Thursday, July 31, 2014

July 31

I woke up this morning, came downstairs to join everyone else, and then immediately felt like I would cry. And I did, alone, after Adam left to take Abby, Isaac, and Brady to VBS for the morning. It's indescribably painful to have to celebrate Logan's birthday without him here.

But still, we had a nice enough day. Lunch at Outback, so we could have some of that "really good brown bread" Logan liked. A balloon release at the cemetery. Dinner at Chevy's. A cake baked in the same Lightning McQueen-shaped pan that I used to make his 2nd birthday cake, and lovingly decorated and accepted by his siblings in his honor and memory. One present each for the kids from Logan; Littlest PetShop for Abby, Batman legos for Isaac, and a Planes racing set that Brady repeatedly showed me a Target. And of course, Lambie was along for all of it.

But one of the most poignant moments of the day came as the hours grew small.

We haven't presented a birthday cake at the dining room table in years. Usually, it's so covered with papers and crayons and glue that we can't. But today, it was clear. And I decided, for no real reason at all, that we should have the kids blow out the candles on the cake while sitting at that table. So we did.

After the flames were out and Adam was in the kitchen plating slices, I looked down at this image on my camera's display and was gratified --truly, really gratified-- to see that Logan WAS in the picture after all. Despite my sadness that he was missing out on everything, he was right there in the photo on the buffet between Brady and Abby.

For those happy little surprises, I'm grateful. Especially on days like today.

Happy big 8th birthday, Logan. I miss you all day, every day.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

July 30

Logan's birthday is weighing heavily on my heart tonight. Tomorrow, he should be here with us celebrating his 8th birthday. He should be blowing out candles on a cake and taking annual photos at JCPenney. But sometimes life doesn't go as we'd like. And he's not here, at least not in a way we can fully understand or feel or, some days, even live with. What I would give to be able to pad softly into his room and give him a kiss on this, his last night as a 7-year old. What I would give to have those moments that were so unjustly stolen from us.

But still tomorrow will come. And we'll remember and celebrate the indelible imprint he made on our lives. This bracelet that Brady got at Vacation Bible School yesterday reminds me of the importance of celebrating and giving thanks, even when it's hard. Like the bands of the bracelet go on and on and circle 'round and 'round, life keeps going 'round and 'round no matter what. And eventually, the ends meet up and create a complete, perfect unit with no discernible beginning and no discernible end. Just like one day, we'll all meet up with Logan once again and all of the pain and heartache we live with will be so overwhelmed by the greatness of the overarching story that it will forever lose its sting.

That may be a little overly complex, but it makes sense in my mind. And sometimes, despite my desire to communicate plainly, that's all I need.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

July 29

Adam was home sick today, so I left the Little Boys at home with him this evening while Abby and I did our usual Costco trip. They had no interest in tagging along, so I turned on "Cars" just before we headed out the door.

About five minutes of the movie remained when we got home. Brady was insistent on watching the credits, and when the slow, soulful "When You Find Yourself" finally came on, he shouted Mommy, let's dance!.

So we did just that.

I have distinct memories of dancing with Logan to that very same song. It feels like forever ago in a way, but as I held Brady and slowly bobbed back and forth to the beat of that familiar tune, it seemed like my Sunshine wasn't quite as far away as it may otherwise seem. And for that --for days when he doesn't feel a million miles away and for the gift of dancing with cute little boys who call me mommy-- I'm deeply grateful.

Monday, July 28, 2014

July 28

Mentally, this is a hard time of year for me. I was stressing badly over some issues this morning and a sense of despair started to set in. And then I went outside and saw something surprising.

As I was getting in the car to to pick up the kids from VBS, I saw this. I did a triple take, and then turned around because I didn't really believe what I was seeing. And it was right there overhead: a rainbow. No rain, just a few clouds in the sky, but a band of brilliant colors traversed the sky.

Since rainbows connote hope, I know it was God giving me a much-needed wink.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

July 27

By the time I went to bed last night, I really wasn't feeling well. I was horribly congested and my stomach hurt from the decongestant I took. Then, naturally, I didn't sleep very well, either. So it was nice this morning to get up and see this:

It's the belly emblem from a giant Funshine Bear. And it was a nice reminder that even when I'm not feeling 100%, the sun is still shining brightly somewhere. So eventually, the sun will come out for me again, too.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

July 26

I love it when I see some of my stranger inclinations surface in Abby.

