Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

Looking at my social media scroll this week,  I wouldn’t have thought there would be so much talk about monarchy – kings or no kings, and crowns. Though no king or queen rules us, the idea of monarchy still captivates the thoughts of many – just ask any American anglophile the latest about the British monarchy.

It is a tale as old as time, almost quite literally. In the Old Testament, we see a chosen people led by a theocracy – by God alone. God sets His people apart, but they don’t like that. They want to be ruled by an earthly king. Though warned of the oppression it would bring upon the people, God allowed the prophet Samuel to make a king for them. Saul proved to be a miserable king. David, the man after God’s own heart, was imperfect – failing morally, as a parent, and as a leader. His son, Solomon, though credited as the wisest man to live, was only halfway committed to the ways of God. As promised, oppression and disaster ensued for the people of Israel. An earthly king may have been what they wanted, but it isn’t what they needed. 

If we are all honest, we all do want a king. We daily crown or dethrone people on social media. We either long for the Eternal King to make things right or fight to put ourselves on the throne of our hearts, ruling oftentimes defiantly against the order He established during Creation. One way or another, the fight for a monarchy is our life’s pursuit. 

Then, there is the pursuit of the crown itself. I am sure time (and a gripping Hollywood script) will tell us more about the Louvre heist of the crown jewels and how on earth they dropped the crown, but what a picture for how temporal even the greatest riches are. The race is on to recover the jewels before they are cut into smaller, less valuable pieces. 

Christ encourages us to lay up treasures that moth and rust can’t destroy, nor thieves can rob and steal (Matthew 6:19). Even if we guard our earthly treasures, we can’t take them with us (too late to ask the French queens) or ensure their protection after we are departed. The only lasting treasures are eternal endeavors, and a crown awaits the saints. How do we measure the value and permanence of such treasures?

What crowns are we chasing today? Sure, it may be superficial success, fleeting fame or influence, or a facade of eternal beauty and youth. Or it may be something more practical, like security, safety, control, and certainty. 

After my husband and I visited the Louvre in Paris, I read about the Mona Lisa and its fame. Before it was stolen in 1911, many would not have even been able to describe or pick out the Mona Lisa. More people visited the empty wall where the Mona Lisa once hung than came to see it in the years before. I remember seeing the French Crown Jewels in the Galarie d’Apollon with a smaller crowd than those getting selfies with Mona Lisa. I wonder, once the gallery reopens, how many will flock to see what is no longer there—fleeting riches. 

Will our hearts be empty cases of perishable riches or filled with treasure yet to be fully known? Who will wear the crown on the throne of our hearts? We get to decide. 

By Ashlie Miller

While many are trekking to farms to select the perfect pumpkin, my family was behind on getting to the apple orchard. As my husband puts it, “You don’t go to an apple orchard because you need apples. If you need apples, you go to the grocery store.” This excursion was to connect with our adult son in Western NC at a midway point where we could enjoy lots of time together for the day – Hendersonville, NC. 

Because it is nearing the end of the apple-picking season, we should have considered the scavenger hunt that lay ahead of us. For several rows, it was more like a search for one good apple. Fermented, rotting apples blanketed the ground beneath the trees. They were beauties from a distance. Bright reds and supple greens. But for human consumption, they were less than desirable – riddled with holes, yellow jackets, other bugs, and mushy. 

After hiking several rows back and moving toward the center of the rows, we victoriously discovered ripe apples in abundance on the trees. It took no time for a family of 7 to fill up a bushel box. 

There are so many words to describe a delicious apple: crisp, tart or sweet, crunchy, juicy, delectable, rosy, or maybe golden, shiny, ripe. Those aren’t separate things, but multiple characteristics – each one as important as the other – of one fruit.

Such is the case with the fruit of the Spirit. Rather than some Christians having one variety of fruit and others having another, each should be growing in all aspects through their journey of sanctification. At first glance, Galatians 5:22-23 looks like a list of things a Christian should achieve by hard work. But another list, the works of the flesh in verses 19-21, are the exhausting works of sensuality, never bringing the satisfaction of the fruit that God brings forth in the life of a Christian believer. 

“Ah, but I know many nonChristians who display love, joy, patience, etc.” God, in His goodness, has given common grace to all humanity. After all, God made each of us in His image. Since He is a God of love, joy, patience, etc., it is only natural that His creation would display some of those qualities. But much like the rotting fruit on the ground, separated from the tree, those qualities eventually disintegrate. An earthly, temporal display of love and goodness is not the same as an enduring, eternal fruit of love and goodness. 

