Well, Hello There Stranger

It feels surreal to be here again. Writing again. On this blog again. It's literally been years since I wrote something, but I have been realizing lately that I need to venture back here - even if it's painful and tedious and not pleasant at all.

Maybe on another day, in another post, I will attempt to describe what has been my new normal for the last year and a half. But I won't today. Today I just need to talk about something that has been weighing on my heart heavily for years and something that I have been deeply mourning the past two weeks.

If you've known me for any length of time, you know that I love being a Mama. Yes, there are hours and days and seasons that are insanely difficult and I tell Andrew that I don't know if I can do it again the next day, but at my core, I absolutely love it. I love my two boys, I love being a stay-at-home Mama, I love homeschooling, I love sweet cuddles and  I love the sound of their voices when they say "I love you Mama" along with bedtime hugs.

If you've been around me a bit longer, and have sat and heard me pour out my heart, you know that I have always dreamed of a big family. Not massive, but 3-5 kids and a minivan. Full dinner tables, and a cacophony of noise throughout a small house that's bursting with love and chaos and Jesus Loves Me.

Only a small handful of you know this next part though. You've seen the mourning and you've heard the quiver in my voice and you've seen mascara running down my cheeks. There is a part of me, a big part if I'm honest, that doesn't want to write this and share this. But despite wanting to pretend that I am fine, that I am content, and that I completely trust the Lord has what is best for me in mind, I know that I have to share. I don't know who, but for some reason I know that I am supposed to write this and share this for someone. (If that someone is you, oh please know that my heart breaks for you and that I am praying for you even as I type this out).

Receiving the Rheumatoid Arthritis diagnosis closed the door on one of the biggest hopes and dreams of my life - having another baby. 

No, this diagnosis in and of itself doesn't mean that. There are some medications that you can go on that have less risk for the baby, and a small percentage of women actually have a reduction in their RA symptoms during pregnancy. But that will not be me.

I've known it for awhile. Honestly, I've known it since I transitioned from a walker to a wheelchair during my pregnancy with Jamesy (if you don't know that story yet, you can read about it here). I just haven't wanted to actually say it aloud. When my midwives told me that I would be crazy to want another child because my PGP was so severe that there was a near guarantee of my next pregnancy being even worse than the one with Jamesy... I knew it. When Andrew looked at me time and time again with sadness in his eyes and told me he didn't think we should have another baby even though I begged him to pray about it and tried to convince him that it would be worth the excruciating pain I would more than likely go through... I knew it. When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia... I knew it.

But when I was hit with this diagnosis? I had to finally admit it.

I had to admit that one of the things I want more than nearly anything else in the world will not be what I will be blessed with. Seeing that on the screen makes me want to throw up if I am honest. I don't want to look at it, because I don't want to acknowledge it. I want to continue to live in my little world where I am better and able to handle another pregnancy and we can welcome another baby (or two or three...) into our lives. But that's not what the Lord has for me. And I don't know why.

There are moments when I can forget this dream, and sometimes depending on the hour with the boys, it's quite easy (ha!). But whenever I see a little baby, whenever I look at my boys growing up so fast, whenever I congratulate another friend on their adorable Instagram announcement, it feels as though I'm underwater and cannot come up for a breath. I sit there and think - why God? Are you trying to rip everything from my hands? You've stripped me of my health, and my ability to play the piano, and my ability to grab my watercolors and just paint at will, and running with my boys, and being the wife I so badly want to be... and then this too? Why?

I don't know why. I may not ever know. Job never found out - his health was restored and he was blessed with more material possessions and other children, but he never found out the reason for his suffering. Never.

But... then tonight I read 2 Corinthians. Specifically 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 and I remembered sweet truth:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. 

It's not as though I haven't read this verse before. Nor is it that I have forgotten that my God is a God of comfort. Honestly, I have just refused to fight against the lies that are pounding me and saying that the Lord is not for me, that He has spurned my heart's desires, that He loves others more than me.

I know that this is walking in sin. My questioning of God's goodness and plan for my life is akin to telling Him that I know better, that I know what is right and wrong and good and bad more perfectly than He does. It's insanity to think this, because I know the truth. I know that He is a good Father who loves me, who saved and redeemed me, who has my good in mind and who does not allow any suffering to come to me without first allowing to to pass through His hands.

I am mourning. And yet, I feel as though the Lord is opening my eyes to really see this passage of scripture in a new way.