That's her. Walking and reading a book aloud.

It may look like a challenge, but she's surprisingly adept at avoiding obstacles and she's never fallen or even tripped. (I think she actually trips more frequently when she's not clutching a book.)

I love that she loves to read. And I love that I can remember being roughly her age and doing the very same thing. But most of all, I love that she's a super great girl and that I'm getting the honor of watching her grow and change. (And listening to stories? Icing, meet cake.)

Friday, July 25, 2014

July 25

I don't often feel like Logan is "with" us, but today... well, today's events made me rethink my assumptions a bit.

It began with a Costco trip early this afternoon. It was always one of Logan's favorite stores; he had an affinity for both the cheesy pizza and the freedom of joyfully running, giggling, soaring down the long, wide aisles. It was busy this afternoon, but the guy who checked our cart at the door did as they often do and flipped the receipt over to draw smiley faces on the back. As he handed it back to me, he looked startled and rubbed his eyes. I glanced down and saw not three but four happy little faces staring back up at me just as he said 'oh wow, I counted wrong, I thought there were four!' I was startled. And my heart just overflowed with gratitude. Before my brain had a chance to react, my mouth exclaimed 'oh, I have four kids!' and he smiled triumphantly. 'Then it's perfect!' he replied. And indeed... it was.

I pushed the cart out to the car feeling a sense of giddiness that I can only call jubilance. It's not that I think the guy saw Logan. But somehow, he knew he was there anyway.

A little later on, after the groceries had been put away and I was seated at the computer checking my email, I got another surprise: from the living room, the distinctive opening guitar strums of a song from Taylor Swift's Red album filled the air. Isaac shrieked gleefully and I got up to investigate. Adam has some sort of speaker system that I don't even pretend to understand set up in that room, and somehow, Isaac turned it on by accident. And even though we have hundreds of cds and I don't even know how the darn thing works, Taylor Swift just happened to play. Logan loved dancing to Taylor Swift. So we danced. We shook and shimmied and jumped and sang along to the entire album, reaching the big crescendo with a rousing choral rendition of "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together."

Exhausted, I retired to the family room and took a seat. And for only the second or third time since he went Home, I felt like he was talking to me. I'm with you, mommy. I am. It's not a voice; it's a sense. A sense that's so strong that I know it's either him or God speaking for him. I teared up and closed my eyes as if doing so would make the moment last longer. It didn't really work, but days like today... total treasures. Six days early, but quite the birthing day present from a boy to his mommy.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

July 24

Brady had a hard time going down tonight. After Adam finished his usual bedtime routine, I heard the little guy wailing that he didn't want to go to sleep. So I went upstairs to see if I could help. At first, he resisted me, but eventually, after a little bit of coaxing, I had him in my lap in our cozy old glider.

We talked with hushed voices about the new Planes movie. And we sang the ABC song together. And eventually, I was able to get him to climb (willingly) into bed, cuddle up with Bear Bear, and snuggle under his blanket. He was calm as I watched from the doorway as he and Bear Bear waved good-night.

It's always nice to feel like I'm helpful; like I have a purpose. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that that old glider of ours has played host to many, many of my most useful, most meaningful moments. We bought it before Abby was born, and it served as my soothing/nursing/reading/rocking chair through all four kids. I have clear memories of rocking each and every one them in that chair, and given our experience... I treasure those memories and that ratty chair.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

July 23

While I strolled solo this evening, I kept noticing tiny details everywhere.

It's easy to notice BIG things, sure, but those itty bitty, miss-it-if-you're-not-looking details? I guarantee that you walk by them every single day. I know I do.

And I'm grateful for the reminder to stop and check 'em out every now and then, because they're pretty spectacular. And if God puts that much effort and beauty into something as tiny and fleeting as a flower, how much must He care about the details of OUR lives?

