It pains me infinitely that Logan isn't sitting there with his little brothers on that rickety chair. But it's good for the rest of us to be here, away from the annoyances and trials we face on a daily basis, just hanging out. It's a big blessing, and I'm thankful for it, even when the kids are a bit too loud and my head aches a bit too much.
The second we got out of the car at the cabin, there were gleeful squeals all around. And snowballs thrown. (And complaints of cold feet and hands, but hey, we can't have it all.)
But the main thrust is that they were excited. Childishly, happily excited. And that innocence... it's perfection. And I think it's the way God wants us to view the natural wonders of His world every single day.
.JPG)
It's a good thing, really, because we desperately need the moisture here. It's been far too dry for far too long.
It's also a good thing because it reminds me that even the biggest rain clouds can ultimately deliver some pretty significant blessings, even though we don't particularly enjoy the sting of the drops as hurtle from the sky to the earth below. It's a blessing to be reminded that just as the flowers and my little back yard garden will ultimately benefit from the showers, I will too. In one way or another.
Until I got up close --very close, and touched it-- I thought it was a clump of long-forgotten evergreen needles or a baby tree just starting out. But it is, in actuality, a clump of itty bitty tomato seedlings. A virtual sea of them, 50 to 60 strong; I tried counting the tiny little plants, but they're so tightly bound together that I couldn't keep track.
These are clearly volunteers from a hearty cherry tomato that fell, unnoticed, from last year's mega plant. But it amazed me to see so many in one spot; the volume of LIFE that teems and grows in that tiny, one-inch square astounds me.
God's nature is just incredible. I'm grateful to be reminded of that truth. And I find it comforting to know that God Himself sees every single one of those bitty plants --even the ones I couldn't count-- because it means He definitely sees me, even when I feel invisible.
Abby, Logan, Isaac, and Brady all took that hike. Logan actually never went as a student --he was sick one year and in treatment the other-- but he came along when Abby was a preschooler, so that's good enough for me.
I treasure the fact that I have memories of all four of my babies walking that trail and looking for birds and bugs and cool rocks. There's a lot of God in those memories and in the conversations I've shared with the other moms during this little hike over the years.
And for all of that, I'm grateful.
Although his drawers are full of potential clothing options, he managed to select the exact same outfit I'd packed in Brady's overnight bag. So when Brady cae home from grandma's, The Little Boys were the little twins.
The funny thing is, Isaac didn't do it deliberately; he didn't watch me pack and had no idea that Brady was wearing the same duds.
They're connected, those two. They really are. And I thank God for that.
We had a nice morning dropping Abby and Isaac off at school; he was in a good mood and I made myself dizzy chasing him in circles, eliciting plenty of gleeful shrieks. At one point, we took this selfie:
A little while later, as we sat in the parking lot at preschool munching on a hash brown (him) and sipping coffee (me) --otherwise known as our Tuesday Routine-- he sat back in Abby's seat. And then...
Mommy, I wuv you.
It marked the first time he gave me an unsolicited I love you. And it melted my heart.
There's no better feeling than to be loved. And there's really no better feeling than the one you get when your child says I love you and means it.
It's definitely one of the biggest God-things there is.
Between the sunset in the distance, the endless patch of mustard, and the cross on the Catholic church, this is a deeply, profoundly calming scene all-around.
And every now and then, I need to see something that exudes this particular brand of pure, unadulterated calm.
Following an extended winter's blink, the pretty orange blooms are just about everywhere right now, dotting hillsides and dancing in the breeze along the side of the road.
I saw these particular flowers at my in-laws' house at today's joint birthday party, and they reminded me once again of the blessing of spring and the accompanying rejuvenation of life.
Abby isn't exactly the most emotionally expressive child. In fact, she's very inward, only sharing things that bother her when she darn well feels like it.
So those days when she deliberately chooses to share time with Isaac are meaningful to me. It's almost as if they pull her more deeply into the fabric of our family. I think at times, she feels like she's on the frayed edges without Logan here to secure her spot in the center of the design. I'm deeply thankful that she has The Little Boys, and am even more thankful when she decides to be thankful for THEM.
