Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

Children rarely realize the freedom and beauty of being a child until it’s too late. They are grown, adulting, and burdened with decisions and bills before they remember the joy of childhood. Do you ever relish memories of not having to decide multiple times a day what you will eat, how much sleep you should get (taking naps!), having events and experiences planned out for you, and not having to pack for them yourself? Oh, the bliss of those evenings we would arrive home late, and after having fallen asleep in the car, Mom would carry me into the house, place me on the bed, change my clothes for me, and tuck me in. She knew just what I needed. I rested in the care of her love, utterly dependent on her attending to my needs. 

This week, I reflect on my dependence upon God.

“Christianity is a crutch.” I have heard that one before; maybe you have, too. Perhaps you have even said it, boasting that you are strong enough to live without Christianity. You’ve made it this far after all, haven’t you? Then, why does anyone need Jesus?

One summer long ago, I realized how dependent I truly was and how I needed Jesus. Perhaps one could call that my “Dependence Day” – my day of salvation from myself and my sins. Resting in the arms of the One who created, saved, and sustains me enables me to trust God fully as He directs my path, making even the most crooked journey lead straight to His plan for my good and His glory (Proverbs 3:5-6). I can attest to times when my path did not look perfectly straight and neatly laid out before me, but He placed me where I needed to be in the season.

Imperfect as I am, I make mistakes, and sometimes, my journey meets trials and obstacles. But I rest assured that when my footing slips, God’s unfailing love supports me (Psalm 94:18). Wow! My Creator did not just stop with creating me and leaving me to figure it all out. He supports me lovingly. When cares of life threaten to drown me in despair, I can cast (or violently throw) them on the Lord because He cares for me (1 Peter 5:7). When I meet an onslaught of opposition, feel weak, and can’t see in the apparent darkness engulfing me, I sense my Father strengthening my heart (Psalm 73:26), fighting while I stand still (Exodus 14:14), turning darkness into light (Psalm 18:28), delivering me (Psalm 3:7), and providing a safe refuge (Psalm 16:1 – for one of MANY examples). God is also a comfort in grief, a friend in my loneliness, a good Father when I feel orphaned, a good Shepherd, a teacher, forgiving, compassionate, just, and righteous.

Having to define myself by the current culture’s values does not sustain nor fulfill me, for that is ever-changing. I am weak, and I am utterly dependent. But I rest securely dependent on Jesus. 

Have you had a “Dependence Day”? If not, how is independence going for you? It sounds like a lot of hard work. If you do have a declared day of dependence, share your journey with someone soon. Help them see the freedom in dependence!

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, utterly depend on God as they raise their five children in Concord, NC.

By Ashlie Miller

Sleep away summer camp has been a rite of passage for generations now. Some of my best summer memories are from one particular camp, Ambassador Camp on Lake Waccamaw. I only had the opportunity to go 2 or 3 times, but the stays there filled my childhood with memories that have endured. Counselors like “Cousin Pamela” or “Cousin Paula” felt like aunts caring for me those weeks. The founder was affectionately called “Aunt Sara.” The cabins felt like “adventure sleeping” (Andy Griffith fans will remember Opie using that phrase) – rustic enough not to feel like home but good enough to get rest during a busy week. 

My children know silly songs I learned around the dining hall tables – “Fried ham, fried ham, cheese, and bologna…” I share stories of the themes from each week, how I learned to swim in a lake, and being awoken one night to come outside to watch fireworks. Then, there was the kangaroo court with silly judgments from made-up misdemeanors. Inevitably, one counselor would receive the penalty of a dreaded homemade shampoo of cracked eggs and other goop. 

At the time, I assumed we were remotely nestled away from civilization, with a field on the back side of the property. Stories of missionaries, like Amy Carmichael, and being caught up in island themes swept me away! Activities reserved only for camp weeks made this seem like a land of structured independence and fun. 

Last year, on a trip to the beach with a few of my children, we again drove by the Lake Waccamaw area – passed many times over the years. Not being in a rush to reach our destination, I decided THIS would be the time to stop to see if the camp still looked the same. After driving by several lake properties and homes, I missed the location entirely at first. When I pulled up to the camp, which was not in session, I could quickly recognize a few of the cabins and buildings. There was little change overall, especially in the size. But – as many recollections of the past now seem – the place seemed smaller than I somehow remembered, and it was not in a remote location but nestled among a lovely lake community.

