My Vows in Retrospect

             I had always wanted to write my vows, but I had no idea what to say and little idea how; and when the time came to finally think and I finally thought that I was ready tragedy struck and one of those that inspired my life expired and breathed her last on this earth and with her death waned any chance that inspiring words could in my mind be arranged and I said the traditional “I do´s.”

               
               So, without further a due, this is what I would have liked to have said to you the day we said “I do.” On that day we promised to never leave no matter what we go through. On the day that God trusted me to be your ideal help. This is what I would have liked to have said:
                I am not perfect. Yet, even so, there are no words to describe  just how hard I will try to be everything that God has asked of me – please be patient because Proverbs 31 is not easy.
                I´m honestly scared out of my mind of failing and at the same time driving you crazy – my violence is an outburst of my perceived insufficiency. And I really wish you knew that it´s not you who did this but it´s something so well hidden that I myself don´t even get it.
                I would have liked to have warned you that my love is different – no matter how hard I try I´m just not much of a princess. But instead of staring at all that my love isn´t you´ve helped me to learn what it is. If nothing else, it´s definitely genuine. It´s not based in things that change or conditioned to things staying the same but committed to the promise I made.
                And try as I might I´m just not romantic and I never really understand your antics, but I absolutely love that that´s who you are. 

Shakespeare´s Mistake

                Have you ever wondered how it is that arranged marriages worked for thousands of years and no one ever killed themselves?
                I have a theory – a slightly controversial epiphany – that Shakespeare may have ruined us. Even so, I know it´s not entirely his fault but rather a misunderstanding that stemmed from the human heart. What was meant to be the tragedy of Romeo and Juliette people seek out as the reality of their romance. People see their feeling as something worthy of their death. If they can´t give what they feel a chance they are willing to take on eternal rest only to find that their eternity they´ve wrecked.

                

                Since when has romantic love been the goal of human life? Is falling madly in love the only thing for which we strive? Is that what decides if we live or die? And is whether or not we marry what our happiness is defined by? If that´s the case then the gospel I´ve read had died, and the Savior that we all love lived a very depressing life. So if I´m single and never have kids, will my life´s purpose go unfulfilled?

                
                      So do you think Shakespeare would take offense if I said that he started the sexual revolution?

Lost at Peace

                There are days that I fall under the misguided impression that what I do is normal; an impression that I hold dear to my heart no matter how much they try to convince me that it´s horrible.

               

                So, what´s it like to be a missionary? It´s deciding to just stop caring what everybody thinks. It´s suddenly realizing how much your own sin stinks. It´s almost like taking on the weight of the world because you can´t stand to watch the way they all sink.

                Like a sailor who answers sea´s calling we live life in joyous mourning that is confusing to the masses.
                We don´t seem to fit anywhere, neither in land nor in air, and only water will take us. The rain no longer bothers us because we love the water that made her, but boy are there rainy days.
                We trust in our anchor that we call “hope” as waves toss us to and fro and the whole world tells us that it´s time to abandon our old beat up boat. Even so, we always go and will not stop if she still floats. No one understands our commitment to our oath.
                Not only you, but sirens too with their song so dark and long draw our souls to all that´s wrong wanting us to abandon ship – not to mention that she won´t stop until she finally sinks it.
                And that´s when we realize that we were made for this – while all the rest lunge overboard our ears don´t even itch. All we do is look at the stars and wonder why they take us so far with nothing visible in sight. All we see is the Milky Way making path in darkest night.
                So, will we die at monstrous sea? Is it even land we seek? We don´t exactly blame you for not understanding just how much this journey means. Many find it hard to grasp that treasure is not what we are after when we have the only existing key.
                Only a sailor would understand why we love this watery beast. Just like old Tom´s unbelief you would have to touch our peace in order to really see.

               
                   So I guess what I want to describe to you is a little about what we see and a lot about what we feel – “woe is me if I do not preach” the good news to all of thee.
                This is not about adventure or what may feel exciting. This is my own mundane way that I discovered I was free – a discovery I got when I finally realized that my freedom had very little to do with me.

