Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

Fall is a time for road trips, at least for our family—day trips, really. Last weekend, we ventured up to Brevard to connect with our oldest son, who is interning in western NC. Brevard is a perfect town with an atmosphere we love. It’s also not far from some favorite hiking trails. 

You may also know the town of Brevard for the local legend – the white squirrel. 

Metal silhouettes of the town mascot sit atop the traffic posts, and across the corner from O.P. Taylor’s toy store is The White Squirrel Shoppe – dedicated almost fully to merchandise of this woodland creature. Alongside the white squirrels, you may also find souvenirs showcasing a Sasquatch. Spying Bigfoot and white squirrels is like a game of Where’s Waldo while window shopping.

I wondered how much of the white squirrel obsession was based on folklore and legend and how much represented something true and observable to the casual tourist. But, other than that, I didn’t give it much thought. The hairy big guy, however, I discounted completely. Say what you will – the grainy photos are less discernible than my firstborn’s ultrasound.

After some window shopping and a fantastic supper at Corky’s Dawg House, we looked on the map for a nearby park with a playground where we could talk with our son while the younger siblings released their energy before our long ride back home. As we approached the parking lot – “Wait, what was that?! Did you see it?” We all saw a white fur ball scampering across the grass. We rushed to exit our car and carefully approached this apparition that had vanished. 

We saw him scurry up a tree, chasing a gray-tailed foe or companion – who can tell? Then, we saw another, scratching away at mulch under a bench before dashing to the picnic tables to taunt another squirrel. At another turn, a third small, white creature darted about. What once felt like myth and legend had become observable reality as we were in the right place at the right time. What a memory to treasure!

Many treat God with the same suspicion I did with white squirrels or, more accurately, Bigfoot. Materialists want observable proof using measures they have established on evidence they regard as observable by those measures. They spend much of their lives trying to prove and argue what they deem cannot exist because the spiritual does not fit their prescribed boundaries.

Sadly, they miss the glory and beauty of experiencing something wonderful and life-changing – a relationship with God – because they cannot observe it with scientific measurements. No, it is not quite like believing in something like a Sasquatch or doubting the existence of a white squirrel. Analogies are generally imperfect, especially when you relate to something spiritual. However, atheists create a world of limits because they do not know the truth that the eyes of one’s heart are opened AFTER submitting to a relationship with Christ by faith…without having all the answers first. Those who trust in Christ know what it means to not understand fully but know sufficiently. 

There are many questions to ponder in life about what we see and more about what we cannot. If we are willing to receive them, there are also many answers to these ancient questions. I hope your autumn adventures give you time to slow down and consider both questions and answers.

By Ashlie Miller

Let me be honest. Last week, when I read reporter Elisabeth Strillacci’s Opinion piece from the Salisbury Post “Where were you?” I stopped and reread this paragraph: “I heard something heartbreaking this week. Apparently our younger generation does not know what 9/11 is.” Did you also stop to reread that?

How could that be? It just happened…wait, it wasn’t just a few years ago? No, it was a young generation ago. And besides, I know my teens and children know about it. We discuss it annually, as each age is able to process it on their own level. In fact, my high schoolers’ current unit study is on the U.S. military and events around that day of terror. 

But, Strillacci is right. This past Wednesday, a young lady whom I mentored and who is deeply affected by death and tragedies – she is old enough to remember the day but young enough to have grown up in a world of uncertainty, fear, and change – texted me. She sets aside time each year to reflect on that day in our nation’s history. She feels a sympathetic weight of the day as she listens to stories and testimonies of those who recall the tragedies in their lives from that day. 

She shared her thoughts with a peer of her own age and was met with casual indifference that it was just another day in history and many in other countries are continually experiencing tragedies. I imagine the response to her text is a common feeling today, not just among the young who can only vaguely recall the day or for young students for whom 9/11 is merely a couple paragraphs in a history textbook. Have we who lived that day, if only through our television sets or radios, let memories fade and slip into the past?

