This photo of Brady, Isaac and two of Isaac's kindergarten classmates (with a photo bomb by another!) represents almost everything about the simple sweetness of being young and carefree and just plain happy. It's one of my favorite images from the entire year to date, so I had to use it for that reason alone. But I also had to use it because it so perfectly encapsulates the innocence and joy that makes childhood so indelibly special and unique. There's really nothing better.
When we're old ladies, we'll get together and remember these times fondly, I'm sure. And that's a very good thing indeed.
He called it 'Flash' and was very excited to explain that he'd colored only one side because when it's held up to the light, the color shows through.
I love seeing my kids get so excited about being productive and creative. It's a huge mom-blessing.
Although he appreciated them fully, something else caught Adam's attention where we were there.
He marveled over the wildflowers nearby, noting that he'd not seen that particular combination of plants nestled together since his childhood days. He called Brady over and showed him how to make "darts" by combining parts of two different plants, just like he did when he was a little boy.
Although Brady was only marginally impressed, I enjoyed the moment.
One singular, lonely bag all by itself on the shelf at Walmart. I immediately had the sense that it'd been waiting all day for me to find it, and I was --as weird as it sounds-- elated.
It's so nice, every now and then, to find something you're looking for just when you're ready to throw in the towel.
In the midst of the busy-ness --interviews, transcription, writing, kids to school and activities, Brady not feeling well and needing extra down-time and cuddles-- I was especially appreciative of modern conveniences. Like computers and keyboards that make typing and submitting ALL of my work --and communication across the board-- so much easier than it would otherwise be.
I may not be a tech addict like some, but I'm thankful when it makes my life a bit less complicated.
And I was pleased to be greeted by these colorful, smiling faces. A hungry gopher has given us more than our share of headaches over the past several months, quickly eating just about every plant we've put in, but this particular lovely has, so far, managed to survive his unending case of the munchies.
It was a blessing to see those lovely flowers right where we left them, brightening up what could otherwise be a very sad place.
Anyway, while he took the Little Boys up to bed, he asked me to finish up with the dough, so I did. And I was a little surprised --and very gratified-- when I saw this on the tray as I pulled the very last batch out of the oven:
I didn't deliberately shape this cookie like a heart, but it looks like one, doesn't it? Given the deep meaning of cookie-making in our house, it seemed a fitting outcome for the activity.
And I'm thankful for it indeed: it's almost as if God and Logan were sending a joint little hi and I love you for us to enjoy.
When we went to Costco this evening, we discovered that the food court is undergoing a renovation. Rather than the usual array of cheesy pizzas and chicken bakes and frozen yogurts and churros, they were offering hot dogs --only hot dogs-- from what looked like a street-side vendor's cart.
So we all had hot dogs.
It wasn't what we'd planned on when we headed to dinner, but it was fun anyway. And it reminded me that being open to different experiences is a good thing. (And it also opened the door for Brady to suggest we take 'silly hot dog pictures,' which, of course we did. And that kind of silliness is a grade-A God winky blessing.)
There's really nothing special about this moment other than the fact that it was. So much of life is comprised of brief, seemingly insignificant vignettes.
It's a blessing to just soak them up now and then.
Conquered death. Took the wrath of God on His own shoulders.
Made it possible to see Logan again; for our family to be completely whole once again, as it should be.
The promise of that tomorrow brings tears to my eyes.
We didn't have many to start with and then several cracked during the boiling process. But they had a good time and there was minimal bickering (although they all wished --loudly-- that there were more eggs available).
It's a blessing to see them laugh and have fun together, especially when I consider how quickly time passes these days. Seeing them have fun is a good reminder to really immerse myself in their childhood, because I know they'll all be off living their own independent lives before I complete a blink.
I had an awful time capturing the color via camera, but it's a perfect shade of sunny-day blue. And it reminds me of Logan's eyes. And of course, of Heaven, too.
