I saw crosses, the symbol of Christ's undying love for us. And on a day when we remember Logan even more intensely than usual --the day that he should be here with us, turning exactly 8 1/2 years old-- it seemed like an appropriate reminder of what's real and what's been promised to us.
It reminded me a little of human life: lots of bumps and uneven patches, but still pretty and artistic when viewed as a complete whole from one end to the other; from beginning to end.
To take the analogy a bit further, it features lots of different "paths" that can be taken. Most of the big rocks --the obstacles-- can be avoided by taking different routes, but some have to be scaled to continue onward. And that's okay, because God is with us throughout the journey: when we're meandering the wandering, flat trails and when we're standing in the foothills of life's biggest "rocks," poised to climb, climb, climb.
But when I first unwrapped this should've-been-totally-round peppermint patty this evening, I thought it looked like a heart. Then I smiled to myself and mused over how it's comforting to be able to find little visual reminders of love wherever we go. -- Even inside a candy wrapper, and even if it only looks like love because it's not the perfect, archetypal patty I'd expected to find. That is surely a message worth mulling, if you ask me: love is perfect even though we're not, and it often shows up in unexpected forms and places.
I'm thankful that Abby can count this gal as one of her friends. Though she hasn't had the easiest time of it so far in life, she's funny, sweet, and polite, and I genuinely like talking with her and hearing about her days. Her enthusiasm and joy are infectious, and I'm glad that my sometimes-solemn girl gets to spend time with someone who's so outwardly cheerful. Happiness is, after all, a contagion worth spreading!
This morning, I took the kiddos to school and then headed to the outlet mall to get coffee. As I drove back toward home, this scene really spoke to me. The way the light shone through the clouds --like the arms of God reaching down to cradle the earth-- reminded me that even on gray mornings, there's plenty of beauty to be found, if we're open to seeing it.
Brady, of course, couldn't resist the opportunity to give his bigger brother a push, and within a few seconds, they were both laughing maniacally as the latter swung through the air in a toddler-sized basket.
The scene spoke to me on several different levels. It reminded me that working hard (like expending energy to climb up into a swing) brings rewards. It also reinforced the notion in my mind that small people can accomplish a lot (like comparatively little Brady effectively pushing his bigger brother).
And beyond all of that, it reminded me --for the upteenth time this year-- that kids really know how to live and love and enjoy this life on a fundamental level. There are so many good reasons why they're so very precious to Jesus, and I'm thankful for the reminders of those reasons.
This evening before bed, Isaac was perusing the sale flyer for the house across the street. He cooed over the professional photos and said how nice it looked, except for one thing: it wasn't messy enough.
I'm a below-average housekeeper. It's kind of embarrassing, but I own it. Isaac's comment about the other house warmed my heart because it told me that he's comfortable and happy here in our lived-in house. And knowing that he's content is a big blessing to me.
She's quite the nice little foot warmer, and though I can't touch her without immediately washing my hands (thanks to a recently-developed and relatively severe cat allergy), it's nice to know she's nearby, needing me to be nearby.
I think God gives us furry friends and people friends. And she's been a mainstay for me for nearly 15 years. That's a blessing indeed.
After I'd peeled it and held it there in my head, I marveled over the perfectly shaped little sections. Then I marveled over its sweet but tangy flavor. Fruits and veggies grown from the earth are amazing blessings; how they grow and how they taste. The details are striking, and reminded me of the impressiveness of all of God's creation.
I thought maybe my attention should be on the vibrant shade of purple, which happens to be my favorite color. Or maybe on the lone bloom that rises tall, reaching for the sky. But I think it's simpler than that: I think it's the rainbow coloration around the sun.
Rainbows can represent a lot of different things to different people, but to me, they're all about renewal and hope and rebirth. So for this little reminder --especially at this time of year when life is a little more painful than usual-- I'm thankful.
Brady made this cute little hat in preschool today. It features big ears that you can't really see from this angle, and of course, the words "I Will Listen." Truth be told, it's one of my favorite preschool projects because it's so darned adorable and the message is so clear: Listen! Do what you're supposed to do at all times. It may be a kids' hat, but the words apply to every single one of us. Listen to what God would have us do, and heed His words. It's that simple.
