Angels on Horseback

“I just want to go home.” The words filled my mind as I laid awake in bed. It is the middle of the night and yet it felt like morning. My mind was already racing with so many thoughts. “Stop, Rest, Sleep”, I repeated the three words over and over, but I found myself focusing on a simpler time, “I just want to go home.”

My father had finished fertilizing the crops and the heat of the summer was upon us which meant it was time to get away. Shortly after church my two brothers and I climbed up into the camper and we started our drive to Detroit Lakes. Our cousins, who lived in Fargo, left soon after my father called them to tell them that we were leaving the farm. In just under two hours, we reached our destination Carlson’s Resort, a strip of lakeshore with small two-bedroom cabins along Floyd Lake. 

The week at the lake was jam-packed with jumping off the dock and swimming out to the raft to play king on the raft. We took turns as the speedboat that my family owned with another farmer from our hometown pulled us behind on innertubes or waterskies. Early each morning my father and my uncle would take my cousin, Becky, and me down to the dock to fish for bluegills. But no matter what we did during the day, the evenings always ended by the campfire eating Angels on Horseback sweets. 

We all sat by the campfire as my father walked up from the cabin with a box of supplies. He sat down by the fire and asked, “Who would like to make Angels on Horseback?” We all waited impatiently for my father to hand out the roasting sticks and marshmallows. We worked our way around the fire looking for the perfect spot to roast our marshmallows to a golden brown. My brother, Gregg, never had the patience to wait, so he instead would thrust his marshmallow into the fire and pull it out once it had caught fire. He would then blow it out and walk over to my father. He watched as my father took two pieces of graham crackers and a piece of chocolate and squeezed the marshmallow in between making the perfect sandwich. The rest of us finished roasting our marshmallows and worked our way around the fire to my father. The assembly line of Angels on Horseback continued and soon we all sat around the fire in a state of heavenly bliss as we ate our dessert. My brother had already finished his first and had his stick back into the fire burning another marshmallow. My mother walked around behind us and wiped away the marshmallow that had missed our mouths and was all over our faces as we roasted our second marshmallow.

The fire slowly died and we all made our way on the path along the woods back to our cabins. The night sky was interrupted by fireflies that flew near the edge of the woods. With our parent’s permission, we hurried down to the woods with our hands clasped together trying to capture just one of the fireflies. “There, over there!”, my brother yelled and we would all run together in the direction he pointed. As we stood silently waiting for the next flash, the firefly had made its way over to another area before it’s light flickered again. “There it is!”, one of us screamed out and we would frantically run again laughing as we tried not to fall over any dead tree branches that laid along the woods. Our parents stood and watched us run back and forth never successfully completing our goal but knowing that all the sugar we had just consumed was being run off before we went to sleep. 

Years later, I bought a home just far enough outside of Minneapolis that it could be considered the country. After we moved into our home, I began to clear away an area and dig a small pit just at the edge of the trees. I gathered rocks from the woods and used the rocks to circle the shallow hole. Finally, I cut seats from a tree that my father-in-law had helped me cut down and I placed the logs just behind the stones. Over the next eighteen years my family of six sat together around the campfire and told stories, roasted marshmallows and made Angels on Horseback. My wife asked me once “Why do you call S’mores, Angels on Horseback?” I looked at her and really didn’t have an answer, only the memories of the summer nights at Carlson’s Resort. I remember sitting with my cousins around a campfire roasting the most perfectly golden marshmallow to put between two pieces of graham crackers with a piece of Hershey chocolate. “Alright time for bed.”, I told my four children. As we gathered up the supplies, Olivia tapped me on my arm and said, “Look Daddy, there are fireflies in the woods. Can we chase them?” I looked at her clasping her hands together and said, “Sure, let’s go!” And all of us ran together along the woods laughing as we chased after the elusive fireflies never really caring if we ever caught one or not. 

I sat down next to two people that had boarded the plane before me. I could tell that they were together since they had taken the aisle and middle seat. I sat down in the bulkhead window seat next to them and tried to relax. The evening before my son had gotten lost in the wilderness in Hawaii and had to be rescued by a helicopter. He had called me scared, not knowing what to do. I was able to reach Hawaii Fire and Rescue and together we were able to locate him and get to him just as the sun set. 