Have you had moments like that – revisiting the old neighborhood where you rode your bike freely for seemingly endless miles only to realize it was not that big after all? But that freedom made it feel tremendous!

I find that, as an adult, my perception of things today is still that of a child. Trials find their way into my life and seem devastatingly big. Instead of fun and freeing childlike experiences, they are scary and paralyzing. Stepping back – or rather forward – I can see that they are not as big as they seemed to me at the moment. It can be embarrassing to ask others to pray for trials, especially when we compare them to what others are going through. It can feel like an insignificant request or lament to present to the Creator God. 

But nothing is too small for a big but personal God. Sure, down the road on the journey, a look in the rearview mirror may reveal that the ordeal was not larger than life. At the moment, however, it was very real and looming, yet that Big Creator met you there personally and calmed troubled waters. 

I hope this summer provides you opportunities to revisit and reminisce with fondness over simpler times and encourage you for the big, small things today. 

Ashlie Miller is mom to five children – one serving at camp all summer, three going to a camp soon, and another waiting for his turn.

By Ashlie Miller

As mentioned last week, we can sometimes overlook beautiful things around us – like the plums we did not notice growing on a tree in our yard. However, we can sometimes overlook and neglect things that do not bring beauty or no longer contribute to our lives – things that may keep us from growth, harmony, and peace. 

One of my older sons, JT, has been making the most of having a room to himself while his older brother is serving at a camp this summer. He is good at keeping his space well-organized. Still, he is also a teenager, and like many his age, his space can get cluttered with trash, things that need to be returned to their proper place, or items that no longer contribute to this stage of his life (does a 16-year-old still want the toy or shirt from 6 years ago?). While cleaning, he had an epiphany. While discussing our day during our family devotional bedtime routine, he mentioned his hard work and frustration at himself for the things that kept his room messy. He spoke of how it gave him time to ponder how little things add up and get in the way of a peaceful atmosphere. “I wonder what things I have let clutter my heart?” he commented. 

It is challenging to live a truly carefree life and not have some order, isn’t it? Sure, the idea of a carefree life may sound like living unencumbered by rules, order, limits, and responsibility, but living this way is chaotic, without peace, harmony, or true beauty. Perhaps some of the beauty in our lives is obscured by this chaos and figurative trash of worthless pursuits or past passions. We may label them as petty or trivial – “It’s just an old habit, part of my personality label, part of my past that I cling to, it has become my identity.”

What then? Well, in my son’s case, it is time to do deep cleaning, literally moving objects to discover trash and dispose of it properly. In doing so, we find treasures and delights, perhaps. But even if not, cleaning and resetting the environment makes for a new sense of purpose and restart. In the case of our heart, it can mean pruning things back, much like a plant, so that fruit can flourish or crushing besetting sins so that we can run the race unfettered by weights that pull us down (see Hebrews 12:1).

We can take a practical look at our daily surroundings to live more simply and more fully, whether it is taking out garbage or donating things that are no longer of help to us – as long as it would not be a vice for the next person. We can ask of our hearts: What do I cherish and cling to that has not been healthy for me spiritually? Is this thing drawing me closer to God and His will for me or closer to my inward self – the person I want to cultivate of my own will? In one case, we will freely rid ourselves of the vice, though it will likely be painful initially. In the other case, we will justify and reason our keeping of the clutter, which may move us towards where we think we want to go but ultimately keep us from where God wants us to be.

Are you up for the challenge? 

Ashlie Miller is busy decluttering cabinets and those “it’s never gonna happen” projects this summer. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Those who walk our neighborhood will see a nook with a red plum tree, lenten roses, a small rose bush, and butterfly bushes. It is a sweet habitat for small-winged creatures. Several years ago, a friend planted the red plum tree. Very fragile and needing support at first to protect it from wind and kids playing in the cul-de-sac, it has now grown sturdy enough for a 6-year-old boy to climb its low branches and observe from his perch. On his latest climb, he scurried down with jubilant news, “I found a berry, or a cherry, or something!” He often calls out something of noteworthy excitement to his older brothers, whose affection and approval he desperately seeks. As older brothers frequently do, they ignored his pronouncement, likely in disbelief. I walked over to see his discovery and boost his confidence. Sure enough, a cherry-sized plum hidden deep in leaves of the same hue hung from a branch. My son found one on the ground, which we dissected for closer inspection and confirmation. 