No, I don't know the unfathomable pain of losing a child. No, I cannot relate to years and years of infertility. No, I haven't walked through an adoption process that was so close to closing and then dissolved in the very last moment. But I do know the pain of wanting something so badly it hurts, and having the Lord say "no". I do know what it is like to mourn dreams and hopes and ideas of what life "should" look like and to know that this "season" of suffering isn't likely to be short. I do know what it feels like to have one thing, after another, after another feel like it has been stripped away. I know what it's like to feel alone and helpless and bereaved even in the face of countless blessings. And maybe that's the point.

Maybe that's why the Lord has said "no" to more children. If I can sob alongside another mourning soul who is afflicted and bring them even the tiniest bit of comfort - that will be the Lord working in this. If I can finally admit that we will not be able to have more children, even though my heart literally feels like it is breaking while typing it out - that will be the Lord working in this. And if I can continue to press on to know the heart of my Father and live in His will even when the lies of Him being a "capricious, unloving God" are hurled at my soul - that will be the Lord working in this.

No, I'm not "at peace" about having to give this desire up. I'm not "at peace" with knowing that my Mama's heart that longs for one more child will not be given the opportunity to hold that baby in my womb. I'm not. But I am finally willing to admit that. I am willing to ask the Lord to start the slow and painful process of removing that desire from my heart and replacing it with His desires for my life and family. I am willing to stop praying that the Lord would change Andrew's mind and actually agree to try for "just one more". I'm willing to share this and be honest with my pain and my lack of trust and faith. And honestly, that right there is the Lord working in this.

Answering the Questions

There have been a good number of, let's just say it - sudden, changes for me recently. It's been a hard but good season, and while I want to just say "peace out y'all" and log off, I know that would literally be running away from what is going on in my heart, so I figured that the only thing I really knew how to do would be to write about it.

This feels so good. 

It's been so long since I've sat down to this blog screen and started typing, started letting my thoughts and my fingers take me down the page and out of my heart and onto a screen and somehow that makes it feel more doable, more real. 

I was reading through my past blog posts the other day, and realized over the past year there has been some pretty massive change in my life. Last year at this time, we were excitedly living smack in the middle of the U-District, praying through what it would look like to actually be missionaries there, and praying for doors to open to moving to LA to help with a friend's church plant, or to India to live as missionaries. We wanted to be "all in" so we sold our only car and took the bus or walked everywhere, getting to know the homeless around the area and having dinner with them. (I say this not to boast, but to just give a picture of how different things have been). 

Then I got sick. Really sick. 

In short, my body couldn't handle the sheer amount of mold that I was being exposed to and went into shut down in some ways. We canceled our idea (which to be so honest was actually what we thought the Lord was calling us to do) to move to Birmingham, AL in August to be a part of The Church at Brook Hills, and begrudgingly bought a car. We hastily moved out of our beloved (but deteriorating) home we were renting, and found an incredibly awesome place to live about 10 minutes from where we were. I got better, and I started Noonday.

Oh, and during the course of that time, we left our church, the most brutally painful and utterly devastating thing that has ever happened to us in our short marriage (but that will be another post later...).

I felt totally alone. 

Being so sick that I couldn't even take care of Owen for nearly 4 months left me alone. I mean, I guess it happens when you can't make playdates or coffee dates or anything, the invites just sort of stop because they know you can't make it. But I ached for friends. Leaving our church was like ripping away literally everything and everyone we had built our lives around, and so I wanting community, wanted friendship so badly. 

I found it in Noonday. 

The second I logged onto the Noonday Ambassador Facebook group, I felt instantly welcomed, instantly a part of this incredible community made up of women around the country who loved social justice, hope, redemption, adoption, and Noonday. I got more "likes" on my posts than I ever dreamed possible, and I felt immediately free to be completely open and honest with any and all of them. I posted about my sinful lust for more sales so that I could be one of "those" top sellers that I wanted to be, but wasn't. I posted about my fear of flying to a conference I couldn't afford to attend, and probably wouldn't. I posted about insane grace from trunk shows hosted by friends that had $42 in sales, but that opened my eyes to how much I adored the women I was meeting and reconnecting with. 

I feel like I was on that page all the time. Probably because I was. My sweet husband started pointing this out to me, and I bristled and roared. I was a free woman, thank you. I am a working woman, and I can do what I need to do for my business, thank you. I became even more attached to my phone and laptop, even more so than I have been leading up to Noonday and while I listened to trainings about how to set aside time for Noonday so it wouldn't interfere with family I couldn't get it straight. 

