Underneath the Busy

It’s a week before school is out for the Summer. The famous *NSYNC “It’s Gonna Be Me” memes of May are hitting every school-aged parent hard. There’s this exhaustion of let it all be done already so we can finally rest. I think this has been our busiest May to date, and I have no doubt it will pale in comparison to the high school Mays still to come.

But even in the noise of it all, I’ve been trying to seek the Lord, fine-tuning my hearing. “My sheep know My voice.” Asking questions and waiting on answers.

It’s easy to lose myself in the stress, the busy schedules, and the constant pouring out of myself. I tend to put things on the back burner. I tell myself I’ll start new habits or pursue goals when things calm down, but in reality, that time never really comes.

One thing I found myself hearing from the Lord, twice, separately, was about tithing.

Honestly, tithing has always made me think mostly about money, and I had limited it to just that.

I had a specific thought about auto-draft giving. I realized I didn’t like that tithing had become something so automatic that it was no longer an active part of worship for us. We never really gave thought to it because it was simply withdrawn automatically each month.

Instead, we have felt more compelled to start handwriting checks or giving cash again, praying over it and blessing our giving as we place it in the box at church.

I love the idea of tithing the old-fashioned way, intentionally praying over it as we give. Not because the method itself is holier, but because it bends and teaches our hearts to give in other ways too, especially when the Lord spontaneously prompts us in everyday life.

The more I sat with it, the more I realized giving of our First Fruits applies far beyond money. 

The next morning, as I was making the bed and starting my morning chores, I found myself feeling proud that I had read my Bible before bed the past few nights.

But then I felt pressed further.

But Ashley… are you giving your first fruits?

That hit deep.

Not because reading my Bible before bed is bad at all, even five minutes is better than none, but it forced me to reflect honestly on my own heart.

Am I actually giving God the leftovers of my day instead of treating Him as my first love?

If Jesus is truly my passion, is He really King of my heart, my time, my marriage, my kids, and my life?

Is He who I want to say, Hello, to first when my eyes open and my feet hit the floor each morning?

Are His words the first thing I seek to guide my heart through the day ahead?

For the past two weeks, I’ve been reading after the morning rush of getting the kids off to school. I’ve been slowly moving chapter by chapter through Matthew, and Matthew seems to focus so deeply on the hidden matters of the heart, the things no one else can see but me.

If I pull back the layers… the planks from my own eyes, underneath the busyness of life, underneath my hurts, anger, sin, and idols… what will I find?

Is there truly a love and desire for Jesus above all else?

Am I surrendering those things like the rich young ruler, relinquishing them fully to the Lord so His will can truly be fulfilled through me?

The Lord gave us this life and our children with purpose woven into them. There is mercy and grace for the busy seasons and for the days that don’t go as planned. But when it comes down to looking into my heart… is He my sole desire?

The prompting didn’t stop there. The conviction moved even deeper into my everyday relationships.

Am I giving my first fruits in my marriage and with my children?

Am I walking intentionally through the day instead of succumbing to being on autopilot and making excuses because of exhaustion?

Am I putting down my phone? Setting aside the dirty dishes when my child simply needs to feel seen in a moment?

In moments of frustration, am I choosing things that truly refresh and restore me so I can come back to the table fully present? Or am I distracted with things that truly are a distraction.

One habit my husband and I have started recently is taking a nightly walk together. It’s twenty uninterrupted minutes each day to listen, connect, and talk about our day. During the week, it’s easy to get stuck in our tag-team parenting roles, but we need that intentional time to feel connected and known by one another.

It’s easy to get lost in the busy or even in the mundane and lose sight of purpose in the constant roles of house cleaner, scheduler, and manager.

But am I looking Up at the Most High, giving Him the intentions of my life, my first fruits, the hidden parts of hearts that others can't see, to the Holiest of Holies. 

If I truly answer, my response is falling face first into His glory and the rest becomes obsolete in His love. 

Pumpkin Cheesecake & Perspective

One of the most memorable moments of our wedding weekend happened the night before the wedding.

My husband stood up at our rehearsal dinner and gave the most eloquent toast. In front of our family and friends, he spoke about me, about us, in a way that left the whole room quiet. I remember sitting there in awe of the man I was about to marry, listening to him say things so thoughtful and sincere about his soon-to-be bride. I think most of us were speechless by the time he finished. Tissues were being passed around the room.

I was the proudest Bride.

It was one of those cherished moments that put everything in perspective for me. The next day would be our wedding day, one of the biggest days of our lives. As a bride, all the things you wish it to be are held close to your heart, details many women dream about from the time they are little girls. But in that moment, none of those things mattered. It didn't matter where, or what, or even how. Nothing else mattered, the whys, the what-ifs. Our wedding day was meant to mark the rest of our lives together, and this, this man, was the most right thing I had ever felt in my whole life.

This past January, my husband wanted to go all out for our 15-year anniversary- take a trip, do something big. But honestly, I've been in a season of burnout, feeling like I was never quite living up to enough in all the areas of life: home, work, kids, marriage. So instead, I asked if we could just go to our favorite date night place, the one where we always seem to reconnect. 

We follow a simple rule for great connecting conversations on Date Night: no talking about work or the kids.

Those are beautiful parts of our life, but they also make up so much of our daily identity. When our conversations reach outside those lines, we rediscover the other parts of each other: the dreams, ideas, opinions, and curiosities that made us interesting to each other in the first place. Date night becomes our chance to remember who we were before we became teammates running a household. Two people who still enjoy learning about one another. We always leave feeling deeply connected, having had the best time remembering who we are together.

So we went to our favorite place for our anniversary, thinking it would be like any other date night until my husband pulled out a letter.

Now, my husband, being a true romancer at heart, has notoriously written me letters over the years. I can always count on a beautiful one on our anniversary. Usually he hands it to me to read later, but this time he wanted to read it to me over dessert.

My heart stopped. 

He started reading, looking me in the eyes, sharing things I had never heard him express out loud or in any other letter. Beautiful words my soul hardly knew how to hold.

And for those of you who were at our wedding and know the inside story, my “double smile” meeting Kyle trying to hold it together; it was that all over again.

I was that bride-to-be sitting down at our rehearsal dinner all over again.

Fifteen years in, in that moment, everything came into perspective. Nothing else mattered but us and the life we are building together. So much clarity came into full view in those quiet moments over pumpkin cheesecake and drinks.

As I sat there listening to him read those words, something inside me softened. The pressure I’d been carrying for months—the feeling that I was falling short everywhere—suddenly felt quieter.

Not gone. But quieter.

Because in that moment, the perspective was clear again. The life we are building together was never meant to be measured by perfection or performance.

It was always meant to be built right here- in conversations, laughter, letters, and pumpkin cheesecake across a table.

And maybe that’s the season I’m stepping into now.

Learning how to see clearly all over again.