Tuesday, March 20, 2018

March 20

As Brady and I waited for the second bell to ring this afternoon, I stopped and looked at him; like really stopped and looked at him as he splashed from one puddle to the next underneath his little Planes umbrella.

I don't think I spend enough time just watching my kids be themselves. I do try to make a conscious effort to be present to them, but I don't know that I just sit back and observe as often as I should because somehow, seeing him with darker hair and that sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose --the one trait he obviously got from me-- took me by surprise. I mean, I'm well-aware that he's seven years old, but in the same breath... wow, seven.

So today, I'm thankful for the reminder that I should pay more attention because before I know it, he'll been eight and nine and 10. And I can watch video to remember and recapture some of the feelings, but I'll never live in these moments ever again.

Monday, March 19, 2018

March 19

The sunset tonight was stunning, and I would've missed it had I not been facing "the wrong way." See, Isaac had a baseball game. After a rough start, I headed to the restroom when Adam arrived and then wandered over to visit a friend whose son was playing on a nearby field. Since I could see Isaac's game across the way (and fortunately did NOT miss his two-RBI double!), I stood and chatted with her until the games ended, and as I walked back over to where Isaac was playing, I saw this:

It was a reminder to me that there are beautiful sights to be seen and experiences to be had that we may not expect. So keep your eyes --and, to be cliche, your heart-- open so you won't miss 'em.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

March 18

Bear with me, because this'll be a long one.

With all the rain we've had lately, my joints --knees, back, ribs-- have been a mess. So when I got up this morning, it took me quite a while to decide to go to church because given that my knees tend to lock up after 10 minutes of non-motion, the idea of sitting in a chair for 90 minutes was entirely unappealing. Eventually, however, I hauled myself upstairs, got dressed, and off we went.

When we got there, I stopped to talk to my friend Tina and happened to mention my creaky joints. We chatted briefly about the idea of healing and she said a quick prayer for me, and then I packed away the interaction in my mind and joined everyone else inside.

What I didn't know was that the entire service would be about healing. The guest speaker --who has a healing ministry-- talked about God's kindness and how it's in His very nature to heal. I heard what he had to say and teared up multiple times because healing is an extremely difficult topic for me for very obvious reasons: if God wants to heal, then why didn't He heal Logan? I poured my heart and soul and every bit of emotion I could muster to beg for my son's life for 18 grueling months, but that earthly healing I so desperately wanted didn't come. Six plus years later and I still don't know exactly how to cope with that brand of heartache, nor do I know what to do with the crushing feelings of disappointment when they arise. And I know that I have to accept it as my reality because no one on this side of Heaven will ever be able to make it make sense.

I guess it's fair to say that I've probably prayed pretty timid prayers since he died; it's not uncommon for me to mutter 'okay, God, just do whatever You want to do and make me okay with it.' The expectations I once held --the notion that God not only could but would do great things-- are muted, softened, weathered like a piece of ocean rock. I don't think I gave up, per se, but I definitely stopped hoping for anything extraordinary.

Anyhow, toward the end of the service, he asked anyone in the room who needed healing --any kind: physical, emotional, relational-- to stand up. Given that I'm a mess in multiple areas, it didn't take me long to rise to my feet, and I opted to focus on my most immediate and obvious need: the physical discomfort. I won't lie: I didn't feel any difference in my knees. But at one point, in the silence, I felt like God said "It's time." Time for healing for me.

I don't really know what that will look like, to be honest, because I'm covered with so many sore spots and raw areas that I don't even know if I can open myself up enough to be reached by that healing touch. But for the first time in a very long while, I'll try. And trying is often the best first step we can take.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

March 17

The boys got their report cards yesterday (and lest you're wondering why Abby didn't get hers, the education powers-that-be here have decided that elementary schools operate on the trimester schedule while middle and high are on quarter/semester. It's never made sense to me but 'tis neither here nor there). So after lunch today, they got ice cream as a treat.

I don't spend much time bragging about their academic achievements because honestly, it's far more important to me that they be good people than awesome students. But I'm proud of them, and seeing them reach their potential makes my heart smile.

Friday, March 16, 2018

March 16

I didn't really feel like watching another Marvel movie tonight, so I made a last-second decision to tag along on Isaac's youth group bowling outing.

My back's been bothering me this week so I didn't actually bowl, but I watched and cheered and observed. And by the time Isaac and I got in the car to head home, I'd adopted an all-new appreciation of the youth leaders. Not everyone is blessed with the patience to spend an evening with a herd of fourth-through-sixth graders, but they did it with aplomb. And for the gift of people who enjoy time with kids and have that extra bit of patience, I'm thankful.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

March 15

When I was a kid, I wanted to design houses (until I realized that it was kind of important to be good at math. I wasn't terrible at it, per se, but it definitely wasn't my 'thing.'). I remember spending hours sitting at the table in my grandparents' little breakfast area, drawing and labeling room after room. So I was a bit surprised when Brady showed me this today:

He's a little younger than I was when I was entrenched in home design (which explains why his creation features multiple "eating rooms"), but I felt a sense of nostalgia sweep over me when I saw what he'd drawn. It was a long time ago for me, of course, but it's always a blessing when something one of my kiddos does points to a sweet memory from my past.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

March 14

I was straightening the foyer this evening when I found this just laying on the floor near the shoe cubbies:

I'm guessing it's a Valentine's Day card that Brady forgot to give us --based on the hand size and the fact that it says 'Brady' in his handwriting on the back-- but it sure was nice to find it today.