wearetheparsons —> family bio picture
  • Welcome to our family blog!

    we are the parsons.
    a family of five.
    which just means our dining room table has old cereal remnants crusted onto it and an over abundance of salt spilt.
    also we love Jesus.
    we are glad you are here.
    get to know us more and leave us a note.
    you make a difference in our story, and your love and encouragement mean so much.

to my fellow women…why I am happy not to be a #girlboss

“you make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust.
you make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us.”

The first time I heard this song it came on the radio as I was driving to the children’s hospital to go sit in the NICU with our three pound baby boy. We had just adopted him a couple of weeks prior and every single day I would drop our older boys off at school, then drive to the hospital to scrub in at the NICU, undress my little coke bottle sized bundle, and put him in my oversized button down shirt and then cover us with blankets for the next six hours. I’d go pick up the kids from school, cook dinner, tuck them in, and go back to the NICU for the next three hours before falling into bed just around midnight. In just a couple of weeks, we had seen how this skin on skin time had really started to make a huge difference in the life and health of this tiny baby who had been lying there, mostly un-held and parent-less for the first month of his life.

“you have to hear this song” my friend Jessi said. “we sang it at church this week and I just kept thinking about you guys and zion.” and sure enough, it came on the radio one morning as I was heading to the hospital and I wept. I wept thinking about how zion had lost his first mother. I wept thinking about the brain surgery and the painful procedures he had gone through with no parent to hold him while he cried. And I wept thinking about the goodness of God that he would take us – a family somewhat comfortable and wrapped up in our own little bubble – and make something beautiful out of us, a blessing.

The same song came on this morning as I was running on the treadmill and I had to just smile at the irony and goodness of God. He taught me about himself and about myself through those daily trips to the NICU and now he is using the treadmill and food and drink to teach me more again. Yesterday I shared a private instagram account that I have been using as a journal for the past few months as Jeremy and I have surrendered our health and fitness more and more to the One who created us. And the response was honestly downright overwhelming. I am still trying to keep up with the requests of women who want to follow along with the journey and I’m learning more about myself. As I starting approving women to be able to see the account, I started to have pangs of fear. “wait a minute! … I know that gal and she is super skinny and prettier than me and way more fit than I am. and now she’s going to see me in my sports bra with my cellulite… I feel too exposed. what if she judges me for who I really am?” or “what if someone is much more overweight than I was when we stared this journey and she feels pressure or judgement or condemnation from what I am doing or saying? I don’t want anyone to feel small…” But skinniness or overweight-ness is not what this is about. This is a story about being weak and watching the Holy Spirit make me strong.

I see a lot of propaganda going around lately about how we women can become a #GIRLBOSS – that we can project ourselves into an awesome life where we can do whatever we want. But this journey is not about me becoming a girlboss. I am not trying to hate on anyone who has embraced this mentality or make them feel small. But honestly, from my experience, I’ve never been that successful at changing my own heart. I’m just not able to pull it off. Sure, maybe I can modify behavior a little bit for a short amount of time. But I can’t actually want the right things enough to do the right things 24/7. Not even 1/7. And health has always been one of those things. I told myself that image didn’t matter and that I didn’t want to be just another “skinny bitch” and I don’t. But I am realizing more and more that I was created out of the dust (and to dust I will return) to know God, glorify him in my mind, body, spirit, and in doing these things, become a truer self.

“I just can’t seem to quit _____.” I really want to try to be better but ______.” “I’ve tried a thousand times to get my butt in gear but each time, I just ______.” We can all fill in the blanks. But in my experience, all of my efforts were not good enough. My drive is weak and my will to do wrong is strong. And so, only God himself stepping into my world and changing my heart – my nasty heart that wanted to eat sugar all the time and smoke cigarettes and drink bottles of wine by myself and soothe my own pain with sloth – only God himself could rescue me from myself. And the beautiful thing is that he is. Each day, I am watching as he speaks in his still, small voice to transform my desires and make me new. Each day, I am watching as I recognize I am not a girlboss, but I am fearfully and wonderfully made by a God is strong, who loves me and will, himself, give me the strength to become what he created me to be. All I have to do is believe and say yes.

for now, saying yes looks like a change in diet to detox all the crap I had shoved in my face for years. and it looks like hard work at the gym five days a week. And it looks like a hiatus from alcohol and sweets. And it looks like failing sometimes and knowing that He is still stronger than any weakness I may have. And as I say yes I see that it also looks like the strength to carry our special needs (now) three year old around the hospital when he has three appointments in a week and the walk into those appointments feels like a mile long. And it looks like having the energy to play with our older boys at the park or to wake up earlier just to be with them. It looks like renewal in our marriage and clothes that were long stored in the back of our closet fitting again.