Sadly, it is not just another day in history. The residual effects continue to this day. We are all well acquainted with the reports of those who have died well since 2001 – from cancers, respiratory, and digestive issues, to name a few. Some reports say that the numbers are now higher than those who died upon initial impact. Staggering!

My young friend is sensitive enough to think about the entire fire station crew who lost every member and children (now adults with children) who grew up as orphans. Those families are still working through life with grief. 

It is up to us adults to recall and recount the past. Although we can see 9/11 pretty clearly in our rearview mirror, the current and coming generations cannot. 

It reminds me of the scriptures that speak of our duty to teach the coming generations so they will not forget – because it is possible. In Deuteronomy, Moses warns Israelites to keep their soul diligently and remember what they have seen lest they forget and depart. While at it, they should also make these things known to their children. Why? As evidenced in Judges 2, just one generation after Joshua, Moses’s successor, passes, a generation who does not know the Lord or what He had done for their ancestors arises. Yikes. Ancestry and religion were vital to their identity as a people. How could parents and grandparents forget to share things this important regularly? Maybe they assumed someone else would do it for them?

Forgetfulness is a companion to ingratitude. Ingratitude leads to pride and entitlement or – to put it plainly – sin.

By forgetting to recall huge, life-changing events like 9/11 and passing down stories, are we guilty of leading a generation towards ingratitude, entitlement, and pride that leads to great downfalls? By forgetting to share our faith and what God has done, are we leading to something far worse?

Take time to recount, recall, and share. Even if an event’s anniversary has passed, the lessons are always timely. 

Ashlie Miller and her husband Chad raise their family in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@me.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Unlike a walk after a good storm on the beach looking for treasure, a walk at home after a storm does not have the same level of excitement. Indeed, one assumes that a walk after some of our recent gusty storms would only be to assess the neighborhood’s damage. 

Because recent events and schedules prevented my early morning walks lately, I was excited to go on a walk after a previous night’s downpour. Usually, I look upwards and all around to notice plants and critters scampering about. However, I looked downward on this walk because I was introspective while listening to music. I almost looked through all of the fallen debris before me for a while, not seeing its unique beauty. But then, something caught my eye – some acorns on a small branch. Tiny, green, perfect. I began noticing other gifts from the recent rainfall scattered along my path – interesting chunks of moss, a persimmon, and small pieces from a tree limb covered in textured lichens. Instead of photos of flowers and trees, treasures on asphalt filled my Facebook stories that day.

I think I needed a good reminder that God was (is) taking care of me even in my storms. Despite how things may feel and the seeming evidence to the contrary, He is faithful in caring for me. These little treasures that had been violently tossed to the ground may have looked like storm litter, but to me, they were little reminders that there is still both provision and beauty on the path before me, even on the days I feel I can’t lift my head. 

Yes, I believe that Christians should lift their countenance upward toward the heavens. Our hope is on high. But a Christian can also weather turbulent seasons with a melancholy introspection that turns into a contrite heart and a hopeful spirit confident in Christ. God often sends encouragement to remind us of His faithfulness if our eyes are open to see and receive.

Perhaps a storm has come your way. I’m not speaking of a spring or harvest-time shower filled with the promise of bearing fruit (like Leviticus 26:3-4 talks about). These are torrential, blustery rains that spring up almost from nowhere. Unlike well-forecasted physical storms, you cannot see this coming, and suddenly, you find yourself in the middle. How can you send for reinforcements? You’re not even sure what you need or when the storm will pass. It is a stripping type of storm, leaving debris and litter scattered throughout your life, causing you to feel quite fragile.

But if you look carefully, there are whispers of care and glimpses of God at work. A friend sends something your way that seems trivial to them and unconnected to your sorrow, yet fills you with renewed hope. A long-forgotten message reaches your ear or eye; you know it is  Providential. An opportunity you would have never considered before the storm now is the answer to a prayer you would not have known to pray.

We are still in the middle of hurricane season. You may find yourself in a season of raging storms. Maybe you have a hard time looking up. If you do find yourself looking downward, don’t miss the beautiful gifts God has placed in your path to encourage you.