Painfully Honest

                Have you ever dared to argue with God? Has He ever had to tell you to watch your mouth because you nearly cursed Him out? Have you ever noticed that it´s those very types of fights with your spouse where you finally seem to figure each other out?
                Those days that I screamed ´til my lungs couldn´t breathe are the very dark days that brought me most healing – that one good pressurized shout of mutiny when I finally let my heart out. And even though I know that most of what I said was probably wrong what I´m trying to get at is that I was finally honest.

                Have you ever told God the truth? That you don´t really believe all that He says about you. That in the back of your mind you´ve always wanted sin, and at the bottom of your heart you really do blame Him. That you even felt alone in the midst of His presence. 

My Obsessions

                Hello, my name is Ashley Lavergne and thank you for allowing me to introduce myself. I´m a five-foot-four, brown hair, brown eyed, metal gypsy missionary poet from south Louisiana; and, no, I´m not from New Orleans.  I was baptized into both the Catholic and Evangelical church, I´m the oldest of nine homeschooled children; and, yes, we had television growing up.
                My grandma shot squirrels and chickens like in an old story book, my dad taught me about super heroes and to enjoy everything I cook, my mom taught me how to survive in spite of what everything is looking like, and those eight little monsters taught me to love life.

                

                Now, life taught me that music is the language of eternity, and that poetry is words painting the picture of what eternity sings – just like in the beginning when God spoke in a thunderous chorus of creation that was a bigger bang than anything Darwin ever could have thought of.
              You see, words have the power to turn everything around with just one simple phonetic sound – the power to send me flying or crashing to the ground. It´s not a power I gave to them, and would very gladly take from them, yet they overwhelm me. And that is exactly why words and I have this love/hate relationship from which I have gained this sickening tendency to write about my past – to let my mind dwell on things that for some reason didn´t last. To dwell on that place inside of me where I still feel safe because it´s the only time I actually understand simply because it has nothing to do with the day at hand. But when I try to write about today I seem to get confused – I don´t know what I want to say much less what words to choose. Yet while looking behind I not only find the doubts in which I was confined but also the Light that broke through my confines.

                

              And even though people tend to think that I´m living an old disaster – licking my old wounds instead of writing that new chapter – it´s the memories of those “befores” that give me hope for the “afters.” And for a while, I thought that they were right; dark demonic clouds spilled from my pen onto those lines, but now I see them as moments of heroic rescue and brilliant Light. I finally came to see that there are two sides to my plight. I learned to see the very same day in two very different ways: I can either remember how darkness became the captor of my brain, or how in the midst of it all the Light kept me sane, but either way it´s the same old pain.

                

               So just as numerous condemning verses seemed to give my obscurity it´s wings, one simple living Word came in and changed everything. It suddenly felt like I was part of this literary masterpiece based off of the real “never ending story.” As if I were that kid reading and screaming for his mother making the foundations of the castle in the sky quake. Just like that moment when you´re not quite sure if you´re dreaming or awake. And it´s only that Word that shows me the difference between what´s real and what´s fake. And that Word is the very same voice that spoke and broke out crying “Lazarus, come forth from the tomb” and also called me back to life from the death to which I myself had doomed.
              You see, I believe that just as Words formed this world they can also change it. Beauty is not only in the eye of the beholder, but also in the Word that made it. So I can take my pain and allow it to be with beauty painted, or I can take my beauty and allow it to be by my pain be tainted.
            Words are the only things that can change even our memories – they´re the only difference between the night that I nearly died and the day that I miraculously came out alive; between the day that I attempted suicide and the night when a Verb so divine came and saved my life.

              
                Yet, I must say, that the most interesting part of the tale is this – I´m actually not the author of these beautiful words but the story they´ve yet to finish, so please pardon me if I can´t help but to be obsessed by It.

America

               In the beginning we fell. We died in the pride of trying to obtain something that we already had – freedom.
                Like my Momma once said, “Land of the free and home of the stupid;” and yet we still praise ourselves in our independence so putrid. In the name of “freedom” we are on the brink of killing each other without realizing that the freedom we seek shouldn´t choke or smother.
             Why should my rights eliminate yours and why are there tears that validate wars?

                You´re fooling yourselves thinking that we´re founded on Christ like values – we´re founded on cowards avoiding conflict with their pagan king. Yes, they fought and I´m glad they did, but it wasn´t until they realized they could no longer act like scared little kids.
                And we´ve found ourselves yet again in that position – trying so very hard to avoid conflict that we´re actually starting it.

