A Reason for Writing - Part Two of Two

A few days later, with great embarrassment, I told my mom that I'd started writing entries for these online friends to read. She told me it was called blogging. I told her no, it couldn't be blogging. Blogs were written by important people and were about current events or politics. This wasn't a blog. Couldn't be a blog.

But I soon discovered this was something I loved. As a bride of less than a year who was adjusting to my new life, I filled many a post with thoughts, emotions, stories, pictures, and quite a bit of craziness. It was, for the most part, just like my paper journals and the letters I used to write. Only this time I had more of an audience and actually received feedback each time I wrote a entry.

I was writing again. And suddenly one day I realized it felt like I'd come full circle. Just as the ebb and flow of my life had changed, so had the way I'd expressed my thoughts. I was back to square one. I'd fallen back in love with writing.

It didn't take long before I came to terms with the fact that I was, indeed, blogging. It was true. I had a blog, and I'd jumped in with both feet.

As probably almost every one of you can relate to, I was soon an addicted blogger, spending an utterly ridiculous amount of time on the computer. I can definitely say, "Been there done THAT!" Thus began the ongoing battle of keeping the proper balance between this thing we do called blogging and my high calling to real life as a wife and mama. I took breaks, returned to my blog, renewed my commitment to balance--several times. After a few years, I left the private online journaling community and made the move into the full-fledged, public blogosphere. Last summer I had an unfortunate experience which shocked me into remembering just how public this all is, had to move again, and finally landed. Right here.

Sometimes I wonder why on earth I'm doing this. I'm not a great writer. I don't remember all the rules of English. I don't "make" anything from what I write. Like most of us, I don't have hours of free time just waiting to be filled. I get overwhelmed at times, with either the fact that people I don't know actually read what I say, or the fact that my usual "voice" here on my blog doesn't always reflect what my heart wants to say. I get caught between having enough time to read other people's blogs and having time to write on my own. I find myself, once again, spending too much time on here and have to step back and reevaluate my priorities. I would be lying if I said I haven't come very, very close to ending this blog completely.

But then I remember. I can't not write. I can't stop putting my thoughts and my everyday life into the written word any more than I can stop talking to my family or stop living my life. God has given me a love for capturing those thoughts and dreams and, yes, even the craziness--harnessing them and finding just the right word to express them, whether for just myself to read, or for a group of friends I happen to call my bloggie peeps.

I've also found something interesting.

Just as my life has had many ups, downs, and sideways journeys, the thing I fell in love with at seven years old--writing--has mirrored every aspect of that. It has taken a journey of it's own in my life. Just as I can look back through my old journals and see what I was going through at that time and only fully understand the magnitude or the relative insignificance now, I scroll through the old posts here and in each of my old blogging homes and whisper to myself, Wow. Look at how that turned out. Look. Look at what God did. Remember where I was back then--even just a few weeks ago--and look at where we are now.

When friends in "real life" find out that I have a blog, they often ask why. Why do you blog?

I've heard people say that a Christian shouldn't blog unless it's to share Scripture or lay out the plan of salvation in each post. I've read posts where bloggers have criticized other bloggers for posting about life rather than posting more deep spiritual thoughts. I've questioned myself numerous times... why do I blog?

I blog for this reason: My creative Lord and Savior has given me a love of the written word, and I choose to use that love for the lifting up of His name. My regular, ordinary life is a daily testimony, through the good, the bad, the lovely and the not-so-lovely, of His work in the life of one of His children. I seek to honor Him in everything. Everything. Whether it is a post about His amazing power and strength to get me through a difficult time, or it's a silly picture of one of my boys, or it's a crazy anecdote about a completely wild day in our home--it is all part of the life He's given me, and it all reflects Him and His glory. His power and strength are amazing... He has made my boys hilarious and silly... He reveals Himself more real than ever, in a million little ways, when we have completely wild and adventurous day around here. He is in everything. So I give Him everything.

And that....that, is my reason for writing.

- by Ashleigh Baker

A Reason for Writing - Part One of Two

When I was in second or third grade, my parents chose a penmanship curriculum called A Reason for Writing. It was supposed to be a great curriculum... combining the learning of good penmanship with a bit of fun and creativity.

At the end of each week, I would pull one of the pre-decorated and lined sheets of paper from the back of the book, color the illustration framing the lines and then write a personal letter to send to a friend or family member.

It should have been fun, but let me tell you....I hated that book. I just couldn't stand that curriculum. I dreaded doing it each day. Dreaded writing row after row of curly cursive letters, keeping them uniform and within the correct lines. Combination of perfectionist and lackadaisical that I am, I would often end up in tears when I saw the red circles around letters I'd written sloppily. I wanted it to be perfect, but I just hadn't really cared when actually completing the assignment.

But while forming an aversion to writing, I was actually discovering, in my free time, a love for writing. Real writing. Not the "cross your t's and dot your i's" kind of writing, but the art of putting words to a page. Of capturing an abstract thought and harnessing it into something another person might understand. Of having a concrete place to save all my imaginings, my fears, my joys, my craziness.

When I turned seven, a grandmother-like figure gave me my first diary. It was beige with little hearts on the cover and the pages numbered by the days of the year. Best of all, it had a lock and a key. At seven years old, nothing could be more nifty than that. After the party was over and my little friends were gone, I turned to April 1, put my Lisa Frank pencil to the paper... and unlocked a little bit of magic in my heart.