Ashlie Miller and her husband Chad have weathered many storms together with their family in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

I have long appreciated the honest thoughts in the Psalms— songs of joy and lament and songs of pondering the realities surrounding the writer.

Consider Asaph, a song leader for Psalm 73, who felt envious as he looked about himself, seeing wicked, arrogant, godless people prosper. As we often do, he over-generalized what he saw – they have no pain until they die; they don’t experience trouble like the rest of the world. Ever feel that way? Ever start saying “they never, they always” when you look at others and think it is unjust that they prosper despite what you know about their character?

Asaph is in a pickle. He does not know what to make of this. However, verse 16 is key to unlocking understanding. He is weary in pondering until he enters the sanctuary of the Lord. While worshiping with others and looking upwards, he recognizes the end of those who live recklessly and selfishly, though perhaps successfully, on earth. 

I wonder what he heard when he was in the sanctuary of the Lord on the Sabbath. Maybe it was Psalm 92, titled A Song for the Sabbath. Take some time this weekend to read it. Within it is a comparison of evildoers and the righteous. Both flourish in some way. But one is only like the grass, doomed to destruction and scattered about, while the other is like a stately palm tree abiding in God’s presence. Maybe as it was read, Asaph looked over to the family who had been through pain yet exuded joy and hope. Did he see the old-timer still bearing the fruit of righteousness in old age and, though poor in material things, was rich in life and love? Moments of communal worship and the truth of God’s word can bring discernment.

The writer of this psalm goes on to confess that his heart had been embittered, and he acted ignorantly and like a beast toward God. Though you may have felt embittered, have you felt like you could lay out those words before God the way Asaph did? I marvel at his honesty. 

After looking out at the world and becoming embittered, then worshiping with others and hearing the truth, Asaph looks at himself and sees that he, too, was unworthy of grace from his Father. Yet even in his beastliness, the difference is that he longed to declare God’s uprightness and sovereignty. The wicked rejected that, relishing in their mockery.

Maybe Asaph felt guilty for acting so beastly and judging God’s goodness of bestowing common grace to the wicked – allowing them to have any earthly success. After all, that is all they would ever have. Yet, God accepts Asaph, beastly and all – “Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand…My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:23, 26).

Christian, are you frustrated by how good “they” seem to have it with no recompense? Gather with fellow believers in the church and look upward. Be reminded of what is true in the household of truth as you declare God’s righteousness.

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, live in Concord where they raise their family. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Believe it or not, there was a time when the education system’s goal was to mold its students into contributing members of society. Much of the focus was on developing good moral citizens. Early primers combined proverbs and other Bible passages with fables, ancient stories, poems, and songs. As a homeschooling mom, I still look to teach virtues to my children. While they are not immune from being consumer-driven like many of us today, my hope and prayer is to give them a buffet of good teachings to remind them of their purpose – to glorify their Creator while also caring for others. 

I recently found a used copy of the thick volume of The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennett while shopping at Goldberry Books in Concord. This particular copy came out before I completed high school (no, I won’t say when that was), but as I am reading aloud from it daily, the lessons are still relevant. Consider this lovely poem on compassion by M. Bentham-Edwards:

A Child’s Prayer

God make my life a little light,

   Wishing the world to glow; 

A tiny flame that burneth bright

   Wherever I may go.

God make my life a little flower,

   That giveth joy to all,

Content to bloom in native bower, 

   Although its place be small.

God make my life a little song,

   That comforters the sad;

That helpeth others to be strong,

   And makes the singer glad.

God make my life a little staff,

   Whereon the weak may rest,

That so what health and strength I have

   May serve my neighbors best. 

As we pondered this poem together, even my 9-year-old could see something deeper for us as a Christian family. Jesus is our light, and we should be His light to others. Like a flower, He puts us in places to share His joy. When others are going through hard times, even if we are as well, we can carry a song and bring encouragement. If someone is humble enough to admit they are weak, or if we can see that they are in need, we can both provide refreshment and point them to a Sustainer (God) who can do even more than we are able.

As you send off your little lights, flowers, songs, and staffs into the school year, read them this poem to remind them to contribute more than they consume in a relationship and their community. Maybe it’s a good time for those of us in the school of life to read it to ourselves as well.