Further, when we focus on the fruit rather than God, we work by our own efforts to have something that resembles fruit. And that work leads to sins of debauchery and taking things into our own hands to manipulate what looks like love, joy, and goodness. In the upside-down world we manifest, that ends up looking like perversions of love, spiritual efforts that deny God’s authority, and a multitude of offenses in our relationship with others (again, see Galatians 5:19-21 for that list). 

Works of the flesh are exhausting and unfulfilling because it is a result of my own narcissism. It pretends to care about others, but really, it is an effort to heal myself or prove myself to others by my own efforts. Fruit is evidence of the submission of the work of the Holy Spirit when I focus on God first and then others. One of these things pretends to love others but idolizes self at the expense of others; the other is true selfless, sacrificial love that trusts God to provide all good things to and through us as His children.

By Ashlie Miller

“I’m very thankful for the wasp nests that were on our dryer vent,” my husband said at the dinner table this week as we all thought back on the busy week (and it was only Wednesday). We all nodded in agreement. We have something called a “graticube,” a wooden hexagonal cube with gratitude prompts to encourage positive family discussions gathered around the table. 

Earlier in the day, a dryer vent cleaner company inspected our vent system. Our biggest concern was the wasp nest we could see building just outside the attic. We noticed it at the end of last winter but were assured by others that the wasps likely died out and would not come back to this nest. However, we began noticing wasps again recently. 

After attempting to remedy this ourselves (thanks to Google and YouTube), we finally called in the professionals. We learned that our issue was bigger than wasp nests (yes, plural, they discovered). The central hose leading out evidently had not adequately been installed, then disconnected sometime since we moved in, resulting in a heavy dusting of – you guessed it – lint dust!

While we certainly were not delighted with the estimate for repair and cleanup, we understood why my husband was thankful for the wasp nests. They could have chosen any spot around our home and wooded back yard, but chose the one place that had a bigger issue that needed our attention.

It reminded me of Corrie ten Boom’s story about fleas. For those unfamiliar, her family, who were watchmakers, famously hid Jews in their home during the German occupation in the Netherlands to protect them from arrest and being sent to prison and concentration camps. Eventually, Corrie’s family, including her sister Betsie, was sent to Ravensbrücke – a concentration camp with filthy, overcrowded barracks. Things were very bleak, but the sisters secretly shared portions of the Bible with their many bunkmates, an act and book completely forbidden. Still, finding things to offer praise and gratitude for was minimal.

In the midst of their intense suffering, Betsie reminded her sister that they should be grateful in all circumstances, a challenge Corrie found impossible with the brutality of the soldiers, worse than poor living conditions, and the bleakness of the situation that offered no hope. Corrie reminded her sister that even their mattresses were full of fleas and lice. “I simply cannot be grateful for fleas and lice,” she said. Betsie responded, “But you must.” A short time later, they learned that the reason the guards never visited their overcrowded room was that they were disgusted by the prospect of catching lice or fleas. Who knows how many women received hope and encouragement through the gospel because of this blessed misfortune? 

So, there’s a challenge for the coming week – what minor annoyance (in the grand scheme of things) actually was for your good or a blessing to others? Can you see where God permitted things that are ultimately results of our broken and fallen world to draw your attention to bigger issues or a greater blessing? 

Ashlie Miller counts her wasps, er, blessings with her family in Concord, NC. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

            Have you ever had a life-changing conversation? Many are engaging in both public and private discussions – looking for clarity, challenging others, or wrestling with unanswered questions. Often, clarity come when someone takes the time to journey with us and our questions.

            “Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, ‘Rise and go toward the south….go over and join this chariot’” (read Acts 8:26-50). And so, Philip leaves a thriving ministry in Jerusalem to follow where the Holy Spirit’s leading – to share the gospel with an Ethiopian eunuch in the desert near Gaza. This story that both fascinates and helped propel me into Christian ministry. I must confess, there was a season in my youth when I assumed the role of a Philip in the life of a young believer. 

            It is part of our Christian life in the God’s family to share what we’ve come to understand and to help others to deepen their understanding their walk with Christ. Paul instructs Thessalonians Christians to admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, and strengthen the weak, all in patience (1 Thessalonians 5:14). It’s not hard to see the need to fulfill these biblically assigned roles.