Perhaps the biggest surprise wasn’t just the bitter/tart taste but the fact that in having this tree for over six years, none of us had noticed this was a fruit-producing tree, assuming it was like a Bradford pear. Although the fruit is more for the birds than humans, we still have overlooked it. Has it been bearing fruit for a few years? Have birds been feasting before we could ever behold the plums? Or have we just not been as careful to delight in what has been there all this time? Perhaps I should ask Darrell Blackwelder, the actual plant expert around here, these questions, and maybe even then, I would be embarrassed by the answer to the latter question. 

I wonder what other delights in my everyday environment have become so familiar that I miss savoring, observing, and enjoying them. What about those birds who likely feed on those not-quite-right-for-human-consumption plums? How beautiful that their Creator supplies a fruit safely camouflaged from other creatures, namely us – a special grace for the smallest winged creatures. How much more our Creator has special grace and provisions for us! Both sinner and saint alike can enjoy much, thanks to common grace, but much sweeter nectar awaits those who make the Creator their Lord. 

My son was in a divine moment and likely will not fully appreciate it for years. Still, I could see it captivating his spirit as he shared the news of his discovery and rushed to capture the moment not with an iPhone but slowly with a drawing while sitting beneath a tree. 

Lord, may I slow down and take time to soak in the divine lessons among the seemingly common. 

Ashlie Miller can get lost for hours watching her children play outside and delight in their discoveries. You may share your discoveries with her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

The frequent reader may recall my beach entries from last summer and know I relish combing the beach for all sorts of treasures. I have stories for many of them. My brother and I often send each other photos of the most significant or rarest shark tooth one of us has found. He has an excellent display of them in his home. Jars of shells, sea glass, and shark teeth adorn my bathroom counters, porch tables, and various shelves. My children have also picked up the hobby. At the end of a day on the beach, they spread out their findings and share how they discovered them. 

Earlier this year, our super middle son (the one smack in the middle of our five) revealed a seashell he had found. At first glance, I was confused about why my teen thought a broken shell with no remarkable features was worth saving. There was nothing noteworthy in the coloring or size. The shell itself was mostly broken, the sort you usually toss back upon realizing it is incomplete. Sensing my perplexity, he flipped over to the underside of the shell. Written all across the shell was a Bible verse. Though part of the verse was missing – a casualty of the sea – years of memorizing scripture brought the entire verse to mind: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such there is no law. – Galatians 5:22-23.”

Unfortunately, the shell broke further in transport on our trip home. A little glue and thoughtfulness enabled my son to put the pieces back together. I think about that shell – the brokenness of it, yet the words allowing us to put it back together. The words “joy, kindness, gentleness, self-control” look up at us as a testimony to its journey.

Our lives can be that way, too. Some of the most beautiful people I know are more than merely resilient under challenging seasons. When storms arise, and the breakers almost shatter them, joy, kindness, peace, and more are present. Is this a natural response because of their personality? Does it just come with age, maturity, and weathering many storms? A closer look on the flip side reveals a relationship with God and an indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

The fruit of the Spirit is quite different from our natural inclinations. In Galatians 5 (verses 19-21), we see works (or evidence) of the flesh. Left to our own devices, that is what naturally displays in forms of self-obsession or self-preservation. These are the common reactions we see among most people under the stress of life. 

When I am under stress, and those breakers crash me into the rock, do I see it as a time to fall apart and lean into myself and my flesh, or does the strength of the Holy Spirit lift me from drowning in the depths of despair, rising above the waves with a message of hope? As others walk by and catch a glimpse of our real lives, recognizing there is more to it than they see on the surface, can they see a supernatural response emanating?

I am thankful for the many examples I have witnessed -the ones who never catch a break, for whom trials come in threes (or more!), yet display remarkable character and fruit.

