Thursday, February 28, 2013

February 28

I haven't felt especially loved lately. It's probably a glitch in my own perception of reality, but it is what it is. It affects me whether I want it to or not. That's why this was such a nice thing to see when I logged in to play a game this afternoon.

A series of little love notes from Abby. She's not historically been the most affectionate of my kids; Logan was always my love bug, telling me he loved me multiple times a day and offering up scores of hugs and kisses. I miss it.

But I'm so grateful for the unexpected expressions from my girl. And for the not subtle reminder that despite my fears and insecurities, I am loved.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

February 27

Sometimes winks aren't about recognizing the lighter side of life. No, sometimes they're designed to provide comfort; to be that quiet voice that whispers yes, I know it's hard. And I know you struggle. And that's okay.

So today's bit comes from a song I heard on the radio. I've actually heard it and ruminated on it a bunch of times over the past few months. But today, the meaning of the lyrics hit me in earnest.

These are some of the words to Lee Brice's "I Drive Your Truck". I looked it up, and it's based on an interview with a family who lost a son; the parent was asked how they cope with the loss. The simple response? "I drive his truck".

Obviously, Logan never had a truck or a car or even a bike. He was only 5 when he went Heavenward. But I feel the soul behind the lyrics. I feel that need to maintain a connection with him in my own special, personally meaningful way.

And I feel --really feel-- this section of the song, which ironically, I only heard --or maybe "tuned in to" would be a better way to say it-- this morning:

I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I’m missing you this much...

I know that feeling. And today, I felt like God was telling me that He knows that I know that feeling. And that it's okay to feel that way. And that's an invaluable thing.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

February 26

Sometimes it feels like time is flying by at Concorde-like speed.

I mean, wasn't this little muffin of mine just a newborn? How can he be standing there with his backpack on, ready to go to grandma's house all by his lonesome?

Still, as always, I see God in the time's passage. I've gotten to see Brady grow from babyhood and well into toddlerhood. And that's a pretty awesome thing.

Monday, February 25, 2013

February 25

I'm not a nature girl. Mucking through muck on a camping trip or sleeping in a tent rank up there with, oh, having a mild ear infection. So it stands to reason that it's not often that I'm awed --and I mean really awed-- by something I find outside. Today I --or rather Isaac-- found an exception to that rule.

Amazing, isn't it? An itty, bitty intricate plant sprung from an even itty-bittier seed. A reminder that not only do small things come in small packages, but that those things can be indescribably --surprisingly-- beautiful, too.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

February 24

Some days, I see God in the very simplest of elements.

A big sister helping her little brother up the stairs in the bright light of a Sunday afternoon. There's God in the sun, God in the relationship and God in... life.

I'd try to complicate it, to extrapolate something else, but it really is just that straightforward.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

February 23

With the exception of a (totally brutal and wretched) case of heartburn, today was a really good one. There were many moments of happiness that bordered on joy. I haven't had many really happy days in quite a long while. But the best part of all? It was just a normal day. So in celebration, today's picture is purely whimsical.

Yep, those are my feet. And double yep, I did indeed go out into public wearing glittery gold shoes, mis-matched rainbow socks and black spandex pants. (And a pink shirt, in case you were wondering.) I totally felt like I belonged on the People of Walmart site, but you know something? It didn't bug me a bit. In my silliness, I felt like I was really alive.

And that sense of shameless freedom, my friends, is a God-given blessing... if we're fearless enough to take it.

Friday, February 22, 2013

February 22

Sometimes, the best reminders of God's presence come in small packages, and those small packages are best-remembered on special days.

This is my adorable niece Brianna, who celebrated her fifth birthday today.

I don't see her, her bro or their parents, my older brother and his wife, very often, since they live back in Maryland and I'm not much of a cross-country traveler. I snagged the photo from my sister-in-law's Facebook page, in fact; I took one look at it and knew she was my winklet today! But they're all blessings to me, even if I don't say it often and even if the physical distance prevents us from being especially close.