By the time I was nine, I'd begun my first "novel." My writing buddy, had given me a thin three-ring-binder and a stack of paper after I'd read the first chapter of her "epic novel" and decided to start my own. Over the next couple years, I made it four whole chapters into my book, entitled Agarn Life. It was the story of the Agarn family (making up odd and outlandish names was also one of my hobbies) and their adventurous life on the prairie. I have absolutely no idea where that plot came from. It couldn't possibly have had anything to do with the Little House books I was pouring over. I don't remember much of the story line anymore, except for the fact that around eleven or twelve years old, I realized I'd better hurry this story along if I hoped to get it published sometime soon--as I was certain it would be--so I decided to do something drastic and kill off the family patriarch. He was trampled by cattle or something equally dramatic.

Over the next several years, I filled countless spiral notebooks with stories, wrote to dozens of pen-pals regularly, and faithfully wrote in my journal. During my particularly eventful and ridiculously drama-filled sixteenth year, I easily filled three entire journals in about six months.

In a girls' magazine I subscribed to during my teen years, I once read a short piece which called writing in a journal a "record of God's faithfulness." That little phrase stuck with me. Record of His faithfulness.

Is that what I was doing? I wrote in my letters and journals about my daily life, my ups and downs, my deepest thoughts and feelings. My stories were reflections of my imagination; often dreams written on paper. What was the point of any of it? Was it a "record" of anything, or just mindless words written by a young girl?

As I got a little older and the trail of my life rounded some unexpected corners, I continued to fill the pages of my journals and even still write short imaginative pieces. But soon most of the fictional stories were left, half-finished, in notebooks tucked in keepsake boxes. The pen-pals grew up and the letters became less frequent or moved to email instead. Even the journals into which I'd once poured my heart and soul were being opened less and less often. After a particularly difficult time during which I'd written page after page after page in my journal, only to later realize that, in fact, I'd not even been honest with myself in the folds of that little volume, I became less comfortable with putting my thoughts on paper. What was really the point anyway?

Soon I had a husband who was a quiet kind of guy and would listen to me ramble on and on and on for hours every evening. On the lines of my pretty little journal I'd write particularly meaningful scripture references, sometimes accompanied by a few brief thoughts. But now that I had someone who would listen to my ongoing and endless ramblings about life and such, I rarely wrote much about it on paper anymore.

Then I heard that some of those old pen pals and the girls who had read those sweet teen girls' magazines were actually still keeping in touch with each other--they'd all just moved online. I visited the online journaling site and saw names I recognized and quickly found old far-away friends.

And then, one night, while on the phone with my best girlfriend who was also perusing through the lists of mutual old friends...

I signed up.

...to be continued

- by Ashleigh Baker

Ashleigh: The Wife of a Deployed Soldier

Ashleigh wrote a sweet post over at Rocks In My Dryer I wanted to point you all to: What I'd Like for You to Know

Be Still

It had been "one of those" mornings.

It was the middle of December--Christmastime. Things were crazy. Everything from the past two months seemed to have hit me that day--my newborn, my husband's surgery, a trip to Colorado, Christmas preparations, and a deployment date looming in the near future. This particular day was filled with a million little things, and I felt I was hanging by a thread.

In the late afternoon, I finally managed to find a moment to take a shower. I thought if I could just take a quick hot shower, it would wash away the craziness of the day and all would be fine. An hour passed, and between several phone calls and door-bell rings, I still wasn't in the shower.
A harried mess. That's what I was. I sat Troy down in my bedroom with a stack of books and a couple toys, put 6-week-old Merritt in his bouncy seat, and hopped in the shower.

But, unlike my expectations, the stress didn't wash away with the water. I could only feel the tension in my heart building as I ran my long to-do list through my head. I could hear the ringing of the phone--again. The baby was beginning to get fussy and Troy was tired of looking at books. It had been all of two minutes.

I pushed my hair under the stream of water, letting it rinse the shampoo out of my hair. As I wiped the water beads out of my eyes, I heard it.

Be still.

Gently the words came. I pushed them out of my head, trying to focus on the days, weeks ahead of me. There was so much to think about, plan for, keep straight in my head. How desperately I wished time could stop and give me a week to catch up. It was all just so much and I...

Be still.

So softly, that Voice spoke directly to my heart.

Lord, don't be ridiculous. Be still? Now? Not happening.

I heard the baby crying with all his might. Hurry. Rinse out the conditioner. This shower had taken long enough. Next on the list? Get dinner started and then I'd have to hurry...

Be still. Quiet your heart. Know I am God.

I sighed aloud. Okay, Lord. Okay. Quiet my heart. I've made a note of it and I'll be sure to do that. Maybe once the kids are in bed. Or something.

That still, small voice is persistent. Our little back-and-forth continued as I finished up my shower and went about getting ready.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, my heart replied. I already do know you are God. Of course I do.

Be still, and know that I am God. Quiet your heart before me.

~*~
This evening, things were completely chaotic in our house. What was really only about thirty minutes felt like days.

We were on our way to our church's annual mission's dinner. I had made food, was scheduled to work in the nursery for the service after the dinner, and was hoping to catch some of the amazing man, Don Sisk's, preaching through the television screen in the nursery.

But my reality at that moment wasn't so rosy. Both boys were crying. This was not just fussiness or whimpering. Troy was sobbing as if his life was ending. Merritt was screaming with everything in him.

I was beside myself.

I hurried them both along. I tossed brownies on a plate. I ran in my heels to fill diaper bags. I replaced the binky. I consoled. I held. I got impatient and spoke too harshly. I walked into the kitchen, away from the boys and let out a long at-my-wit's-end-again groan. I put the baby in his carseat, directed Troy to the door, slung my purse and the diaper bag over a shoulder and picked up my plate of brownies, nearly forgetting to grab my Bible with that extra hand I don't have.

And then I heard it in my heart, always so soft and gentle.

Be still.

I was frustrated. Lord, this is NOT the time. I don't have a second for stillness right now. This is crazy. I feel like I'm falling apart. I don't even know what I was thinking in imagining I could go to this dinner on my own with the boys.