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

July 22

I feel like different people have been jumping down my throat all day long. I don't really know why; they're just extra sensitive or I'm just extra stupid and don't know it. But either way, by dinner time tonight, I'd just about had it. I needed someone, somewhere, to say something nice. And lo and behold, I found that person at Costco, of all places.

I was trailing a few steps behind the kids and Adam, who was pushing the cart. We turned down an aisle and discovered that it was partially blocked by an abandoned cart 'o stuff. A man was coming toward us with his own cart. Rather than pushing ahead aggressively as people are wont to do at Costco, he showed us a big old smile and said 'you go on ahead!' He smiled as we passed by, and after we said thanks, he wished us a great evening and went on his way.

It was a very small thing and he probably has no idea that the gesture even registered on our radar. But for me, it meant a lot. And for the little, kind, often overlooked gestures, I'm thankful, because God is surely in and behind them.

Monday, July 21, 2014

July 21

Another of the kids' friends had a birthday party this afternoon, so we happily piled into the car and headed over to join the festivities. Like yesterday, today provided plenty of smiles and plenty of reminders as to what the joy experienced by the innocents among us looks like.

This photo cracks me up. My goal, when I took it, was to snap a nice pic of Isaac helping Brady to climb the net. It was only after I'd snapped it that I noticed Abby's epic photobomb effort in the background.

It is seriously awesome to be reminded --by your own kids-- that it's okay to be silly and have fun sometimes.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

July 20

Isaac went to a birthday party this afternoon. He had a good time bouncing around in inflatable houses and flying down huge inflatable slides. But this was probably my favorite moment from the entire experience:

This is what a moment of unbridled joy looks like. It's a good reminder for me, because I haven't felt especially joyful of late and honestly, I'd forgotten what pure, unadulterated happiness looks like.

So for this nanosecond in time caught in a single frame... I'm thankful.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

July 19

The sky this evening was pretty spectacular, if you ask me. As we walked, my eyes were repeatedly drawn upward toward a bright blue canvas accented by clouds so varying in height and depth and color and texture that they managed to morph into something new and even more spectacular between each glance.

I took this image as we neared the end of our stroll. As we approached a clearing where the sky was more visible than it had been, I felt an urge to stop and wait. I didn't, because Adam and the kids forged ahead, but after I'd crossed the road, Adam pointed toward the rays of sunlight that had suddenly spilled from the clouds that surrounded the sun. I'm glad I didn't miss them. Even though I didn't stop like I thought I should, I wasn't denied the sight. It's good to be reminded that I don't need to be perfect in order to receive good things; it's good to know that thanks to Christ, my flaws are overlooked and I'm blessed anyway.

Friday, July 18, 2014

July 18

Abby and I were walking this evening when we came across this.

Before we had our landscaping re-done a few years ago, we had these bushes in our back yard. Just yesterday, Abby was waxing poetic on these flowers, telling me that she and Logan had loved them when they were littler. I hadn't known that they were special to Logan, but I did remember taking pictures of him on one of his "month birthdays" --when he officially "turned" 9 or 10 or 11 months old-- that featured him as he carefully, almost lovingly fingered the soft petals.

After hearing Abby talk about them and remembering them for myself, it was a blessing to actually see one in real life. It made our yesterdays seem not quite so very long ago.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

July 17

I took our vacuum in for repairs a few days ago and went back to pick it up this morning. The shop owner was jovial and friendly with the kids, asking their names and if they liked this and that. At one point he turned to me and, gesturing toward the three of them, asked if "this is the whole crew." I took a long pause, as I always do, before explaining that no, one is missing and will be missing until we're all on the other side. He said he was sorry, and that ended the inquiry.

But of course, the conversation lingered in my mind as we drove home. I came upon a red light at a major intersection with the weight of our loss pressing heavily on my heart. And then this song came on the radio:

It's the Brad Paisley/Dolly Parton collaboration "When I Get Where I'm Going." It's basically a song about Heaven and how amazing it will be. The line that's always gotten me --and that, of course, got to me most today as I choked back tears-- is this one:

Yeah when I get where I'm going, don't cry for me down here.

