February 28

The weather today was a study in contrasting conditions. This morning was sunny and clear, and Adam's dad was able to come down to watch Isaac's t-ball practice. Then at around one, the clouds rolled in and it started hailing, which amused the kids to no end. (Since it never snows here, the concept of ice falling from the sky is a foreign, weird, and exciting one.) At some point during the morning hours, I looked up at the sky and saw this:

It may sound a little weird, but up at the top near the middle, I see dancing angels. It's really just in my mind's eye, of course, but it's a blessing to me to remember that angels exist and are looking out for us while we're here on earth.

February 27

It's been a lousy week to end an emotionally draining month. I'm thankful that it's almost over and hoping that March will be a month that'll show itself to be dramatically less, well, dramatic.

With that bit of negativity said, there was at least one good moment today, and it came this evening.

Both Abby and Isaac earned ribbons at swim class. Abby's actually been progressing fairly quickly, but Isaac has had to work hard to advance. It made me proud to see both of them up there, ringing that cowbell as they clutched their ribbons.

Although I don't think the point of life is to be happy, it does do my heart good to see my children enjoying themselves and their success. I'm thankful that I have a front row seat to see them achieve their goals.

February 26

As Brady watched Sesame Street this morning, I laid down on the floor next to him. He looked over at me and smiled, and then mused 'we need a blanket.' So he got up and retrieved one from the couch. Then he headed into the living room and returned with a big pillow.

So under the blanket we went for some TV time. In my world, kiddo cuddles are never a bad thing, so it was definitely a blessing to me. And the fact that it was Brady's idea and not just mine... priceless.

February 25

The kids were really drawn to tonight's sunset. As we drove to Costco, Brady kept trying to re-position himself so he could keep an eye on it.

I can't say I blame them; it was a lovely blend of pinks and oranges against the backdrop of a nearly perfect blue sky. It was a double blessing, really: it was a blessing to see it, and it was also a blessing to see my kids oohing and aahing over its majesty.

February 24

We weren't planning on a play date this morning after drop-off; it just kind of happened. And of course it was just what I needed.

I won't lie: I went to bed way too late and got up way too early, so my plan was to drop Abby and Isaac at school, go home, and take a nap. A long, luxurious nap. But as we walked toward the car, my friend V and her son E were also walking toward their car. I asked if they needed to scoot right away, she said no... and we were there until almost 11.

It was a blessing to see Brady and E laughing and playing together so well. It was also a blessing to just sit and talk with a friend for a while. I can't remember most of what we talked about (seriously, I am part goldfish), but I know my heart felt better when I finally headed home. (Well, when I finally headed to the Cheesesteak Shop to satisfy a sudden craving, but you get the point.)

Friends --real ones-- are a blessing, and I don't want to forget it.

February 23

I wasn't fast enough to get a photo that shows it well, but there's a little story behind this one.

We were at the park between pick-up times this afternoon when Brady suddenly looked up and shouted "look! Look! Mommy, look! Isaac, look!" So of course, I did.

I didn't see it at first, but then I finally found the impetus of his glee: a large flock of birds soaring overhead. They moved as if part of a giant wave that coursed its way through the sky. He watched them until they were gone, and then looked up at me with a huge smile and told me how much he'd enjoyed seeing them.

That kind of joy over something so simple... I think it's how we were all meant to live back when humans were first put on this earth. I'm thankful that children have their eyes open to see and truly appreciate things like this that jaded adults like me so often miss.

February 22

Today was lovely and blue, so of course we took a walk.

The grass along the way was so lush and green that I stopped for a moment to admire it. It's amazing to realize that just a small amount of rain was enough to transform what was essentially dead, brown nothinginess into something so alive. We're kind of like that as people, too: sometimes, all it takes is a little loving care to bring us back to life when we're feeling neglected or misused or forgotten.

As someone who all too often feels like a forgotten patch of ground, I'm thankful for the revelation.

