December 31

As another year closes, I kind of feel like I should have some sort of super special, ultra meaningful image to use that represents the last 365 days. But I don't, really. At least, not in the traditionally accepted sense of "super special." What I have is merely another snapshot from my life.

I had some McDonalds coupons that expired today, so we headed over to the Golden Arches at lunch time. We usually just get food and leave, but today we decided to eat in, and it was fun to sit and watch the scene -- who eats what first, who prefers apples over yogurt, who thinks it's fun to make silly faces at the others while they're munching.

I've said it so many times throughout 2014 that it's practically been a theme of mine, but it's true: the little moments are the ones that matter in the long run, and if I stop and just observe, I can see God's fingerprints all over them: in the food we're blessed to have, in the relationships we're blessed to enjoy, in the smiles we're blessed to share.

So make sure to slow down and notice your little moments in 2015. Blessings to you all and happy new year.

December 30

I can hardly believe that the year will come to a close tomorrow. It doesn't seem like nearly 365 days have passed since we quietly ushered in 2014.

Anyway, today was a light one. I didn't do much of anything that was productive, and I didn't really entertain any profound thoughts. So I figured I'd just show you something that made me happy.

This is what I had for dessert. It's a small brownie and a spoonful of Cool Whip --a favorite of my grandma's-- in a pool of dark chocolate toffee sauce. After Adam and I went outside in the blustery, cold wind to cover my more delicate plants for the evening, I came inside and sat down in my chair to enjoy it. It was a warm, inviting treat on a chilly night. A blessing of a different kind.

December 29

Truth be told, I don't really spend much time with anyone outside of my own immediate family these days. I have friends I 'talk' to routinely on Facebook and others I see at school pick-up and drop-off times, but other than that, I spend a lot of time alone. But today, I escaped my box for a little while when Abby and I joined some friends from church for a belated birthday celebration.

In honor of both girls' recent birthdays, A and I took Abby and her friend G to Build-a-Bear and then settled down for a long lunch at CPK. While the girls sang show tunes (yes, seriously, they enthusiastically sang show tunes in the middle of a restaurant), I had a chance to get to know A a little bit better, and I'm so thankful for that opportunity.

Fellowship is a gift, and he (and she) who really takes advantage of the chance to engage with others is blessed.

December 28

We enjoyed another pleasant but cool day today. Abby and Brady asked if we could go for another walk, so during halftime of the Niners' game, we did just that.

Brady alternately strolled with Adam and I, ran with the bigger kids, and rode on Adam's shoulders, while Abby and Isaac rode their bikes. At one point, Isaac fell slightly behind the pack and ran out of juice halfway up an incline. Since I was bringing up the rear, he quickly turned to me and called for help. So naturally, I gave him a little push, and off he went.

As I watched him ride off, it dawned on me that we often treat God like Isaac treated me. He knew I'd be there, so when he got himself into a tough spot, he called on me. And then after I helped, he was gone again.

It's not a perfect analogy since Isaac is a six-year old child and I am in no, way, shape or form a god (I feel blasphemous just writing it), but the notion that we should be riding with God at all times instead of just crying out when we need help is kind of powerful, huh?

December 27

We took our first walk in quite some time this afternoon. Although the sky wasn't purely blue and the air was crispier than it's been of late, it still felt like a Logan-kind of day.

The clouds were so lovely that I found my eyes routinely drawn skyward to admire them. At first glance, I thought the clear spot toward the right looked like God's fingerprint; a place where He'd dipped his finger into the picture and smoothed out the lines a little, just because He could.

It's a good thing to remember to look up every now and then, in both literal and figurative ways. One thing's for sure: if you're always looking down, you're certain to miss something worthy of admiration.

December 26

Today, I engaged in my annual Day after Christmas shopping trip (solo, since Abby declined my invitation to come along). When I came home, we headed back out to Arby's for lunch, per Abby's request.

Logan loved Arby's, and I have distinct memories of sitting with him there in a booth, taking selfies. We don't go there often these days, but it's always kind of special in a bittersweet way when we do.

For once, Abby and Isaac sat together without complaint. And they actually got along quite well, laughing and poking at each other in the good-natured way that siblings often employ. It was, in hindsight, almost as if Logan was right there with them, egging them on. I captured this particular moment of silly sweetness, just so I'd be able to remember how it felt to see them enjoying each other's company. And just so I'd be sure to remember that harmony is always a blessing.

December 25

Christmas. A day to remember and reflect on the birth of Christ and to spend time with the important people in our lives. We spent our day just living the moments as they arrived.