I locked the front door.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, please, please... what are you trying to tell me? I DO know You are God. You know I can't be still right now. I don't understand.

My Jesus is so loving. You know I'm God? Do you really know I'm God? If you know I'm God, you know I'm capable of handling all of this. You know this moment would be better if you placed it in my hands. You know I will fill you with My perfect strength in this moment of weakness. Quiet your heart before Me. Be still, and know that I am God.

I was stopped at a red light. I closed my eyes. This wasn't a mere suggestion. It was a command.

Be still. Know I am God.

The boys were still crying. I told myself to never again try to pack so much in one long day.

I don't feel it, Lord. I don't feel quiet or still. But I do want to truly know you are God. Please let me see You in this moment, Jesus.

Are you weary tonight? I am. Are you frazzled or is your heart troubled? To say that there is ever time for real stillness in the life of a woman is nearly laughable.

And yet, He whispers...

Be still.

Know that I am God.

Until we're still... until our hearts are quieted before Him... until we stop waiting for things to slow down before really looking into His face... until we obey His command to be still, even when there is no stillness in sight, we can never expect to fully know He is God.

Be still.

- by Ashleigh Baker

From our dear Ashleigh!

Dear sweet YLCF sisters,

I just looked back and realized that it's literally been months since I've written any sort of post over here. I've had a few posts over at my personal blog that I planned to give Natalie to use here, and some other new ones swirling in my head, but it seems much of it wouldn't make sense without a bit of an update first.

But, where on earth does one start when there are so many big things to tell you about? I have no idea. So, here's what we'll do. Let's just pretend it's a sunny spring day--the kind in which you can just begin to feel the first bit of the season's warmth and yet a lightweight sweater can still be desired, draped across one's shoulders. We'll curl up on a gently swaying porch swing with a glass of clear, fresh water in hand. Now bask in the delicious rays of sunlight and settle in for a chat while we listen to the tinkling of the ice against our glasses.

There, now. We'll begin with last summer...

Last July the Marine Corps transferred John to another base here in California and we made our third move in our three years of marriage, and yet our first real and true Military move--from the desert to the beach! We quickly settled into our new home, enjoyed the balmy weather, found a wonderful church right away, and began preparing for the arrival of another little one in November.

Our second little boy was born the evening of November 1, 2007, making Troy a big brother at nineteen months old. He was fascinated by this little bebe, and after the initial adjustment, they have become the best li'l buds. Troy is a big helper and his baby brother loves nothing more than smiling while Troy plays near him. The "rough and tumble" has already begun and it keeps everyone nearby on out toes, reminding Troy to be gentle with the baby. We are so enjoying getting to experience a whole new little person and personality. This little fellow is the epitome of happy contentment, a calm disposition, and a world of smiles at just over four months old. Our boys couldn't be more precious.

Now, I have to stop here and explain our newest little guy's name. Because I just know you are all going to laugh. I laugh too, when I think of it. But, it's not our fault that we heard a name and liked it... right? :)

We had such a hard time choosing a name for this little man before he was born. We went back and forth, over and over, tossing around different options. We had narrowed it down to one or two names, but none of them really seemed to be "it" for us. Then one day, Troy and I were taking a drive with my mom and brother. We'd been talking about baby names and our ideas while my mom absent-mindedly searched for a radio station we could listen to. She passed a country music station, and we heard a quick clip from a song we'd heard several times before.

He just takes the tractor another round,
Pulls the plow across the ground,
And sends up another prayer...

I told my mom every time my husband John hears that song, it reminds him of Gretchen's Merritt and then John asks, without fail, if I've heard how Merritt was doing after his accident. I anticipate it every time the song starts to play on the radio.

Then my brother piped up from the back seat, "'Merritt.' Now that's a cool name."

And then it clicked. Merritt. Merritt. Oooh, I liked it. I called John to ask him what he thought of it. He liked it. A lot. And that was that.

But, beside the fact that we just up and stole Merritt's name like that, here's the real bit of hilarity.

Did you know Gretchen and I have never actually had direct contact? We know of each other, and have only about a zillion mutual friends, we're friends on Facebook and Homeschool Alumni (even though neither of us are very active of those, though), and we've even left each other occasional comments on blog posts. And, you know, there's this blog we're both associated with called YLCF--not that you'd all know of it or anything. But the truth of the matter is that we don't, officially, even know each other.

Of course, had I not been about to have a baby and, thus, sadly unable to attend Natalie's wedding as originally planned, all of this would have been remedied. Although, by that time, it was too late when it came to the name. We'd already stolen her husband's name for our baby-boy-on-the-way, and there was no turning back. Merritt Will it was, and Merritt Will is has remained.

Now, our little Merritt's middle name is Will, but that one wasn't stolen from one of Gretchen's family members, even though it does happen to be her brother's name. It's a variation of John's grandfather's name that we'd already planned to use as a middle name. Just, you know, justifying a little here.

Oh, but, before I get any further in this little chat of ours, allow me to turn for a moment to this young lady walking up to us here...

Hello! My name is Ashleigh. My, what beautiful hair you have. Mind if I steal it? I've yearned all my life for curly red hair. Your name is Gretchen, you say? I must say, you do look familiar. Perhaps I know you from someplace? Well, it is certainly very nice to meet you!"

There. It's official. I feel better now.

:)

We'll continue this chat very soon...

He's been faithful to me

Yesterday the final bit of a scab beside Troy's right eye fell off, leaving a pinkish area of new skin in its place. Almost a week ago, the little man was on his way out the back door when his wild and crazy best friend--Belle, the dog--jumped out the door behind him, knocking him down onto his face. The entire day his forehead, side of his face, cheekbone and eye area were red as could be from the bad scrapes and the next morning he had a slight black eye. The redness had pretty much gone away, although leaving a few good scabs in it's place.