Stupid Cat

August 29, 2014

               Curiosity killed the cat and everyone knows just where she´s at. Hell seduced her – swallowed her whole and even managed to convince her to sell her own soul.
                A minute of pleasure for an eternity of strife – what a curious way some choose to live life. 

Faded Spark

          June 5, 2015

                You were the one who showed me the way and now I come to find that you´ve completely gone astray. I have no idea what to think and I wish I knew what to say.
                I used to feel some type of happy for innocent people not knowing what was happening. They had found some type of joy in this rotten life and I wasn´t going to be the one to add on to their strife. Besides, I knew nothing I could say or do would actually change their minds.
                But you I honestly don´t understand. You already tried it. You were the one who told me not to hide it. And now I find out that you decided not to fight it.
                Explain it to me please. I want to know why you chose this path of supposed ease. I listened to you explain all the ways that it was wrong and here you are singing the same dang song. Did you forget your former explaining? Did you forget the night that gave me the hope and light to uncover and finally fight what was going to kill me?

                This doesn´t make me doubt what I believe, but it makes me wonder if anything is real. 
                It makes me see how God used your moment of clarity to bring me out of the dark, but it also makes me oh so sad that you lost sight of the Spark. It helps me understand how so many feel oh so defrauded thinking that they were lied to when for people like you they had applauded.

Addictive Curiosity

                I still remember when read the sentence that said, “Blessed are the pure at heart, for they shall see God,” and it made me angry. It made me angry ´cause it didn´t seem fair.
                I didn´t believe that, “pure at heart” was possible for somebody like me – somebody who´s heart had been soiled from the beginning. You see, the first time I touched myself improperly was at the innocent age of three, and contrary to popular belief about these things I don´t recall being abused or learning it on a screen. Even before I reached the age of four, thinking the unthinkable came natural to me.
                Now, in my young mind of thoughts my parents´ threatening was reason enough to stop, but because I knew I liked it all I really learned was that I had to hide it. So by the active age of six I was what you could call an “addict.” Of course, I didn´t know that and neither did anyone else and I spent over a decade of life on myself and I wasn’t even old enough to know to ask for help.
                I knew it was wrong, but I didn´t know why – all I knew is that it lulled me to sleep when I became too tired to cry. It became that magic trap door that opened in the floor when I didn´t want to think anymore, and for the next few years it was the way I soared with my mind and image in complete disaccord.
                Then coming to the tweenager age of twelve my curiosity got the best of me and for the very first time I looked at pornography. All on my lonesome I opened up the port hole to the hell that would become my home.
                Being completely honest, seeing those images so very bare that seemed to come out of nowhere really did give me a scare and make my conscious twitch. So I decided I wanted to forget it, but we all know I never did. Little by little my curiosity craved more and my mind became like that of a whore.
                The things that went on inside my mind would take grown men by surprise – as a matter of fact it did when they would find out I was only fourteen after having talked to them. Then they taught me how to cyber in order to get my fix, so I soon stopped letting them know that I was really a kid. The internet became the world in which I hid where I lied about my age and everything I did. It then became hard to have real friends without privately and silently always undressing them. It was hard to have friends without wanting to screw them. I began to avoid anything that could be referred to as “him” in order not to add them to my automatic naked autopilot playlist – I felt guilty for mentally taking advantage of them.

            

           When I finally came to the realization of being oh so very twisted I was to the point where I couldn´t help it, but I still couldn´t see that I was an addict – a realization I came upon when I finally tried to quit. It felt like a monster had taken control of me and I had no idea how to make it let me be. For years it was hard to even try to sleep without it and what made me even angrier about it was that I suffered silently and didn´t allow myself to shout it. Actually trying to quit made me feel worse than when I was actually doing it.

It´s a sad day when you finally see that curiosity has taken you over oh so completely that you can´t even think straight, and what´s even worse is the feeling that it´s too late to take it all back. Opening your eyes and everything seems to be suddenly off track. The cold realization that everything has fallen through the cracks and you don´t know who you are anymore. Knowing that you have the riches of the poor, but no one would actually think to call you “pure.” The sad fact that you caused your own self to mourn, but “no, never again pure.” You know that you are humiliated and hungry, yet oh so very dirty.
              I honestly thought that no one could ever fix me – I was about as damaged as anyone could ever be, so far gone that I wasn´t even worth touching, and so messed up that I was beyond healing.