But mostly, saying yes has meant this: I wake up every day knowing deeper in my being that I am dearly prized and loved and accepted (no matter what) by the One who made me. And that his power and grace is enough to strengthen me for whatever today will require of me. I am so thankful to not feel like it’s up to me to be enough, to be a girlboss. Instead, I rest in the one who will always be enough in my place and trust that he loves me enough to make me who he created me to be.

if you want to follow along in the journey, the instagram account is @waytogoash . women only – trust me dudes, you don’t want to see me in my sports bra and cellulite anyways.:)
I really welcome all women into this place to share and be honest, because I think we are all hungry for it. You are, today, right there, loved, accepted, created, beautiful, and the one who made you longs to strengthen you where you are weak. Don’t worry. You don’t have to be enough and you couldn’t be if you tried. You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you will ask yourself “what if that is true?” He can be enough in you and for you and, in my experience, that is better.
with a lot of love, ash.

rosina - I see a lot of propaganda going around lately about how we women can become a #GIRLBOSS – that we can project ourselves into an awesome life where we can do whatever we want. But this journey is not about me becoming a girlboss. I am not trying to hate on anyone who has embraced this mentality or make them feel small. But honestly, from my experience, I’ve never been that successful at changing my own heart. <—–yes and amen!

xxNovember 22, 2014 – 6:05 pm

Jenna - Thank you for this, Ashley. November 22, 2014 – 3:39 am

maria - always so grateful for what god does in and through you. thank you for sharing these thoughts.November 21, 2014 – 6:10 am

Coco - “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” I realized this morning that this line has run over and over and over again in my head the last day or two. I finally paid attention to it long enough to remember it comes the old hymn. “Great is Thy Faithfulness.”

Oh yes, very great, indeed.November 20, 2014 – 7:05 pm

writer-ing and my writer’s cabin

Since we moved at the beginning of the year, our little shasta trailer has sat empty and abandoned. We stripped her of all of her magic and interiors and left her for dead, basically. It wasn’t personal. We love the trailer and had such good times in there. But upon moving to a newer, much larger old house, we needed every single spare item we could find just to try and keep the bare, freshly painted walls from looking like a hospital.

Recently, the trailer has been calling to me in almost a “field of dreams” kind of way. I see it back there as I wash the dishes, with it’s bold orange stripe, pointing the way once again to whimsey and something new. So a couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time for the trailer to have a rebirth. So many things in our lives are changing and being made new, so I guess it’s only fitting the little trailer follow along with our journey.

So I took a friend’s advice, my husbands belief in me, some precious, inspiring mementos, a warm blanket, and a few dollars and decided to resurrect the dear trailer as my own little writer’s cabin.

I have a writer’s cabin.
because I like to write … sometimes.
I am a writ…. uhhh, I just can’t do it yet.

Anne Lamott says, if you write, you are a writer.
I love AL. I trust her like I would trust a beautiful aunt who I hope to “grow up” to be like in all of her raw, hippie, beautifulness. But I just don’t know how to call myself a writer yet.

I won’t be able to avoid it for long because all the signs are starting to point this way.
Many of my free hours are spent either hand-writing letters or typing out words on a keyboard. Many of the things I type will never be read by anyone but me, but I am writing and feel a bit quickened, a bit more alive, when I do it. I am a member of a writing group. Out of everyone in the group I am pretty sure am the least educated and most inexperienced in the area of writing, but I show up once in awhile, so that’s something. And now I have a little writer’s cabin inside a trailer where my boys aren’t allowed to come in because they manage, in sixty seconds flat, to make it go from smelling like cedar walls and floors to smelling like farts and dirty socks and death.

Don’t worry. No delusions of grandeur here. I’m not working on “my book” or dreaming of finding an agent (whatever that is) or a publisher (whoever they are). I will leave that business to the real writers. I’m just quite content trying to find my way through the world and it’s confections and confusions with words, as well as images and deep thoughts and dark humor.