Over the weekend, I was talking to someone who had been here when this little incident occurred and she asked how he was doing. I gave her an update, saying he was fine now... just looked like he'd been beat up, poor little guy. She remarked how sad it was when it happened--Troy was just happily stepping outside, completely unaware, and from out of the blue he was hit from behind by something twice his size, knocking his sweet little face down onto the hard concrete. He didn't even know what had hit him.

"Just like those times in life when you are just going along, and suddenly you don't know what hit you... you're knocked flat and it hurts so bad that it takes a minute to figure out what happened. Poor little guy... he was probably thinking, 'But you loved me, Belle!'"

I knew that when she said this and laughed, what seemed to be a passing observation was really wrought with deeper meaning, because this friend I was talking to, as we spoke, was in that very place. That place where you just don't know what hit you.

Heartache. Betrayal. A breach of trust. An unexpected cause of pain so deep it takes your breath away.

Each one of us has felt these to some extent, in some form.

Recently I've received several emails from people who are hurting and seeking help or assurance. A sweet young woman wrote in the past few weeks asking how to handle heartache and rejection in a relationship. At first, I wasn't quite sure how I was going to answer. I began searching my Bible for scriptures to help, and in the various ones I found for this response, I came across so many that speak of God's everlasting love, His lovingkindness, His grace, His strength, the fact that He never can, never will, forsake us. He cannot separate Himself from that which He has made become a part of His very being.

I didn't realize when I was writing out these scriptures that they would soon be applicable to my own life and those near me within a short time.

How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. Psalm 36:7

ear me, O LORD; for thy lovingkindness is good: turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies. Psalm 69:16

Nevertheless my lovingkindness will I not utterly take from him, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail. Psalm 89:33

The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee. Jer. 31:3

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. Jer. 29:11-13

LORD God of hosts, who is a strong LORD like unto thee? or to thy faithfulness round about thee? Psalm 89:8

Thy hands have made me and fashioned me: give me understanding, that I may learn thy commandments. They that fear thee will beglad when they see me; because I have hoped in thy word. I know, O LORD, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me. Let, I pray thee, thy merciful kindness be for my comfort, according to thy word unto thy servant. Let thy tender mercies come unto me, that I may live: for thy law is my delight. Psalm 119:73-77

The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. Hab. 3:19

The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing. Zep. 3:17

People will fail... and fail... and fail. Circumstances will change at a moment's notice and knock us off our feet. We will stumble and fall. We will look around us and not know how we got here... what has happened?

But our God will never, ever fail. It is against His very nature. His love is perfect. His grace and mercy everlasting. We can look back on our lives and the hard times we've already been through, whether smaller or larger than what we're currently facing, and yet see that time and time again He has proved Himself faithful.

Often, when overwhelmed by circumstances or a situation, I'll write down in my journal the times when God has already been faithful. We can draw such comfort from the remembrance of what He's done in the past in our own lives.

Rejoice in the LORD, ye righteous; and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. Psalm 97:12

Along with these others in my life, I'm learning afresh that when "all else fails", He is there, remaining, holding and carrying us through... always faithful.

- by Ashleigh Baker

Words of Wisdom

Last night we were a little shaken up. I had been gone all day and came home to the news that either John or a Marine he works with would be leaving within the week for that Sandy Spot on the other side of the globe--and that we wouldn't find out until the next day. We are already planning for a trip to that Spot in the near future... but we weren't planning on it being quite this soon, or being during the time that the baby is due...

This morning brought the update that John won't be the one going... due to several work-related factors, his friend is instead. And this Marine doesn't end up having even a week to prepare--he's leaving tonight. If you think of it, please pray for his family. He hasn't even been home six months from a 13 month deployment.

Last night we called both sets of parents, asking them to pray--for peace while we waited to hear, and most of all for God's will in the situation. About a million and one questions and concerns were running through our heads, and the concious decision to place it in the Lord's hands is much easier said than done in these sort of moments. But He is faithful to give the peace He promises... after the initial wave of fear, we were able to just rest, knowing that He knew when we didn't.

My father in law sent me a long email last night, filled with such love, support and wisdom that I felt it warranted being shared with others beside myself. Many of us face difficult times, whatever and whenever they are, and these words apply to just about every circumstance we might be enduring or foreseeing.

Ashleigh, we're praying for strength and submission. I just read in Luke about the storm on the sea of Galilee today, and the Lord intervened. He well may. But I am reading Job, and the Lord never intervened, but all worked out perfectly.

I don't know what the Lord will do. Maybe he will work for our convenience. Maybe he has much higher goals in mind, and our convenience may not be as important as our commitment to Him. Further our Happiness is not nearly as important to him as our Holiness!! We in America pursue happiness, and find the pursuit brings happiness.We never reach the goal of happiness, the closest we come is in its pursuit.

Hebrews says we are to pursue holiness, and the pursuit brings the relative holiness we crave, but the goal of perfect holiness is outside of our reach. That one depends on God's timing. Still, even there our holiness is more important than our happiness. And our perfect happiness like our perfect holiness only happens as God stages our Exodus.

By the way I spoke from Ruth [my father in law is a pastor--here he's referring to a message he preached] and in the KJV there is a wonderfully interesting, quaint and to us partially incomprehensible phrase, "And her (Ruth's) Happe (1611 KJV Mgn "Heb. happe happened.") was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz." "Happe" is related to "HAPpiness" and "HAPpening." It means "chance" or "as luck would have it" or it "Happened." NKJV "She happened to come to the part. . ."