                 Now, here´s where it gets interesting: did you know that gold is not pure in its original state? A fact that only heat can change. When we all first come through the gate we are not only innocent, but also soiled to begin with. So while pure may not be the reality with which we begin we cannot lose hope about the state in which we end.

Speak

               This is your classic love story in all its cheesy glory about how I found someone who was absolutely perfect for me, and I think anyone can relate to the feeling of accidentally falling for one of their friends. It´s the best and worst sensation to have that, in a way, can be compared to being torn in half. And even though they probably won´t return the sentiment – and they usually don´t – we find the suffering worth it just in order to be close.
                That person that understands you by simply looking in your eyes and in silent communication you wink in reply. I never thought that anyone would ever think like me, yet this special person never judged me as a freak. I never felt more special than when we were together and we seemed like so much more than simple birds of a feather. Even if I felt like I was dying that person would show up and I suddenly felt like my insides were flying. When their soul cried, so did mine; and I needed their voice just in order to smile.
                For the very first time someone had come into my life and finally made me feel like I was worth something. They took all my pain away as they sung the night into day and I slept safely in their arms – the one and only place where I felt like nothing could go wrong.

              

                So how do I explain to you that even though this connection seemed to be sent from above that I was never meant to fall in love? You see this story changes with just one simple word – the person that made me feel on top of the world just so happened to be a girl.
                She never seduced me and never used me; she was just my straight best friend who had no idea what she was doing, and to make it even worse she was actually godly. Even though I had never touched her body I had become addicted to the way she loved me.
                So, now you got all your “holy” Christians  that say, “all got to do is decide” and “it´ll get better if you just give it time;” but what they don´t realize is that they´re taking away your reason to be alive. Would you want to give up what I just described?
                Then you got your L-G-B-T who say that I can´t possibly change. Old Bruce Jenner can become Cait, but for some odd reason I just can´t be straight. Would you actually let me choose if you don´t like what I have to say?
                So this is my message to all of you who fight over me as if I weren´t in the room. One of you has to accept that this is the hardest decision that anyone has ever had to make and the other has to accept that I simply don´t want to live this way. You see, I know that I wasn´t born gay, but I also understand that for reasons outside of the grasps of my hands God didn´t stop me from feeling this way.
                I´m not denying that what I felt was absolutely amazing, but there has to be more to life than just some uncontrollable craving, and what´s even more amazing about Christ is that I´ve come to love Him more than my own life. What I longed for was never sexual or dirty and it is such a lie that every single one of us is perverted. Even so, it was still unhealthy because, in the end, all my selflessness was actually pure selfishness. Like, “giving up everything and all for love,” but you ain´t giving up much if you´re getting what you really wanted.

                
              Now, I´m no advocate, and I´m not trying to start a debate; but there are things on my heart that I just have to state.
              To all of you were just like me, I´m not gonna lie to you: this is not easy. You know how it feels so I don´t have to explain it – wanting to hold on so tight so nobody can take ´em. The sensation that no one else will ever understand – us walking contradictions dying to hold hands.
                So please consider this: if I gave it up it´s because I found something better and it has nothing to do with religious pressure. Because if God loves me just like this why shouldn´t I be willing to love Him just as He is?
                So this is not about what I am or what I´m not but the fact that I love Christ more than what I want. That classic love story in all its cheesy glory about how I finally found the One who was actually perfect for me. 


Petition: Hear the voices of those who have left the homosexual lifestyle

Figments of Reality

                So, according to many, a Christian cannot be possessed, crazy, or depressed. If you´re crazy then you have a demon and if you have a demon then you´re not a Christian – Please!
                Demons raped my mind with the voices of darkness that fill your nightmares; and that ain´t no metaphor. I´ve heard things that would make Stephen King curl up in a ball and cry. Few have truly seen when darkness comes to life. Many know the twinkle that it seems to give our lies, but few have felt it crawling inside.
               