In my little writer’s cabin, there is a print hanging above the desk my husband made. On it, I typed with the old typewriter, “don’t be afraid.” And that is where I will be writing from. From that place. Because I think the kind of writing I want to do is going to take some fearlessness. And because I don’t really know the rules of writing, it’s going to be sloppy and reckless sometimes. Sometimes, because I’m not afraid, I may even talk about Jesus. Sometimes, because I’m not afraid, I may even say the F word. And sometimes, like my favorite “aunty” Lamott, I may even do both in the same sentence.

so. big deep breath in. and out.
here goes.

I’m a writer.

forgive the low-quality photographs. they were taken on my camera phone.

keri bryant - you ARE a brilliant (might I say kick-ass!) writer, Ash.
From one reader and lover of words, to another. Keep it up. Yes, this is holy ground in this beautiful place.
keriNovember 16, 2014 – 1:57 am

Molly - good job! xoxoNovember 5, 2014 – 3:07 am

Nathan Gilmer - That is such a great writing spot. I love it. And I can’t wait to see what you write.November 4, 2014 – 1:41 pm

jenn stark - bravo, wonderful ash. i too am a wri– well, you know. xNovember 4, 2014 – 4:22 am

Bar - You ARE a writer. Bravo!!!November 3, 2014 – 7:38 pm

Coco - In the translucent sanctuary of a cocoon, catapillars are safe to completely liquify before reconstituting with wings. Nestle in. Come undone. Fly up. Write on!

Shasta! What a space! Looks like a good place to crack open and hear the voice God gave you. Holy ground.November 1, 2014 – 10:28 pm

Josh - Hey friend, I love this post and have also been writing a lot lately. A tool I’ve used is 750words.com. It keeps me accountable and writing everyday. Good luck on your journey :) November 1, 2014 – 9:37 pm

running through cemeteries and living stones . thoughts surrounding my dad’s birthday

The Spirit that is Holy spoke to me on a run this week. It spoke through yellows and oranges and reds. It spoke through last names I recognized, written on stones firmly planted. I wondered as I ran by, “I might know of your descendants. Just in case you were wondering, your great grandson is a successful photographer and lives on the west coast…just in case you were wondering, your granddaughter lost a baby a few years ago and today she is laughing again..” It spoke to me through words and visions in my own head. It spoke to me through the first stone I saw: She had been a beloved wife and a mother. She died one year older than I am right now. I wonder what she cooked for dinner the last night she was alive. I wonder if she had remembered to switch “the lights” from the washer to the dryer or if she kissed her husband before she fell asleep. It spoke to me through a man dressed in a suit and tie, ready for the work day yet hovering his body over a place in the ground, still. I think she went before him and I think he was not expecting that. His posture spoke, saying he was not expecting that. Don’t worry. . even when we are expecting it, it’s never easier. We still hover and weep and touch the cold stone with the name on it. As he stood there, the oranges and yellows showered his Toyota corolla.The man in the suit came alone and he would leave alone.

One of my favorite writers of the past few years, ND Wilson, says that he sees a farm land when he walks through a cemetery. I agree with him. Something in the deepest parts of me speaks and says these seeds planted dry and deep will burst out of the ground like surprise shoots after a long winter.

So I went for a jog through the fields where my “Last Will and Testament” says I am to be planted. A beautiful three year old girl I know is already planted deep in the dirt there. “she sure was a little sweetie” my ten year old recently said when remembering her out of nowhere.. “but God had other plans for her..” You are wise, Micah. I wonder what his plans are for me. When the life is gone from my bones and I am nothing but a seed, those who are left to survive me will put me in that same soil with all of those names and stories that are now told. And there will be a new stone that says “PARSONS” on it and those who love me will have fewer words than you can fit on a twitter update to tell generations to come what kind of woman I was, what kind of story I lived.

Today we would have been celebrating my dad’s birthday. “I would have been out shopping today getting his gift and getting ready for the big dinner..” my mom said to me on the phone earlier this week. Jeremy and the boys and I drove out to the cemetery where he is buried this morning, through rows and rows of soybeans and dried up harvested cornstalks to reach the farm where his seed sits, waiting for the resurrection. As we pulled up zion, who is three and is still learning to put words together to communicate his thoughts said, “papa…papa’s sleeping?..” .

Sometimes it feels like he fell asleep just last week but it’s already been four and a half years. And those years are going by furiously and fast like smoke right in front of our faces. Don’t even try to grab at it, you’ll just look crazy.