The Little Boys and I were at the dance studio waiting for Abby's class to end. Just as a woman came through the door to talk to the receptionist about a campaign supporting Children's Hospital Oakland, Brady handed me a sheet of paper and asked me to draw sheepies.
I was caught up in my own thoughts, remembering our time at CHO, and I didn't clue in to what Brady was asking right away, so I asked him to repeat himself, and he did: He wanted me to draw sheep. So I did.
It was weird because Brady never asks me to draw sheep. It was weirder because sheep were Logan's special animals. It was weirdest because the woman's mention of CHO already had my mind and heart set of remembering my Logan.
And then... sheep.
Surely, God and my sunshine had something to do with that moment of bittersweet strangeness.
See, although God is everywhere and in everything, sometimes I don't find Him unless I look. And today was tiring. I didn't have much energy and as a result, I didn't look very hard at all.
Anyway, just moments after I uttered come on, Lord, please give me SOMEthing, I found these:
I bought a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs --which may well be my favorite candy ever-- last week. I ate some, and then promptly forgot about it until I saw the bag this evening.
So not only did I get a wink in the form of a candy that reminds me that Easter is coming, but I also got a tasty treat. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.
By late-afternoon, I was completely spent and ready for bed.
After dinner, I asked Brady to come sit with me in my chair. Initially, he said no, and I leaned back and closed my eyes to the sounds of "Dora the Explorer" on TV. But then a minute later, he was standing next to the recliner, clutching this blanket, waiting to climb up next to me.
It was a brief cuddle, but I got to sit with him, hold his little hands and inhale the aroma of his hair.
There really isn't anything better, if you ask me. He's only 3, but he gave me my biggest blessing of the day, proving that little people can most definitely do very big things.
At Costco tonight, Abby came back to the table with a slice of pepperoni while Isaac plopped down a slice of combo. As I started to dig into my own cheese slice, Adam remarked that I'd gotten the very last piece.
And then Abby and Isaac shared that though they'd both wanted cheese, they decided I could have it.
They made a personal sacrifice and took their second-choice options so I could have what I wanted.
So sweet, so appreciated, and such a blessing. And such a sweet bit of Heaven on earth.
Beautiful, wispy brushstrokes painted by none other than God Himself to close out the sunlit portion of the day.
Easily overlooked, but well-worth the extra drive around the block that it took for me to get a decent angle.
Given that I haven't jogged at all for about nine months, it was a crazy decision. But this afternoon, I put on my running shoes and decided to take a practice trip down a local path, largely expecting a disaster. But it didn't go that way. In fact, for me, the result was nothing short of miraculous. I jogged 1.3 miles without stopping at a comfortable 10:30 pace. That's slow for some, but for me, with my history of aching knees and mild asthma, it's solid. I was amazed that I didn't feel tired or particularly out of breath, and that my legs and knees didn't betray me.
It was a blessing to feel healthy for once.
He looked at me with a big smile and held up a single leaf, and shared that the leaf had fallen right into his lap after he sat down.
He was very amused over and taken by the experience, simple as it was.
And for the upteenth time, I was thankful for the reminder that we're supposed to view the little things with the eyes of a child.
She's been a doll person for years, and I'd intended to buy her the Caroline historical doll when I visited the American Girl store in Virginia in December, but it was sold out at the time. So I promised I'd send it to her... as soon as I could find a free shipping code. (Hey, don't judge; she was cool with it!)
Anyway, after waiting for a few months, I was starting to think one would never pop up, so it was a blessing to me to come across this one when I wasn't even looking.
After I handed him the bears, he asked their names. Then he hugged them tightly as he walked out to the car. I snapped this picture when I turned around to look at him.
He's distinctively Brady, but in this moment, he was also very Logan. I have a similar picture of Logan hugging a pair of bunnies from his preschool class four years ago.
Those moments of seeing my Sunshine in my other kids... priceless.
I know it's kind of hard to tell because he did the whole thing on his own by sounding out the words, but it's called "How to Love Lions" and it features different ways that we can "lov liins."