            However, in my eagerness, I sometimes assumed my job was to teach, redirect, or encourage. Thankfully, not long after I first attached myself to this verse, I found myself in the other seat of the chariot – the seat we see occupied by the Ethiopian eunuch. Receiving truth and understanding why I believe what I believe became of great importance, particularly in my 20s. Having a teachable spirit to the unwavering, unchanging truth has kept me grounded. Though I long to follow the direction that leads me to help others know the truth (not my truth, the Truth), I’m also grateful when someone climbs into my chariot to encourage me and remind me of God’s thoughts towards me.

            The Ethiopian here was reading from Isaiah and had profound questions regarding the identity of whom the writer was described in Isaiah 53:7-8. Philip clearly gave the answer he was seeking. But I wonder what other questions were sealed for him, knowing he likely read the full scroll of Isaiah. Hold that thought. 

            This man was a eunuch, likely infertile – perhaps mourning the loss of family legacy as he submitted to his service to his queen. He was a also a Gentile – someone who was not a Jew, part of the chosen family of God. He was returning to his home of Ethiopia to serve Queen Candace after having spent time in Jerusalem worshiping God.

            As Philip explained the passage for which he had questions, did he have a profound “aha” moment – recalling other passages in Isaiah? Perhaps Isaiah 56:3–5, which promises eunuchs a legacy, or Isaiah 18, which speaks of Cush (his homeland) being welcomed into God’s family.

            How his heart must have overflowed, realizing that God saw him there in the desert and sent Philip to encourage him and lead him into a radical new life: one of hope, encouragement, joy! In fact, the Ethiopian was so overwhelmed by this transformative truth, he called out, “Look, there is water, what stops me from being baptized?” (Acts 8:36). 

            Consider your role in the chariot of life, particularly the Christian life. Is it time for you to step into someone else’s chariot to help them understand? Perhaps it is to encourage a young generation filled with many questions and inundated with wrong, very loud answers. Or maybe it is time to invite someone to climb into your chariot, ask them some questions, gain some clarity, and hopefully be refreshed by the joy of salvation as you learn that Someone sees you and cares enough to send another to journey with you for a bit.

By Ashlie Miller

“If you believe you’ve ever experienced a miracle, we invite you to click here and share your story with us.” Thus read the email from a ministry that I subscribe to. I knew what they were going for – a sensational moment where a supernatural event happened, maybe a healing or evidence of God intervening in a spectacular way. 

Though the word “miracle” can often be used too freely to explain some events, I do believe that we can encounter miracles every day. We may think of a reversal of events and situations when we think of miracles. If the biblical definition of a miracle is when a supernatural being (God) intervenes in an inexplicable way beyond natural phenomena, could we include radical reversals in that definition? 

I think we could, and I have witnessed numerous radical reversals in life, even though I cannot recall a specific healing event that I have seen. I remember a shy, grieving young girl who felt alone becoming a bold, passionate witness who feels loved and healed by a loving Father. I know a story of a boy hurt by divorce when he was young, without a model of a faithful husband and father, who became a man in love with a Savior who transformed him into a man who would be a godly husband and dad. There’s a story about a boy also hurt by grief who turned to vices that threatened to drag him down into a life of loneliness and misery, but surrendered to a Rescuer who brought him joy and a family. There’s a story of a young woman who was searching – everywhere – to find meaning and answers, and Someone found her and brought her peace beyond explanation. 

There are also the stories of those who joyfully found the Savior at young ages and instantly loved the comfort and peace and never looked back. Yes, these are salvation stories. They usually don’t fall under the category of what many would expect as a miracle. They do not seem sensational. Yet, if one were able to follow the potential trajectory of their lives without the power of the Holy Spirit, there would be no such radical transformation. 

Today, many are looking for a divine experience –  a miracle – to prove that God is real. “Just show me a miracle, and I will believe!” Perhaps the one who is witnessing their salvation story to you is the walking miracle you are looking for. How do they navigate hard times differently? Have you reconnected with a former schoolmate or coworker who went a very different route in a relationship with Jesus and now lives like a different person? 

Everyday miracles. Inexplicable things that would not have otherwise happened without the supernatural intervention. Have you witnessed a miracle?

Ashlie Miller is an everyday miracle and knows many. You can share your miracle story with her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

The month has been overshadowed by much tragedy – horrific headlines, violence, and the anniversary of 9/11. The door is widening for conversation among young people in particular, and the door is being pushed open to go back to church. 