Ashlie Miller, her husband, and their five children, look forward to days at the coast this summer to hunt for more treasures. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Summer colors of red, white, and blue will begin to unfurl in some yards this weekend. The air will smell more deliciously charred as burgers or steaks sizzle on the grill. Many will welcome summer with Memorial Day weekend. After a grueling school year or a midyear break in work, vacation days await us just around the corner. 

Yet, Memorial Day sits there on the calendar like the stony monuments and grave markers associated with it. It is easy to carry on without a cursory glance or mention. Those who mean well but still miss the day’s significance will no doubt thank veterans – who should be thanked regularly – but fail to remember what this day means. So, the reminder that this is a day to recount significant, costly, life-ending devotion to freedom is necessary. 

In the ultimate act of selfless sacrifice, many men and women succumbed to their last battle on earth, more than figuratively. We pause to remember those whose lives were cut short on the battlefield or perhaps years after their time of sacrificial service from wounds and illnesses acquired because of duty. I think of soldiers like my father, who, after serving in the 1970s, developed fatal brain tumors, possibly as a result of deadly chemical exposure. His life was cut short – at age 33. Others have dealt with prolonged injuries leading to a slow, agonizing death.

These soldiers and military leaders counted the cost of their duty, but enrolling at such young ages, I wonder how many truly realized what they were in for. So young, many of them were still teenagers. Still, they pressed on. They served. They fought valiantly. What a privilege to recall their heroism annually on Memorial Day. 

In the book of Deuteronomy in the Bible, as Moses prepares the Israelites to enter their promised land, he recounts the journeys and battles, the losses, victories, and failures of the parents of the generation about to enter. If you are not aware or need a refresher, those entering the promised land were the children and grandchildren of those rescued from bondage in Egypt. Their ancestors were prohibited from entering because of their hardened rebellion, resulting from their disbelief in God as protector and provider.

Moses wanted the people to be keenly aware of their failures as much as their victories. After all, we each wear more battle scars than medals. Moses did not want them to forget God’s faithfulness or their own wandering heart so they would not slip into sinfulness, rebellion, and, more importantly, be far from the One Who loved them and wanted to give them the best – yes, a promised land, but also an eternal dwelling with Him. 

Remembering the heroes of the past is vital to preserving the value of what it means to be American today, not just to recall past victories and defeats as though they are myths and legends. Remembering the presence of God in our past battles – whether we won or walked away with battle scars – is crucial to our faithfulness to God. In both cases, reflecting and sharing these stories can give us courage, confidence, and hope for the next step in our journey or for those walking near us.

How will you share stories of courage and faithfulness this weekend – patriotically and spiritually?

Ashlie Miller and her husband Chad are parents to five children in Concord, NC. You may contact her a mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Do you have a bluebird box? I received one a few years ago. I needed to research the best place to put it, so I just set it on the back of the mailbox post, and for the last few years, it has remained there. We have witnessed several visitors over the last three years.

Sometimes, a cautious peek reveals nothing more than a nest. At other times, there is a clutch of three turquoise eggs. Sadly, some have not made it to hatchlings. Perhaps another creature preyed upon them. But there are glorious times when little chirps reveal success, and we anxiously await the weeks leading to their departure. 

This year, my watchful youngest two and I were honored to observe the stages of parents and their brood. After weaving the nest, the parents perched in the nearby crepe myrtle with anticipation. Another peek inside the nesting box revealed tightly closed eyes and mouths opened wide, hoping for a bite that mom or dad had foraged and later gray, downy babies sitting contentedly inside, getting plumper. 

Two weeks ago, as my youngest two and I made our way to the minivan, low-flying bluebirds swooped down upon us like fighter jets. We ducked for cover and ran for the van. How odd! We thought. We knew this was uncommon, so we sat and watched. Ah, the treasures that await the patient observer!

For the next 10 minutes, we witnessed parent birds encouraging the babies to launch from the nest. Leading by example, they would go through the quarter-sized hole, give a chattering pep talk, and then fly back out of their box. At other moments, perched on our house, they watched for the potential threat of the humans and predators –  darting close to the classic gold Honda Odyssey, keeping us at bay.