And I took it to heart, because I don't think Logan wants us to be sad. So though I cry still, I don't cry for him, but for us and for what we miss out on by not having him here with us. But for him... no. Because as I was reminded, he's in the better place by far.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

July 16

We had a play date at the park this afternoon with some friends. Abby didn't really want to go, since the attendees were to include her brothers plus six other boys, but she sucked it up and went along anyway. And her willingness to go with the flow was richly rewarded.

When we arrived, I saw a trio of girls standing by a water fountain in the distance. Moments later, one of them cried out "Abby!" and she looked at me, silently asking if she could go see them. I waved her over to them, and went about the business of monitoring the Little Boys. A minute later, I looked over toward the fountain and saw Abby running down the sidewalk toward the school with her arms outstretched. Another girl was running toward her. They met and hugged. And it took me about two seconds to figure out that it was Isabelle, one of her very best friends.

I know she's missed her friends this summer, so it was an unexpected blessing for Abby to see Belle today. They only had about 15 minutes to chat before the day care called her back to the school, but I know Abby was thankful. And the experience gave both of us a nice reminder: sometimes you're rewarded in unexpected ways for doing things that you don't necessarily want to do.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

July 15

Today was a tiring kind of day. Lots of bickering, complaining, yelling, and just generally difficult behavior to contend with (by the kids. Thanks to an early afternoon double chocolaty chip Frappuccino, I was mostly okay). After a family shopping trip this evening, I decided to decompress by going for a walk with my girl. I knew that if we walked down the road that runs behind our house quickly enough, we'd be treated to a stunning view of the sunset. Fortunately, we were just in time. (And we also had enough time to pop into the Ghirardelli store to grab a free sample before we turned around to head home.)

There's something intensely relaxing about watching the sun drop below the clouds at the close of a long day. And it's a terrific blessing to share such sights with my daughter. It was a blessing to get a chance to watch the sunset with her. It's a bigger blessing to walk with her and to hear her thoughts and to realize that she's growing up, because I don't take growing up for granted.

Monday, July 14, 2014

July 14

Logan's birthday is in a few weeks. He should be turning eight years old. As we did last year and the one before, we'll do fun things together to observe the day. But it still won't be a "happy" day because he won't be here to take birthday pictures or blow out the candles on his cake. So it was very fitting when my friend Kim, who also has a child in Heaven, posted this blog entry about how to treat parents who have lost children.

I read it. A lot of times, I don't read these things because they can feel like needles under my skin, pricking and burning and tearing flesh that's already far too tender. But I read this one, and I'm glad I did because I related to every single word -- about how people walk away when your child dies, about how they seem to forget that your child existed, about how they're scared to say his or her name, even though it's what you want to hear more than anything in this world.

Oh, and to make it an even bolder God wink... Kim forgot to tag me in the post, but I saw it anyway. It was right up at the top of my Facebook feed where it couldn't possibly have been missed.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

July 13

My mug, two days in a row. I know.

But it's not really about me. Here we all are (sans my Sunshine, of course) after our walk earlier this evening. Abby and I got back from dropping my mom off at the airport a few minutes ago, so this was our last walk with her for quite a while; she doesn't get out here more often than once a year, and we'll be here in California for Christmas.

My mom and I have a complicated relationship. She's both one of my biggest adversaries and confidantes at once. When something frustrating or amazing happens, she's the first person I try to call. But we're also equally stubborn (VERY) and have different personalities, so we also butt heads.

But make no mistake of it: I love her dearly, and always will, no matter what. And for that... I'm thankful.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

July 12

Our friend Kristine came over for dinner this evening.

She lives relatively close by, but her work schedule combined with our home life hasn't allowed for many meetings in recent times.

She was one of my best friends in college. In fact, as I reflected to her this evening while we sat on our family room couch, I might well have left our school after the first semester of my freshman year had I not been friends with her and a few other people; there was a group of girls who lived in my dorm who were, to be blunt, cruel to me as I struggled to adapt to living 3,000 miles from home. I no longer carry a grudge, but I'm still wary of some of them. It was a hard time, and like most people, I don't like to dwell on the hard parts of my life.

So yes... Kristine and a handful of others really saved my college experience. Saved my family that was to be, if I take the thought further.