And those are always good things, because I love it when I can look down at what I'm wearing and be reminded of my sunshine and where we'll meet up again some day.
This morning, Brady's class had their Easter chapel service, candy "hunt," and feast.
As we all chowed down on pizza, egg rolls, veggies, and a host of other treats, I looked around the classroom and realized that once again, we've been blessed with the opportunity to get to know yet another group of great moms and kids.
It's such a blessing to be surrounded by terrific people.
After Brady got home late this morning from a night away, I gave him a hug and said I missed you while you were at grandma's house. He paused and looked up at me with a reassuring expression on his face and replied But I always come back. I always come back and you can see me again.
Those words both melted and broke my heart at once. Although I know he was just parroting what I've told him many times over, there was a pure sincerity in his eyes that reduced me to a mommy-puddle instantly.
And it broke my heart, too, because it reminded me, in a very real way, of how much I wish I could see Logan.
And I'm so glad he did, because seeing him there illuminated by the soft blue glow of his snowflake night lights as he sang sweet, gentle versions of "Jesus Loves Me" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" was absolutely priceless.
But the most priceless moment of all came as he launched into a Jesus-themed song I didn't recognize. So I sat and listened, and after a few lines I realized it was his song; one he created all by himself. And it was beautiful.
There are a lot of great things in this life, but there really isn't anything better than the true, honest, heartfelt words of little children.
Down there in the corner, outside of the box itself, is a cluster of seedlings.
They're not where conventional gardening wisdom says they should be, yet they're thriving anyway, and actually look better than some of the ones inside the box.
Human life is like that, too, I think: sometimes, the "right" things for us aren't what we might expect, but if we roll with them, we can really grow from the experience.
We had the option to have our race bibs personalized, so I did, with a very simple little message: 'LoveLogan.' (It was what came to mind when I was hurrying to complete early bird registration exactly one minute before the window was set to expire.) So though I jogged alone physically, he was with me. And my thoughts of him and his fight coupled with the grace of God carried me through to the finish line with a --for me-- very respectable time of 36:06.
The fact that I managed to keep chugging without stopping is remarkable to me, especially since I can count on ONE hand the number of days I've jogged since last April. Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I'm not a runner. I have lots of great friends and family members who are bona fide marathoners, but I am not one of them. My knees creak, my hips ache, and it's simply not something that I enjoy very much. But somehow, I finished. I jogged 3.1 miles straight. More than once along the way I addressed both God and Logan, and told them both that I needed a lot of help if I was going to make it... not on my own strength... please, help me...... and He --and in whatever way it's possible, they-- didn't let me down. I made it. And in light of feelings I've had many times over the past two years, it's amazing to not feel the sting of yet another letdown.
An old friend posted this inspirational message on her Facebook wall this morning. While I absolutely relate to the message and think it's a cute graphic, the first thing I saw was "Logan" on the rainbow.
It was like he somehow managed to send a little extra sunshine my way. And I'm glad I was looking and didn't miss it.
We spent the next 30 minutes playing a variety of games with the coins. And not one of them involved "value" in the traditional sense -- there were no references to a) money or b) counting. We played a variation of pick up sticks, "wrote" numbers by lining up the coins, and stacked them like towers.
And the whole experience reminded me of a kind of random but important lesson: money itself is not evil. It's the way that we treat it and relate to it that can make it a good or a bad thing.
And for Brady, those pennies and dimes spell nothing but invaluable fun.
To give some context, I'll say that I took it this afternoon outside of the dance studio. Isaac was inside taking his class when Brady got restless and decided he wanted to go outside and look at "all the flowers." (Which is amusing, since the place isn't exactly a floral playground.) After looking at dandelions, what I think was probably an azalea and a sea of tiny orange weeds, he knelt down and gave these tiny daisy-like cuties a close-up inspection. He was, for one reason or another, very taken with them.