Normal kids are afraid of the dark, but I was afraid to be alone because I knew that darkness wasn´t just when you turned out the lights but where ever and whenever my eyes were closed. You see, darkness for me had little to do with if there was or wasn´t light, but something I´d discovered to be tangled with my insides.
                A teenager terrified and don´t even know why just wishing that they could die just in order to finally find some silence. And there were people who had the nerve to tell me that I wasn´t crazy, but do you really hear sanity in the statement that there are voices in my head?
                My only two options were crazy or possessed. But then there are also people that say a Christian cannot be possessed but only oppressed – do you really think I care where they are when coming to the realization that they can talk? The constant buzzing of a bee hive that would never let me rest in peace.
              And those demons never gave a rip that I was Christian or forgiven; all they knew was that somehow some way I was ripe for the picken´. They´re not scared of you, but of Him whom you´re for, and if they can convince you that you´re not then everything becomes imagination including your God.

          
                 So don´t patronize my state of mind by debating over what it was because those of us that have seen true darkness are the ones who identify the one and only Sun, but we´re in desperate need of help to remember that darkness has not won. 

Poor Lifeguard

           How is it possible that I be this prideful? How did I convince myself that I actually gave up something? I´m surprised that I was able to be so stubborn.

I actually thought that I had rescued myself – a surviving overcomer who fully passed the test. Yet the only thing I was was a self-deceiving fool who failed to realize that by life she had been schooled. Drowning in a pool of my very own mess I was the one in need of a life vest.
                Survival float and treading water – “I can handle this,” but if I can´t I just try to become a “martyr” acting as if I was a victim of the horrible, people-eating system; but I was the idiot who jumped. No one threw me over board, even though, yes, somebody else was stupid enough to sail into a storm. 

                So, there I am nearly choking to my death and Someone walks over to offer me some help and when I get back all I talk about is how I walked upon the depths failing oh so horribly to see that Someone else was there.
                The thing is, when you´re drowning all you see is water and the lack of oxygen is the only thing you thought of. You not even capable of realizing that Someone actually saved you and when you finally come to you´ve lost sight of the Savior.

Blame

 May 4, 2015               

               You know, for so long I wished for you to applaud me. I wanted you to congratulate me for having not gone crazy.
                I wanted you to take everything I hated about life, put it on high, and say, “look! She managed to survive.” When in reality it´s only a miracle I didn´t die.
                In fact, the only reason I didn´t kill myself is because it would not be a “noble” death, but not because I didn´t want to try.

               

               I didn´t want it to be my fault everything I´d ever wrought and the only thing I ever thought was that it can´t be right that I be innocent and still tried!
                I wanted you to take away everything that had ever caused me pain by simply listening to what I had to say. I felt like I had absolutely no one to plead my tragic case.
                No judge, no jury, just prosecutor, and defendant – there was absolutely no one to see that I was innocent.
                Somebody was drunk, somebody was high, somebody cheated, and somebody lied; but it wasn´t me! So why was the price being paid with my life? Questions too big for the mind of a child.
                Somebody yelled, somebody beat us, somebody screamed until we didn´t want to be us; but she´s not the one paying the fee – I am.
                Somebody left us, somebody died, somebody made the family lay on the ground and cry; and that´s just another who laid charges on my heart.
                And as I stand before you telling an already told tale and pleading and already closed case I finally realize why no one listens to the things I have to say – I´m only talking about my pain.

                So let me try again as I no longer beg for your undivided attention.
                Let me tell you of another case that´s already been closed, yet just so happens to be a lot less told.
                Yes, I was young; yes, I was innocent; and, yes, I also happened to be convicted. I just always seem to leave out the part where my sin also entered into the picture.
                You see it was nobody´s fault that I watched porn, and nobody´s fault when I would masturbate behind closed doors. It was nobody´s fault that I liked sin – I even got in so deep that I started liking chicks. It wasn´t their fault that I talked to dirty-minded guys, and it wasn´t their fault that my life seemed like a lie. I would cry late at night knowing that the fault was only mine.
                Then He stepped in, and took the fault on Him – Somebody was finally taking the blame for my sin.
                And that simple thought nearly drove me insane for I had that blame aimed at the one´s who´d caused me pain.
                I was finally ready to take the blame for what I did, take the blame for all I´d hid; but instead of me they went and killed Him.
                “I didn´t do it, I didn´t put You through this; all I wanted was You to hear that my life was ruined.
                “You can´t just blame me for this – I never asked You to die for my sin. All I ever wanted was Somebody to listen. What You gave up was Your decision.”
                And then I began to think until my mind wanted to bleed, and my eyes no longer see because I realized how much I only think about me.