I am hearing stories from Christian friends and neighbors of peers and family reaching out to them, asking to read the Bible or to have conversations with them, or even to say yes to visiting their church with them.

Some are hesitant because of past experiences or stories on how churches seem to be closed off and unwelcoming. I cannot speak to each of those testimonies or on behalf of those churches, even as a pastor’s wife myself. It is disheartening to say the least. But we cannot let those stories or even our experiences be the roadblock. There have been plenty of those in recent years. 

After nearly half a decade of checking out physically and only checking in virtually, people are looking to visit church for the first time or get back into actual community. If I were in a position of having to look for a church, here are some things I would consider: 

Expository preaching. In a world that continually extracts sound bites to post on our favorite platform, we know how drawn we are to sensational statements or parts of phrases to boost our case, or in the case of our heart, justify our actions. When studying larger passages, we can learn original intent, and what we observe about God and His character, humanity, sin, promises, and much more. I need more than a sermon that makes me walk away feeling good about myself; I need truth that is not going to be twisted based on who is using it. 

Pastors who see the kingdom of God beyond their facility and position. I would want a pastor who has encouraging connections with other churches and ministries, celebrating their work. Look how he disciples and equips his leadership team. What are the marks of kingdom work like: evangelism, international and domestic missions, and connecting with neighbors?

Fewer programs and more equipping. Before asking for suggestions of a church to visit and then requesting specific programs, consider reframing that to: How is the church equipping the congregation? Is it a community of hospitality? How are people being discipled toward growth, encouragement, and accountability? Do they excel in entertaining or equipping?

Reevaluating my preferences. If a church lacks a program I desire (children and youth ministry seem to rank as the top request, followed by lively music), what is it that they are really doing well? What are they investing in instead? How could God use a church quite different from what I want to cultivate maturity in my life?

And give each church a fair chance. It is amazing how we will subject ourselves to abuse of miserable service and experiences in almost any other area of life except the one that matters most. That is very telling, isn’t it?

Ashlie Miller is a pastor’s wife of a church plant in the University City area. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

They say that rain on your wedding day is a good luck sign for a solid marriage. If that is the case, what does it mean when there is a large power outage during your wedding? That will be a follow-up question years from now for the bride and groom of the wedding my husband attended last weekend. 

It was an overcast day, but as we approached Mooresville, it was clear that rain would put a damper on the plans. I checked the wedding website, theknot.com, to see if there were alternate plans for the outdoor wedding on the greens of the golf course. Nothing was listed. Well, this could be interesting, I thought. 

Things were not looking up as we approached nonworking traffic lights, the closer we came to the venue. Very interesting, I thought. We pulled into the world-class golf club and walked with an umbrella over our heads in the slight drizzle to wait with no specific direction under the awnings of a building. Suddenly, “Okay, it’s happening, let’s go!” a photographer announced. Still unsure of where we were going, we walked towards an outdoor area, watching employees wipe down seats with pool towels. The fans and paper parasols intended for a hot late summer evening were only as much help as shielding from the slight drizzle. There was at last enough of a reprieve that a condensed – but still legal – wedding ceremony commenced. After the I do’s and a kiss, the happy couple bounded up the aisle, followed by a large ribbon of lightning across the horizon. Yet, no one bolted up the aisle. With joyful decorum, the wedding party exited up the aisle. 

I do not know how many of us were concerned over the reception menu as we waited for the wedding party. There were hors d’oeuvres, and people gathered to chat. One only noticed that it was dimly lit because there was still plenty of clouded daylight. We sat down at a table with candles that were now valued more for their functionality than their ambiance; the chandeliers only glistening thanks to these humble lights below. Caesar salad before me, glancing at the menu (filet mignon and chicken), I wondered how they were going to pull that off. Answer: They couldn’t. After the ceremonial dances, the father of the bride announced, “Things haven’t gone as planned, aren’t going as planned, and won’t go as planned.” With a smile, he hinted that he would know what’s for dinner at the same time we would. I began to hear whispers of “Chick-fil-a.” 

Surely enough, the servers brought CFA nuggets and what my refined French fry palate determined to be Wendy’s French fries (do any others stay so crispy upon delivery?). A server elegantly brought out Heinz ketchup packets in a silver creamer. There was no overly apologizing for what was not being offered, but service with excellence. No one would have known it was the club’s first time dealing with such a crisis on a wedding day. 