The reason I bring that up is to show the beautiful contrast between happiness and joy. Happiness happens when things happen as we want them to happen. Joy is a deliberate choice engendered by the Holy Spirit, where we have very similar emotions to happiness, including the lightness, the contentment, the peace and rest, the confidence that things will work out according to our desire--but our desire is totally the Lord's revealed will. Joy is based not on things happening as we want, but on our choice to trust the Lord to run our lives better than we ever could, and to submit in confidence to His will and not consider our own plans and desires except in the context of His revealed will--revealed by the circumstances and the Word of God.

So even in what unsaved would consider hard times, we can rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.

- by Ashleigh Baker

Stand By Your Man - Part Two

The day had been long, the temperature gauge outside read well over 100°, it was after dinner time and I had forgotten that making a meal was now my responsibility alone. We were surrounded by boxes, gift wrap, tape, packing paper and a whole ton of dust and neither of us was in too cheery of a mood.

As I pulled out little knick knack after little knick knack from my cedar hope chest, I realized that I’d packed a few too many odds and ends that I wouldn’t later know what to do with. I’d forgotten about many of them, and had no idea what some of the others were for.

John picked up a little icy blue glass container of some sort, turned it in his hand and remarked that it was rather interesting looking, with the uneven sides, oddly curved dips in the outline. I nodded. I had no idea what it was or where it had come from, but it had sat in my room, filled with miscellaneous buttons, for a few years when I was younger. Then John asked if I wanted to keep it. I was terribly offended. Of course I did! It was mine, after all, and I was sure I could do something with it.

I told him, in a very hurt tone, that yes, I wanted the little blue glass… “thing”. He shrugged, set it back down on the floor, and said, “Okay. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t know what it was.” Then, in all my newly-married-wifely glory… I rolled my eyes at him, sighed loud and long, and turned quickly around to finish unpacking. My poor, new husband walked away slowly, now feeling like he obviously had no place in the unpacking of my hope chest, and headed for the garage.

Within the next few minutes, I found these two sheets of paper, with a title regarding respect and husbands. I remembered when I’d first read the article, and knew well what it was about. I started reading…about the importance of making our husband feel respected, revered, and oh-so-loved, because God made them with a very real need for these things, and they should be receiving the fulfillment of these needs first and foremost from their wives.

The author spoke of wives who have, over time, worn their husbands down to the point where they no longer have a desire to lead, because they know they will be ridiculed or questioned for taking any step left or right. These wives have taught their children that Daddy is just a big buffoon who knows little about real life and is a good target for jokes and poking fun. Their husbands are defeated, discouraged and feel like another one of the children, because their wives have pushed them down to that level. I saw my current attitude in some of the description and my heart hurt. I went out to the garage, put my arms around my beloved, new husband and asked him to forgive me. I did respect him, and wanted him to know it.

I wish I could say that was the last time in our short three years of marriage I’ve had to apologize for something similar. I am still stumbling, learning, and growing, day by day. But, due to the working power of Christ in my life, I can say that the excited greeting my husband receives when he comes home is just one small indication of how much he is loved and respected in his home.

Troy knows, as little as he is, that Daddy is our hero, and he believes it with all his heart. I know that Daddy isn’t perfect, just like Daddy knows the same thing about Mommy :smile:, but at this point, Troy sure doesn’t know it! My prayer daily is that I’ll model to our children the respect and love their Daddy deserves—just because God has made him their Daddy!—and that they will in turn love and respect their Heavenly Father, just as their Daddy does.

- by Ashleigh Baker

Stand By Your Man - Part One

“DadadadaDA!!”

This is the happy squeal greeting my husband nearly every day when he walks through our front door. When Daddy comes home, either in the evening or on his lunch break, as long as Troy (now 15 months) isn’t napping, the little guy is eagerly heading for the door the minute he realizes it’s about to open. Its celebration time around here! Big hugs for the baby, kisses for Mommy…even our Australian Shepherd gets in on the action, barking happily, her tail wagging, while she does her best to sit at wait for a pat on the head, instead of jumping all over the daddy of our house.

It doesn’t take much to see that John is loved here. If one were to ask him, he’d look at his little family of three (soon to be four!) with his signature “sappy-lovey-dovey” look and tell you that yep, his family loves him. We feel the same way.

Making sure John feels like a king in our home is something I’m constantly working to improve. I won’t pretend and tell you that I always act like the gentle loving wife I’d like to be, or that I don’t sometimes question his decisions or think he says the wrong thing. But I’m asking the Lord, daily, to help me show John more and more that he is the man, that I will follow him wherever the Lord leads, and that there is nobody on this earth more important to me than my husband.

I’ve found that for me, it is very easy to let the opinions of others, my desire for “all things perfect”, or for the praise of man, or even good things, like wanting to pour myself into motherhood or wanting to serve the Lord in various outside forms of ministry, to slip in and begin to separate me from my husband. Within a very short time of focusing on one of these, I’m doubting his wisdom in a matter, or sighing to myself when he says something I don’t agree with, or just beginning to have an attitude of frustration with him in general.

To those of you who are unmarried, it may seem an utter failure for a wife to ever feel this way, but remember, Prince Charming won’t always be perfectly charming, and I’m sure we know ourselves well enough to realize the same is true about us!

Before I was married, I tucked a little article away in my hope chest, to be found when I opened it in my new home. I remember now the day I found it again. John and I were making our first house a home and were unpacking wedding gifts as well as our own personal belongings. I had unloaded the knick knacks, the linens, the small set of pots, the knit dishcloths… and then I found these few pieces of paper....to be continued....

- by Ashleigh Baker

A little update from Ashleigh Baker...

You know, it can be oh-so-easy to focus on ourselves. Oh, you knew that? I seem to have forgotten.

I laugh when I read my little post on my blog last week about all of our "plans." Those who read my blog probably laughed when they read it. I said in my little tag line, that we'd probably just be sent off to Japan or something in the next couple months. Yeah, well... I meant that as a joke, but, um...