The lady in the middle seat turned to me and said, “Sir, you have so much on your mind; your energy is so strong.” I looked at her strangely as she continued, “What is worrying you?” I introduced myself and began to tell her about the trouble my son had gotten into the night before. As I finished, her only words were, “Mr. Timothy, your son called you. He knew that you would rescue him.” I smiled and not knowing where to go with the conversation, I asked her about her life. She began to share with me the story of a young girl who always knew what she was going to be when she grew up.

She told me her name was Ashley Collins. She shared with me, “I knew growing up, my whole life, that I wanted to be an artist, but my father had other expectations of me.” After high school, she did not go to college but instead she wanted to focus on her artwork. Her father told her that If she wanted to be an artist, then she should live like one and asked her to leave their home. She packed up her car and left the Bay Area and drove to LA. “I slept in my car or on the floor in a studio. I even crawled onto abandoned boats in the adjacent marina to sleep. I didn’t care. I was homeless for almost nine years.” During those years, she described her life as hopeless except for ‘My Children’ four horses that she continued to draw and paint. She continued, “I knew that ‘My Children’ would always be there with me and so I kept painting.” 

During those nine years, Ashley was beaten and raped by others that called the street their home. “The LA county offices had a file on me that was this thick,” Ashley said holding her two fingers over four inches apart. “Mr. Timothy, I didn’t care what they told me, I needed to paint.” She continued, “One day as I sat in a support group at the county office, I just got up and looked at the counselor and told her, ‘No More!’, and I left.”

After facing years of rejection and being told repeatedly that horse imagery could not be contemporary art, Ashley borrowed money from the few friends she had and opened a small gallery off an alley in Venice. “No one wanted to buy art that a woman painted, so I promoted ‘Ashley Collins’ as a male artist.,” she told me. “And you know what, Mr. Timothy, it worked. I sold my first painting for $2,500.” Perhaps most telling is what she shared with me next.  She did not have any money, but she knew that this sale of one of her children was a blessing and so she shared this blessing with others. Ashley gave half of the money to charity. Since that first painting sold, she continued to paint and sell her work. Eventually she dropped the need to be known as a male artist. “Now I see ‘My Children’ in magazines in articles about someone who has brought one of ‘My Children’ into their home.” Ashley and Douglas continued to tell me stories about the many collectors of Ashley’s art. I just sat there a bit in shock. “Who is this person?” I kept asking myself.

When Ashley finished, I shared with her a story about my daughter, a story of hurt and forgiveness. She stopped me mid-sentence and got up and grabbed something from the overhead bin. She sat down with a sketchpad and a pencil. “Continue”, she said. As I spoke, Ashley began to draw. At first I could not tell what she was drawing, but it became clearer with each stroke of her pencil. When I finished telling her my story I looked over and Ashley had drawn a picture of a horse and written the word, “Warrior” underneath it. She then turned the page over and began to write. I sat there in silence and when she finished, she turned to me and said, “You and your daughter and your beautiful wife must come and visit Douglas and me in Narnia.” I looked at her with curiosity. “Where is Narnia?”, I asked. Douglas spoke up and told me that this was what they called the ranch where they lived. “Ashley’s studio is there,” Douglas said. “I have written my number and Douglas’ number here; you must come and visit,” Ashley told me as she handed me the drawing.

The plane landed and I walked with Ashley and Douglas to the baggage claim area. Ashley left Douglas and me for a minute. I turned to Douglas and said, “What just happened?”. Douglas laughed and said, “You know, she feels energy from people, and she felt a strong energy from you when you sat down. She has been like this her whole life.” I said my goodbyes and walked out to my car to drive home.

Months passed and I finally got the courage to call the number on the back of the drawing that Ashley had given me for my daughter. Douglas answered, “Of course I remember you. Ashley will be so excited that you called. When would you like to come to Narnia?” We agreed upon a day that would work for both of us and I shared with my daughter and my wife that we were going to Narnia. 