Anyway, it was a blessing to sit with her and laugh. I don't laugh a lot these days; I don't find much about this life particularly amusing. But remembering some of our exploits during those simpler days... golden. And I'm so thankful for her and for those good memories.

Friday, July 11, 2014

July 11

We visited the Lego Store in the mall while we waited for our dinner table to be ready.

I'm always struck by how my kiddos show their creativity with those colorful little 2x2 and 4x2 and 1x1 blocks and people with interchangeable parts. This evening, Abby built a carousel and a caterpillar ride and called it a circus scene. Isaac built a little staircase and observation deck. And Brady put together and took apart a load of minifigures.

It's a blessing to see their ingenuity at work.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

July 10

I don't sew (anymore, because I enjoy it about as much as I enjoy watching taupe paint dry), but my mom is an excellent seamstress, so I thought it would be nice if she and Abby worked on a project together while she's here.

Although Abby doesn't seem to have the patience for a lot of the cutting and measuring that goes into making her dress, it's still been nice to see them working together. And I know that the process is making some pretty valuable memories for both of them to look back on in the future. And for that, I'm thankful.

Plus it's pretty awesome that in this photo, Logan is watching over them as they work.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

July 9

As Abby, my mom and I were walking tonight, I looked up at the rainbow-hued sky and the moon, which was a smidge thinner than its plump fullest form.

And I thought about promises, since rainbows are supposed to be reminders of God's promise to His people. It may not be an actual rainbow, per se, but the message is the same regardless: have hope for the future and faith that God has good things in store for us.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

July 8

The short people, my mom and I got up this morning and drove to Brentwood to pick fruit. We came away with an impressive eight pounds of apricots from farm number one, and an even more impressive (and slightly embarrassing in the oops, I think we may have gotten a bit carried away vein) 35 pounds of peaches from farm number two. (Needless to say there was a lot of jam and ice cream making later in the day.)

The kiddos showed a decent amount of resolve when it came seeking out the best trees and they made lots of cute faces as they excitedly plucked peaches from low branches, but this ranks as one of my favorite sights from the entire experience:

Those big red buckets at farm number two were heavy and awkward even while empty. By the time a good layer of peaches lined the interior of Isaac's container, it was nearly impossible for him to lift alone. As I helped Brady find good fruit to pick, I happened to hear Isaac ask Abby for help. And when I turned around, I saw them sharing the weight of that weighty bucket.

The two of them have certainly shared some very heavy burdens, but I don't think I'd really thought of it that way until I saw this photo this evening. It depicts them doing what they've been doing, in a metaphorical sense, for the past several years. And I'm thankful for such a tangible reminder of how wonderful it is to be able to share our challenging loads with others, and especially with those who are dearest to us.

Monday, July 7, 2014

July 7

I know. Some of you are sick to goodness of rain and would be happier than a pig in a pit of slop if it would just stop falling. But that's not the case for us: we're experiencing a severe drought and the water conservation restrictions that accompany one. That's why I was so excited when I glanced onto my patio this morning and saw this:

Raindrops! Actual, real live raindrops that fell from the sky. After I screeched it's raining! It's raining! five or six times to no one in particular, I went outside to feel it and got more than I expected, because the air was absolutely rich with that heavenly scent of rain.

The bounty lasted only a few minutes, but oh, did it remind of what a blessing rain is indeed. And it gave me hope that eventually it will rain here for real once again.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

July 6

This is a brief one, because it kind of speaks for itself and doesn't require much in-depth explanation. I've been feeling a little weary of late. In fact, just a few days ago, I woke up in the morning and said God, I just don't feel You. I don't know you're there. Be real to me..

And then I waited. I went about my usual, day to day activities, and waited.

And then this morning, this was the message at church:

It was a brutal message for me, because it talked about having faith and it centered on the story of the man with the demon-possessed son. The one that saw the man go to Jesus and ask him to heal his son if He could. The one where in his desperation, the man admits his doubts and says 'I believe; help my unbelief.' The one where Jesus actually heals the son.

That story is always a hard one for me. It always will be, I expect, because that wasn't our reality. That's not how our story played out. I went to Jesus, repeatedly, with almost every breath I had, and begged and pleaded for that healing. Yet it didn't come in the way we wanted.