Happy birthday, first and lone niece of mine. May God bless you bunches this year.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

February 21

I know lots of folks who cringe over the very notion of fast food, but bear with me for a second.

This is the cup that held the Diet Coke that I bought today while escaping what I affectionately call "sick bay", also know as "my house right now". I know it's strange to think about God within the context of a cup. But it's what the cup stands for that's important: it represents a few minutes' reprieve from dealing with the stomach bug that's crippled my family for the past few days.

And let me tell you: that's a very good thing.

February 20

Brady's short-lived stomach bug completely took me out yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say that it was horrible. I'm feeling very tired and dizzy this morning, but considerably better, thankfully.

I took this photo yesterday morning, before the virus kicked in.

I don't know why it was on my family room carpet, but something made me take its picture.

In hindsight, I know it was a wink designed to help get me through what was to come.

And for that, I'm grateful.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

February 19

When most people see rainbows, they think Oh, how beautiful!

When I see a rainbow, more often than not, I think Oh crap, what's coming?.

After all, rainbows are the sign of a promise from God. A sort of 'it'll be okay, trust me' kind of deal. I know. I saw one two days before Logan passed away. And it was completely bizarre, because that particular day was not only rain-less, but nearly cloudless, too. I knew, at that moment, that something major was about to happen. And then, well, you know.

That's why I felt a mix of alarm and intrigue this morning when my friend and close neighbor Michelle PMd me to tell me that there was a big rainbow outside. Her message was unusual for a number of reasons. For one, since Abby is a Late Bird at school, I'm not usually up at 6:45. But I was today, because all students were Early Birds thanks to GATE testing. It was also weird because even Michelle said afterward that she doesn't usually PM me to tell me things like that.

But she did. And I went outside, saw it and snapped this picture before it faded away.

I then went about the business of starting the day, wondering, in the back of my mind, if the rainbow had special significance, or was merely a feel-good wink.

As we were getting ready to head out, Abby went upstairs to retrieve Brady. Moments later, she appeared at the top of the staircase complaining about a horrible smell in his room. I didn't think much of it... until Brady himself rounded the corner. And threw up.

I've yet to meet a mom who enjoys vomit. It stinks, it's messy, it usually indicates a contagious condition and it's not fun to clean up. But for a mom who's life has been marred by a brain tumor, vomit --especially morning vomit-- is terrifying. The fears, the memories of the times that Logan threw up... how I missed it... how if I'd just done something other than assume he'd had an allergic reaction... maybe things would've gone differently. The thoughts, the regrets, the fears... they all came back to haunt me this morning as I watched Brady throw up.

I cried. Of course I did. I don't think I'd be fully human if I didn't. But then I remembered the rainbow. How on an ordinary day, Michelle wouldn't have PMd me and I wouldn't have been up to see it. But she did. And I was.

And though vomit sucks, it'll be all right. Because the rainbow said so.

Monday, February 18, 2013

February 18

Although it didn't rain today, the sky was overcast from sunrise to sunset. There's something gloomy about plain old cloudy days; no sunshine to literally and figuratively lighten moods, no rain to wash away impurities. Still, I was taken by the view from my back yard this evening:

Despite the patchy clouds and darkness, the sky is still beautiful in its own way. Life is like that too: it's not always easy. It doesn't always go the way we pray it will. But there is always beauty to be found amid the trials and ugliness. And that's a blessing.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

February 17

Today consisted of a string of pretty little blessings. A movie in an actual theater, dinner out with some friends, discovering Adam's Holy Grail of candy on sale. And of course, beautiful, sunny weather.

But today's wink comes in the form of a sweet bloom (or more accurately, two of them).

These are the bitty daffodil bulbs Adam planted on Logan's grave last Monday. When we went to visit today, we were delighted to see the happy yellow heads swaying slightly in the breeze. It heartens me to see life in a place where so much sadness dwells.