Every minute of every day was work for me. I answered customers emails immediately, even on date night. I checked the sample sale page when I saw a notification buzz, even during dinner. I read posts and checked FAQs and randomly scrolled all the time. But I felt empowered. And known. And accepted. And worth something.

I could write a hundred more pages, but there's really no need. I could talk about how amazing it was to meet 300 women who I had only "seen" online before at conference less than two weeks ago. How I was overwhelmed with how many ladies came up to me and said: "you're Ashley Titus!! I wanted to meet you!!" and how I ran out of the dance party the last night sobbing and sat in a bathroom stall with mascara streaming down my face because I had flashbacks to high school and an anxiety attack when I wanted to dance but stood there in extreme fear without knowing what to do next. I could talk about how I came back to Seattle recharged and super excited for the upcoming Spring season and how I talked to my husband non stop about what samples I was going to invest in and why and which ladies I thought would be insanely awesome at hosting a trunk show and how I wanted to know my hostesses better so what I would be changing to love on them instead of "coach" them as I had in the past. 

But none of that really matters. What matters is that while Andrew and I were given Owen his bath on Wednesday night he turned to me and asked if I would take the next day as a fast of sorts and seek the Lord before buying samples and new displays. 

To say that I bristled would be an understatement. I full on freaked out.

I was harsh and mean and angry and pointedly asked him if he was telling me backhandedly that I should quit. Typical of Andrew (which, anyone who knows him will attest to), he calmly said no, and that he wanted me to do with Noonday and the Spring Line what he wanted me to do with every part of my life - seek the Lord. He reminded me that if I didn't purchase the bundle the moment it was posted, life would still go on and I yelled. I was so pissed that he would be telling me to calm down and pray. How dare he? 

Typing this sucks. I know my husband, and I know his heart for me. I know that above all else he wants me to walk with Jesus and submit everything to the Lord who loves me and wants good for me, even when it isn't the good I wanted, or wrote down in my planner. I know that Andrew knew me so well that he could see me sitting in the whirling of my mind and of samples and of launch shows and of Noonday conference "high" and wanted me to take it all to Jesus and have peace and clarity as I walked into the Spring season, so that I could work to His glory, and not burn out through my own strength. I know all this. 

But the Lord had to stop me and show me. And oh did He.

As Andrew and I talked about that topic once Owen was asleep, I began to run away from the thought that was becoming bigger and more pronounced in my mind - the thought "I'm not supposed to order a bundle. Because I'm not supposed to continue Noonday". I pushed it down without even speaking it aloud and argued back to myself that I would just order the samples and become better at time management and it would be ok, give me just one more season to make it work, I only have been doing this a few months, how would it be right to stop now? But as the conversation went on, the Lord was sweet in His conviction and clear in His words - stop. Stop.

So I uttered them aloud to the shock of my husband. "I'm not supposed to do Noonday anymore". We sat there and I started sobbing, and while he tried to convince me that I didn't need to make such a big decision that very moment, I can't tell you how specifically it felt as though the Lord was confirming that very idea. I really was supposed to quit. 

So I did, and I am. 

Even thought it sucks, I have such a peace about it, and know that without a shadow of a doubt, this is where the Lord is calling me. I'm not sure what lays ahead for me, but I do know that when I told Owen mama wouldn't be working anymore he smiled and said "now mama play me!!" and I smiled and said "yes" joyfully. I know I will meal plan more (ok, let's be honest, I'll actually meal plan) which I love doing surprisingly enough and haven't done in months. And I want to blog again. And just be open to wherever the Lord calls me, however that looks.

And the plugging from social media thing? I'm addicted. Plain and simple. If I told you I was addicted to alcohol you'd immediately advise me to stop drinking and going to bars, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop posting and looking at posts. Social media isn't bad. Just like working for Noonday isn't bad. In fact, they are both things that have a ton of good in and because of them. But for me, being on Facebook and Instagram is a sin. I've always known it, and I've pretended that I didn't because I am so scared of loosing out, of missing out, of being alone. But I want to trust the Lord that even when I feel alone, I won't be. That when I feel like I have to check my phone because I'm slightly bored or slightly anxious, or that's just when the pathways in my brain say I'm supposed to look at my phone, that I can actually not. 

I'm not sure when I'll plug back in. But honestly? I hope I either never do. Or at the very least, that when I do again I can do it for the right reasons, and not for numbing out, distracting myself, comparing myself, gossiping, coveting, or sinning. I know it's possible, but right now it's not where I am.