The pastor very kindly pointed out that not everyone gets healing; that Jesus didn't heal every single sick person he encountered while walking the earth in human form. And that's a hard truth. But it doesn't mean that I live without hope. It simply means that my hope rests in what I feel, but cannot see, and in what I hope for, but have no earthly assurance of attaining.

And, as hard as it was to sit there and listen... I'm thankful for the reminder.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

July 5

Although I didn't pick up my mom from the airport until after midnight, she, Abby and I headed out to the American Girl store in Palo Alto bright and early this morning. Abby had been waiting since the end of the school year to buy a new doll, and we had fun when we visited the store in Northern Virginia over Christmas break, so I made a reservation to have brunch at the Bistro.

This image from that meal speaks to me in several ways. For one, I love how genuinely excited Abby looks. I love that she's sitting there with her doll. And I love the way my mom is looking at her oldest granddaughter. Girls are something of a rarity in my family, so it's a blessing when we can get together for to indulge our collective hunger for all-things pink and ruffly. A blessing indeed.

Friday, July 4, 2014

July 4

We watched the fireworks from something of an unlikely location tonight, and in hindsight, it was the perfect spot.

We drove downtown this evening to find a spot to view the fireworks at the county fair. There were cars everywhere --and by 'everywhere,' I mean on the sidewalks, double and triple parked, crammed into every available nook and cranny-- and it started to feel like it just wasn't going to happen. As Adam turned the car down a road away from the bulk of the traffic, I off-handedly asked if he was going to try the cemetery. He said no, but the idea quickly grew on me so we headed over for a look. The cemetery sits on a hill of sorts, and after we'd driven past Logan's spot and up around the bend, a near-ideal view of the fairgrounds came into view. So we got out of the car and sat on a bench, that just happened to be perfectly situated at the top of the hill, and huddled together while we waited for the display to begin at 9:45.

We weren't entirely sure where they'd appear on the horizon, but we wound up with a stunning view of the whole show. And best of all, we had the place to ourselves until a few minutes before the action concluded. It was a far cry from the energized, over-sugared crowd that lined the streets below, and it was just the kind of tranquility that we needed.

It was nice to feel like we were watching the show 'with' Logan. And my suddenly thinking of that vantage point while we were driving around looking for someplace, anyplace to stop... a God wink indeed.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

July 3

This evening, I plucked the very first piece of fruit from my tomato plants:

Sweet and savory at once, a perfect little morsel from the perfect volunteer plants.

For all of that and for the bounty that promises to come in the months ahead... I'm thankful.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

July 2

Today was composed of an exceptionally exasperating set of hours. A delivery screw-up meant the new fridge didn't come as expected, a website for which I've freelanced for seven years announced they'll be closing down at the end of the month, my TV and internet went down in the early afternoon, and I went to the dentist and discovered that I have a cavity. Now I know as well as anyone that these are all small, insignificant things in the grand scheme of this life, but their collective weight was enough to drive me nearly nuts. But a single positive, unexpected thing turned the day around.

I do a lot of interviews with famous and semi-famous folks, but rarely do I get any kind of recognition for my efforts. But today, I kind of did. I noticed a spike in my statistics for an interview with two of the judges for the reality show "BBQ Pitmasters," and was gratified to find that it had been posted to the show's official Facebook page by a page administrator. It may seem like a small thing, but that little bit of promotion gave me a huge jump in what were otherwise pretty pathetic numbers.

So for that little piece of 'something right,' I'm grateful.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

July 1

We opened July by buying a new fridge after our old one opted to kick the bucket. It wasn't an expected demise, so I was left scrambling to find storage options for all of our food and drinks before the new model's arrival. It may sound weird, but there's a mini fridge in my foyer this evening and I'm just so thankful for the sound of its hard-working hum:

I'm thankful for friends who kindly lend us what we need, and I'm thankful that we can afford a new refrigerator, since there are plenty of folks who cannot.

I'm not the world's biggest optimist, but I'm thankful that God opened my eyes to the pluses in this otherwise frustrating situation.