Even better? The deer don't like daffodils. :)

Saturday, February 16, 2013

February 16

It's not often that I look at something and bust out laughing. But I did today.

I've probably walked and driven by this tree about five thousand times over the past six years. It's located less than half a mile from our house and we usually pass it during our walks. (And sorry it's sideways -- I can't get it to turn!) But today, for the very first time, I noticed that it has a distinctive face. Admittedly, it's something of a creepy expression, but still: it's a face on a tree. A completely strange, random twist of nature.

It reminded me of two important truths. First, God can be funny. I think that's awesome. And second, things can't always be taken at face-value. I spent the past six years not thinking at all about that tree. After all, trees are just... well, trees. But when I finally looked at it today, I saw a whole lot more than bark, branches and leaves.

And had I never looked, I'd never know about the great thing I'd been missing out on all along.

Friday, February 15, 2013

February 15

This morning, I co-oped in Isaac's preschool class where I was blessed to watch a small herd of four and five-year olds enjoy their Valentine's Day party. During the course of the morning, Isaac's teacher --who I'm happy to call a friend of mine-- lamented not buying what she described as sparkly sugar sprinkles a few weeks back. I filed the comment away in the cobwebbed back room of my mind, and was tickled (seriously!) to find them during a trip to the store this afternoon.

They're just sprinkles, but I was so happy to find them, knowing that she'd be happy to receive them. I see God both in finding them, and in having the ability to buy a few containers that I can use to bless my friend. Simple, but so very good.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

February 14

Sure, it's a Hallmark holiday. But Valentine's Day is still a special one worthy of celebration. Is it a little sad that we need to be reminded to express our love for one another? Yes. But it's never a sad thing when we do express it, regardless of the impetus.

With that said, today's wink is a very simple one.

A little bit of love, a little bit of indulgence. A very sweet pairing indeed.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

February 13

I visited Logan's grave this morning to water the new plants. Just as I turned to walk back to my car, I --almost as an afterthought-- asked that he find a way to say hi. If he could. And that little bitty request marked the beginning of an avalanche: flowers, Corvettes, dancing, cupcakes.

But in the interest of keeping it relatively short and sweet, I think the very first one of the day is probably the most meaningful.

I was standing in the shoe aisle at Target a little while later when my purse started to ribbit. I was confused for about two seconds, and then I remembered it: the frog light.

I think I talked about it in Logan's blog, but one of the nurses at CHO loaned him a broken frog light while he was in treatment. Although the light-part no longer works, the sound feature is fully functional, and Logan enjoyed pressing the button and making him riiiiibbit. I can still see him smiling and hear him giggling as he pressed that button.

Somehow, at some point, that little frog made its way into my purse. And every now and then, usually just when I need to hear it, that little frog ribbits.

And I remember. Heaven is for real, y'all.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

February 12

Disclaimer time: I don't love today's photo. I'm truly my own harshest critic, and I hate how it makes my backside look huge. But I like the concept and it's the only one I took, so here goes.

As Isaac and I walked to school this afternoon, I watched our shadows strolling along in front of us, and after a minute, I stopped, pulled out my phone and snapped this shot. Why? It's simple, really: it reminded me that we all walk in the 'light' of God's grace.

And that's a very good thing.

Monday, February 11, 2013

February 11

I can't lie: I was hoping for a cosmic, can't-deny-it wink today. Although that didn't really happen, there were little things sprinkled in between the minutes and hours. The way that a Cars jacket and ballcap made Isaac look just like Logan from across a field, the Box of Sunshine from some good friends, the pictures and well-wishes left on my Facebook wall in observance of Logan's Fun Day. And I'm deeply grateful for those glimpses of God.

But the one that I'm sharing comes from the end of the day. We decided to have dinner at one of Logan's very favorite places: the Costco food court. When the pizza was finished and the cart snagged, we wandered by the electronics section. And playing on a series of big screen TVs was Cars 2.

It's just a movie. But it's also the very last movie Logan ever saw in a theater.