The drive to Narnia was less than two hours. Douglas met us at the front door. He brought us into the kitchen where he had prepared a small feast for us. “I don’t want you to be hungry while you are here,” Douglas said as he smiled at us. Their three dogs heard us in the kitchen and came in to greet us. One of the three dogs was missing a leg, but this in no way slowed him down. Douglas told us that Ashley was at the vet when someone dropped off this stray dog that had been hit. “Ashley made excuses over the next few weeks to be in town secretly visiting the dog each time. I knew that it was only a matter of time before we would have another dog here at Narnia,” Douglas told us. Ashley came in from the studio and greeted me and met my wife and daughter for the first time. The three of them sat together at the table while Douglas and I talked. There was so much laughter from the table. I could tell that my daughter was enjoying herself and that the healing I was hoping for had begun. I knew Ashley could bring an energy into my daughter’s life, but I never knew that she would also be there for my wife as well.  

“Well, let’s go out to the studio,” Ashley said. We walked through the yard, by several ponds and finally approached a large two-story building on the backside of the property. Ashley left us and went around to the other side of the building. I looked around in the room where we waited and there were old hardcover books everywhere. Douglas shared with us, “We travel all over the world and collect these books. Most of the books are over a hundred years old. Ashley uses the pages as her canvas. She puts the pages down first and she can feel the energy from those who have touched the pages of the books. Sometimes after she has glued the pages to the canvas, she will sit on the floor in the studio and just stare at the many pages. She will paint only after she comes in touch with the energy from the canvas.” 

I walked over to a canvas that had an image on it, but was not finished. Douglas walked over and I asked him, “How long does it take her to paint one piece?” “Oh, she never just works on one piece, she always has many different paintings going at once,” Douglas told me. “She can work on one piece for more than two years. I never really know when she is finished. There are times when I come to the studio where she has been painting all night. I see the most beautiful image and the next day, it is gone. She has painted over it.”

The doors to the studio opened and Ashley stood there with her dogs at her side, there was music playing throughout the studio. “Hold your breath, make a wish count to three. Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination.” It was the song, ‘Pure Imagination’, from the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. “Welcome, come in, come in,” Ashley said as she grabbed my daughter’s hand. As I walked around and looked at the pieces of art throughout the gallery, I could suddenly remember the magical moments of chasing fireflies. My daughter was on her own journey as she stopped at a piece called ‘Carnegie Playground’. Douglas plugged in the lights that were attached to the canvas and the neon light that ran across the top of the canvas lit up. My daughter began to laugh as she gazed upon the many different images in the painting.  I stood next to her wondering how someone even begins to imagine, let alone paint, something like this. My wife walked around the corner and stopped at a painting that captured a horse standing with a single tear falling from his eye all the way down to the bottom of the canvas.  Across the bottom of the canvas was a pool of tears. My wife slowly sat down on the cement floor and began to cry. Ashley walked over to her and sat down by her side and they wept together. The energy of the painting spoke to my wife and the emotions that she had been hiding from me about the pain she had inside of her came to the surface.

We spent almost two hours in the studio and when we left, I knew that each of us had experienced something very different. There was no way to try to explain what had happened or why, but it did, and I know that each canvas that captured the “Children” in Ashley’s life spoke to my wife, my daughter, and me. We drove home that afternoon with a very different understanding of Ashley Collins and her paintings. I now understood that magical moments could be found beyond the shores of Carlson’s Resort. Through her paintings and her success, Ashley established charities that continue to help children and women worldwide. She shared with me pictures of kids with cancer in Idaho and orphans in Cambodia. She has poured back into this world much more than just her art. 

An interviewer asked Ashley about “failures” in her life and she very truthfully answered that she simply does not understand this concept at all. She told him, “I do understand that I have evolved my luminescence, my journey, my purpose, my knowledge, my love.” She shared with me, “Don’t be afraid of those who are addicted to judgement, nor the critics, nor the fear of ‘failure’. Entities who are capable of experiencing total complete happiness, total complete harmony are often defined by the ignorant who speak solely of ‘failure’.” She continued to enlighten me, “It is the same thing whence you and I speak, especially where ‘My Children’ are present. We are speaking the language of a much higher vibration such that to others we are mute. We speak within the luminescent sounds, the language of God in the hiding place of thunder, in the breath inside the breath.” 

Ashley has become a living angel on horseback for my family and for so many all over this world. She has helped me to imagine beyond the boundaries of the fear that holds my heart. I can now reach out my clasping hands not afraid to chase fireflies in the dark.

He made my mouth like a sharpened sword, in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver. Isaiah 49:2