There were sibling-to-sibling hugs over presents given and received. There was tree (a Christmas bread that Adam's mom makes) and cinnamon roll consumption. There were many gifts opened and many games played. There was a trip to the cemetery to check on the flowers. And there was a Christmas pot roast for dinner.

But when it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, this image represents what mattered most today. It was taken with my brand new phone. As I played with it, I realized that I wanted the first photo ever recorded by its camera to include all of the important people in my life, so we huddled together in front of the tree and made it happen. A merry kind of Christmas indeed.

December 24

I ran a few last-minute errands around town this Christmas Eve morning. After hitting the grocery store and the dollar store, I made my way to Walmart, where I encountered the most enthusiastic and inspirational Salvation Army bell ringer I'd ever seen.

I don't know her name or anything about her, but I know without a doubt that this lady knows what it means to truly embrace the spirit and cheer of the season. As she rung her bell, she called out to passersby with amazing enthusiasm, regardless of whether they added a dime to her kettle. Merry Christmas!! God bless you!! Santa will be so good to you, I can tell!! Even more remarkably, she offered the same salutations to even those who pretended she wasn't there at all.

I couldn't help smiling as I passed by, dropped a coin into the bucket, and continued across the street. Then something made me pause, and I turned around, crossed back over, and approached her to tell her she was awesome. And after a nanosecond of hesitation, I gave her a hug, too.

She was delighted. She looked at me with a radiant grin and told me that that meant everything to her. Then she again said God bless you and I headed home, smiling all the way.

I love it when the love of God shines so brightly through someone that it's impossible to ignore or dismiss it. That, my friends, is a God-thing.

December 23

Today was delightfully chill. Isaac headed to the city with Adam's sister Steph to visit the Exploratorium as a belated birthday gift, and the rest of us finished up our shopping. As late-morning arrived, the fraction of our family who stayed in Pleasanton enjoyed a quiet lunch at Baja Fresh.

These are the moments that are so important yet so easily forgotten. The ones that involve us just hanging out, being goofy, and enjoying one another's company.

For those moments --and for the consciousness that prompts me to realize and treasure their importance-- I'm thankful.

December 22

We finally took a drive to look at Christmas lights this evening. It's one of our traditions, and with just a few days left before Christmas, we were rapidly running out of opportunities.

I learned a few things while we were out and about. 1) Isaac knows almost all of the words to Let it Go. (I was shocked.) One of the more elaborate displays we saw featured timed light displays set to various tracks of music, and the "Frozen" mega hit was one of them. Let's just say that it was performed with great passion inside the confines of our minivan. (And it led Isaac to confess that he secretly practices "all of the girl songs" in his head. (Not a clue.)) 2) Isaac would like to get a manger scene for our front yard next year. While the Little Boys discussed how they'd make it work, Brady matter-of-factly suggested we get an inflatable Jesus. Both 1) and 2) caused me to laugh hysterically.

Traditions and the way they make me feel are priceless. It's cliche, but the cliche-ness makes it no less true: you can't get back time that's gone by. So it's a blessing to be able to live fully in the moment, inflatable Jesus and all.

December 21

Today, we got together with Adam's extended family for our annual Christmas party. The kids all had a great time running around and opening presents and eating and playing this completely bizarre game that involved them accusing adults of committing crimes. (I wasn't paying much attention, but I know there were people taken into custody and at least once jailbreak.) And the adults, of course, took part in the annual white (Wight?) elephant gift exchange, which produced a host of potential regiftables, including a totally sketch apron and a high-heeled tape dispenser.

There's something so magical about getting together with a huge group of important people to have a party. The meal, the decorations, the festive feel, the conversation, the food... it all adds so much to the experience of the season. We're called to be thankful for all we have, and it's easy to feel a sense of gratitude when surrounded by great people.

December 20

This year, I decided to tape our Christmas cards to the kitchen cabinets. The smiling faces and glittery seasonal scenes create a nice, cheerful space.

With that little random comment made, here's the meat of this entry. I'm sure that people who send us cards have a tough task at hand: do they include Logan's name or not? Would it be more painful for us to see his name there along with ours, or to not see it? It's such a sensitive topic that I've shied away from discussing it here, but I figured, given the visceral reaction I had to one specific card we received, that I should bring it up.

This card came from a good friends of ours who shall remain nameless (but who shall, no doubt, recognize her own handwriting when she sees this). Most folks don't include his name anymore. And I understand why. Like I said, I completely get that it's hard to know what to do, and I certainly don't want anyone to ever feel bad about not writing his name. But I caught my breath and cried when I saw this one, because it means she remembers him and considers him part of our family, even though he's not physically with us. My heart sings out when people talk about him, so this tiny gesture meant everything to me.