February 21

I was in a funk for most of today. I let little things that don't really matter much get under my skin and eat away at me. My mood devolved until I was short-tempered, impatient, and near tears. (And, for what it's worth, it sucks to admit that, but I think it's important to be real, even when you're worried others won't like you. If you don't speak your mind, no one will ever know what you're thinking.)

So I went shopping by myself. The act of mindlessly wandering around the store helped a bit, but I didn't really rebound much until this evening when I saw this on the family room floor. It brought back a memory that made me smile.

Christmas morning, 2010. I was living in the haze of dealing with Logan's treatment and having an 11-day old baby and two other kids at home. Always the Cars aficionado, Logan received this Cars Toons character --Paddy O'Concrete-- as one of his gifts. After he'd opened it, I absently picked it up and admired its solid weight and fun design. And then I said the name... Paddy O'Concrete... and had an epiphany. Patio Concrete! I laughed maniacally at both the joke and my own slow wittedness.

As gut-bustingly exhausting as those days were, I would go back in a heartbeat because our family was all together, snug under one roof, laughing and living and one. I miss that so, so much.

But I'm thankful for the memories. And on the hard days, they have to be enough.

February 20

I had a little buddy with me as I walked to pick up Isaac from school this afternoon, and I'm not talking about Brady.

As I rounded the corner onto the next street over, this doggie enthusiastically stepped into my path. (Or maybe I should say he jiggled into my path; he was definitely a panting, snarfing jiggler.) After summarily sniffing at my feet, he jumped up and down a few times as he pawed at my legs. Initially I was a little scared; I've always found dogs a bit intimidating. I stood still for a moment, but then laughed once the feeling of fear passed. It was hard to not laugh at that funny little guy. I continued on my way.

And much to my surprise, he followed me. He tailed me across the street, down another street, and then across yet another street, panting and snarfing all the way. Every now and then he'd stop to sniff a bush or a tree and I'd continue on, thinking that perhaps he'd finally turn around and head home, but it would only take a moment before I'd hear his nails on the sidewalk behind me, scampering, scritching, scratching against the pavement as he worked to catch up.

Eventually, after another street was crossed, a city employee saw me and asked if he was my dog. After I said no, with a great tone of relief in his voice, he told me that he'd been looking for Buster all over the place and would take him home. And as quickly as that little dog had appeared in my path a few minutes earlier, he was gone.

But the whole experience left me smiling. I truly enjoyed Buster's company; I marveled over his devotion to following me around, even though he didn't know me from Adam. The world should be as Buster sees it; everyone should be friendly and we should never have to fear others. Even though that's not the current state of our world, it gave me hope for what will be, someday.

And some days, those little reminders are enough.

February 19

Just a simple one today. As we walked home from school this afternoon, Abby paused to gather a big handful of blossoms that had fallen from a tree. (Yep, sorry suffering easterners: it's warm enough here for that kind of thing.)

Not just one but a collection of beautifully delicate little reminders of the promise of new life that comes with springtime (and beyond). And beyond that, I'm thankful that my girl is wise enough to notice, appreciate, and treasure them, too.

February 18

As I drove to a doctor's appointment this afternoon, I happened to tune in on part of a conversation Abby and Isaac were having in the back seat.

Abby was turning her head from side to side as she talked. As she faced one direction, she explained that it was her 'good' side, and that when she turned her head that way, people said she was pretty. Then she turned to face the other direction, and explained that it was her 'bad' side, and that no one said she was pretty when she turned that way.

Isaac was quiet for a moment before he said something unexpected: I like you just the way you are. I was so taken aback by his purely kind words that I listened harder for a moment to be sure I hadn't misheard; I hadn't. Even Abby was visibly stunned for a moment as Isaac sang a quick little musical ditty about appreciating people for who they are no matter what. And then the exchange was over.

Those little moments are a huge blessing to me. They make my heart swell with gratitude and make ME a better person.

February 17

I was profoundly disappointed with this image.

It was cloudy and cool out all day long, but as I drove Abby to her dance class this afternoon, I was surprised to look up and see bright swaths of light that weaved their way through the otherwise drab sky. I kept track of that special spot in the sky as I drove, determined to take its photo as soon as I stopped the car so I could use it as today's wink.