Finally, one little fellow found his wings. Clumsily, down onto the ground, he fell. But Mama and Papa bird chirped either encouragement or warning – which, I am not sure. Within seconds, little Junior was fluttering in the air. Success!

It could be because I have my first high school (and homeschool) graduate, but this lesson was timely. Mama and Papa prepared cautiously for our eldest’s arrival. Immature, still learning as parents, much less adults, we tried our best to provide and nurture him while he was young, to keep him fed through his teen years, and to comfort him in tumultuous times of misunderstandings, grief, broken relationships, and hard lessons. As he has finished his final homeschooling days, we must rest in our efforts to give him both caution and encouragement, probably leaning too much on caution at times because of dangers we see, have experienced personally, or allow to rule unnecessarily. We will have to continue to push him positively when things look too scary for him to face, sharing how we have done it and pointing out potential obstacles while reminding him that this great big world is awaiting his impact and contributions.

Thank you, Lord, for providing care for the little bluebirds. You see each one that falls. How much more do You love those You made in Your image? Help us to trust Your care and direction for our little fledglings. 

Now, pardon me, there appears to be another brood awaiting their turn growing up and preparing to leave the nest!

Ashlie Miller and her husband parent five in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com. 

By Ashlie Miller

What is the last movie you went to see that moved you to tears because it somehow was relatable to your own life? For me, it is the movie Unsung Hero, which debuted two weeks ago at number 2 at the box office. The story focuses on the Smallbone family’s transition to the States from Australia in the Contemporary Christian Music industry. While that aspect gets the story moving, the unsung hero revealed in the story is the one who moves the audience to tears and to hope. She is Helen Smallbone, a devoted wife and mother to 7 children. 

As I watched the movie, I resonated with “Mom” – making the best of uncertainty and seemingly hopeless situations, speaking life and courage for her family’s sake, hiding frustration and fears while screaming them into a pillow. It hit close to my heart because most of us have experienced this as a mom or wife. 

Then, I began to recollect memories of my mother, particularly during childhood. She was wed to my dad, who had a terminal illness, was widowed in her early 30s, co-parented on meager incomes, and watched her mother live with dementia. My mom wasn’t perfect. She would worry and have concerns; we, as her children, also gave her plenty to be concerned about.

I wonder when she had to scream into a pillow. I can recall that maybe twice, she got in the car and went for a drive to cool off, but I am sure she had other ways to release. I feel that connection deeply when I have had to do that myself – to escape smothering realities momentarily and to avoid overreacting regretfully.

I saw her grow just as I grew. I see myself growing, even as my children have grown. Mom and I started off as those hollering moms – you know, the ones that have to raise their voices to get their children’s attention. Thankfully, when my oldest was young, the Holy Spirit helped me grow in that area. If that was an area of weakness, so was my patience. I would say the same for my mom when she was younger. Yet, I witnessed growth in her and myself. 

Do you see the pattern? Moms growing as they parent. God has a beautiful way of sanctifying His people. It can look different for one than for another. Not all need to be mothers to experience this. But, and I speak with some bias, there is nothing quite like the sanctification a mother experiences over the years as she submits to the process and her Lord. I realize the latter part of that sentence is not en vogue, yet there is no denying it. I know what I witnessed in my mother. Sometimes, friends, family, and even my children glorify God in their remarks of good character changes they have seen in me over time. That is enough. 

Consider taking your unsung hero to the theater to see the movie this week. She will feel that you get her. If that is not possible, at least take a moment to reflect on their strength through weakness, allowing you to benefit from their love and care.

Ashlie Miller is in the process of sanctification in mothering 5 children. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

While many colors flood the landscape in spring, green may be the most welcome color – the lushness of life after the grays of winter, the sweetness of new baby grass, and flowering trees turning green, ready to embrace summer. Although blues are my favorite hues, greens are a close second. Some studies on color indicate that being surrounded by this secondary color can also refresh our mental health. 

As positively as green is viewed in nature, often it does not get the same treatment when it comes to people we view as green – inexperienced, immature, maybe naive. Certainly, the green of youth is a right of passage. Dues must be paid, after all. It is unfortunate, though, when we who are slightly more seasoned pass judgment on their vigor and passion with an air of condescension. There is so much joy and life to share and to glean when surrounded by “green.” 