Anyhow, props for whoever is actually still reading this insanely long post :) I am excited to just BE and be present and hopefully not distracted enough that the still quiet voice of the Lord is loud enough to hear clearly. I'm scared but I'm excited. I'm wanting to walk closer with Jesus, what should I fear??

A Letter To My Son

Dear Owen,

I don't know if you will ever read this letter, or if it will make smallest bit of sense when you do. Either way, I just wanted to get my thoughts down and free them from their prison, from my heart where they have been for weeks now. Nine and a half weeks now, to be exact. 

First and foremost my sweet Owen, I love you. 

You were the baby that I had prayed for for years. I made some incredibly unwise decisions with my life and my body before I met your Dada and was not positive that I would be able to have any children at all. You are my miracle baby. From the moment I found out that I was pregnant with you, I loved you. From that blurry and tear-filled moment when you first laid in my arms on a cold December afternoon, I praised the Lord for you. There is absolutely nothing you can say or do or be that will change the depth of my love for you Owen. I will always, fully, completely, to the best of my fallen heart's ability, love you.

Right now you are playing with your friends at their house for the afternoon. I'm getting picture updates from Ms. Morgan, so I know that you are sleeping well, and I am quite positive you are enjoying hanging out with your little buddies. God is awesome like that, isn't he? He provides people like Ms. Morgan and the other friends and our families who have brought us meals and taken care of you during these last nine and a half weeks. They have served our little family of three tenderly and sacrificially, and shown us the love of God practically and in more ways than I think they even have realized. 

I miss you though Owen. 

I miss waking up and snuggling you before you go and eat your Cheerios for breakfast. I miss tucking you in for all of your naps, and being the one to go into your room and get you when you are up from those (sometimes incredibly short...) naps. I miss cleaning the house with you, you following me around each room excitedly as I use our vacuum and Swiffer. I miss you cupping my head in your wee little hands and making me look into your eyes when, in some incredibly intuitive way, you knew I was having an OCD attack and I needed to stop cleaning and just be with you. 

My buddy Owen, I miss your excitement as we walked to the park together. Your quick hands trying to grab every single DVD off of the shelves in the children's section of the library next door, and snuggling together with you in my Ergo while we walked to church, or Trader Joe's or to the bus stop. 

It's been too long since we have done any of those things my sweet son. Months in fact. My heart grows lonely and, sadly, more downcast with each day I am sitting here on the couch while you are playing with a grandma or a friend. I feel like I have lost out on so many little moments with you. 

If I'm honest with you Owen, I am scared that I am going to lose you. 

I'm terrified that you will love your grandmas more than me, because they do fun things with you and I just sit here. I'm afraid that you will think I don't want to be on my hands and knees chasing you around the house and playing peek-a-boo, that I am bored of you. 

Oh, my sweet Owen, I am not. Oh, my sweet, sweet baby, I am not.

I long to be able to spend the day with just you, like how we used to, but with a lot less of Mama cleaning the house frantically, and a lot more of laying on the grass in the park and giggling together. 

You see Owen, Mama's sick. I'm not sure with what, or why, or for how long, but I'm sick. Your Dada and I are trying to figure out why, with my doctors and lots of other people that the Lord has blessed with incredible knowledge about how our bodies should work, and what needs to be done if they aren't working properly. We are praying that we figure something out soon, but right now it seems as if it just has to be a "wait and see" time. During this time, I want you to know that I love you and I miss you. I know we've talked about it many times, but I'm pretty sure you don't know what I mean when I hold you close and explain the situation, and that's okay. I'm praying that Jesus would comfort you when I cannot, and that he will give you joy that surpasses anything that I could give you or do with you. 

Owen, I love you. 

It's not your fault if Mama starts crying randomly, or if I just sort of stare off into space thinking about things I pray you never need to worry about in your life. You didn't cause any of this, and nothing you do will make me feel worse or better. If I depended on you to make me feel better, it would crush you and let me down brutally all in one fell swoop. No, Mama just needs Jesus right now. Like she always does. I just need Jesus.

I do want to apologize to you though, Owen. I haven't been willing to tell Jesus that I need him as much as I really do lately. Mama has been trying to do this, and fix this, on her own. It doesn't work, in fact, it will never work that way. But your Mama is prideful and stubborn, and rebellious (so don't let me ever tell you I can't believe you did or said so and so, because I'm a sinner just like you) and resting in Jesus has never come easily to me. But somehow I know that he has me, and is leading me beside still waters and restoring my soul right now (Psalm 23:2,3). Yes, even in this pain and loneliness and missing you, and longing for a present that is different than the present I have now. Even now. 