And then when at long last I was able to stop, it had lost some of its brilliance. Most of it, really. I took the shot anyway, hoping that it would prompt my mind to recall the Real Deal. And you know something? It did. I can still see it in my mind's eye.

Sometimes, memories are good enough. And as funky as it may sound --because we're so trained to believe that the Real Deal is always better-- it's a blessing to remember how precious memories can be.

February 16

This is a picture of tolerance and perseverance.

Today, I took this little muffin to the doctor for the third time in five days. He's had an increasingly rattly cough, and I was pretty sure that it wasn't getting better on its own like I thought it might.

As it turns out, in addition to bronchitis, he also has an ear infection. When the doctor asked if he'd complained about ear pain, he was surprised when I said no. He was even more surprised when he asked Brady the same question directly, and the little guy just shrugged and said no.

Still sweet despite being sick. Not making a fuss over relatively minor discomforts. I think, in one way or another, even adults could take a lesson from him at times.

February 15

This is one of the chocolates from my Valentine's Day present from Adam.

Of all of the varieties in the box, I wasn't in a big hurry to try this one. The others looked more enticing, with their decorative peanut butter dollops and coconutty toppings, so this one, by comparison, seemed to be a plain chocolate dud.

So when I finally bit into it this afternoon, I was surprised --and really pleased-- to find a burst of gooey caramel inside.

One lesson here is painfully cliche and obvious: don't judge a book by its cover. But there's another one, too: don't discount the blessings God gives you just because they look less-than-impressive on the outside. You never know what you'll find once the outer wrapper's been removed.

February 14

I like Valentine's Day, but it is, at its root, just another day. Another wonderful, mundane, unique, boring, spectacular day that becomes whatever we make of it.

Mine consisted of a mishmash of the mundane and the unique, with Mom/Daughter dance class, lunch at our usual haunt, Isaac's first-ever t-ball practice, and a trip to the doctor with Brady. I took him in because I was pretty sure he had bronchitis. (I was right). I did not take him in thinking he would throw up all over me while we sat in the waiting room. (I was wrong). I also didn't think I'd have to sit through the appointment wearing an inappropriate tank top, which Adam kindly brought for me when I called to explain what happened. (I was wrong.)

Though it wasn't something I'd like to repeat and I feel bad for my poor little Muffin, I'm grateful to have another new (and decidedly humorous) story that will live on (because believe me, it will). I'm thankful that I was able to find the funny, because there's little better --and little more uplifting-- than finding the funny with the people I love most of all.

February 13

With Brady feeling under the weather, today could've been a frustrating one. But it wasn't, for two different reasons.

I was confused when my doorbell rang before 8 AM, and was so surprised when I answered it and found my friend V standing on the porch holding a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. It was such an unexpected and thoughtful gesture that it really helped to lighten my mood.

As I munched a frosted treat, I tried to figure out how to handle the preschool situation, because of course, I was the scheduled co-op parent, too. (Because you're always on the calendar when your kid is throwing up!) I texted my friend J to see if she could take my place, and even though she had plans of her own, she canceled them because I needed help. Wow. (The strawberries in the image were part of the snack I took over, and as I cut them up, I noticed how they looked like little fruity hearts. It seemed appropriate to include them.)

So yeah: selfless people who think of others rock. And they were total God winks to me, because recent experiences have left me feeling a profound sense of disappointment with so many others. It's awesome to get such tangible reminders that people can be really good, too.

February 12

Ah, Valentine's Day. It's not my favorite holiday, but it's fun, and the kids enjoy it. With school card exchanges set for tomorrow, this afternoon I helped Isaac with his Valentines: he wrote the names, and I attached the candy.

There was something sweet about watching him as he painstakingly --and enthusiastically-- inscribed the name of one of his friends on each little card. It's a blessing to watch him as he continues to grow and mature.

February 11

A Corvette across the way when we went to lunch. A cool "zoom car" driving home. New Pixar Cars at Target. The perfect bright yellow and orange potted plants at Lowe's. A giant sunshine ballroom.