For example, my husband and I attended a wonderful retreat at The Billy Graham Training Center at the Cove in Asheville, NC, last week. We enjoyed gathering with other church planters and sending churches to be equipped and encouraged. A talented and passionate young worship team led a crowd of mostly not young leaders in songs of reflection, worship, and praise. 

One song from their set was a popular modern worship anthem that we sang several times, often with our vision blurred from trails of tears:

I trust in God, my Savior

The one who will never fail

He will never fail

He didn’t fail you then 

He won’t fail you now

I sought the Lord, and He heard, and He answered

That’s why I trust Him.”

Moved by those truths in their own lives, these green worship leaders resonated with the message of their songs. How does a twenty-something know these truths? I can remember. I remember being on a worship team at that age, never imagining what God has for me now (which is NOT twenty-something). I remember the early days of marriage, the cancer journey of a spouse, the need for material provision, emotional comfort in distress, guidance for the journey, and how God was faithful then and is faithful now. 

It moved my spirit to see an auditorium of fellow believers who could each testify to the same truths, even if in different situations and stages of life. I hoped that just as the young team ministered to us, our worship and remembrance of God’s faithfulness also ministered to them, encouraging them for their uncharted unknowns. 

Last fall, I encouraged you to spend time with someone in the autumn of their lives. This season, I encourage you to spend regular time with someone in the spring of their life. Surely, you have wisdom to share, but some green, bright young men and women have a passion that can also invigorate and encourage you! We need each other. 

Ashlie Miller enjoys the beauty of green in nature and in young friends. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com

By Ashlie Miller

A few weeks ago, many sky-watchers cleared either a couple of hours in their day or made a day trip to a nearby state in the path of totality, ready to see the elusive and exclusive solar eclipse. Having experienced the one in 2017 with my family on a day trip to South Carolina, we did not make plans this year – no trips, no special glasses.

However, we pulled out the kitchen colander and looked at the shadows cast by the trees to see the crescent shapes that were unique to this event. There was still that unmatched eeriness in color, light, momentary stillness, and quiet in nature. Neighbors came out on their lawns simultaneously, one couple sharing the cereal box to see the pinhole shadow and a young mother and daughter sharing other observations – a brief moment of standing in awe together. Rather than feeling we missed out for not being in the path of totality, this still provided a sweet moment I will not soon forget.

Can I  keep the same joy and excitement over other things in my life that are only in the 85% completion category? Sometimes, as a mother eager to launch children into the world one day, I can quickly get frustrated when they are not where I want to be in various aspects of their maturity. I want them to be where I am now, or at least where I think I am. That, however, is not always an accurate self-evaluation. I’m afraid I can have an overestimated opinion of myself, like many post-modern humans. 

Thankfully, the voice of reason, often outside the home, will speak words of encouraging observations of how well my children are getting along – reflecting respectful manners to others, their engagement in lessons and sharing thoughtful responses, helpful attitudes of serving others, healthy work ethics, or sharing talents that bring joy to others. 

As I grow and hopefully mature in character and spirit, I easily get frustrated over where I lack – slipping into cynicism or an analytical attitude, trusting others (sometimes even God) to fulfill their word, my impatience, lack of efficiency in a given day. Yet, as I look back, I see I have grown in those areas and others. A card arrives in my mailbox with words of gratitude for my spirit. Another mom at co-op remarks on my “chill, laidback attitude.” My husband gently reminds me that the work I did on a given day was more important than what I planned to do. I sometimes stand agape when I read or hear words like that. They are celebrating my growth while still being incomplete. 

I bet there are areas in your life as well that are worth celebrating – little steps toward significant growth. You likely see it in the lives of others as well. No, they aren’t perfect, but there are changes from who they were. Don’t wait for perfection; you will miss out on beautiful celebrations!

For Christians, those changes and transformations foreshadow what one day will come in eternity. God promises that we will one day be like Jesus. I can’t even begin to imagine that, but what a celebration that will be!

Ashlie Miller and her husband Chad raise their 5 children in Concord, NC. You can contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.