Ashlie Miller homeschools 4 of her 5 children in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

And just like that *snap*, summer vacation is coming to a close. For some of us, it was too fast, but we felt like it would never end, especially if one of our children was away for the summer. Such was the case with our oldest. He set out to serve at a Christian summer camp in western NC for the summer.

Letting him go for a summer, well, that was easy. After all, summer does go by quickly. We knew he would be returning, ready to explore life with a gap year ahead of him. Gap years are the time some students elect to take between high school graduation and their next steps. Gap years can be tricky. Sometimes, it is taking a breather in some way before entering the many responsibilities of adulthood, while others are anxious to begin a career by stepping into internships, apprenticeships, and more. Others plan to save up as they plan to work through college.

In any case, having a sense of purpose and direction is critical. Otherwise, a gap year may lead to a season of idleness. That can lead to laziness and slothfulness and an opportunity for the devil to tempt us to build idols when we are idle. 

We prayed as our son set off for camp—a time to reflect and ponder his purpose in the upcoming gap year. God met us in our prayers, allowing our son to intern there for an entire year. It all came together quickly and somewhat unexpectedly. After ten weeks of grueling schedule, he came home to rest, recharge, and recalibrate. Then, Friday came. 

Many other families prepped their college-bound sons and daughters for a new adventure. They have had years to plan for this day. The Friday before our son left was a bit different. We knew a day would come when he would be away from us for an extended period, but we had no idea it was waiting for him just around the corner. The day he left was also the anniversary of his Nana (my mom) passing away 3 years earlier. Talk about lots of mixed emotions! But we made it through. His leaving met me with an overwhelming sense of peace and joy mixed with sadness in my tears.

Parents of Christian young adults—send them in God’s peace. Each of them is leaving with areas for growth and maturity. This also provides opportunities for our own growth in Christ as we trust Him with our children. If God has begun a good work in them, even though it is imperfect and at times really messy, we can trust that the Father will complete that good work—even if it is a messy process. (Philippians 1:6)

Pray for them, encourage them, send them Amazon deliveries. Do all you can to engage from a distance, but ultimately, entrust them to their Creator and Savior. I preach to myself here as well.

If your child is not a Christian, pray for the other students they will encounter who are. Pray they will reach out, grow in their faith, and desire to share the gospel with your loved one. Most of all, remember God loves them more than we ever could and cares more perfectly than we can.

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, have a few more children and several years left until they are empty nesters. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Nothing enhances gentle breezes like a set of wind chimes on the porch. Usually, they are a lovely sound, but one day recently, they proved to be a tangled mass of brokenness needing gentle hands. 

Mom died three years ago this past Friday, and grief is ever-present, seeking to appear at the most unsuspecting times. My brother told me a story of processing grief while listening to wind chimes – some given to him as a memorial to our mother. He lives in the NC mountains, and breezes are a refreshing part of the day. However, one evening, the wind must have been more aggressive, taking the cords and chimes and whipping them together in a tangled mess. The sight was unseemly, and the sound was broken and disheveled. 

Patiently, my brother unwound the cords, untwisting the metal wrapped haphazardly together, prompting tears to come to his eyes. He felt God speaking to him through the moment, reminding him that He had done the same thing for our mother. She had lived firmly and faithfully through her cancer journey the last few years. But even with a smile, she was still wrecked and ruined – her melody limited in her time here on earth. God relieved her earthly sufferings. 

Not only is she now free from the encumberments of a broken and fallen earth, filled with sin, sickness, and disease, but she is also free of the things we may think we brought upon her. I imagine many children, perhaps many loved ones, have certain regrets when a loved one passes. There may be regrets of not spending enough time, words spoken or words not spoken, memories of childhood rebellions or adult neglect in a relationship – earthly (temporal) things that seem to fill up our days that turn into years that turn into a lifetime of remorse and sadness. It is a weight we wonder if they continue to carry as we wrestle with it ourselves.