So buddy, I know things just aren't the same as they used to be. And it's okay if that makes your heart sad, because it makes Mama's heart sad too. But please, oh my dear, please know that how Mama loves you right now has not lessened, it has only just changed how it's seen on the outside. I am not bored of being your Mama, nor will I ever be. I am not wanting to take a break or let someone else raise you. It's just that right now, Mama needs more help than she ever has before, and we get to let God help our family in some crazy awesome ways right now. 

I can't wait to hear about your fun day with your friends. I can't wait to meet you and your Dada at the door in a few hours and give you a big hug and a snuggle and then read you some books before kissing you goodnight. I love you, so, so much Owen. 

And Owen, one day, these tears that Mama's shedding, Jesus will wipe them all away. Sometimes you see Dada doing that - tenderly wiping my cheeks as tears stream down them, warm and salty, but one day I won't even cry again at all. It will be amazing. 

Heavenly, in fact. Absolutely perfect.

Love you always and forever, 

Your Mama

What's Been Going On...

For starters, please forgive the incompleteness of this blog, but I wanted to make sure that I at least put down into a post some semblance of an update. It's been awhile since I've posted, and am not quite sure if I am ready to get back into a 'rhythm' of posting quite yet, but I do intend to update a bit more than I have been.

Four weeks ago, today actually, I was grabbing Andrew's lunch from the counter and suddenly was overcome with dizziness. I've had bouts of vertigo before, and assumed it was that and called my mom to have her come over and watch Owen since I knew I wouldn't be able to. By the time she got here though, a million other reasons were swirling in my head as to why I could be dizzy, one of which was a hopeful excitement - maybe baby Titus #2 was on the way! I called for a doctor's appointment and was seen later that morning.

I had a pregnancy test done at the doctors and lo and behold... it was negative. It was a long shot, but I was a bit sad - I really wanted this to be something good! Looking back, it was simply God's grace that it was not what I had been hoping for, or at least that it wasn't baby Titus #2 along with the real cause of the dizziness.

In brief overview of the following four weeks, my dizziness continued to become more and more debilitating. My mom and mother-in-law, as well as a couple of friends from church took shifts of watching Owen from the time Andrew left for work until he came home. I was slowly becoming even more exhausted, and even doing simple things like the laundry would wipe me out for the rest of the day. "Just pushing myself a little further" was not an option.

Throughout all of this I have felt certain that I was faking this and being a drama queen. Growing up, I was a complete hypochondriac and faked so many illnesses. No one would believe me, and they had good reason - I lied a lot. That being said, although I knew I was not the same girl as I was in elementary school, the fear of not being taken seriously or over dramatizing the situation plagued me.

What also plagued me was the feeling of being a terrible mama to my sweet baby. I sat on the couch 90% of the day and didn't play with Owen at all. Reading a board book to him winded me, and doing an airplane ride on my legs was nearly impossible. I've always struggled with believing I was a "good enough" mama and as the days progressed the condemnation and guilt piled higher and higher.

Fast forward to Tuesday. After weeks of doctors appointments, Ear Nose and Throat specialist appointments, hearing tests, CT scans and an insane amount of blood work, we don't have any idea what's going on. In God's amazing providence, I met with a gal who I met this year through a Bible study and she asked me about my symptoms. After I listed off a seemingly random assortment of what I had been experiencing she looked at me and said: "Oh girl, I think you have what I have: POTS."

I looked up the symptoms and realized she may actually be right.

Wednesday afternoon, after the two worst days of dizziness and racing heart and exhaustion yet, I called my doctor and she asked me to go to the ER. I hesitated. We just paid off my medical bills from last years trial of Post-Pardum Depression and there is no way we have it in the budget to pay more bills. Andrew gently assured me though, that God had been faithful to provide and would remain faithful. Eventually I agreed to go, and seven hours later the on-call neurologist was sitting at the end of my hospital bed.

"Well, I can't tell you with 100% assurance because we have one more test to confirm it, but my first, second, and third on the list of probabilities is that you have what's called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. POTS for short."

So there it was.

I hadn't been faking. I wasn't being a drama queen. There was a reason.

I was ill.

Honestly I am not sure how much more I can type out right now, both because I am already completely exhausted from reading Owen two books this morning and singing him a song and typing this, but also emotionally drained and on edge.