No, we're not going to Japan. In fact, we have little idea where/if/when the location would be if we/Troy and I/John go anywhere.

And you know what? I'm okay with that!! Shocking, no? But that's today. You didn't talk to me yesterday. :smile:

For many different reasons just about every major area of our life is up in the air right now. God knew I needed another lesson in that there school of flexibility! Yesterday, when I found out that we might be in for some much bigger changes than just moving across base, I was, frankly, scared, fearful and anxious. I kept busy throughout the day while we waited for the confirmation we thought we'd get at some point yesterday. But John finally called in the afternoon and said that the person on whom everything hinges is on leave this week. We won't know the answer to the big question until next week. Soooo :deep breath:, that means we'll just wait. And know that just as we will trust the Lord then, we will trust Him now, while we're waiting.

At one point, in my mindless wandering throughout the day, I went through a mental checklist of the "BIG" areas of a normal life, and laughed to myself that there's some sort of question mark next to each of them for us.

Then came reality. A little bit o' perspective to make me see just how selfish I was to worry so much about things I could not control. God knows the end from the beginning... I don't. He knows what is best for us... I don't. And He has proven Himself faithful in so very many situations. How could I even doubt for a second that He would allow something that is not
for our ultimate good? My fear is not a reality. It just isn't. I'm worrying about something that I have no idea or control over whether or not it will actually happen.

I thought of little Ashley, who is in such great need of prayer today. Her daddy and siblings had to go back home, so her mama is alone again and Ashley's having a hard couple days. That is reality.

I thought of an old, old friend who has just this week been put on hospice and is at home now, losing her battle with cancer. She is a pastor's wife, with four children and a little bundle of grandchildren. She is tired, so very sick, and will soon be with the Lord. That is reality.

I thought of a very dear friend of mine, who is facing for certain nearly every aspect of the
things I am fearful of. She is still just trusting the Lord and continuing on. That is so very much reality.

I thought of Kelli, for whom so many blogging mamas pitched in to help and pray last week, and who has received some heavy news today. She will be going on full dialysis, having a shunt put in to her heart through her chest, going to the hospital 3 times a week, for 3-4 hours each day. She is still waiting for a kidney transplant. That is reality.

Today I read the entire story of a little girl I had prayed for, Emma Grace. By the end, my
cheeks were wet and yet I was overcome by the sheer awesomeness of our Father. Even in the hardest of times, He has shown Himself faithful and more than we could ever ask or think. Emma's mommy has been through more than I could ever dream of, and can still smile and praise the Lord for all that He's done. That, dear sisters, is reality.

So I'm going to continue on in reality, whatever that is for us. Not in fear, not in stubbornness because I think I know what is best. Not in worry upon worry because I can't see more than a day ahead. God has given me today, and that is reality.

- by Ashleigh Baker

Meet Ashleigh!

Mrs. Ashleigh Baker began writing for us back in the spring of 2006 but it was not until fall that we figured out what a treasure we had on our hands. Then it took the very slow co-web-master (i.e. Natalie) months to remember she needed a bio posted! Here it is...you can view all the introductions to the YLCF Team Members here.

As long as I can remember, I've always had a lot to say. At nine months old I had a little vocabulary of simple words... and those who know me even slightly know that I never stopped talking from then on. :smile: In Anne-like fashion, I had to be told many times growing up to get to the end of a story a little quicker or, pretty please, could I just take a little break from my little girl chatter? I've often thought the verses in Proverbs regarding being slow to speak were written for me alone.

After taking and delighting in a few writing courses throughout my years of being home-educated, I quickly realized that writing provided a perfect outlet for my love of communication. The result was more than a few journals being filled in short periods of time, articles written for my eyes only, many stories and various works penned. In letters and emails to my many far-away friends, I found yet another source for my abundant writing. Yet, with very few exceptions, I was always a little nervous to see anything in print under the name of "Ashleigh Ferguson."

Little by little over the years, I've been blessed with more opportunities to write for others beside my family or closest friends. I believe the Lord has given us a gift in the form of the ability to put words to paper. I've found some of my greatest pleasure in various forms of writing, whether it be reading a dearly beloved book, an old fashioned letter from a distant friend, an inbox full of notes from online friends and aquaintances, a love-note from my Beloved, an intriguing, uplifting or amusing blog post on any number of the blogs I frequent, or most wondrously, through the gift of God's Word to us being on a printed page.

These days, my writing appears under the name of Ashleigh Baker. I married my Beloved, John Baker, two and a half years ago in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. We were "blessed beyond measure" on March 27, 2006 with a beautiful blonde-haired baby boy, Troy David. Loving my husband and nurturing our son keeps me, naturally, quite busy, as well as the time we spend serving in our local church and ministering to those in our area. But I'm thankful for the time I'm given and that I can squeeze in to write up tidbits here and there for YLCF as well as my personal blog. I'm also a lover of pictures (though not a photographer!) and tend to post a few thousand words rather frequently in that form. :smile:

Following closely to Jesus is my passion, my purpose and my joy. I'm thankful beyond words for the salvation found through His atonement, as well as for His daily guidance, love and comfort. What can I do except tell others of this? And what an opportunity we are given as young ladies do so through the medium He chose to use to give us His Word. How blessed indeed we are!

I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel. . . I have set the Lord always before me, because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; my flesh also will rest in hope. . . You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. - Psalm 16: 7-11

To the King,

Mrs. Ashleigh Baker

Update on the Bakers

Troy was able to come home yesterday morning! He's still a sick little boy, but on the mend--and apparently feeling well enough before they left the hospital to be biting his IV cord and pulling off his splint, ;) which I am sure was a relief in itself to Ashleigh and John.
I know that they really appreciate everyone's prayers this weekend!