Or at least, it should be. But adults are often like preschoolers -- stubborn and resistant to authority-- so it's not as easy as it ought to be. But that doesn't make it less profound, does it?
Bearica was one of my special loveys when I was a kid. (And yes, I distinctively remember the moment when I named her; I thought I was a fledgling genius for coming up with such a punny moniker.)
Anyhow, courtesy of Abby, Bearica has followed me around the house all week. I think my girl figures that since her own loveys are so precious to her, mine must be equally precious to me; maybe even moreso because I'm markedly older. And I do indeed think fondly of that old bear; she was one of two stuffed animals I routinely slept with --clear up through high school-- and when I wasn't sleeping, she held a prominent place on my pillow.
Loyalty is an important trait to possess. And I think Abby's devotion to keeping my 'old friend' close by where I can see her shows a marked sense of loyalty. For the gift of seeing that kind of steadfast devotion in my daughter, I'm thankful.
Ready or not --and I never really am-- the third anniversary of Logan's passing is only a few weeks away. I still look for him in my daily life; for signs that he's still with us, so to speak, in whatever way God has deemed possible. Most of the time, I don't see much. And then I see this kid and my heart just overflows.
Brady has his biggest brother's smile. He also has his zest for life and for dancing crazily and for making silly faces at just the right moment. He'll make a face or say something ridiculous just in time to keep my heart from shattering; just when the enormity of our loss feels like great to bear.
This afternoon, he came downstairs with Lambie in hand and said he wanted me to take their picture together. So I did. Then a moment later, he called Isaac over and explained that he wanted to take a picture "with all the boys." So I did that, too. And it made my heart leap with joy. Human life continues on. The sadness will never fully go away. But Abby, Isaac, and Brady will always remember their brother in their own special ways. And that will always make me smile.
As Abby surged ahead of me at one point, I was suddenly taken with her insanely bright and colorful wardrobe selection. In comparison to the relatively mild, muted tones around us in nature, she stood out like a spunky thumb. And that's a good thing. It's a blessing to be the parent of someone who's self-assured enough to wear a funky outfit in public, and it's a blessing to see her growing up into such a special young lady.
With Abby on an out-of-town trip with her church youth group, it was just me, Adam, and the Little Boys at lunch. As Adam ordered at the counter, the boys found a table, and quickly decided that they wanted to sit together.
Now this may not seem like a big deal, but they're six and four, and the possibilities for chaos are endless. Despite my concerns, I said okay, and they actually made it through (almost) the entire meal without having to trade seats with us.
But let me tell you somethihng: even when they were squirrelly and a wee bit crazy and a little too loud, their laughter and pure love for one another made me smile. And that kind of thing is worth more than gold.
Although my goal with these posts is to zero in on one specific moment each day, I made an exception to my rule today. Though these two moments were very different, they actually create a cohesive whole that really spoke to me on a deep level, so I wanted to keep them together.
Moment one came as I left Target this morning. As I walked toward my car, I saw an amazingly bright yellow Corvette in the parking lot. The day was a dull, gray one, so this particular car stood out like a frozen bolt of lightning. The fact that it was a Vette was enough to immediately turn my thoughts to Logan, and the brilliant color only strengthened the association: brilliant, bold color from my brilliant little Sunshine.
Moment two came as I drove Abby to church for an overnight event. She wasn't thrilled about going, so she was pensive and low-key. A song she likes --RaeLynn's "God Made Girls"-- came on the radio, so I glanced in the rear view mirror to gauge her reaction and saw her quietly singing along. I was struck by her quiet, steady focus. I missed the moment because I was behind the wheel, but I snapped the pic as soon as I came to a red light.
Abby and Logan were always yin and yang. While Logan was vibrant and practically shouted hey! Look at ME! (like a bright yellow Vette), Abby has always been significantly more reserved. Somehow, seeing both of my oldest kids' dominant traits on display on the same day in such tangible ways really spoke to my heart. Our differences can certainly feel like curses and it would be nice if we could all just see situations and issues in precisely the same way, but human life doesn't work that way. Further, I think those very differences that we so often scorn can work together to become our biggest blessings, just like Abby and Logan working together and influencing one another was --and still is-- a big blessing to me.