There is not a cure for POTS. There are types of POTS that improve and go away over the course of several years. As it stands, the type I have seems to be the kind that doesn't. What does that mean? Aside from the hand of God moving either miraculously or through medical breakthroughs, I will be walking through the rest of my life with POTS. Until I see Jesus face to face in all of his glory, I will never be the same as I was a month and a half ago.

There are medications that will help me continue to function as close to normal as possible though. One problem - I cannot nurse Owen while on them.

So, with heavy pain and an ache I can't even begin to express, yesterday started cold-turkey weaning my sweet, sweet son. Praise Jesus that we had already started weaning gradually over the past couple of months, so instead of 5-8 times a day of nursing he was already down to 2-3 times. But these past 4 weeks have taken a toll on him. God's grace is that he loves playing with tons of people, but nursing was the one semblance of normal for him and I. It was our time to snuggle and to be close when everything else was topsy turvy.

Suffice it to say, I've been a wreck.

Through all of this though, I have no question in my mind that God was and is not shocked at the fact that I most likely have a chronic illness in which my Autonomic Nervous System misfires and functions abnormally.

My sobs of heartache for the confused child at my breast do not fall on deaf ears, but on ears that wept for Jerusalem.

My very slow process of beginning to mourn the idea of what I "should be" as a mama and wife, the idea of having another baby soon, and even going through my day without having someone else care for my child, make my meals, and clean my house is happening as my faithful Savior holds me close and wipes my tears and reminds me I am only defined by the Cross.

I would love prayers. Not only for myself but for my incredible husband who has been through hell and back with me and still loves me as tenderly as he did the day we were married. Also for Owen, that he would know without a shadow of a doubt my love for him, and that my ability to be able to run after him does not indicate my level of desire to be his mama. Also that the doctors would be able to move forward with treatment after my final test is complete.

I know that God is using this to draw me closer to him and I am so grateful for that assurance. I'm not okay with everything though, and I'm not sure I have to be quite yet. I'm not mad at God for allowing this to happen, but am grieved that it is happening. I am hopeful that things will get better, but I ache more for heaven than I ever have before.

I will try to update after I do the final test, but until then,

Sola Dei Gloria 

If I'm Honest, I Don't Agree With Jesus.

That's a bold statement if I've ever written one. That I don't agree with Jesus? What am I thinking? Isn't he my Savior and the Lord of my life? Well, yes, of course. But recently I have been grappling with the concept of whether or not I actually agree with, and want to follow, all that Jesus said and did through scripture.

These thoughts somewhat began with Andrew and I watching a clip from a 2010 "The Colbert Report" regarding the poor and Christmas. Now, while I do not even pretend to agree with all that is said in this clip, towards the end of it he says something that cut me to my heart. I laughed, but days later I am still sitting in the pain of how true his statement was:

"If we are going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we've got to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge the fact that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition, and then it meant that we just don't want to do it."

I want to scoff at it and roll my eyes at how political the clip makes Jesus. I don't care for discussions regarding what political candidate Jesus would have voted for, and I initially wanted to dismiss this for what it was - political humor. But I fully believe that whether Colbert intended to or not, God used his words to reveal a hidden section of my heart and my unbelief in Jesus that I never wanted to look at.

I don't want to look at it, because when I look at it I have to look Jesus in the eyes and honestly say that I don't agree with what he is asking me to do. Bluntly stated: I don't want to. Caring for and loving on people who don't deserve it feels tortuous. I want to love those who love me and spout gossip and lies and bitter judgement on those people who hurt, mock, and abuse me. I want to keep my possessions, my security, my comfort and my family. I don't want to be asked to give up anything that I believe is "rightfully mine".

Am I the only one?

We don't talk about the parts of scripture that seem too difficult and too "out there", we just end up not doing them. But, just because we don't speak honestly about what we are struggling to walk out doesn't mean that God doesn't know intimately the unbelief and the hardness of our hearts. I read verses like Matthew 15:8 - "This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me", and want to quickly pass over it, to name a few names in my head of people who fit this description and shake my head in disapproval of their sins. I point the finger quickly to others who live hypocritically in my eyes, but am desperate for no one to find out how hypocritical I really am.

So what's the point? Where do I go from here? It's easy to write a blog about how terrible saying Jesus is wrong and ridiculously demanding, but hard to actually admit to him that I am in sin. That it's not Jesus or the Bible that need to change, but my hardened and selfish heart. And, although I wan to think that I can do that myself, there is no way I could white knuckle it enough to change on my own.