And beyond that, he loved it. He quoted it, and Finn McMissile --who Logan called Sin McMickel, since his hearing betrayed him during his last months-- was easily his favorite 'movie star'. We stood there and watched, bemused, for a minute. And then we moved on. But Finn will always be in my heart.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

February 10

I took a lot of different photos today. With a month and change of this project already under my belt, I now find it much easier to see God... everywhere, really. But today, the day before the one-year anniversary of Logan's passing, I hoped to find something really special. So I clicked.

And clicked.

And clicked some more.

And then in painfully cliche fashion, I realized that what I'd been searching for had been right under my nose all day long.

This is a screen capture of a video I uploaded to the Remembering Logan Facebook page this morning. It's brief, but it absolutely encapsulates his essence.

And the last few lines... they take my breath away.

Me: I love you.
Logan: I lub you.
Me: I'll see you soon.
Logan: I'll see you soon.
Me: Bye.
Logan: Bye.

They take my breath away because they're so simple, yet they communicate everything that matters in this life: I love you, and I'll see you soon. And both of those things are true. I will miss him until the day that I leave this earth, and on the bad days, it's hard to remember what's true. But I will see him again.

So yes, God is most definitely in that 28-second video clip.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

February 9

I'm a grown-up with a husband, kids of my own, a house to maintain, bills to pay and life to be lived. But sometimes --and plenty of times of late-- I just want to go home. I want to go back to my childhood, when my biggest worry was whether or not I'd get an A on my next math test. That's why little winks like this one are so welcome.

After lunch this afternoon, we trooped outside to head home. I tailed Brady as he scampered a few parking spots over and came to a stop in front of this car, which just happened to bear a Maryland license tag. I do see plates from my home state every now and then, but not often: after all, it's quite a trek from MD to CA. And they always make me smile.

My roots may be tangled and complicated in ways, but they're mine. And I love to be reminded that they're there, both here with me, and back home in Maryland.

Friday, February 8, 2013

February 8

This is a little repetitive, I know. But between cloudbursts, the sky today was stunning.

Cleansed of airborne impurities, it was a perfect blue and filled with fluffy clouds, some stormy, some the brightest white you could imagine. And it all reminded me that though there are some amazingly talented artists in this world, nothing man-made can compare with what God can create in one-quarter of a blink of a human eye.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

February 7

I got some really great news a week and a half ago. But I wasn't allowed to share it with anyone, so I kept it locked away in my little head until this afternoon, when I was officially allowed to spill the beans.

I dabble in freelance writing. A few days after Logan took his journey to Heaven, I decided to write a tribute to him, and it was published on the Yahoo Contributor Network platform. I wanted to get his story out. I wanted people to know him; to understand how he lived. How we all should try to cope with adversity in life. After all, I don't get to see him as a 6-year old. And I won't see him ride a bike or graduate from high school or get married or become a dad, either. So as his mom, it's vital to me that others know him in whatever way possible.

Anyway, the tribute won a YCN Content of the Year Award. It comes with a nice monetary prize, but I'm really pleased because it means more people will be introduced to my Sunshine. And that is a huge blessing to me.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

February 6

Isaac spied a wisher as we wheeled our way toward Abby's school this afternoon. I plucked it and handed it to him, and he blew and blew and blew, scattering the wispy seeds into the great, not-so-wild unknown of a nearby street. When we arrived at the school, he presented his open palm, upon which rested the miniscule survivor of his effort:

As he shared his master plan of planting the seed in our yard, I silently reflected, for the millionth time in my life, on how utterly amazing a simple seed is. So much potential, so much hope, so much beauty, locked away inside an itty bitty, unassuming shell. Certainly one of God's greatest mysteries and blessings.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

February 5

I had a little conversation with myself a few minutes ago. It went something like this:

Me: So what was good about today?
Myself: Grumble, grumble, NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL.
Me: Surely there must've been something of redeeming quality that's worth a mention.
Myself: NO, it was all awful. Brady was up all night, I'm exhausted, everybody was cranky and/or difficult. Endless bickering, no gratitude, horrible headache, asthma's acting up, cable's acting funky so I can't watch 'Jeopardy'. NOTHING good!