December 19

Save some unwelcome sinus congestion that popped up out of nowhere, today was a good day. I helped out with Abby's class holiday party in the morning and then came home and decorated Christmas cookies with the family. Later, when we watched Planes: Fire and Rescue, I got to cuddle with Brady (which is a big deal to me because he's not exactly a big snuggler. He'll give hugs, but he's usually an 'okay, I'm done, so you can take your hands off me now' kind of guy).

I'm pretty sure Isaac made this particular gingerbread man and I love the details. In general, I love seeing their creativity come to life at this time of year. It's fun to see them work together and to see their ideas turn into something tangible.

And I love it when all of that joy and happiness and good will and cheer is encapsulated in a single cookie.

December 18

This is the face of a proud little muffin.

It was, in most ways, a very ordinary kind of day. School drop-off, cleaning, shopping, school pick-up. But it was also an extraordinary day because Brady mastered something important: he buckled himself into his car seat for the first time ever.

A small moment, but another sign that he's growing and maturing and really coming into himself as an autonomous person. And for that --for the itty bitty milestones that I so often miss (because let me tell ya, I have NO idea when Abby first buckled herself into her car seat!)-- I'm thankful.

December 17

Every year, our preschool does a little nativity play starring the four (and some five) year olds. Brady followed in Isaac's footsteps tonight as he donned a headpiece and robe to be a shepherd with his classmates. Adam, Abby, Isaac and I all enjoyed watching them sing their songs and parade around in their cute little costumes. In fact, when it was over, Adam turned to me and remarked that he'd be happy to come back every single year --even after our own kids are finished with preschool-- to take in the show. But of course, Logan was missing. Maybe.

That's a straw. A plain old boring drinking straw in its white wrapper. And it seems totally random, but I'll explain. After we left the church, I headed off to McDonalds to get a quick dinner. The guy operating the drive-thru window was confused and clearly new to the gig, so there were a few errors: chicken nuggets instead of a Quarter Pounder, medium drinks all-around instead of kid-cups. And an extra straw.

As I doled out the cups when we got home, I happened to remark that they'd given us six straws instead of just five, and Abby immediately smiled and said one for Logan!. She wasn't being flip or smart; it was more of an obvious conclusion to her than a sentimental stretch. She, of course, knows he's not here physically, but he is so present in her heart that of course an extra straw is meant for him.

So between that straw and knowing that Logan would definitely enjoy seeing his littlest brother's stage debut, it felt like he wasn't terribly far away after all.

December 16

It seemed like every time I sat down today, my phone rang. Right before it was time to pick up Isaac from school, I realized he needed a dark pair of pants (which he didn't have) and a white shirt (which he also didn't have) for his class program this evening, so I picked him up and quickly drove to the nearby outlet mall, which is very busy this time of year. Since the sky was threatening rain (again) and I only had about 15 minutes before I needed to turn around and go back to the school to get Abby, I held my breath and silently prayed that we wouldn't have to park too far from the entrance.

And as it happened, God really delivered for me. I didn't just get a decent spot. Nope. As I made my way around the lot closest to the entrance I wanted to use, a car just happened to be backing out of what's probably the most seriously primo space of all. So I took it, hurried the Little Boys inside, and finished my transaction just in time to run back to the school to retrieve Abby.

A convenient parking space is a little thing in the grand scheme of things, but today, it meant a lot. And in the interest of giving credit where it's most surely due, I thank God for looking out for me and making my day a wee bit less stressful in an everyday, tangible kind of way.

December 15

It was cold and rainy tonight, but we braved the weather and went to Costco. While we were there, I witnessed a heart-tugging moment between my own kids.

As we shopped, we came upon an employee handing out samples of freshly baked brownies. Abby approached the table and got the last one available. From his perch in the cart, Brady asked if he could have one as an equally eager Isaac looked on, but the employee apologized and explained that they were all gone. Before the disappointment could register on either of the boys' faces, Abby did something surprising: without even flinching, she marched over to Brady and gave him half of her brownie. Then, in a move that truly astounded me, she turned to Isaac and handed him the other half, keeping nothing for herself save the empty wrapper.

I was stunned speechless for a moment. When I finally found the words, I asked why she hadn't split it into thirds, and she just shrugged, turned the wrapper inside out, and noted that there were some bits of brownie stuck to the bottom. But the brass tacks? She knew her brothers wanted the treat more than she did. So she gave it away.

Abby is a nice girl, but she's not always up for making personal sacrifices, especially when we're dealing with the Little Boys. I'm so proud of her for looking outside of herself, disregarding her own interests, and putting Isaac and Brady first. It's a blessing both to see her choose into doing the hard thing, and to be reminded of how important it is for all of us to inconvenience ourselves sometimes in order to do things for others.