I so desperately need Jesus.

I need him to forgive my unbelief and strengthen my faith to fully believe what he says is good and true and holy. Even if that means I need to give up comfort, entitlement or safety. I need him to wash me clean from my self-righteous hypocrisy that threatens to swallow me whole. To mold my heart to deeply desire to love my enemies and to do good to those who hate me (Luke 6:27). I want my initial reaction to being hurt to be forgiveness and not bitterness, that I have eyes to see the poor and needy around me as Jesus sees them, and not as society does. I need to be transformed.

A friend of mine described repentance recently in a way that really resonated with me. That repentance isn't just changing or confessing sin. It's literally turning our back on sin and Satan and turning to face the Lord. However silly it may sound, I am so grateful that the Lord showed me through political satire the depth of sin that I have held in secret for so long. I don't have the strength to change, but I fully believe the Holy Spirit will do a change in me, and I am excited to see what that looks like.

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria 

Why I am Not Making a New Year's Resolution.

It is the first week in January and I do not have a New Year's resolution yet.

In fact, I won't have one.

Because I'm not making one. Why? Honestly, it would be more hurtful than helpful for several reasons. 

As most of you know, I have struggled with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for the majority of my life (read my blog on this here) and one of the ways it manifests for me is through list-making. I want to know what "needs" to be done, what I "have to" do, and exactly which steps to take to make sure that everything will go okay. If things don't go as I have written them out to go, then who knows what terrible, horrific thing may happen (or so my brain thinks...). While this is very much a part of my mental disorder of OCD, it is also a sinful rut I struggle to walk through each day. For me, resolutions give me a brief release from the anxiety but in the end add more anxiety, worry, and guilt to my already chaotic mind. 

I've made resolutions in the past. Probably every year I can remember in fact. Like almost everyone who makes them, I start off great - so full of confidence and ambition and zeal - then crash and burn. The burn is terrible, and it's a slow ember which takes a long time to completely fade away. Making a resolution, especially when I write it down or tell others about it, and then failing to keep it seems to fuel the lies of failure, worthless, and stupid I battle against already. I don't know about you, but I don't really care to open myself up to more lies and condemnation than that which already floods my heart and mind. If I I know walking down a resolution-making process is most likely going to end in pain, it's not something that really beckons me to continue down that road. 

The biggest reason that I am making a conscious effort to not make a New Year's resolution this year though, is because of Jesus. No, Jesus does not say we are not to make resolutions. There is not a place in scripture that says partaking in this cultural tradition fuels the wrath of God. Not even close. I do know however, that in my attempts to make and keep resolutions in the past I have neglected the incredibly massive fact that I cannot change myself. No matter how many post-it notes I put up with positive affirmations around my house, no matter how many friends I have holding me accountable with scheduled check-in phone calls, will power only lasts so long. I can't change myself. I just can't.

But praise the Lord that my Savior is the one who changes hearts, redeems lives, and molds weary, sinful minds into his image and likeness one day at a time. 

So this year, I want to start the year face down. Not because I have crashed my resolutions already by week one, but because I simply cannot start anything apart from falling at the feet of my Lord and Savior. I have tried year after year to change bad habits, start good habits, and hide failures on my own strength, and frankly, it has slowly killed me. I don't want to count on my spastic bouts of will power, but on the One who spoke the stars into existence. I don't want to make a list of all of the bad things about my character and next to them write what I want to be by 2015, like some job description I will never be qualified for.

I want to be transformed by Jesus.

I want to know my Lord better. Not by my great quiet time practices, or my church attendance, or my monthly giving amount. I want to know Him better through getting to know Him, just as I would a dear friend.

I want to actually, functionally, radically believe the Gospel. Not just being able to check a box that says "Christian", but believing so deeply that Jesus died for my sins and rose for my salvation that it transforms absolutely every single inch of my heart and mind and life. And I don't want to keep that knowledge inside any longer.

All of this is great, but I can't do any of it. Only God can. And that takes so much pressure off of me to preform a certain way, to change a certain amount, and to live a certain lifestyle.

I just to get to be me. Ashley Titus. Running after my sweet Jesus by the strength of his mercy on legs which were once bound and shackled and now are redeemed and renewed.

Happy 2014

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria 

Becoming Missionaries

The Titus family has decided to become missionaries. 