I jogged past the patches of grass that have yet to receive a stone in them. That ground has not yet been tilled but someday it will be, for me. Why is it we try so hard to breeze through life unconnected to the reality that we are all going to the same place? Why is it we hold our iPhones until they are hot in our hands and we pay the bills and we grind our coffee beans and we tell the kids to “stop hitting your brother!” and we open up another pack of american spirits and we push one another away over small and large grievances with no birds-eye view? I don’t know what my stone will say yet. I have no clue what yours will. But there, in tightly packed, perfect rows, lies what is physically left of my father. “home with Jesus. hope fulfilled.” The Spirit that is Holy reminded me of that this week. He reminded me of my fragility, my seed-ness, my soon-to-be field. He reminded me that two months ago today, he began something brand new in us for a reason. We are on a journey, my friends, and I hope and pray it is one we can share more and more of on this sweet little safe space that is our family blog. But for today, I will just say that the past four and a half years and the past two months, in particular, have reminded us that we are all seeds in the hand of the Farmer. He knows our fate and He is carefully planning out the fields and the harvest.

and today, we live!

“you. like living stones. are being built into a spiritual house.”
- 1 Peter 2:5

keri bryant - utterly beautiful. thank you, Ash.November 16, 2014 – 2:01 am

Dee - Ash, this is beautifully written as always. Thank you for keeping it real and reminding us of how precious our time is. Thinking of you all xxOctober 21, 2014 – 8:47 pm

Jami Nato - just beautifulOctober 20, 2014 – 11:43 pm

Dev - This is beautifully written, Ash. It’s incredible how you have surrendered your heart to pain and transformation and allowed yourself to be taken on this journey. I love you!October 20, 2014 – 11:32 am

Amanda Roth - Ash, Thank you for these words. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a cemetery the same way again. Much love, AROctober 19, 2014 – 9:46 pm

telling the story again…

hello, friend. xo
I found myself in another part of the world this past weekend. It’s an experience that has become quite familiar the past couple of years, as our wedding work has turned primarily to travel weddings. I was in the company of a very dear family and had the honor of being their shadow as they gave away their daughter in marriage. This family took such an interest in our story, and particularly in the part of our story that has involved zion.

I found myself telling them the story from the beginning and at every turn in the journey they would marvel at what God has done for us. I found myself saying things out loud that, five years ago, I never thought or could have imagined would be a part of my story. things like,

“his birthmother didn’t know she was pregnant…
he was three months premature..
he suffered two serious brain bleeds after birth and that lead to hydrocephalus..
he had been left in the nicu without a family for a month when we met and adopted him and he was only three pounds..
the doctors told us he would very likely never walk, talk, laugh, crawl, see or hear properly..
but we knew in our hearts he was our son and we were made to be his family.
when we finally brought him home to normal life, we realized he couldn’t hear.
he failed his hearing tests, our pastors came to our house and prayed for him and immediately it was clear he could hear…he passed his hearing tests..
we took the kids to colorado with us for a workshop and zion’s heart stopped..I did CPR on him in the back of the car while jeremy ran all the stoplights, getting us to the closest hospital within seconds of us losing zion.
workshop: cancelled.
he needed brain surgery..two days later he was strong enough and went in and out of surgery with no complications. a non-programmable VP shunt valve was installed in his brain.
he functioned much better after that surgery, and the strange thing about the shunt is that, while it keeps him alive, there is a certainty that one day it will break or malfunciton or he will outgrow it. the scary part about that is we have no control over the time or situation in which that happens, and we are told it could look similar to our experience in Colorado..we live in the tension of fearing the possibilities, but trusting God..
He has overcome so many of the odds. He has Cerebral Palsy, which mostly shows up in his legs with spacticity and tone problems, so he wears orthodics to help with that and will be undergoing botox and casting in just ten days to try and prevent him from walking on his toes and needing surgery ..
He has learning delays and tested out at a 14 month old level at the beginning of the year, but he is in a special needs preschool two days a week where he is growing and challenged and helped by specialists and therapists.. it’s a very expensive school and the only way we could ever have him there is because dear friends and strangers from all over the world gave to a fund to help pay for zion’s school…
and he is the. most. beautiful. boy. on the face of the earth.
he has changed us.
he has shown us what really matters and what really doesn’t.
he has been one of God’s greatest gifts to our life.”

