I wonder if this is specific to eighties and nineties babies, but I used to roll down the highway pretending like I was in a music video. Arm hanging out the window, head laid back, vibes on vibes on vibes. We are the generation who used to drive in mall parking lots and beach strips, bumping Ghost Town DJs and Dead Prez so we could see and be seen in our Preludes, Acuras, and Accords.
While studying textile apparel design in college, I dreamed of working for Parasuco while practicing my interviews with Oprah in my dorm room mirror. When I moved to Los Angeles to finish my final semester enrolled at FIDM (I did not btw), I wrote an En Vogue musical in my creative time. For the record, "What's it gonna be cause I can't pretend!!!!" is literally made for the stage, and do not get me started on Yesterday and Never Gonna Get It. I'm sorry to say that the musical is gone forever because this is what computers looked like when I wrote it:
I pictured it on Broadway like it could actually happen. Believe me, I was young in Los Angeles, attending the American Music Awards and training clients next to Nia Long, so it didn't feel too unrealistic to dream like this. I also pictured myself writing bestselling novels that got optioned for films. Cause why not? Friends from my high school went on to be wildly successful athletes, creators, actors, counselors, teachers, and medical professionals. We were small-town kids with dreams, making music videos in our basements and volunteering our time to serve the community.
Was I delusional? Maybe? Probably? But at some point, I gave up the big dreams.
Deciding to start the recovery journey at 21 led me right into a faith community that offered Monday Night Solutions classes. We went through books like Changes that Heal, Safe People, Search for Significance, and met in a large group for lectures and small groups for shares. Listening to the stories of others normalized my lived experience and encouraged me that I was not alone. I gave up drugs and drinking a fifth of Jack at parties and slowly recovered from an eating disorder.
Because of the black-and-white thinking that is a means to sobriety and survival for many addicts, I began to swing from a wild one to an obedient, submissive Christian girl whose life's mission was to serve the dreams of others. My dreams started to shrink. I learned that dreaming of speaking, writing books, or pursuing anything that looked like fame or NOT POVERTY was a selfish ambition. I heard from multiple leaders on multiple occasions that God needed them to "temper me." The real truth is that people built their wealth and ministries on my back while I learned to die to myself until I almost died. It was wrong and unethical, and I deeply regret giving so much of my youth and talent to ensure others had a future at the expense of mine.
Still, God is faithful. I have maintained my sobriety for twenty years. Some of my dearest friends came out of my decision to stay in the community until it got so wildly weird and unbearable that leaving was no longer optional. I built large ministries for women and the local community and won awards and commendations from the city of Los Angeles for my work. I met my husband, the greatest gift of my life, and we will celebrate twelve years of marriage this weekend. We've married dozens of couples, officiated funerals, baptized hundreds, and cared for folks in crisis. I still believe it's a privilege to serve. With confidence, it is critical to healing and transformation.
I've published books and given hundreds of sermons, traveled around the world, and by some measure of a miracle, I still love the church. Because I remember the safe place it was in my childhood; the way my Great, Great Auntie and I would walk the neighborhoods dropping off food and sitting with people who couldn't even speak. I remember the early days of recovery, with two rogue leaders teaching classes about healing. I remember the friends who turned up on my doorstep for every big and small thing. I know how good it feels to love and love wholeheartedly, worship next to imperfect people on a healing journey, and show up for others where you are right now. Just yesterday, our pastor stopped to give me a special eczema cream for my hands that hurt so bad that it hurts to type. I can't bend three of my ten fingers. He prayed for me and hugged our necks before leaving to pick up his kids. Our pastors are the real deal. And I'm telling you, when it's not corrupt, the church is magical.
Midlife is like entering the awkward teenage years (that's a whole series of essays or Mentor Mondays - coming soon). Somewhere along the way, my dreams got small. I'm reflecting more and thinking about how I want to spend the second half of my life. I think about all the things I gave up, all the dreams I let go of, and all the good that has come from that intentional, albeit naive, surrender. And I'm starting to dream big again.
It's not too late for you.
What did you dream about as a child? What did you imagine before someone told you it was too self-serving, ridiculous, or ambitious? What problems have crippled your desire to consider possibilities?
I finished Viola Davis's audiobook, Finding Me a few weeks ago, and I felt so encouraged by her courage to relentlessly pursue her dreams. She knew in her gut that she was made for the stage, and she mastered her craft and held on for dear life. She deserves every good thing God has to give her.
So do you.
Many people in my life are struggling to dream again. We are laughing to keep from crying seven out of ten times. Earth is a legit dramedy. Use it. Let it be fuel for your fire. Learn from the past but don't live there. It's dead and gone. Hold onto hope for the future.
Friend, I hope you burn with passion and possibility. I hope you know that all is not lost. I hope you know that your dream is not too big and not too small. No need to compare it to anyone else's. It's your dream, and it can evolve.
"I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world, but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am." John Newton
Blessing you in my prayers today,
Ashley
P.S. Dreaming big is all relative. This season, my dreams include contentment and health, community and sensitivity, college funds, and meaningful work. That's why we can't compare our dream for our life to anyone else's… felt it important to share that loving your ordinary life is a helluva hard and holy dream.
P.P.S. In 2020, I made a “five favorite songs” playlist, just in case Brene Brown ever wanted to interview me on Dare to Lead. (I’m laughing so hard - tell me I’m not the only one like this??) Hope you enjoy my jams. Love you, mean it.
Ashley, I must tell you what happened yesterday. I was in a total funk, feeling lost and sad and old, surmising that all my time spent raising my kids had placed me outside any possibility of achieving the dreams I once had. "It's okay," I said to myself, knowing full well it wasn't.
I sat facing the sea, and turned to meditation and prayer, asking for guidance. Less than ten minutes later, I picked up my phone, and out of the 40 new emails, chose to read yours. And there it was, in big, bold type: IT'S NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU. I burst into tears.
Thank you for writing this, for being right where I needed you to be, right when I needed you. I hear the Divine speaking right through you, dear Ashley. So much gratitude... xox
"I learned that dreaming of speaking, writing books, or pursuing anything that looked like fame or NOT POVERTY was a selfish ambition." --- relatable. oof.
"...when it's not corrupt, the church is magical." --- yes! yes! yes!
"...loving your ordinary life is a helluva hard and holy dream." --- thank you for this, it speaks volumes to me in this season.