(He's never been a compliant photo subject. Not even going back to 1997, when we first started dating. He makes weird faces or looks annoyed. So I take what I can get, for better or worse.)
As we waited for our food, we chatted. At some point, we determined that our last date was back in September when we went to see "Dancing with the Stars," so it'd been a while. But all time considerations aside, it's good to get out now and again, because those brief little dates help to remind me of what a blessing he is in my life. My cheerleader, my comforter, my best friend. And having someone like that walking alongside you in this oft-challenging life is one of the biggest blessings of all.
He laughed until he could hardly breathe as we took this series of shots this afternoon. I'm not sure why, but he was absolutely bowled over by the humor of the experience, and it brought me so much joy to hear him express that amusement. That twittering, stuttering, frenetic laugh actually made my heart jump with happiness. Totally serious.
And for those happy, silly moments, I'm grateful.
But I cannot adequately express what a huge blessing game enabled tablets and phones are during Abby's dance classes. They entertain the Little Boys and give me an entire hour of mostly uninterrupted time to think, return emails, and sometimes, even veg out with a game of my own.
It feels weird to say that I can see God in a tablet (well, an electronic tablet, anyway), but I sure do, because God is present in peaceful places. And these two happily occupied kiddos are a picture of peace.
For me, sights like this are the visual definition of serenity. They convey, without words, a sense of quiet calm and peace that have no man-created match. Scenes like this speak to me, saying Look. Breathe in. Breathe out. Remember to embrace the silent times and revel in the loud, boisterous ones. And for those moments of respite, I'm thankful.
I got up late-ish and my sweet hunny headed out to Starbucks to fill my January tumbler with marvelous blonde roast coffee just for me. Then it was on to church, where two things happened. One, I was officially ordained a deacon, and two, the pastor presented me with a chocolate-chocolate chip muffin and the entire congregation sang happy birthday. (The first I knew about in advance. The second, I did not, but I didn't mind. Loved it, really, and immediately started mentally concocting plans for how I can celebrate every church member's birthday in like-ish fashion.)
In the afternoon, I spent some time alone watching TV and surfing the 'net while Adam and the kiddos took in the NFL playoff game upstairs before we all joined forces to go for a walk. It was an absolutely stunning day; mid-60s and so bright and lovely. Then it was off to dinner at Chevys, which was a less than stellar experience until the servers executed the perfect sombrero-plunking/birthday-song-singing by catching me (and Abby... see collage) 100% off-guard. At home, we did presents, and then had cake. And the kids were off to bed, leaving me to reflect on the day.
I could easily say that God was everywhere today, because He's everywhere every day. But in a practical sense, I felt Him at distinctive moments... during church, I felt Him speak to my heart and tell me that I'm valuable... and ask me why I'd ever think otherwise. He gave me reminders of Logan, too (or Logan gave them... I admit I have no idea how that works). At dinner, I wasn't paying much attention to the music until things got quiet for a split second and I caught the final bars of Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." It seemed an appropriate message from my dance-loving Sunshine to me. Then as we rode home, Diamond Rio's "One More Day" played on the radio. In short, it talks about having just "one more day" with a loved one and how it would never actually be enough because that one more day would make you yearn for yet another and another. Goodness knows that's true. And it reminded me that though I won't have any more days with Logan in this life, we'll have many, many days in the next.
So for birthdays and for getting older (and hopefully wiser) and for memories of my sweet boy and for new memories with the rest of my wonderful family, I am thankful.
It feels a little early in the year for dandelions to be popping up en masse, so it was a blessing to see this little patch sitting there waiting for me beside the sidewalk.
A little extra sunshine is never a bad thing, if you ask me.
Three friends and I decided to get together for brunch this morning to celebrate the three January birthday celebrants in our little group. Parking downtown where we opted to meet can be challenging, but not today. Today, we managed to park in a line, one right behind another, right across the street from the restaurant.