It is not as though God spoke audibly "your family will be missionaries" but rather this has been something on our hearts for quite some time. God has brought us to a point where we are no longer satisfied with just saying that we want to be missionaries. We actually want to be missionaries. To live as missionaries. To (if God so wills) die as missionaries. 

We want to see people reached for Jesus. We want to see the neighborhood where we are on mission be changed, and the city radically transformed through the power of the Holy Spirit. We want to build relationships with the people in the area, work with those who are already serving through providing meals and clothing to the homeless for example, and build friendships with those around us. Honestly, we want to see a Gospel explosion - something like Ephesus when Paul preached and the Holy Spirit moved and the city was transformed 180 degrees (Acts 19). 

So, yeah. We are going to begin missions work. 

The place where we feel we want to be missionaries to is quite diverse. It's a place that has a high turnover of people throughout the year, and yet there are also residents who have called it home for decades. During the summer and warmer months, it has quite a large homeless population, even though it is also home to incredibly wealthy pockets of homes and schools. To say that it is economically diverse is an understatement. 

It also is undergoing massive changes. There is new infrastructure being built and planning to be built soon that is changing the landscape of the area greatly. Although some of the people want the changes, others are fighting it fiercely and there is a hotbed of bitterness and anger towards each other building rapidly. We long to see the various sides come together for the betterment of the area, but honestly, that will have to be a work of the Holy Spirit at this point. Tensions run deep, and run passionately.

There is a local church about 6 blocks from our home that we are partnering with. In fact, there are several people on mission to this area already and we are excited to join with them. One family lives within walking distance and has a son close to Owen's age - little buddies!! Their hearts are for the area as well, and Andrew and I are so encouraged by their obedience to God, even when it means inconvenience and a life far from where they thought they would be living and raising their family. To know that others have a heart for the same area and are this close to us is incredible. Truly and honestly a Godsend.

We know that this is not going to be easy. In fact, it's already been met with resistance, both by our sinful self-seeking, prideful natures, and others who think we are totally nuts. It is far from the safest area, but compared to most other places around the world is totally safe. Many bus routes come in and out of the area, which is awesome because we are likely to not have a car for too much longer. There are grocery stores nearby that we can walk to, as well as doctors offices and other necessities that are quite easy to get to, even with a stroller.

The living situation is both comfortable and rough. The house doesn't heat incredibly well and has a couple other issues, but it's big enough to host meals (which we are praying will include many neighbors and non-Christians) as well as playdates and prayer nights to build community and focus our eyes on Jesus - there's no other way this is going to work at all. We are super blessed to have been able to find it, as there are not too many like it within the price range we can afford.

Andrew will still be working full-time as an accountant, and I will still be staying at home full-time. While from the outside world it seems more profitable to have me working also, God has and will provide, there's no question in our minds about that. Many things will be the same about our family, but we are praying that many more will be radically different.

What can you do? Pray! Please pray for God to continue to change our hearts and place within us a deeper desire than even now to serve and love and reach the area we feel drawn to. Please pray for financial provision - with medical bills from earlier this year and other things it is going to continue to be a struggle. Like I said before though, there has never been a time in which God has not provided our daily bread though, both spiritually and literally. God has used our financial issues to draw us to him in the past and through this all we know he will continue to do so. Please also partner with us in prayer for the area - that God would move mightily and many would meet Jesus. That we would be bold in our actions and not fear persecution in any form. That we would raise Owen to love the people around him and not be in a Christian bubble, but rather in the world but not of it. Also prayer that Andrew and I would continue to be united would be amazing - that through this next season of our lives that God would grow us closer to him and each other and keep our marriage strong.

We are super excited. Incredibly nervous. And without a doubt certain we can no longer sit in our house and think about how much we want to partner with the Lord to reach people. We are all-in. It will be a fight to stay all-in every day, I know it. It already has been. My mind doubts that this is really that big of a deal, and that perhaps I am being too out there in my thinking. But then I read Acts and I realize God invites us into such a deeper relationship with him, such a more radical life than morning quiet times and Sunday services. I'm so looking forward to it.

I'll be updating frequently with prayer requests and evidences of God's grace in this journey. We will post pictures of the area and hopefully events that we can use to build community and open doors to relationships with those around us, particularly our neighbors. I will label this all under a new tab on this blog so that it will be easier to find.

The tab will be: "U-District Mission".

Our heart is to be all-in in the U-District. To see the place where we live be reached for Jesus. To live without reservation, without fear, and with our eyes on Jesus. Whether that be India or exactly where we currently are.

:)

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria