Ashley Wilda

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Tag: Best Friends

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Today, I felt my whole world was right again.

You, something about you, makes me feel complete.

I laughed more than I have in a long while, it seemed.  Felt that thrill in conversation I only get with you, of hearts connecting, uplifting, encouraging.  Carrying each other’s burdens and somehow diminishing them in the process.

I’ve decided–your soul and mine are the same.  Sisters, meant to belong together since the beginning of time.  No, beyond time.  Before it.

I am happiest when we’re side by side.

And today, you confirmed it again–you are too.  There’s something special about the thing that exists between the two of us.

You understand me, head to toe, inside to out.  I can tell you anything and you’d still love me.  More than that, you’d understand.  You’ll be there for me through everything, when life feels like walking through mountain-mist rainbows or slogging through mud.  I can say things to you, things that would sound silly or stupid to anyone else, and you understand and appreciate them.  Like how the sky is deeper upside-down, or how the farthest, palest-blue mountains issue a call that I can’t ignore.

Your soul is one of the most beautiful I know and will ever know.

I can be my complete self around you.  You understand all the sides of me, not just engage with one or simply appreciate them all.  You know me, see all of me.  You make my heart happy.

We can be our goofy, so-easily-entertained, child-like selves around each other.  Within weeks of first meeting each other, we were dancing in the rain… or should I say thunderstorm… and today, we hung our heads over the wall by the lake and stared deep into the pool of the sky and the ripples of the new water ceiling and talked and laughed and just soaked in the beauty of God’s creation.  For a good ten minutes.  Standing up was a new experience, and I was glad to share it with you.  Who needs to get drunk to be tipsy?  Not us.

There are days where my heart just aches for you, and yours for mine, but we know, just know, deep down, in the deepest part of us that knows and hopes and dreams and loves with a deep and abiding and fiery passion–

We will always love each other.

And best of all?  We get to spend eternity worshiping the One that saved us both.  Think there’ll be climbing in the new heavens and new earth?  I sure hope so.  Regardless, I’m sure we’ll have a blast.

Love ya, sis.

Ash 🙂

Wondrously Dangerous Thing

I don’t think anyone understands how fiercely I love.

I don’t think anyone understands how intense love grows inside of me, how quickly it blooms, how loudly it roars.

It bellows its presence and dares any challenger to remain standing.

I don’t think anyone can really, truly understand what love means to me.

Love means this: you protect your own at all costs.

Yes, I know the women are meant to be the “nurturers.”  The men are the ones with all that testosterone, the big muscles, the aggressive instincts.  They are the protectors… right?

Yes, I say.  Yes they are.  They are better suited to the task.  But…

Some of us are born just a bit different than the others.

Yeah, I do feel the urge to nurture once in a blue moon.  But to tell the truth… I enjoy a good tussle over a pedicure any day.  I enjoy things that get my blood pumping.  I enjoy things that challenge me physically and mentally.  I enjoy wildness and rough-and-tumble-ness and things that test my limits, push me ’til I break.  I like things that are rough and raw and real and challenging.  I think differently.

When I love someone, my first thought, my first instinct, is to protect them.

And I make that my mission.

This means that when we’re walking from the car to the dorm at night, and I get a funny feeling, my mind goes into overdrive.  I walk a little bigger, stand a little taller, throw my shoulders back a little more, walk with a slight swagger. Walk like I own the street.  The whole city, even.  A walk that says, don’t you dare mess with me.  I think of what kick or punch I would throw first, what I would say, what would we do.  I’m always aware of the people around us, the vibes I get off them, always scanning, always looking.  I’m analyzing places, situations, one step ahead, expecting.  Listening to my gut.

When I dream up stories and put the people in my world into them… the plot always turns out the same.

I fight for them.  I protect them.  I sacrifice for them.  I prove myself to be strong enough.

No matter what.

No matter what that means.

No matter what sacrifices need to be made.

I. Push. Through.

Yes, I care about feelings.  Yes, I love conversations that have depth and emotion and substance and are just plain real.  We all do.  Yes, I care about romantic relationships.  Yes, I care about the everyday ins and outs of caring for the emotional and spiritual well-being of those around me.  I am human.  And yes, I am a girl, after all.

But my first, primal, gut instinct that will not be denied–

My mission, my calling–

Is to protect you.

And this is why, oh this why, when something goes wrong and I find out and my gut just clenches and my breathing quickens until I find out it’s all okay and then I surprise myself and cry just a bit–

The first thought that goes through my head is why didn’t I protect you.  why was I not there to protect you.  why didn’t I see this coming.  

And every single time that has happened… it hasn’t been a physical thing that I can prevent.

It’s been a sickness.  A sad thing that’s affected you.  An injury.  Someone’s scared you.  Broken your heart.

And outside I’m normal but inside the anger sparks and flares and shoots into the dark dark sky and I’m all big and bursting and aggressive inside and ready to lash out at whoever hurt you, make him pay…

But sometimes there’s no one to blame.  And sometimes there’s nothing I can do.  And sometimes I have to take a deep breath and realize that I can’t protect everyone I love from the world.

But I can try.

And I can be there.

And if, heaven forbid, it actually happens some day, actually happens that I have to put my life on the line for you–

I won’t even blink.  Won’t even think.  All this purposeful, cyclical, pointless thought will turn into action.

I will become so ferocious you won’t even recognize me.

A she-panther fighting for her cubs.

I will fight tooth and nail.  I will take a bullet for you.

I’ll simply explode.

And you will know exactly how big and ferocious and burning and unquenchable my love is for you.

And so when I watch that movie, and hear the girl crying, and I start and my heart twists a little bit because for a second it sounds just like you…  I’ll smile ruefully to myself.

But the truth is… I wouldn’t change a thing.

And if it all crashes and burns someday…

You’ll know.

Love is a wondrously dangerous thing.

Wings

Tonight’s a big night.

The last night in my own bed for a while.  The last night of summer for a year.  The last night with my family in a long string of nights.

Tomorrow’s a big day.

The first night under a new roof.  The first reunion with my friends.  The first in a long string of celebrations of just living.

Tomorrow, I spread my wings.

I want them to be strong.  Big.  Powerful.  Gentle in their brown soft feathers speckled with sunlight.  Gentle in their strength–yet ready to whip the wind.  Shape it to my command.  Ride it, soar me high, anywhere I want to go.  To anyplace.  To anyone.  Following my heart, at my will.

But not only are my wings strong–they are wise.  Faithful.  Loyal.  Intelligent.  Not only at the beck and call of my heart but also in line with my head.  And on a perfect day, those two will never be at odds.  The center of their compass is love. Home.  Constancy.  Protection.  Sacrifice.  Ferocity.  Forever embrace.  Reliability.  Adventure.  Love is all of these things–love is my friends and my family.  Those dearest to my heart.  Those I would give anything for at a moment’s notice, although I may strive to see the small needs right in front of my nose.  Although my wings fly on the call of the wild and the whisper of the unknown on the wind, they train true to the strong beauty of love.

When I spread my wings, it will mean six things–

I am ready.

I am strong.

I am free.

I am brave.

I am an explorer.

I follow my love.

And when I get a little scared, and my wings wobble a little even as they hold me up–

I will remember to be confident, and trust the One that gave them to me.

Recombobulation of Love

When I was at the airport a week ago, I was reminded how disorienting security checks can be. Take shoes off, pull jacket off, empty pockets, remove computer,  dump backpack, raise hands, lower hands, hold breath as the x-ray machine scans, answer police with yes ma’am and yes sir, pick up backpack, insert computer, refill pockets, don jacket, yank on shoes.  It’s enough to make a girl dizzy.  And by the end, I sometimes don’t know what to feel.

Figuring out crushes is kind of like that.

I didn’t have my first real crush until I was seventeen.  A little late, I know.  It didn’t truly last, but now my brain is catching up with the reality of the huge switch that’s been flipped.  My mind is still a bit shocked at this new fact…

that boys are cute.

Yeah, I’m a little behind schedule.  I’ve realized this over the past few months, and I decided to make a list to help reorient myself as I figure out what all this means for me.  Almost like the humorously entitled “Recombobulation Area” in the airport… a place to gather my wits, figure out how I feel, and get my feet back under me.  A place to begin directing my thoughts toward the future and embrace this new season.

Here goes nothing…

  1. I do want a relationship… and eventually marriage.  Dating will never be recreational, but instead always have a purpose, linked to marriage in distant possibility at least.
  2. There’s a difference between thinking someone is cute and having a crush.  The first is just a fact, but the latter is something more real.  A crush is also based on someone’s personality and character, not just looks.
  3. Kissing always sounds “bleh” (aka disgusting)… but that’s okay.  Kissing will come with actually falling in love.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  The day I hold hands with someone will be a huge step–and truthfully, I like it that way.
  4. Dates are not as confusing or scary as they sound.  Two people hang out on their own, and the guy usually pays for things, but that’s it.  Nothing to shy away from.
  5. Chivalry is okay.  Actually, better than okay.  I have emerged from my hard core tomboy stage realizing that if a man holds a door open for me, it’s not an insult… it’s a complement.  It’s not that I can’t do it on my own; he just wants to do it for me.
  6. Wanting to spend lots of time with someone and enjoying his company is a better sign of interest than how high he rates on the cuteness scale.
  7. I don’t feel the need to be as strong or as athletic or as tough as a guy I truly like; the ones I strive to impress in that way, I see as brothers.  Someone I can be my true, goofy, Ashley self around… that’s different.
  8. Marriage means life forever with your best friend with something else thrown in… I think it’s called romance.  A ring is freedom, not a restraint.
  9. The four criteria for dating material: a) He must be a true Christian. b) I feel completely safe around him. c) Attractive not only physically but in personality and character. d) I enjoy just spending time with him.
  10. He will talk about God with me and will not be afraid to be deep and real in conversation.  He will appreciate my passions and value them even if they’re not his thing.  He will enjoy my quirks.  He will love me for being me.
  11. I’m not a girly girl, but I do like flowers.  Stars and campfires seem much more romantic than a fancy restaurant and expensive clothes.  The smell of wood smoke is better than that of perfume.  Candles are good.  Jeans and flannel shirts are comfortable and attractive.  And I do love to dance.  He will be the only one I’ll willingly wear a dress for, and he’ll understand the significance of this as soon as he talks to my mother.
  12. He will see me as equal but special.  He will understand the power in a simple touch or a smile.  He will help me get over my phobia of phone calls, simply because I’ll love to hear his voice.  He’ll call me by my nickname, without being asked.  He will have a goofy, wild streak.  He will understand the power of adventure and spontaneity and the untouched, open places.  He will know when to rough around yet how to always be gentle.  He will know how to enjoy the comfortable silence between two open, happy souls.
  13. I’m going to get scared.  I’m going to be that blindsided, deer-in-the-headlights kind of girl when asked on my first date.  If I accept that now, it’ll be easier when it happens.  I must never shy away from an opportunity because I’m scared, yet I must never do something stupid because I’m scared to miss something good.  I’ll be a little slow, but that’s okay.  Scary and exciting often go hand in hand.
  14. How he interacts with those who can give him nothing in return will say more than how he interacts with those who already love him.  How he interacts with children and his elders will say more than how he acts around those his own age.
  15. I love you will be the most powerful words for us–never common, never trivial, never misused.  His love should not be unlike the love of 1 Corinthians 13.
  16. He will make me laugh, make me smile, make me be silly, make me sing louder, make me dance faster, make me try harder, make me see more beauty, make me live fuller.  Make me more than I am apart from him.  We will be better together than apart…

And it will be good.

I think… I think… I think that’s called love.

 

Missing You

You know–that core inside.

That place in your chest, beyond the bone, beyond the muscle, a place you just can’t physically reach.  You.  Your soul, I guess.

The place you feel things.

Deep things.

Inescapable things.

You know, that place inside that just. plain. hurts.

When I’m going about my day, and something’s just all wrong, and I’m grumpy and snappy and just feeling sick and dead inside and in a word just “meh” and “bleh” and I can’t for the life of me figure out why–

I remember.

You.

When something just feels dead inside.  Hollow full of aching.  Grey.  Hard flaking.  Lonely.

And then I remember saying goodbye, and hugging harder and longer than normal, and fighting the tears I didn’t expect to come.  I thought I wasn’t going to fall apart.  I was dead wrong.  I completely lost it.  I watched your cute blue car drive away and just lost it.  And then did it again.  And again.  And again.  A few minutes later.  An hour later.  A day later.

My heart just dang hurts.

I do stupid things like wear your necklace around and finger the scrap of paper on which you gave me your email address when we met those four years ago.  Has it really been that long?  I remember all the things we did and all the things we wanted to do and I wanted to say and we never did.

I remember things.  Your sunscreeny, sunshine-on-skin smell.  The braided permanent bracelet you always wore for four long years and your wrist just looks naked and wrong without it.  Your double chaco tan.  The way we wrote letters, real letters, while you were at camp, giddy with the unexpected, explosive joy of fourteen year old bff love.  The blue and yellow friendship bracelet you sent me that summer.  How I can’t help but stop singing for a moment in church, just to hear your voice.  The times spent splashing in the creek.  That one afternoon I sprayed you in the face with the hose.  How you can’t eat fried chicken without having a minor, greasy-fingered panic attack.

It’s these moments.  I’m holding on.  To them.  To you.  Holding on tight.  Forever.  That’s a promise–you better believe it.

I keep reminding myself–it’s just college.  Nothing’s going to change, you told me yourself.  And I believe you.  I really, truly do.  But it still hurts.

I can’t talk to anyone like that but you.  Can’t do stupid things with anyone like that but you.  Can’t completely be myself like that with anyone but you.  You do more than not judge me.  More than be like that with me, like the twin of my soul.  You love me.

And I love you.

And just as I’m beginning to handle one missing, begin to stop dreaming ceaseless dreamings of odd, earthy adventures and best-in-the-world bear hugs, begin to stop obsessing over silly phrases and weird ways to tie knots–just when I stop randomly crying all the time for no reason at all and diagnosing myself via the internet…

then you leave.

I had forgotten that you had to leave.

I still forget that you have left.

And even though you’re technically still in the city for a scant two more days, our goodbyes have been said.

And although I know that with us, it’s never really goodbye, that the late night talks and unstoppable giggles and sisterly hugs can only be numbered with infinities…

I wish we could just dance in the rain together, forever.

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together… there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.”

-Winnie the Pooh

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