So many reminders of our sweet Logan today. So, so many. But my favorite of all came as Adam, Brady, and I left our lunch hour destination. As we walked back to the car, Brady cuddled Lambie tightly, kissed him, and called him "Wammie."

That sweet voice cooing that sweet name took me back in time to when Lambie's boy cradled him and called him "Wammie."

Brady is his own person, but at times he reminds me so very much of his biggest brother that it takes my breath away. In that sweet moment of nostalgia, my heart warmed as I listened to him tenderly caring for that very special lovey.

I wish Logan were here. I wish we'd gotten that amazing miracle I so wanted and so believed in. I may never get over that; I'd give up so, so much to have him here. But I'll be thankful for what I can get: the moments, the reminders, and the days that somehow manage to not be as painful as I fear they'll be.

February 10

On this eve of what some would term Logan's 'Angel Day' -- I'm not totally sold on the term since I don't believe we becomes angels, per se, but I do like the sentiment so I roll with it anyway-- I was in the living room looking at his tree this afternoon. We got it soon after he passed, and since it's still in a pot, we kind of baby it during the colder, frostier winter months. Anyway, it made me smile to see its first little leaves of the new season starting to form:

Lately, thoughts of my Sunshine often co-mingle with thoughts of new life, so this seemed an especially appropos image for today. The end of THIS life isn't THE END; it's the start of something new and better. And for that, I'm so thankful. Especially at this time of year.

February 9

The kids didn't have school today. After a lazy pajama-clad morning sweetened by homemade chocolate chip mini muffins, the mid-afternoon hours saw us at a park where we met up with one of Isaac's friends. While the kiddos played, I chatted with a friend and looked up at the sky, which was absolutely resplendent.

The sky after a strong, prolonged rain can be so lovely: so clear and clean and blue and crisp; a real-life illustration of renewal. The way the sunlight shone around the edges of the clouds actually made me gasp aloud in appreciation.

A small thing, but an undeniably beautiful one.

February 8

This evening, Adam decided that we'd venture back to our younger days and watch Beauty and the Beast with the kiddos. For the most part, they watched with rapt attention. And then when it was over, Abby summoned Isaac during the credits. And they danced.

They moved intermittently between a respectable, rhythmic box step and a madcap tango-like maneuver that sent them rocketing, giggling, from one end of the family room to the other.

It's a blessing to see them dancing and laughing and interacting and, well, just getting along. It made me smile. And it's precisely the kind of thing that Logan would've smiled at, too.

February 7

I was struck by the similarities between my mood and the weather today. It was cloudy and overcast, and then it rained. But it didn't just rain: it raged. It full-on poured, pounding the ground with impressive force, almost as if the drops were trying to work together to beat the earth into submission. And then it finally let up, and the silence came, and this remained:

Yes, I can relate to this kind of weather, especially this time of year. I can relate to raging and ranting and pounding my fists on the ground and asking "why?" And fortunately, I can also relate to the silence that follows those infuriating and painful times; those times when I've cried enough tears and cried out enough that I can finally relax and feel a sense of peace.

And I cling to the promise of that rainbow, too. One day, things will be whole and right and perfect.

February 6

Praise the Lord, it's finally raining again! But before it began, I walked Abby and Isaac to school, dropped Brady at preschool, and headed over to visit Logan's grave. I don't do that particularly often these days; I don't really know why. Right after he passed, I went every day after preschool drop-off, but now, it's like I'm happy enough going with the family once a week. Anyway, after I sprinkled some new grass seed and dirt, I stood and looked down at his stone. Strong winds whipped my hair around my face, but they didn't make me cold; it's almost as if they just made me more aware. Just before I got into the car to leave, I asked Logan to show up today if he could. A few minutes later, I approached a red light and saw this:

I was surprised to see the rainbow because it hadn't rained yet; just a few drops here and there with partly cloudy skies above. But I took it in and smiled. Then a little later, I saw a pretty white Corvette stopped at a different red light. And again, I smiled.

