeks and months on end. My oldest son bought me a 1000-piece puzzle this Christmas. I smiled and brought out a different 1000-piece puzzle later in the day that I knew he would enjoy (a Van Gogh-inspired one) and said, “Let’s get to work!”

I especially enjoy puzzles in the winter. Christmas busyness has passed, and productivity is stalled for a bit, yielding to opportunities to just be present. There is a beautiful quietness as one sorts edge pieces, those with words or unique patterns, and then the rest of the pieces. Isn’t it interesting that we see our desire for structure in life in something as simple as completing a puzzle? Usually, we try to get the frame – the edges – in place to help us understand scope and context. Some pieces seem very ordinary, nothing special – all those black pieces with no variation in shading. But, just like life, some parts are not meant to be showstoppers; they just exist to support the greater whole of what we see and experience.

In my most recent puzzle, I became frustrated at repeating patterns, even though they were patterns from art I enjoy. While unique patterns made some parts easier, a repetition of a background or color scheme could throw us off and stall our process. Discernment is key to getting things into the right alignment, both in puzzles and in life.

The daily ritual and resoluteness for completing the larger puzzles remind me of the importance of just doing the next thing. It may not be flashy, progress may seem minuscule, but learning to faithfully show up patiently and dutifully is a lesson that is rarely learned through something so lovely.

Then, we come to the last piece of the puzzle – the most sacred of pieces. Everyone jokes about how they will sweep in and put in the last piece – usually the ones who have only helped place four of the pieces and then abandon the project for more exciting things. I was very honored when one son, who stuck with me the longest on this journey, quietly held the last couple of pieces and then handed me the last one – the keystone – to place in the last hole. No ceremony or regalia, just a knowing look that we stuck it out. Things we could not see as we worked through the jigsawed pieces now became visible and obvious. “Why did that piece not really fit there? How did I miss placing this one here?!” There is a quiet emotion resonating through me as we look at the whole picture. A bit like our lives, a whisper calls to our hearts of longing for wholeness and searching our entire lives for it.

At last, it is time to consider when it is appropriate to tear apart the puzzle and put it away. I have heard nasty rumors of families who, upon completing, have a family member who rips the puzzle off the table in a grand gesture. I guess that is like ripping off the band-aid. I suppose the lesson for those of us who do not glue and frame our puzzles is that we can be okay when meaningful things are taken apart. It does not mean our time has been wasted. We have learned something long-lasting in the process.

Time start a new puzzle…

Ashlie Miller gets lost in puzzles in Concord, NC. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.