Who was really there for the food anyway? We delighted in conversation and seeing the happy bride and groom celebrating this long-awaited day.

What a metaphor for marriage: Life hasn’t gone as planned, isn’t going as planned, won’t go as planned. But that’s okay. We can serve each other with excellence and care, and joy can be in making it through it together, with a smile and a dance…and maybe some chicken nuggets and crispy fries. 

By Ashlie Miller

“Do you ever feel lonely?” “Are you wiped out after connecting with people each week?” “Do you have to wear a mask? Do you get to be your authentic self?” “What do you do for the church?” These are some of the questions I’ve received in my role as a pastor/church-planter’s wife. I had many of the same questions (that I never asked) growing up in church and serving in different churches over time. 

Many know about Pastor Appreciation Month in October, and often that extends to his whole family. But I never really knew about a National Pastor’s Spouse Appreciation Day (it just so happens to be this first Sunday of September) or the whole month with them in mind (in March) until the last couple of years. 

These wives are pretty special, and I’m humbled and honored to serve in this way as well. I cannot speak for all of them. Just as each pastor is unique, so are their wives. There’s not one personality or qualification that is cookie-cutter. Here are some ways we may differ and other things we have in common:

She may have dreamed all her life of being a wife to one in ministry. 

She may have never imagined that she could or would be the wife of one in ministry. 

If her husband takes the pastorate of an established congregation, she may be welcome to serve in a way she feels called. Or she may be serving a congregation that presumes that she is a second, unpaid employee who will also fulfill various roles, such as leading a group or ministry or playing the organ. My husband has said he never married a pastor’s wife. That was not and is not my identity. He also never has had a specific expectation of my role in serving the church, which frees me to serve in the only way that is unique to me alone – to provide solace for our family. That benefits our entire church community.

She may be extroverted and thrive on social interactions, and be able to talk to anyone, but is working on the sanctification process of not being a people-pleaser. She may be introverted and able to go deep in spiritual and emotional discussions, but is working through her own sanctification process of being comfortable around large groups or initiating small talk. 

She is often at her best when she is discerning, able to listen to others and give counsel, flexible in her schedule due to demands of ministry, but also able to be a gatekeeper appropriately when needed, and embracing of hospitality.

She is human. 

She has her own struggles, obstacles, temptations, needs, and process of sanctification. She may feel lonely at times as she sees the distance brought by others who view her as more than something she is. She may trust in God but struggle to trust her cares and concerns to others. Her circle of acquaintances may be broad, but of friends, small. You likely think more of her than she deserves. You likely think less of her than she deserves. And I’ve been guilty of both.

The pastor’s wife you are thinking about may be many of these things or very different. The one common thing – these sisters all need prayers and encouragement from loving members of the congregation. And that you can do any day or month of the year.

Ashlie Miller is wife to Pastor Chad Miller of Mission Bible Church in the University City area. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Last week, many headed to their favorite coffee spot for a PSL (pumpkin-spiced latte). Pumpkins are already beginning to adorn steps, doorways, and windows, creating scenes straight out of a Gilmore Girls episode. Pumpkins may be the fruit of the season. Not so fast! For me, the fruit of the season is the fig. It is still late summer, after all. I have had an affinity for figs since childhood. Summers at my grandparents were crowned with their fig bushes bursting with bounty. I love the crunchy, seedy texture. As a child, I ate them straight off the bush. Now, with my more refined taste, they adorn toast garnished with goat cheese and honey. Ok, maybe not that refined. Last week’s “toast” was leftover hotdog buns, but in my mind, they were French baguettes. 

Fig trees were a topic of discussion between my daughter and me last week as we were reading through the New Testament. “Mom, what is this about the fig tree that Jesus cursed?” she asked. Well, let’s go to the beginning – Genesis, to be exact. 

After the Fall of humanity – when Adam and Eve both ate the forbidden fruit – they realized their nakedness and were filled with shame. Consequently, they covered themselves with fig leaves that they had sewn together, but it was not enough. God had to make them garments of skin, meaning something had to die to clothe them. Manmade efforts were inadequate; God had to intervene through a sacrifice. 