                

                He told me once, “I didn´t die because I wanted to – I died because I wanted you,” and I just couldn´t take it. So I decided just to show you how well I could fake it.
                His Father was the One who sent Him to take it, and I was unwilling to take such blame and soon began to drown in condemnation of the same. Yet He never gave up and continued dying in my name.

                

                 It was then that I could finally see that He had become just like me. He too had paid an unfair fee.
                He was young, He was innocent, and oh so wrongly convicted of things He never did.
                Somebody was proud, somebody wanted glory, somebody wanted to fake like they were living holy; but that was never Him. He was what we could call truly genuine. Yet He died all the same, and took every last shout of blame loaded with every price that I could never pay.

                
                   So don´t applaud the fact that I am not the same, but please see that as I wake every single day He is the only One that I could ever blame for such miraculous change.

Modern Idolotry

           I remember when I was young singing on my knees that popular worship song that says, “You´re all I want and all I need,” but I also remember thinking deep inside of me, “God, You´re not all I want even though I know You´re all I need.” I could not truly say that He was everything to me. There were a million things I put before Him and a ton of things I wanted more than Him. You see I wasn´t worshipping a deity but just simple Christianity.
             I worshipped rules, the cross, Christian tools, and Christian rock – everything was “Christian” in my well decorated pig pen and I felt like it made me somebody.
            I only felt like I belonged when everybody sang along to those same old burnt out worship songs that we never really committed to. God Almighty only knows if we ever even intended to.
            We said that “the heart of worship is when it´s all about You” as long as it can be about us too. And there was that “love as strong as death,” and that was all good as long as weren´t the one´s who´s dead. And He could be “that fire inside of me” just as long as that fire didn´t make us bleed.

                Now, people on the outside realize that we sound like we absolutely crazy – asking our God for fire and death because we only focus on what He resurrects, yet never really understanding what it means to be dead. Neither did we know what it felt like to have taken someone else´s life even though it was because of us that He had been crucified.
              It shocks me to see that we were so ignorant, and surprises me to know that even Margaret Cho understood how much we really didn´t get it. And Bill Maher realized that Christianity is dangerous, but the real joke is that not even we take ourselves serious.  Even when Denzel Washington was blind he could see that our God was of the radical kind not to be followed by those with weak state of mind.
             And there we were worshipping the One that we didn´t even understand and at the same time wondering as to why we could never find His hand, yet never really caring to seek any of His plans.

                Then I finally realized that there was not one person that the system actually worked for, and that´s when I decided that I didn’t care anymore. I just didn´t get why there was so much that each and every one of us had to give up or why we even wanted what supposedly would never be good enough.
               This “Christianese” was confusing me, but His Word says that He is not confusing so there had to be something that we were missing. There had to be something that we couldn´t see or there had to be something wrong with me to explain why nothing was happening the way it was supposed to be. Something had gone terribly wrong because I no longer wanted to sing the same worn out songs that meant absolutely nothing to me – it felt like Christianity was taking away my sanity.
            I talked the Christian talk and walked the Christian walk, but on the inside it didn´t feel like Christ was livin´ because no matter how hard I tried I just couldn´t stop sinnin´. Yet all they ever told me to do as behave, be good, and be Christian too. Supposedly that´s all that there ever was to it and no good reason why I couldn´t do it, but what they never told me was this: being like Him is so much more than just being “Christian.”

                So now that I´ve told you what I no longer look like allow me to share with you what´s happened in my life. I want to start by apologizing that if the Christ that I showed you was one that chose to never understand. Don´t take it out on Him that we placed judgement over your head.
              And to continue telling you what I´m not – I am not just some random “tool;” yo soy su hija por el poder de la cruz, and a daughter is not just a person you use. I realize I was paid for, but I know I wasn´t bought – I was adopted so please don´t make me start on how each and every one of us broke His only heart.

                So now when people ask me, “What is Christ to you?” I fumble over my words not wanting to say something that you´ve already heard. And even though I know it´s cliché Christ is my everything  because He took my other gods away. 

Mothers

my mother´s day tribute.I actually wrote this when I was 16, but that makes it all the more special to me, because even though I was young and immature I was able to appreciate my mom´s sacrifices for me.