December 14

Brady turned four years old today. As they typically do on birthdays, the hours sped by, until voila, he was excitedly (and politely!) opening presents and blowing out the candles on his cake. As he geared up to play one of his new video games, I realized I hadn't yet taken a photo with him. So Adam snagged the camera and we did just that.

My first thought, when I saw it, was that the photo itself was just fine; we're both smiling and looking in the right direction, so it met my minimal acceptability criteria. And then I noticed the Lightning McQueen on the couch behind us, grinning in his winsome cars-with-faces way. And the sight gave me an unexpected jolt of joy.

As we presented the cake and then served it up, I kept calling Isaac Logan. I'm not really sure why; I almost never do that. So the combination of my mental misfires and having that Lightning McQueen photobomb my special shot with the birthday boy made me feel like Logan himself was here with us, celebrating and making merry in the only ways he could.

And that's a priceless feeling.

December 13

As is the norm for Saturday afternoons, we had lunch at Red Tractor. I've said it before, but I enjoy sitting there in that small space, eating together and sharing stories for a few precious minutes. I like watching the kids color their place mats and hearing whatever tales they want to tell.

Today, after I'd downed my grilled cheese, I spent a little extra time watching Brady.

(I tried to get a photo of them working together, but he saw me and smiled his radiant grin for me instead. I'll take it.)

It's incredible to think that he'll be four years old tomorrow. Logan was only 15 days older than Brady is right now when we found out he was sick. Brady turning four makes me realize how brief Logan's time with us really was, but it also makes me realize precisely how profound the impact of a brief human life can be. Logan may have only been with us physically for five and a half years --four years and two weeks of them in a "normal" way-- but the legacy he left behind will live on indefinitely.

I'm thankful for those memories, for birthdays, and for the promise that one day, we'll all celebrate together again.

December 12

Every year, the preschool classes each hold a birthday party for Jesus. It's a cute little event, complete with birthday hats, cupcakes, balloons, a book exchange, and a special (and often unintentionally humorous) chapel session telling the story of Jesus' birth. And every year, for one reason or another, I wind up being the co-op parent. Though it means bringing a lot of extra supplies and operating the dreaded helium tank --which terrifies me!-- I love it because I get to see sights like this one firsthand.

It's Brady and his good buddy Austin happily munching their cupcakes during snack time.

This age is such a huge blessing. It won't be long before they'll consider their precious little homemade hats a 'mo-om, that is SO not cool'-inducing embarrassment. It won't be long before frosting smeared on cheeks will send them running to a mirror to wipe it off before the picture is taken. It won't be long before they're much too big to sit comfortably on those tiny chairs. I'll blink, and they'll be grown.

So for precious moments like this one that I can both live and use as a reminder of like-moments I shared with Abby, Logan, and Isaac as well, I'm very thankful.

December 11

It rained all day long. This evening, as I went out to the garage to get Isaac some dessert from the freezer, I stopped to admire the reflection of the Christmas lights on the sidewalk.

As much as I don't love being out and about when it's raining, I love the rain and I know how much we need it here.

I also love how the light seems to dance as it falls, just like my Logan loved to twirl and spin and move to music. I simply haven't gotten to see that phenomenon very often in recent years.

So for dancing and rainfall and lights and all they stand for, I'm thankful.

December 10

I think mushrooms are kind of amazing. In addition to being tasty additions to any pizza, they're kind of cute, and they grow insanely fast, so you can go from having nothing at all to a complete colony overnight. We found these in our front yard this morning as we headed off to school:

While part of me hates all forms of fungi since it was a fungal infection that wound up sending Logan Home, I can still look at these and think of them as whimsical, entertaining life forms. I can still look at them and remember The Smurfs and their giant mushroom houses and smile. And for me, the fact that I can view them in that way and not just see a source of pain is a big deal. For that, I'm thankful.

December 9

Keepin' it light today. Literally.

These are our Christmas lawn decorations. I smile when I pull into my driveway and see them, because I remember when we picked out each one. I remember how the kiddos smiled and laughed when we loaded each one into a cart and brought it home to be added to the fold.

It's a very small thing --completely unimportant and not at all profound-- but that's okay. Even the non-groundbreaking moments matter.

December 8

Some days, human life feels oppressively dark and the future of our world seems bleak and uncertain. I was troubled all day long by news of a tragic plane crash just a mile from my mom's house that lowered the veil of death between members of a young family. I was troubled by news that a vote held by our church congregation yesterday spurred discord among some members. And underlying all of that, I simply didn't feel especially well.