Throughout the Old Testament, fig trees symbolize prosperity, peace, fruitfulness, and even Israel. In the New Testament, Jesus confronts opposing Jews, sometimes through direct encounters, while at other times it would be through parables. Occasionally, though, He would use an object lesson. In the Parable of the Fig Tree (Luke 13:6-9), Jesus tells a story of a fig tree that is barren for three years. The vinedresser says it should be dug up or cut down if irrigation and fertilizer do not help. 

Later, Jesus curses a fig tree that only has leaves. Although it was not the season yet for ripened figs, this early-blooming leafy tree should have already been filling out with figs. He curses this tree so that it never bears fruit again. A day later, Peter sees it and is amazed that it is already withered. 

What gives? The initial observation is that God values fruitfulness. We are to bear fruit as Christians. In fact, the evidence of the Holy Spirit in our lives is called “fruit.” Professing Christians can too often be merely consumers and not contributors to the Kingdom of God. We can look impressive and religious but have no evidence of the Holy Spirit. 

The fig tree can also represent the Law (commandments) given by God, and that Israel was meant to be a conduit for God’s love reaching the world. But over time (and not a long time at that), they failed. A focus on what one could do to inherit eternal life (see the rich young ruler) took precedence over a relationship with God. Self-made efforts and keeping laws to cover sin and look religious were found to be inadequate. Jesus’ earthly ministry of three years was to first present the gospel to Israel. They refused. They wanted more miracles and signs (but not on the Sabbath!), more rules, and more to consume. But Jesus came with a better, complete plan. He fulfilled the Law and provided the only way to inherit eternal life – for all people. The unfruitful fig tree, the channel that stopped short, was no longer necessary or useful. 

My figs and honey remind me of the sweetness of the Law – showing us where we are imperfect and need a Savior.  They also let me know that fall is just around the corner.

By Ashlie Miller

Recently, dear friends allowed me and my youngest two children to use their place at the beach for several days. It was to be a refresher for us, while my husband was on a mission trip with two of our teenage children. It can be difficult for little ones when a parent is away for several days. Tears can flow when they begin to miss Daddy. A good distraction is always a welcome thing, and can anything be more welcome than a trip to the beach?

Though it was only three of us, it looked as if we had packed for 7! Back seats down, the trunk of the Odyssey was filled with floats, crafts, games, books, and our luggage. Usually, we have to be very minimalistic in our packing. Not this time! I had a crafty little plan to take advantage of the days there with field trips and what we call “funschooling.” Little did they know, the crafts we would make, the books on the ocean and sea shells we would read, the stories we would hear, the podcasts on nature we would tune into would all help us begin our homeschool year. 

It worked like a charm! Instead of loathing the activities and the learning, the children actually asked to stay inside most days during that especially hot, humid, and often stormy last week of July at Holden Beach. We opted to enjoy the sand and surf in the evenings.

Embracing school days, though cloaked in the guise of fun, was not the only difference I took note of during our stay. I notice that when we stay at someone else’s home, cleaning seems like less of a chore and more like a gift. At home, completing the same tasks that week would feel laborious and tedious, with no end in sight. Then, there is rage-cleaning, which you may have heard about – the cleaning many moms (and dads) do when they are sick and tired of the mess, making sure everyone hears about it as they clean. “I have to do EVERYTHING around here. I guess no one else can see this?! I suppose it must be nice to rest and relax while watching me work.” (Anyone ever guilty of this one? I’m a recovering rage-cleaner.) 

Although no cleaning list was posted or expected as part of the gift of staying at a friend’s place, the desire to express gratitude through an act of service was tangible and longed to be expressed. The children picked up sticks fallen from storms in the backyard while I swept, mopped, and even dusted. As the children realized the great gift given, they, too, asked how they could help. When cleaning and chores are an expression of gratitude rather than a list of expectations, the heart and energy that goes into them are different. One may argue that the cleaning is more thorough when done from a place of gratitude. 

That provoked me to think, “What would happen if I carried that same gratitude to my home?” Thanking God for the many dirty dishes means that many good meals are enjoyed at the family table. Conquering Mount Never-rest (my name for our laundry pile) means we were busy working, playing, or doing, and have plenty to change into. Helping pick up toys implies that someone has been making memories rather than being sucked into entertainment onscreen. More than a temporary place at the beach, the Heavenly Father has blessed and entrusted me with an earthly dwelling. Surely, there are more profound lessons than that, but for now, I’ll try to be more expressively grateful and less complaining when I clean. (And, no, let’s be honest. The children didn’t bring that same lesson home with them from the beach.)