Sometimes, survivors can feel an unnecessary burden or prolonged guilt and regret for missed opportunities or years. However, for the Christian who has passed from this life to eternity, all those memories and brokenness are erased—untangled. God is the Master who gently takes the tangled, mangled mess, lovingly unfolding it into something beautiful and free to make an everlasting song.

My brother successfully unwrapped the chimes, free to listen to the music in the wind again. He is growing to be free and untangle himself of regrets and missed opportunities. 

When tempted to live in sorrowful grief and regret, we can remember that the awesomeness of God’s glory is beyond anything temporal when we are in eternity. His majesty, grace, and love will consume all our thoughts and desires. He promises to wipe away our tears and do away with death, mourning, crying, and pain – the many things related to our earthly lives (Revelation 21:4). I am not sure how God will do that, but I am so thankful that He not only does that for us one day but that He also does that for our loved ones who have preceded us in death into eternal life.

By Ashlie Miller

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path” – Psalm 119:105.

Usually, on morning walks, I snap photos with my iPhone of flowers, plants, occasionally a critter, and sometimes the sunrise. Lately, I have been distracted by lampposts that are still lit in my neighborhood well after sunrise. If it was a dark winter morning and especially if it was snowing, it might feel magical—like walking among Narnia. But in the humid, bright summer, it just seems silly and unnecessary.

It is like the many competing voices after the Olympic opening ceremony in Paris or any recent event where multiple views can exist. We invite them into our lives most days by scrolling online on our platform of choice.

I read one such post earlier this week as I began my day – which was a mistake, for I should have christened the day by opening God’s Word. It was yet another voice telling us all how to interpret and how to feel. I felt aggravated and then angry, but I knew enough about myself and past missed opportunities on restraint not to comment or share. Still, I was frustrated. I shared that frustration with my husband, and then I just sat on the porch, prayed to my Father, and asked Him what to do with myself, my feelings, my interpretation, and my understanding. How do they matter, if they matter at all?

God met me right there in my prayer and reading. Not one, but two of my reading plans for that day had me in Psalm 7, where I read that “God feels indignation every day” – EVERY DAY. As one Bible study friend said, “Not just in the future where He will judge rightly, but even right now, today!” The Olympic ceremonies represented yet another day that God was indignant. Regardless of the intended messages of the event, it should be no surprise that the godless either inadvertently or intentionally devise wickedness. Psalm 7:14, says “the wicked man conceives evil, is pregnant with mischief, and gives birth to lies.” What a picture!

I read that He was indignant; now what? In another reading for that day (Psalm 37), I learned about God’s thoughts on evildoers and what their end will be. My response as a Christian? – to “trust him, be still, refrain from anger, forsake wrath, fret not yourself” because of those evildoers. Next in my scheduled readings were chapters 67 and 97, declaring God’s sovereignty and rule over the nations that will rejoice because of His judgments and that those who love the Lord should hate evil. Wow.

I wrote plenty of notes to teach myself and remind myself of what God wanted me to know. Then, I thanked God for being the only voice that matters to speak into any situation. His Word shines brighter than artificial implements.

Tomorrow’s news or feed will no doubt provide another opportunity to be reactive or quickly like and share someone else’s ideas. Be careful of subtly distracting enlightenment cloaked in self-proclaimed authority, especially unvetted religious authority. If God’s Spirit lives within us and we can read and understand God’s Word ourselves, we already have what we need to light our path clearly and brightly, and that is enough.

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

By Ashlie Miller

Learning to swim has become a rite of passage in our home. Each child has desired swim lessons around the age of 5 or so. My youngest has not yet wanted that, though. He would rather figure things out on his own or with me, Mom. We get along swimmingly as we hold our breath while wearing our goggles to sit together on the bottom of the pool, compete to grab diving sticks (our favorites look like silly monsters), or jump in simultaneously, delighting in the myriad of bubbles engulfing us. 

There is one thing, however, into which I cannot completely coax him—resting on his back, afloat on the water. It is one of my favorite things—letting go, relaxing, and letting buoyancy do what it does best. I trust the water to hold me, almost thrusting me upwards to the surface of the water.