“Mothers” > March 15, 2006

                Mothers, sometimes, spin upside down. Mothers usually hide their frowns.
                Mothers will work from night until day, and how much they hurt they don´t usually say.

                Stretched so thin – standing seems unreal.
                Stretched so thin – it´s a wonder they can feel; and how they keep on living is not even something they can reveal.

                They already know how life can go, and what they try to show are good seeds to sow.
                We think we see what life will be, and keep forgetting they´ve lived it already.
                They try to show us which way to go, but listen is what we usually don´t.

                Rebellion, short-lived, we´re taken back in by those that love us and give chances again.

                What they do no one else can, and what we should do is give them a hand.

                Mothers are heroes unheard and unsung. Mothers are heroes, yet no victories they´ve won. Mothers are heroes without banner or gun. Mothers are heroes simple and done. 

From Slavery to Silence

April 28, 2015

                This is the tale of a soul that wished it didn´t exist, yet in spite of itself it did.
                This is the story of a mind longing to be whole while living in scattered bits.
                This is the history of me wanton of identity and dying to be set free.

                Strange things seem to happen when we attempt to flee from who we were meant to be, and that´s exactly what I did.
                I didn´t want anyone to tell me who to be, especially not Him – the One who´d left me lonely.

                So I let sadness swallow me whole and suck my into her seemingly eternal hole, yet wondering every day as to how I´d lost control.
                A blackness oh so tempting, almost warm and friendly, had creeped into my soul.
                Little by little I found myself alone – a fish in a barrel evading silent stones.
                Little by little and one by one I became a shadow in the midst of everyone.
                That one dark cloud that everyone could see, yet at the same time no one saw me.

                I screamed at silent darkness until it screamed back, and by that time I thought that I´d absolutely cracked.
                Silence now nonexistent and wondering why I wished it as the noise began to kill me.

                Now as the deafening rage set and sifted, everything that had caused my blindness began to somehow, some way be lifted.
                And as the Light began to invade my mind so my surprise it was able to blind out my blackened noise.
                He became the silence that wouldn´t leave me alone – a silence that somehow sings beautiful tones.
                So I let Him take me whole, and I finally gave up control to something I never really had.
                My life became defined by so much more than mere “sad” or “glad” when I finally accepted the plans that God had.

                So now it´s over right? Wrong – sing a different song because this doesn´t feel anything like over. This does not even feel nearly done. In fact, it feels like my suffering has only just begun.
                But it´s what they told me; it´s what they sold me, and I bought it.
                Supposedly my soul was supposed to be relieved now that I finally believed in the One who´d supposedly come to set me free.

                You took me out of slavery, yet You sent me to the desert. I was dying as they beat me, and now we die just more “together.”
                Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like? I still feel like I´m dying it´s only a different fight.
                The difference with the Light is that you seem to fight alone. You look in every direction and have no one to hold.
                Then a voice from the sky, or maybe just my mind says, “When will you stop complaining? When will you be quiet enough to listen to what I´m saying?”

                I´d left slavery and all its noise to take on Silence and all its joys, yet now I find it quiet. It´s finally time to make my own riot, and take what He gave to me.
                It´s funny how things get tougher when God hears you crying to be set free. 

The True "Walking Dead"

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6²³)
“And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (John 17³)

                If eternal life begins here on earth when one comes to know Christ, is it possible that the death caused by sin could also begin while one is living? I believe it can. It says in 1 Timothy 5⁶ concerning the young widows that “she that lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.” If it is possible for them I believe it to be possible for all humanity. If darkness is lack of light and hell lack of God then death could also be defined as lack of life. Life comes from Jesus Himself. In John 10¹⁰ is says that He came to give us “life and life in abundance.” We always seem to think about a physical death when these terms are used, but that is not always the case. For example, He also said in the garden that the cost for having eaten the fruit was death, yet they lived for hundreds of years. If when Jesus spoke of life the majority of the times He was not speaking of our physical life span, why do we automatically take it that way when He spoke of death? It is possible that just as He was speaking of eternal life in John that Romans was also referring to an eternal death? Death that could begin in the daily life that we live?