Although it took me a while to make out some of the words, as both a mom and a writer, my heart swelled with pride when I saw it. Milestones like these are just so precious and so blessed, and I hope to always be mindful of their importance.
I love it when they play with those tiny, die-cast cars; how they laugh and giggle and carry on as they race tiny maroon Mustangs against glittery red Dodge Chargers. It never matters who wins; it really is, for them in those moments, about playing together and having brotherly fun.
And in my mind's eye, I can see Logan right there with them, where he belongs. And for that, I'm grateful.
This photo has absolutely nothing to do with Adam's birthday, but it was just such an odd --and almost funny-- sight to me that I knew right off that I had to use it today.
It rained for a little while early this morning, and when we went out to the car to head to school, the bush by our driveway was covered in snails. They were everywhere.
I'm not anti-snail unless they're eating my vegetable garden, so the sight of these guys hanging upside down and rightside up and sideways off the bush made me laugh.
And those moments of amusement do a whole lot of good, especially when I'm feeling down.
She told me that when she came downstairs and looked out the dining room window, she saw a pretty blue and white bird, which based on a later sighting, was a blue jay. That particular kind of bird isn't common here at all, so it was a startling sight. She looked at me expectantly for a moment before finally blurting out Logan! Logan did it!.
Logan's favorite color was indeed blue. Whether or not Logan had anything to do with our blue jay's appearance is a mystery, but I'm so happy that Abby still finds her best friend in unexpected places.
As we strolled along, Abby gave me these wildflowers. They're a sweet, unexpected gift for sure, but they're also a reminder of the beauty of God's creation and of the renewal and new life that earmarks the coming spring season.
I'm grateful to be reminded, in the midst of an often tiring existence, that all things will eventually be made new and fresh once again.
It all came tumbling out when she answered. She listened to all of my rambling, and as she usually does, she tried to help. Because that's what moms do. At least, that's what the good ones do. And I'm blessed to have her in my life.
And I'm trying to store up her words of wisdom so one day, when Abby comes to me for help, I'll be able to make my little girl feel like just maybe the world isn't collapsing around her after all.
(And yes... I'm named after my mom.)
Obviously, it would be bad if I ate these every day, but now and again, it's a nice treat to sit in my comfy chair, zone out in front of the TV, and munch on something sweet. It's a simple thing, but it provides a few minutes of much-needed (and very tasty) respite.
And I'm thankful for those stolen, sugary moments.
After school today, I let Isaac and Brady play at the park with some friends for a long while. They had a blast running and laughing and jumping and just being 3 and 5 years old.
When we got home, I put Brady down for his nap, and Isaac conked out on the couch. He stopped napping quite some time ago, so it was a blessing to be able to sit and watch him sleep, and to be reminded of the sweetness of those quiet moments.
I stopped because I was mindful of the importance of stopping to smell the roses whenever the opportunity presents itself.
And those roses reminded me that it's important to be thankful --and to express that thankfulness-- no matter what our circumstances.
So I sniffed those roses. And hopefully tomorrow will be better.
My dad gave the kids that turtle at Christmas time. It features loud music and flashing colored lights. And it spins. So suffice it to say that they all love it and find it greatly amusing.
I found Brady there on the kitchen floor staring at it mid-morning today. I stood back and watched him for a minute, and relished the way the lights danced in his eyes.
Once again, as always, it's the little things.
I don't remember which kid started it and it's really not even an important detail. When I looked over at it this evening, it was as if I saw it with new eyes. Because for the first time, I saw myself in it's absence of completion.
My life, if viewed in words and deeds and actions and accomplishments, looks a lot like this picture. There are lots of beautiful, sparkly elements. But there are also tasks that I still need to complete and friends that I need to make and experiences that I need to have, like the numbers in the picture that haven't yet been covered with their corresponding colorful foam pieces.
Every now and then, it's nice to be reminded that I'm a work in progress. And that being a work in progress is okay.
Like I've said a hundred kajillionty times before, this kind of resplendent light makes me think of Heaven. And God. And Logan. And of what he's doing there right now.
And though I miss him more than I can express, if he can't be here with us, I like to think of him tooling around on perfect, purely white clouds, bathed in equally perfect light.