That's when I flipped through the images on my phone and remembered a fleeting moment from this morning:

It's the Little Boys, just as we arrived home after dropping Abby off at school.

Regardless of the events of the rest of the day, they are always a little bit of Heaven on earth.

Monday, February 4, 2013

February 4

Adam often puts the kids to bed, but tonight, an under-the-weather Brady clung to me so I had the honor.

After books were read and a good-night prayer said, I held him in my arms and sang a handful of bedtime tunes. The same ones I sang to each of our other three kids. As I cradled him, he looked up at me, gazing fervently into my eyes. And suddenly, it was four years ago and I was holding Logan, rocking him in that very same chair, singing him the very same songs.

And then, of course, as suddenly as the feeling of deja vous hit me, it was gone, and Logan was Brady again. And we were sitting in that chair in February of 2013, rocking and staring at each other.

I know it was just one of those funny moments in time. And I don't want any of my kids to be someone they're not; after all, no one will ever be Logan, just like no one else will ever be Abby or Isaac or Brady. But it was a blessing, for just a single, sweet moment, to go back, even if it was all just in my head.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

February 3

Just a short (and hopefully marginally sweet) one today.

This is, of course, an old tree stump. It's well-worn by the elements, and like all trees, it shows its age via a succession of concentric rings.

It also shows, in visible fashion, how life goes on over the years, even when times are tough. The rings may be larger or smaller depending on the weather and available water supply, but the tree continues growing regardless of the conditions it had to withstand.

I think people have 'rings', too. And like all living things, God gives us the strength we need to not only weather, but to grow and thrive, during our most painfully draining experiences.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

February 2

Our Saturday afternoons often include a long walk, and today didn't deviate from the norm. We looped past Abby's school and down a long, paved trail that we've frequented for several years. Though we stayed on the path, I stopped for a moment to admire this:

It is, in a very literal sense, the road less taken: a narrow lane that winds its way over the terrain and up a hill. The ground is ruddy and uneven, and it's wise to watch your step, lest you might come across a temperamental snake, or, more practically, an ankle-swallowing hole in the ground.

But that doesn't mean it's not worthy of an occasional stroll. After all, sometimes the best memories are made when we veer off the path.

And you know something? I think that sometimes, God Himself provides those little side trips. They're like a little bite of Heaven right here on earth.

Friday, February 1, 2013

February 1

I don't have any sisters. As a result, I tend to struggle with relating to other girls and women. Boys, no prob. But girls have always been a whole 'nother ball of yarn to unravel. Today, however, I was blessed with a double-shot of girly goodness, and I think it's just what I needed.

This is Abby with her really good friend Belle after school today. Not to be deliberately cliche, but they truly are two peas in a pod. When they were in second grade, their then-teacher once told me that she frequently mixed them up. I didn't understand until I saw them together for the first time. And the sight was remarkable: they share similar mannerisms, the same color hair, and plenty of likes (dolls!) and dislikes (dogs). And both have opined to me that it would be super cool if they'd actually been born sisters. They are, somehow, connected at the heart. And watching them whisper and giggle makes my heart overflow.

Then this evening, I had the chance to go out to dinner with my friends Jamie and Corie. It was wonderful to get out. It was even more wonderful to share a frank, honest conversation with other girls. I crave real friendship, and tonight was a blessing.

I came away from the day convinced that sisterhood isn't entirely about blood. If it were, those of us who weren't blessed with female siblings would miss out on the inherent joy of those relationships.

I'm especially grateful for Abby and Belle, who quite ironically gave me --the 35-year old mom-- a mini primer on the sparkly parts of sisterhood this afternoon. The experience reminded me that we can --and I believe God wants us to-- learn an awful lot from kids. We just have to pay attention.