And it’s true. It’s all a true story.
I just sit here and marvel because – yes, zion is a beautiful spirit living inside of a broken body but – God has shown himself to be near, beautiful, creative, powerful, loving, and faithful. He has shown us that his love and care are better than any kind of false control or security that we spin the earth on our index finger. And I, for one, really thought that I did most days.

I just want to say, to whoever of you dear few friends read this – if you have had any, ANY part in this story we are living out with zion – whether that is praying for him during his surgery, pastoring us, bringing us meals, visiting us in the hospital when he is in there for another asthma scare, or giving very sacrificially and generously out of your own pocket to help us put zion in the special needs preschool, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. If we could, honestly, we would sit down with each and every one of you, look into your eyes with tears in ours, and tell you that it made a difference, it is making a difference. You have changed our lives, and you may never fully know or see how, but you have.

We go into the next phase of zion’s CP treatments with botox for the first time in ten days – October 24th. The doctors will inject botox into his calf muscles to temporarily deaden the muscles so they will be able to stretch and cast his feet at the angle where zion could have the best chances of learning to walk and run properly, without doing long term damage to his joints. It’s a temporary fix, but all of his doctors have been pushing for this for a long time and, as one of them most recently said, “botox could mean the difference between zion not being able to walk the length of his high school when he is a ninth grader, and being able to walk around normally without other kids even knowing he has CP.” so, we are going into uncharted waters again, and would love your prayers and love and support in a time when we will most likely be dealing with a very confused, big, baby boy who doesn’t understand what is happening to him and why.

Again, thank you. really. I know most of you who will read this and I love you dearly. And if I don’t know you, I love you for reading this far and caring for our family in seen and unseen ways. We are strengthened and hopeful that God has given us all we need in Him to walk these paths with joy and purpose. thank you for walking with us.

ash (and jer and the boys)

Erika Chapman - Hey! We are walking a similar journey:) Our forth for we appts and she has cp and cortical vision impairment. She had had botox and we are in the throes of double hip surgery. But what a blessing she is and has taught us so much about God’s faithfulness! I’m @erikaivory on Instagram, but I use FB more often:)November 8, 2014 – 12:50 am

Tina - Thinking of you guys today as you begin Zion’s botox treatments. Our God is good and He promises to arm you with strength and keep your way secure (Psalm 18:32). Your story is one filled with SO MUCH hope and I can’t wait to hear the testament of what God continues to do in your lives – working all things together for the good of those who love Him!October 24, 2014 – 5:37 pm

Christine - I am a friend of one of your friends and have been following your journey for a couple of years now. I have a dear friend who adopted from Ethiopia and their daughter has faced MANY of the same struggles your Zion has. Their daughter has had several botox treatments for her CP (our DS also had a round of botox about 5 years ago for CP like symptoms with success). I would be more than happy to connect you with the family if you should desire to hear about their experience. Perhaps there is something you can share with one another??October 20, 2014 – 9:45 pm

Katie - In sorrows and in triumphs, God is good. Thanks for reminding me of this truth. We love your kids from afar and are praying for many more triumphant milestones ahead.October 16, 2014 – 6:19 pm

Laura - sweet zion!! we are praying for you and this procedure! your story is one of telling about God’s great mercies! we love you, parsons!!!October 15, 2014 – 10:48 pm

Alisha - First of all, when did he get so big!?!? Holy moly. Second, what a beautiful story and a BEAUTIFUL testimony. Thank you for sharing!October 15, 2014 – 5:46 pm

Dev - Wow, really amazing to hear the story from start to finish now. It’s hard to imagine that Zion is the same baby that fit in one hand and couldn’t open his eyes more than a squint. He is life personified. I’ll be praying about the Botox. I’ve heard miraculous things, but I know it will be scary just the same. Love you all.October 15, 2014 – 1:50 am

Gian Carlo - Hi Ash and Jeremy
I will be keeping you and Zion in my prayers. This botox surgery will be successful. I believe it in my heart.I love you both and I know God is blessing you though Zion amazing future destiny.
hugsOctober 15, 2014 – 1:50 am

Kristin - Beautiful, beautiful boy. Much love and prayers to you guys as you walk through this next phase with Zion.October 15, 2014 – 1:13 am

Happy first day of school, Zion!