Tonight, as Adam and the kiddos watched some of the football game, I stepped outside to get some air and to try to clear my head. I stared up at the dark buy still visibly overcast sky for quite some time, pondering a number of weighty topics. And then suddenly, from behind that thick swath of clouds, the moon emerged.

Initially, the light was so bright that I almost had to look away. But in that instant, I was reminded of an important truth: even when the darkness is pressing in hard and the world seems painted black, the light is still there. Sometimes, it's just hard to see it, but it's never gone. And for that knowledge, I'm thankful.

December 7

The virus has now been passed on to me, so a) I spent the day trying to lie very low, b) my head is pounding and c) this will be briefer than brief.

When I dragged my aching, congested head out of bed this morning, I came downstairs and found the Little Boys sitting together like this with the Game Pad. What's nice is that they weren't merely taking turns at the controls; they were sharing completely, with Isaac controlling one function and Brady, the other.

Gotta love those blissful moments of unity and cooperation.

December 6

Today was notable for several reasons. One was Abby's birthday party which featured a trip to CPK and Build a Bear with my girl and four of her good friends. One was the stunning sunset sky this evening. But the moment I'm using is from tonight.

Abby and the Little Boys take weekly swim lessons. She'd been working hard to earn her next ribbon for some time, but it just wasn't happening. In fact, last week she came home in tears, convinced that she'd never get it.

But today, she did. And since Adam --who usually takes them to class-- was under the weather, I got to be there to see her moment of victory. After she touched the wall and came up, her teacher said something to her, and I saw her light up with enthusiasm. That expression --that look of exuberance-- is something moms like me live to see on their kids' faces. And for the blessing of being there, I'm so thankful. It is, of course, a blessing to be the one who offers consolation and comfort in the wake of disappointment (as was my role last week and the weeks prior), but being an active part of victorious moments is something really special.

December 5

We're kind of limping toward Christmas at this point. Although Brady is on an upswing after a bout with bronchitis, both Adam and Isaac are under the weather. But little things make it easier to get through the days, and this kind of enthusiasm is priceless.

Brady was super excited to get the letter bag at school this week. He brought it home on Wednesday and immediately started asking me to help him find G-objects. He was equally thrilled to throw it over his shoulder to take it back to school today so he could share his finds with his friends.

I love the big little things. And I love how little children are excited, inspired, motivated and delighted all at once by the simplest activities. It's a nice reminder that simpler is better.

December 4

It wasn't a perfect day. But at least it opened on a cheery note:

It wasn't even raining yet when I looked out the window first thing this morning, but somehow, this rainbow arched across the sky anyway. A reminder of hope in sometimes trying times.

And sometimes, those reminders are just what it takes to get me through the hours.

December 3

The blessing of rainfall continued today. All day long, the sun alternately shone brightly and vanished completely behind steely grey storm clouds that delivered intermittent bursts of pelting rain. More than once, the two phenomena overlapped, birthing broad rainbows that stretched from one spot on the horizon to another. On days like this one, the sky truly becomes a watch-worthy canvas of ever-morphing light and color.

I've said it before but I'll say it again, when the mood strikes and the situation calls for it: there are a number of truly talented human artists, but nothing compares to what God creates in the heavens. The hassle of rain boots and umbrellas and damp pant legs is a small fee for such amazing sights.

December 2

It rained a lot today, and that, in and of itself, was a God wink because we needed it so badly. But I never saw anything that made me go 'hmm.' So a few minutes ago, I asked for something, as I've done a handful of times over the past two years.

And then I felt drawn to the living room where our Christmas tree stands.

There's something so calming about sitting in a room that's completely dark save the lights of a Christmas tree. It's so purely, inexplicably relaxing that at its core, I figure it must be a God-thing in one way or another. For that calm quiet and those moments of simple respite, I'm thankful, even if I don't really understand why sitting there has such a profound effect on my psyche.

December 1

I'm an ar-teeeest! Not really. But check this out:

Over 700 daily blog entries, this may well be the strangest image I've ever used. But it has a point, I promise.

Zero in on that little tiny piece of pine tree in the middle. It looks like it's hanging in mid-air. But it's not -- it's connected to the stop sign by a so-thin-it's-nearly-invisible strand of spider webbing.

I can't speak for you, but I know that I often feel like I'm dangling out over a precipice with nothing supporting my weight. But like the pine clipping has the spider web, I have God holding me up. And so do you. Keep that in mind when you feel like you're up a river without a paddle or in danger of drowning when the waters rise. You may not feel it when things are hard or scary or challenging, but you're in His hands 24/7. And there's truly no better place to be.