A very small but very marvel-worthy moment, and definitely one that provided a few laughs (especially when I whipped out my phone to snap a pic). Thank God for small miracles that make life easier (and more amusing).
When the city re-did the playground next to the school in 2013, they installed this giant, dome-shaped net-thing. The kids, for the most part, love it. The moms, for the most part, do not love it.
After school, Isaac was playing with a small group of kids while Brady and I visited the sandbox (which I call 'the giant cat box,' but that's not really relevant. Just thought I'd share). One of the other kids got it into his or her head that it would be an awesome idea for all of them to climb the rope-dome and jump up and down as aggressively as they could. The little red flag in my head went up because city workers have been out to repair the thing more times than I can count and I could just see it collapsing under their collective weight.
As the metal frame began to sway, I got Isaac's attention and told him that I didn't think it was a good idea. Then I asked him to please stop and find something else to do.
I expected him to wait for me to walk away and then start up again, but he surprised me and actually stopped. The other kids asked why he'd gotten down, and he had a simple response: My mom said it's probably not safe.
It's such a blessing --not to mention a relief-- when they listen.
But it's all good. I'm thankful that I can be busy. And I'm also thankful for those completely predictable moments that find their way into those busy days.
As we left the school after pick-up, Brady made a beeline for the big tree by the water fountain. Up he climbed, and then he turned to me and called out mommy, take my picture!. Abby scurried up after him, and they both hammed it up for the (phone) camera.
Their shared enthusiasm and totally predictable move made me smile. And for those things, I'm thankful.
So tonight, I'm just sitting in my chair, under my purple blanket, watching the Hallmark Channel. (And trying not to internalize the advertising which clearly suggests that I'm a 55-80 year old obese woman with a penchant for filing frivolous lawsuits.)
There's something soothing about watching Murder, She Wrote. (I do realize the bizarre irony there.) My mom used to watch it on Sunday nights when I was young, so it reminds me of simpler times.
And for those reminders of times past (strange though they may be), I'm thankful.
At Isaac's urging, Brady plunked down on his lap. The bigger brother wrapped his arms around his little brother and off we went. They sang silly songs and giggled and rubbed their little cheeks together as we strolled along.
As exhausting as it was to push roughly 80 pounds of kid in a run-of-the-mill single stroller, it lightened my heart to see (and hear) them having so much fun together. Relationships --especially the ones between little brothers and littler brothers-- are preciously priceless, even when the volume is a little too high.
The message was, in short, about maintaining an attitude of thankfulness no matter what. So I decided just now to take a picture of a few silly things for which I'm thankful --at this very second-- so I can deliberately exercise gratitude.
I'm thankful for these socks because they're knee-high and warm and a friend gave them to me, so I get to think of her when I wear them. I'm thankful for the pants because I've had them for ages and wore them during the early stages of all four of my pregnancies, so they've snugly held me as well as all of my babies. Finally, I'm thankful for the purple blanket because it's from family and it's nice to cuddle under during chilly evenings.
So here's a challenge. I know I don't usually issue them, but it feels appropriate: look to your left. What's there, and why are you thankful for it? You feel a sense of thankfulness for anything at all; it just takes a little focus.
Brady, Adam, Isaac, and Abby all huddled up watching a movie. I backed out of the room and grabbed my phone to take a pic, just because it warmed my heart to see them enjoying something together. No complaining, no whining, no fighting. Just sweet, silent harmony.
I snapped a picture. The first was blurred, but I noticed how my reflection appeared in the background, so I took another from the same position, because it reminded me so much of Psalm 18: Keep me like the pupil of the eye and in the shadow of your wings....
It's comforting to think of God protecting me and keeping me under his wing. For that beautiful little reminder, I'm grateful.
Then, a little later, he made lunch.
Plain toast, baby carrots, celery, lettuce, and broccoli. As I ate, I reflected on how much he's grown up over the past year. I'm proud that he likes healthy foods (obviously!), but I'm more proud that he's a thoughtful, kind-hearted kid who often asks questions about faith and is typically the first to jump up and ask if he can say the blessing before meals.
For those things --and for the great qualities of ALL of my kids-- I'm so thankful.