I hardly can believe I’m saying it, and I will probably cry about fifteen times during the course of typing this, but this morning, zion got up, put on his new red backpack and we took him to school for the very first time. All five of us held hands and walked into the therapeutic special needs school, into a classroom with little ones who are just like him, and gave him hugs and said goodbye for the day. If you have been following this journey, you know what a huge and miraculous and incredible thing this is. As of just a couple of months ago, we had been told that he needed the therapies and interventions of this school to help with his many ongoing needs. The next two years in this school would help continue to care for his CP, his developmental delays, and his medical needs in a way that will hopefully get him ready to be in a real elementary school classroom someday.

the only problem: the cost is high and we don’t have the means to send him. Or we didn’t, until you came into the story. Over the course of the past month, we have been blown away to see that person after person – friends and strangers alike – have come out of the woodwork to give to our family so that zion can attend this school and get the care he needs and deserves. Although we don’t have all the funds needed for the next two years at this school, we have enough for him to start part-time now and there was an opening in a classroom this month so we took the leap.

This is a really happy day. I keep telling myself that. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the breeze is rustling the trees. This is not a day for tears, and yet I can’t stop crying. His teacher offered for me to be able to stay at the school for awhile this morning and watch how he did from the observation room. I was so happy and agreed, but quickly realized I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

This is my baby. This is my youngest son who I held when he was three pounds, and now he’s three years old. This is the love of my life who I have held in hospital rooms and hugged when he’s sad. This is the baby I did CPR on in the back of a van speeding through stoplights on the way to a hospital because he wasn’t breathing. This is the child who I have had to restrain and be a human straight jacket for, because of his epic tantrums and serious sensory needs (yup, parenting a special needs child is really messy sometimes). This is the little one who just recently started to put words together, and some of the ones he says to me the most are, “i need hug.” his laughter is my oxygen, and his scent is my drug. He is light and life and power and presence of God to me and to our family. I don’t want to sacrifice a single minute with him.

And yet, I know I am out of my league here. There are things zion needs that we just can’t give him. We don’t have the training, the equipment, the expertise to give him. Yes, I believe fully that God equipped us to be his one and only family, and for me to be his mom. But now, because of this school, I get to just be his mom. Not also his teacher, therapist, and behavioral psychologist. I am mommy, and he is my baby.

I ended up sitting in the observation room doing an ugly cry. In one breath, I was thanking God that you dear hearts have been so generous to our family and given us a grace gift we do not deserve and could never earn. In another breath, I was hurting over our little baby going into a big world without me to hold his hand for the very first time. “why is that little kid trying to steal zion’s backpack?!” “why is the teacher pronouncing his name like that?” [sidenote, for anyone who has ever wondered, it's pronounced zion, like lion with a z.] “why are they making him drink milk? I should have told them he doesn’t drink milk..” “what if he falls backwards on his shunt in that chair while no ones watching?” I eventually, wiped my tears away, turned the sound off, and left the school. This is where he is supposed to be, and two days a week, I am going to have to let go and trust that he will be ok.

I went to the Y, and had a moment in my turbo kick class – unlikely place for a revelation – where the Spirit spoke to my heart reminding me, “I’ve got this. I’ve been the one holding zion together since day one, not you. trust me.” I saw my friend, Jessi, right afterwards. I cried again. And then she – a former special education teacher, and one of the smartest people on the planet – reminded me: “you are a good mama. early intervention is crucial. It’s proven by research to be so beneficial. you made the right choice.”

I needed to hear that. So I cried some more on the way home and now shed a few more tears on our porch as I tell you this – thank you. from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. For all you’ve given so far, for the love and compassion you have showed us, and for continuing to hold us in your prayers as we go forward.

happy first day of school, baby zion. mommy loves you, and I can’t wait to give you a hug after school is over.

Laurisa ballew - Hello!! My name is Laurisa and I write about our journey with our special needs daughter Emmaus. Emmaus went to TLC until July 10th. I too ugly cried on her first day, as well as her last. My friend told me about your blog. I hope your experience there is as wonderful as ours was. We are sad to leave but are now receiving services in our district since she is three- and you and I both know how crazy expensive it is! Love your blog! Zion is a name we love and will consider if God every blesses us with a son!August 1, 2014 – 10:00 pm

Katie Peters - Happy first day at school Zion! I could feel every word Ash. Sending you lots of love to you and your family on this special day xJune 25, 2014 – 12:31 am

Dev - And now I’m doing an ugly cry. I love you. You’re the best mom.June 24, 2014 – 5:57 pm