I smiled in part because it's the second time this week that one of my kids took time to literally stop and smell the flowers. And I smiled more because I'm pretty sure I should follow their example and do the same.
It's humbling --in a good way-- when your kids become your teachers.
Isaac is just so sweet with Brady. He could've run off with his friends and left him in the dust, but he didn't do that. He slowed his pace and ran right alongside his little brother, cheering him on and encouraging him to keep going.
And in my mind's eye, I can see Logan doing precisely the same thing for Isaac if he'd only been given the chance. And it's a bittersweet blessing to have those thoughts.
But only because I wasn't fast enough to catch Abby the first time she sniffed that big, beautiful rose this evening. So I made her do it again.
There's a fresh sweetness that comes along with spring, partly from the scent of roses that lingers in the air and partly from the promise of new life that's to come.
And allergies aside, I love all of it. I love the hope, I love the beauty and I love the promise of better things to come.
I love how often they hold hands. I know this phase won't last long --before I know it they'll cringe at the idea of holding hands, opting instead for intensive wrestling matches and grunting sessions, no doubt-- so I savor these little moments.
Because they're undoubtedly some of the sweetest moments this life on earth has to offer.
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Adam came across this one yesterday in our living/play room and handed it to me. The other side features the "This Little Piggy" nursery rhyme and a few pigs that he colored himself in vibrant green and blue.
I love it when God uses my most flagrant shortcomings to give me gifts. It's utterly humbling and utterly wonderful all at once.
I HAVE to add an edit here because I'm flabbergasted... I went back to last year's entry from April 6 and discovered... another different little love note from Logan. There is surely something special about this date.
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I kind of love the sense of anticipation that leads up to the blooming of those thousands of very pink flowers. I get to walk by and look at them and know that in just a short while, the whole space will be brimming with gorgeousness.
I think of Heaven in a similar way. I look around and see bits and pieces of the glory and splendor that I know must hallmark Logan's new home. And I anticipate seeing it in its fullness with every fiber of my being.
When I dropped her off this afternoon, I insisted on taking a photo of her with the birthday girl, Hannah. They weren't thrilled with the idea, so they made mustache faces to take the edge off the sting of the mom-embarrassment:
My girl is growing up. It amazes me that she's legitimately old enough to go to a sleepover now. It's amazing to think that she'll turn 10 later this year.
I could be sad about it; a lot of parents are when their kids get older and they watch them take part in rites of passage like sleepovers. But I won't, because she's growing up, and that's a huge blessing to me that I can't ever take for granted. I love watching her mature and I love having real conversations with her as we walk each evening.
The privilege of watching her grow and develop... that's all God.
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I have no idea how long it's been there; I don't have occasion to look at that particular wall very often since my chair faces the opposite direction. I smiled as I read each rule. And then I had a thought: What if everyone on God's earth actually lived by the rules Abby penned?
She's only 9, but she's more mature than a lot of adults who are supposed to be wise with age. I mean, what if we did make the time to dance every day? And what if we were nice no matter what and what if we didn't lie?
I see a lot of God in that youthful wisdom.
I've said it many times before and I'll probably say it many more times in the future, but these little people are so much of what makes my life as great as it is. Even when I have a bad day, they have a way of worming their way into my heart to make me smile; they help me to focus on the good even when the good seems really, really far away and really, really insufficient when weighed against the bad.
I'm infinitely thankful for them and for how they remind me that God is real and good and as-advertised in the Good Book.
It's Adam playing his shovel guitar. A rare moment of levity captured in a single frame.
Adam's always had something of a silly side, but I don't see it often these days. I don't know if he doesn't see much to laugh over or if life is just in the way or what. It's impossibly devastating to lose a child but we still all experience it in our own ways, so I never know precisely where his mind is. But I miss the sillies.
It was good to see him smile and talk about how much he loved watching the snow fall and waxing nostalgic over his childhood trips to the cabin. And it made me happy to see proof that my silly guy is still in there after all.