Prayer for John, Ashleigh and Troy

Girls, please pray for Troy Baker, Ashleigh's little boy. She's written some beautiful pieces for us on Christian life and being a mommy. I just heard that Troy was admitted into the hospital last night, due to what they are calling "severe dehydration" from two weeks of a mysterious flu. I will let her share more later if she wishes but I had to post and ask you to pray--they have been through so much the last two weeks!

Some Days Are Just Hard...

My poor baby boy is teething and having quite a hard time of it. The sad result is a very wakeful, restless night, tired Mama and Baby, lots of tears, cold teethers, near-constant nursing, and oodles of hugs and kisses.

As I was holding Troy today to comfort him--after he tumbled and bit his little tongue on the one tooth he already has--I started thinking about how like these little ones we are in the sight of our Father. To my little guy, I'm sure life seems like one painful experience after another right now. He pulls himself to his feet using anything he can get his hands on for support, and just as he feels confident, he falls over. Sometimes he fusses because he thinks that's a good way to get sympathy from Mama, but other times he's hit his head or scratched his arm or was simply scared by the sudden fall. As he learns, he experiences little "victories" as well as the little "defeats." As a backdrop to it all, there's the ever-present pain in his tiny baby mouth.

As his mama, I know that to grow, he has to go through some hard times. I know that this tooth will cut through in the next couple days and I remember that as soon as his first tooth came through, he had relief. I know that this won't last long... and in just a few weeks he'll be much more experienced when it comes to this thing of standing and will be ready to venture out and take a step or two. But to him, in the difficulty of the present, it seems like life is just hard.

How often, as we grow and develop in Christ, we wish for the pain to subside. We ask for life to be a little easier--for just a small amount of relief. We have tears in our eyes and, if we could get away with it, would probably cry with everything in us like a teething baby does. We just want to be held and comforted. But our loving Father sees the big picture. He knows that we need to be in the protection of His arms and need His comfort. And just as earthly parents know that if their little ones aren't given the opportunity to fall and feel the pain, they'll never learn and grow, He gives us the perfect balance of time in His arms, as well as time to hurt a bit so that we can develop into maturity.

I say this now, and know that there isn't any major source of pain in my life at the present. But, just as Troy gets a break between bouts of teething, I know this is just one season. I can be certain that soon I'll have tears in my own eyes and need to be reminded of this truth by dear ones who are now learning firsthand the power and strength of God's grace through their "hard days." I pray I'll always be reminded of the loving lessons taught by my Heavenly Father each time this mommy wipes a tear from a rosy little cheek, gives soothing kisses after a bump on the head, or sits nearby and allows my baby to wobble a bit while he learns to stand on his own.

- by Ashleigh Baker

It's Christmas in October

I'm working on my Christmas cards today. I'm going to watch It's a Wonderful Life, light the candles and pretend it's colder outside. :) I'm trying so hard to stay ahead of the game this year, especially since we're going to Colorado for Christmas. I'd like to have the cards done and most of my gifts done and ready to go before Thanksgiving.

It feels to us like it's been a lot longer than a year since Christmas. Last year we had my brother and sister-in-love and our two nieces here for the first two weeks of December, and we got to decorate our tree, make our annual trip to Knott's Berry Farm with my parents, and do most of our traditional things with them. But then, when we received the call that my dear friend's husband of four months had been killed in a work-related accident and we rushed to Missouri, we didn't feel very "Christmasy" anymore. I ended up with some of our cards unsent and we were finishing our last bits of shopping the day before Christmas Eve... but all of that didn't matter so much last year. Matt's death was the third Homegoing of someone close to us in a month's time. By the time we reached Christmas Day, John and I were just thankful to be together. I think we gained so much more of an eternal perspective during that time, and realized the importance of giving glory to the Savior and focusing on Him above all else.

This year, we're anticipating the thrill of enjoying Troy during his first Christmas, being able to spend time with both sides of our family during all of December, and truly showing to those around us the wonder of Christ's love for us. I want to soak up the memories, focus on the people, enjoy our family and grow closer to my Jesus... not be rushing around making a silly attempt at having everything "perfect."

So, in the Baker home, Christmas is starting in October--cards being written, family picture being taken on Saturday, gifts already thought out and some bought, a trip to Big Bear in the near future to finish up. I'm excited. :)

- by Ashleigh Baker

Balance: good or bad?

Many Christians, including myself and people I am close to, often state the need for "balance" in the Christian life. I've often heard statements such as, "The key to life is balance, balance, balance." It seems to make such sense and give us a feeling of freedom from anything that might be considered radical. Many of us then begin a quest for the perfect balance in our lives.

Last night my thinking on this was challenged. Just what is it that we're balancing? Between a little bit of good and a little bit of bad? Of course, in the practical aspects of day-to-day life, balance can be a good thing. We should balance our food intake, our activity level, commitments, etc. After all, it would not be a good thing to only eat doughnuts every day, or run everywhere we go and never walk, or be away from home twenty hours a day. We do need balance. But is it for the Christian life?

As believers, we are called to be like Christ. How many of us would say that Jesus lived a "balanced" life? Were Paul or Peter balanced men? What about Noah or Abraham? I wouldn't consider building an ark or leading hundreds of people out of Egypt marks of men concerned with balance. They were radical!

Personally, God has called me to be a wife and a mother. I do not want to be a balanced in what He has for me! I shouldn't be thinking, "Oh! I've spent too much time being a blessing to my husband this week. I really should cut back on that!" I wouldn't tell my little one, "I'm sorry, I know you're crying and need attention, but I've been taking care of you too much today. I need to be balanced." Instead, I want to radically throw myself into being the very best wife and mother I can be, because this is God's calling on my life.