Screw Satan

“Screw Satan” > March 25, 2015

                You have no idea what you´ve provoked; the screaming banshee that you´ve invoked.
                The monster you thought led by your decisions has up and taken a different vision.
                You thought you had left me all exposed, but in the end I´ll leave you dethroned.
                What was once my crying plea has now become weaponry.

Revelation 12^11a “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony”

Healing Exposure

"Healing Exposure” > February 23, 2015

               

                It´s an interesting feeling I have growing inside – a desperate need to no longer hide.
                For so long I thought that I shouldn´t be seen. I felt the need to hide a no-longer existing feign.
                Long ago I let her go, but she still haunts me. The very fact that I covered her back gave her the right to taunt me.
              I never wanted to speak out loud ´cause I didn´t want her to be real. I never let my demons out and my insides became their meal.

                Yet I realized that defeat is about exposure. It´s just the same as how healing is all about closure.
                I´m not saying that I need to speak in order to be healed, but moving on with life is a completely different deal.
                It´s like leaving it behind is to stop acting like it´s here. 

Phoenix

“Phoenix” > November 10, 2014

                A little girl doomed to strife – the bird caught between fire and life. The fire that tries to take her away and the Life that comes to take her place.

                Who ever thought it´d come to this? Suffering in order to get to bliss; the beauty of fire in its flaming wisps.
                With ashes glowing as the embers burn and Life reclaiming what was death´s turn – she rises from the fire.
                The raging death that she so needed to find that which was impeded by her sweet captivity – who knew that death by its own self would be cheated?

                It´s not easy being the one who´s burned – the orphan girl overly spurned. The one who survived the fire and avoided by this world being sired – she comes out crystal clean – only heat brings out gold´s true gleam.

                The bird that flies out in the night and shines bright in glory´s light as she finally gets free – the moment with Cinderella finally crowned queen. 

PS: this is conformed of all the different meaning of the name Ashley

True Victory

"True Victory” > September 14, 2014

                I never thought I´d get so far – so confused and torn apart. Divided inside my own self between what I want and needing help. Yet finally finding my way out it makes me want to scream or shout to tell everyone what I feel and let them know that I am real.

                I no longer wish to hide who and what I am, but there are always those that will never understand – everyone wants the war to end but are never really willing to work on their end. They too have trouble handing in their sin. All they really want is to claim another ´win´.

                No one can change me, for neither could I, but I´ve learned to accept that doesn´t mean I´ve died. I´ve learned to accept that my life will be a fight.
                I can lift my head up knowing that I try. 

Why I´m starting a blog...

           This is about moving on. All my life I had the tendency to suffer in silence. Everything I went through in life I would go through it on my own. It´s the misgiving of suffering in silence – not only do you suffer, but you are all alone. Moving on for me is about finally speaking. It´s about no longer having to hide who I was. I never wanted anyone to know who I was because I felt like it would give them the right to judge who I am. So I suffered for years in total silence with my depression, addiction to porn and masturbation, sexuality, and demonic voices inside my head. I lived in terror of my past that it would come back when I was least expecting it and bite me in the ass. The truth is that the only person who was really misjudging me was me. I was a beautiful living mask with no mouth. My deep, dark issues were inside of me, and that made me feel even worse. I felt like I was the problem so I never spoke. I thought that I would be able to overcome it all and then maybe one day I would share my testimony with everyone, but not until I was 100% better. That prevented me from even asking for help. At one point people could see something was very wrong, but even then I never was completely honest. It was not until I began to be honest with myself and with God that I could be honest enough with an actual person in order to receive help.
                Now, I don´t want speaking to be about me and my past mistakes or any of those types of negative things, but I want it to be about something else. I want it to be like some kind of proof. Proof that miracles do exist and that people do change. Sometimes as a missionary people see what you are and are amazed at that, but honestly I am just like everybody else. Who we´ve become isn´t really that interesting if we can´t see the big picture, if we don´t see where we´ve come from – where God has taken us from. Speaking is about not being so selfish and proud that I can´t share what God has done in my life.
             I am a writer. I write tons of poetry and that´s how you really can get to know what goes on inside of me and what went on inside of me all those years ago. This year I am beginning a writing project, a few actually. So I figured that this is a good way to begin. A lot of South Americans have heard at least parts of my testimony, but I also want to share with those at home and people from my country – you were part of the process.