It's easy to miss the reminders of God's --and to whatever degree it's possible, Logan's-- presence. But when I do see them --when my heart is fully open to believing that they're real-- they're truly salient blessings.

February 5

Since Isaac and Abby go to the same school but get out at different times (don't get me started on that one), the Little Boys and I typically spend the hour between the dismissal times at the park. More often than not, Isaac climbs on the big rope structure while Brady plays in the sandbox. Today, Isaac joined Brady in sand-land, and the two worked to create a big race track for the little monster truck Brady keeps in the stroller.

As they entered the latter stages of the project, two of Isaac's long-time buddies --E and J-- joined them. Then all four boys worked together to transport the sand needed to finish the job.

With so much emphasis placed on getting ahead these days, it's such a relief to see little ones pulling their resources and abilities to create something together. There's definitely power in numbers, and the lessons learned while engaged in teamwork are definitely big-time blessings. God is very much in their cooperation.

February 4

The kids have all been quite interested in making Valentines lately. Yesterday, Abby showed me the very sweet personalized cards she'd made for Isaac and Brady. Then before dinner (and after they put on their circus act, which starred Abby the Acrobat, Isaac the Clumsy Clown, and Brady the Monkey) this evening, the Little Boys plunked down at the table to continue their work.

I love that they like writing nice notes and drawing pictures for others. It's never been particularly natural for me to expression affection, so I'm so grateful that despite my shortcomings, my children aren't lacking in that area. It's a blessing, and their enthusiasm makes me smile.

February 3

Recently, my neighbors' landlord deceived and effectively stole from me. I found out about it today, and tried to rectify the situation, but he doggedly kept to his story and refused to refund me a very ill-gotten sum of money that everyone else involved says should be mine. So yeah, it wasn't a good day at all. I'm still angry and frustrated and disheartened; I try hard --so, so hard-- to treat people fairly and I would never deliberately do something to screw over someone else, so it hurts to be a victim of someone else's greed. But I'm trying to move beyond it, and Isaac unknowingly helped me along in the process over dinner.

We were (of course) dining at Costco when Abby said something unflattering to Isaac. I confess that I wasn't fully paying attention to what was going on --I was stewing in the juices of my previously-noted frustration-- but I know she said something that wasn't nice that began with "I think you...". I watched Isaac's face as he first listened to her words and then absorbed their meaning. And then he surprised me. Just when I thought he'd say something mean in response, he gritted his teeth, smiled, and simply replied, "Thank you, Abby, for thinking of me." And then he took another bite of his pizza. And that was it.

It's incredibly hard to turn the other cheek when someone wrongs you, especially when said person knows darn well that he did the wrong thing and refuses to own up to it. But it's what we have to do. So tonight, I'm trying to follow my kiddo's lead and let it go.

February 2

Since she's my oldest, I'm perpetually in uncharted waters with Abby. She'd probably throw a fit if she saw this, but despite my relative inexperience, I know she's most definitely in the pre-teen phase. Rapid fire changes in emotion followed by full-force bursts of willful attitude that are inexplicably capped by cheerfully delivered vignettes from her day are more the norm that the exception.

But still, despite the craziness, I'm deeply thankful that she talks to me; that she shares what she's thinking and feeling, even if the method of delivery could sometimes use some serious improvement.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: it is a GIFT to watch your children grow up and blossom into the bigger people they were designed to be. I will not take that for granted, and I'm thankful for the reminders of the sheer magnitude of that blessing.

February 1

We had a nice morning, I think. I served communion for the very first time, which was a pretty amazing experience, and then after church was over and I'd finished helping to clean up the plates and cups, I headed outside. The sky was surprisingly gray, but it felt sunny to me anyway, because I could see the Little Boys and Adam playing a game in the distance.

I don't feel like Adam has had much fun since Logan headed Home. He always been the quiet and introspective type, but those traits have been magnified three and four and five-fold over the last three years. So it was a blessing to me to be able to see his fun-loving, silly side come out to play, if only for a little while.