Throughout God's Word, we are commanded to obey Him and be conformed to His image. At times this may require us to do things others consider extreme and we might be encouraged to "find some balance." Our Savior was radical--to the point of dying for sinners. "For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow in His steps." (1 Peter 2:21) I no longer want to think of balance in relation to the Christian life. We as children of the Heavrnly Father are not called to be balanced, but to be Biblical.

-by Ashleigh Baker

"Mama"

Yesterday at my parents' house, the Troy was being very "talkie" and so his Grammie took the opportunity to try to get him to say "Mama." He was staring very intently at her lips as she repeated it over and over, exaggerating the two syllables. Soon he was copying her, and this five and a half month old Little Boy has hardly stopped saying it since. All morning I've been hearing "Maaaa Maaaa, Ma mAAAA, Maaama..." Of course, I know that he does not really understand what his saying Mama means, but it still melts my little heart!

Sometimes the reality of the fact that I am this baby's Mama stares me in the face and completely overwhelms me. He looks at me with such baby-love and trust, believing that I will care for him, love him and guide him.

He doesn't know my weaknesses or my fear of incompetance. He doesn't know that his Mama is young and is sure that others are watching her wondering if she'll be up to the task of raising him with his Daddy. He just knows that this is the person who loves him, feeds him, cares for him, holds him when he cries and blows the tears away.

I know the truth, though. I know that this is an unbelievable responsibility God has given us. He has entrusted to us His little person and expects us to be good stewards with what He's given us, not only in caring for him physically, but spiritually--leading him to Jesus. The enormity of it frightens me. It reminds me of how desperate I am for the strength of the Lord in this life long endeavor. In giving us this baby, God has given us the greatest means of drawing us closer to Himself. We see now, more than ever, how weak we are and how great God is. My baby... my blessing... It is all summed up when I hear his tiny little voice learning to mouth the word I've longed to hear. "Mama."

- by Ashleigh Baker

Criteria for a spouse--Part Two

I am actually an extrememly list-oriented person, and I write down almost everything. But this was one list that I just couldn't ever bring myself to make. I knew that had I written one out, it would have been tainted by things I saw in people that I knew, characteristics that I thought I wanted, or ideas that were much more "me" than God might have.

After going through a rather difficult situation with a young man, which resulted in much, much, talking about the kind of man I would marry, my mom had written out a short list in her journal. This was just some of the things that she and my dad were fairly certain would be found in the person I would marry, being that they had been praying for my future husband and our relationship my entire life--I hadn't. Knowing me better than anyone else, and not being quite as emotional about everything as I could be, they were much more qualified to write out such a list. Some of the things they were thinking were qualities I may not have thought to include or things might have even disagreed with, but, in God's sovereignty, when John and I began courting and my mom actually read me her list, it described him to a "T".

It makes perfect sense the reason we wish to write out a list of "the one" and what we think he will be like. When waiting, it makes him seem more real, more of a specific person. Human nature doesn't enjoy variables. We want a concrete formula to tell us what to do so we can be sure to avoid failure. Why are there so many "how-to" books about courtship, homeschooling, eating "correctly", etc? Why is there such an issue with legalism in some Christian circles? For us, when potential suitors come along, we can easily refer back to our list and tell ourselves whether or not he will "suit". We might not have to deal quite so much with our emotions if we can simply say yes or no to them right away. But, just as we all have come to realize when it comes to courtship itself and every other aspect of our lives, God doesn't work in formulas. He works individually in each of our lives. There will always be certain non-negotiables, like those you listed, but, unless you go "jump off the deep end", you aren't going to marry a man who doesn't meet that standard. As a young lady who desires her parents' leadership, authority and guidance, you can also rest in knowing that they won't allow you to enter that kind of relationship either.

Something very helpful to me was keeping a "future husband" journal, where I would write letters in a journal to my husband-to-be. This helped me remember that he was one specific person, and not just some abstract idea. It helped me remember to pray for him each day, knowing that just as God was working in my life preparing me for him, He was working in his life preparing him for me. I think it was when writing in this journal I first came to the realization that if I wasn't perfect, I guess the man I'd marry wouldn't be either! I continued to write in it while we were courting and engaged, not saying anything about it to John, and then gave it to him as a special gift when we were on our honeymoon. We still love reading through the letters I wrote him then, not even knowing who he was. When John was just in North Carolina in October, he took it with him to again read all the way through. That journal is a treasure to us now.

All of this is just to say that while a list isn't necessarily a bad thing, I do believe it can limit God in our minds. We need to always be open to God's leading--whatever, whenever, whoever. We don't make lists saying, "Well, I will only take a job that God brings if it is doing secretarial work in such a city, on such a street, on the fourth floor of a building with shiny windows." We know God is bigger than that.

- by Ashleigh Baker

True womanhood is alive and well

"How wonderful it is to sit in a cozy little house early in the morning, pretty instrumental music playing, candles burning softly in nearly every room, simply enjoying the quiet solitude. I've been reading this morning through some older articles that I've printed from various websites and kept in a little folder... some on frugal living, others on lifting up and honoring one's husband, another on the joy of being a stay-at-home wife. How sweet godly encouragement is!

"It is a fresh burst of inspiration to read the words penned by other women, reminding me of the high calling I've been given... to be my husband's wife. When others hint that my life appears boring or that I'm a bit too focused on my home, it is so comforting to know that my husband feels himself blessed. He says that the best part of his day is walking up to our door and knowing that I will be waiting there for him when he comes in. What could be better than hearing from my beloved's lips how much he enjoys sitting down for a lunch of turkey sandwiches on homemade bread or that it makes him so happy to know that our home is clean and well-cared-for. He thanks me for the closet full of ironed shirts and pants and drawers with clean laundry. Is anything more fulfilling than this? I think not. I am John's wife... this is my God-given role and it is my utmost joy to embrace it."

- Written by Mrs. Ashleigh Baker