On a recent mommy-son swim, it occurred to me that lying on my back in the water was a great picture of faith. I never fully appreciated the object lesson of trusting a chair to hold me when I sit down to be a great picture of faith. Many use the illustration. But I can see that chair. I can probably even see if it looks a bit faulty – if screws or nails are missing or if joints seem to be coming apart. But floating on something seemingly invisible is different.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). In the pool, although I can see the movement of the water and reflection of the sun underneath, I cannot really see the forces that would hold me afloat. I hope I can float and the water will keep me in that position. I see no evidence that it will when simply glancing at the water. 

In the mind and eye of a child, it almost looks like levitating on thin air. My son has heard the story of his unsuccessful attempt to fly from the top of the flight of stairs when he was less than two years old. “Hey brother, watch me fly!” I heard him yell as I was in the kitchen that day. Upon hearing a THUD, I ran around the corner to see that he had landed hard near the bottom. What a lesson! Why would he assume that water would fare him much better?

But he can see that Mommy puts her faith in the water. She is calm and serene and eager to enjoy an all-too-brief moment floating, looking up at the Carolina-blue sky above. Will he also see my faith in things or Someone more important? 

I hope he will soon learn lessons of faith—not just in the water, not just in Mommy’s faith, but in real, meaningful, abiding faith for himself.

Ashlie Miller spends summer days playing at the pool, going on walks, reading books, and waiting for summer storms on the porch. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com, and she will answer you while on the porch or by the pool.

By Ashlie Miller

One evening this week, amid a gentle rain shower, I stretched out on the couch on our porch and drifted off to sleep to the steady lullaby. My weary body and spirit craved the refreshment of the rain. Earlier that morning, I had walked in the humidity, noticing water running off lawns into the storm drains. What a waste! Yet, the parched ground is thirsty for water, and sprinklers will have to suffice in the absence of precipitation.

The earth knows what it is like to be thirsty. But do we? Physically, I wonder. I laugh at myself upon recovering from the sounds of thermal double-wall bottles clanging with a heart-stopping shatter to the floor. I am amused and confounded by the status symbol, even among tween girls, over having multiple Stanley cups. If ever a generation lacked the sensation of physical thirst, it would be the age and culture in which we live. 

However, can you go back in time with me to a more dehydrated generation? Remember running through the oscillating sprinklers and then panting to grab a hosepipe? What about enduring PE laps or the long class that seemed it would never dismiss and gathering in front of the water fountain for your turn for a drink? We can remember being thirsty and longing for that moment around the shiny silver bowl. If you had access to a water cooler with individual cups, you were in heaven!

When was the last time you were spiritually thirsty? You woke up in the morning desperate for answers or the presence of a God. Perhaps sleep alluded you as you wrestled through the night until you flicked on a low-watt light to read a few passages from a large, well-worn book to speak peace and comfort. You set your calendar by what was happening at church. You longed for fellowship with your brothers and sisters – to worship, share hope, and hear the truth. Maybe you have never experienced the latter but long for some community and being known.

But things have changed. Life is so busy. Like grabbing the Sundrop, the extra tall latte, or a canned energy drink, you have filled your life with other things to quench your thirst and keep you moving. Self-care can mask deep hurts and spiritual thirst. Focusing on our emotional and psychological selves and taking ownership of our identity can even get in the way of quenching our souls. The mesmerizing LED screen is not filling it, nor is the constant stream of activity, workouts, or other substances. Even an educated listening ear can only sometimes get to the bottom of it or offer what will truly satisfy.

Like David in Psalms 63, let us be seekers, realizing our thirst can only be quenched in God through His Son Jesus because His “steadfast love is better than life.” What a statement! David likely wrote it in the wilderness when being hunted down mercilessly. Yet, he knew what could quench his thirst.

I still say there’s nothing quite like a gulp of cool water from a hosepipe after a strenuous activity, and there is nothing as refreshing as Jesus in my life. When have you last experienced something sustaining that is “better than life”?

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, are recipients and givers of grace among their church family at Mission Bible Church in Charlotte.