September 30

See Adam in the background? That's how I feel, but for an entirely different reason.

I was home solo with the kiddos this week while he was on an international business trip. We picked him up from the BART station after school this afternoon, went to Costco to (finally) have our new tires installed, and then came home. And within five minutes, he was snoozing in the chair. And Abby was withholding Bear Bear from Brady, who decided to sit on her in retaliation.

It was a long week. But this sight --this return to our usual "normal"-- is a blessing.

And now I'm going to go sleep for 12 hours.

September 29

It's been a long week, so I was gratified when, as I drove home after dropping Abby off at her dance class this evening, the theme song to "Cars" came on the radio. It's a happy song for me, so it's always a welcome tune. The Little Boys, who were along for the ride, noticed the familiar chords rather quickly and the sweetest conversation ensued.

Brady was the first to speak when he asked me why Logan liked "Cars" so much. I didn't really have any answer because the truth is that I don't really know; I can guess that he loved it because he loved all-things automotive, so I said as much. Then Isaac took his turn addressing the query, and I liked his response so much better than my own: Logan liked "Cars" because God made us all different and special in our own ways. And liking "Cars" is one thing that made him special.

I smiled and agreed and left it at that. When we got home, I took this picture before we went inside. These boys may not get to grow up with their big brother, but I am so blessed that he's still so much a part of their lives.

September 28

Two of my kiddos celebrated achievements today: Isaac got his butterfly ribbon at swimming, and then a little later, Abby received her certificate for earning straight A's during the spring semester. By a coin flip, this is the image I'm using, but it could easily have been Isaac at the pool!

I sometimes worry about Abby when it comes to the social aspect of middle school. She had a bad friend-related experience a few years ago, and as a byproduct of that, she's extremely careful when it comes to choosing the people with whom she spends her time. Tonight, it did my heart oodles of good to see her immediately greet someone the second we walked into the MPR. It did my heart even more good to see her coursing through the crowd --and animatedly chatting-- with a different friend after the photo op concluded. Those little moments of parental relief are such blessings.

September 27

I had coffee with a friend this morning. I totally dropped the ball and didn't take a photo (which if you know me, you realize is insanity), so this lame stand-in will have to do.

Long, virtually no-holds-barred conversations mean so much to me. I connect with a lot of people on a daily basis, but I'm totally guilty of keeping a lot of those interactions surface. It's just easier to not get into the nitty gritty details of my life that are uncomfortable or maybe even a bit embarrassing. But today, I put it all out there and it felt pretty darn good. A blessing for sure.

September 26

I saw this as I came downstairs this morning. I thought it was cute, so I retrieved my phone and snapped a pic for no real reason. A bunny and a bear; two different animals sitting together in harmony.

And then this evening, the reason I felt compelled to capture the scene made itself known. I was putting the Little Boys to bed, and as is our custom, we started singing songs just before lights out. I opened with "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and then moved on to "Jesus Loves Me," and they sang along. And when they did, I suddenly noticed that Brady wasn't singing "Jesus loves me" or even Adam's version, "Jesus loves you." No, my muffin was singing "Jesus loves everyone." I stopped when I realized what he was saying, and he smiled shyly and forged on.

And I was struck by the profound wisdom in my five-year old's words: Jesus does love everyone, even those who I might otherwise deem unlovable. It's an important lesson to remember, given the ever-present troubles in this world and the tensions that threaten peace: Jesus loves everyone.

September 25

The sermon this morning was, at its core, about waiting on God's perfect timing and perfect plan for this life. And about trusting in His love for all of us and about how our hearts become injured when we don't trust in that love. I kind of listened. By "kind of listened," I mean I heard it. But I didn't let the words sink into my heart, mostly because I know my heart is injured. And because at my core, I'm still mad and hurt over what happened to Logan. Over God not stopping it. So even though I know I'm damaged goods in precisely the way the speaker described it, I decided --in that kind of begrudging preschooler-esque way-- that I was okay with being hurt. So I dismissed the message and moved on with my day.

Later on this evening, I was watching a movie on TV and wouldn't you just know it? That same message came up again.

This woman who'd put a wall up between herself and God after muddling through years of pain and disappointment found herself needing to believe in God and His promises. And of course because it's the movies, the miracle came and things were made right. Not perfect, but right. None of the bad things from her past were suddenly undone, but she made a choice to start to believe anyway.

I'm not saying she's me, but there are parallels. And I'm quite conscious that during those scenes, God reached out to me for a second time today to try to deliver the same message. Only this time, I heard Him for real. And I think that can only be described as a good thing.

September 24

I don't really have a specific moment to point to from today; I was just scrolling through the images on my phone and came across this one from this afternoon.

We were taking a pit stop in Nordstrom this afternoon when Abby saw a display that featured Curious George. She picked one up and posed for me, and this picture was born.

She's growing up faster than I ever thought possible, but I love that even though she's getting older, she still loves little girl things like Curious George and My Little Pony.

I'm beyond words thankful for every day with her, hearing her thoughts and watching her form and express opinions. It's all a blessing.

September 23

Today began with me noticing that my car's front tires were more worn that I thought they should be. (As in 'hey, isn't there supposed to be tread on these things?' worn down. Yeah.) After dinner, we headed over to Costco en masse to have them check it out, and after the tech confirmed that they could do the job, we opted to have them replaced right then and there. Well, not exactly; they told Adam it would be an hour or two, so he paid for the tires and we spent a memorable evening traipsing around the store looking at just about everything.

There were the sample sound systems and the keyboard that lit up when you touched the keys. (This was quite popular.) There were the Halloween costumes and the seven-foot tall inflatable bear Christmas lawn ornament. And there was the 53-inch teddy bear that Brady lobbied for with his entire little heart. He dragged it down the aisle, hugging its giant head, and then tearfully protested 'but it's just a little bit bigger than me!' as Adam tossed it back into its bin (and out of reach).

When we left, we had two pairs of pajamas, a Christmas dress, and a Waterpik in tow (because dude, it was on sale and I've wanted one of those things for years! Weird, I know. But sometimes totally lame things make me happy). And, ironically, no new tires: we discovered when we were finally called back to pick up the car that they'd sold us the wrong tires and actually didn't have what we needed in stock. D'oh! So I'll have to go back later next week.

But end-of-night frustration aside, we had an unusual and mostly amusing night together as a family. And that's something to treasure.

September 22

I had a pleasant morning: a leisurely coffee get-together with a friend, followed by a quick stop at a grocery store I hardly ever visit. While I was there, I came across a bin of Hot Wheels, so given my interest in Corvettes, I took a look. And I was truly shocked to find one I'd been looking for for months -- and had given up on ever actually finding.

In the world of Hot Wheels, there are regular cars, and then there are special cars that are made in shorter supply, which of course makes them harder to find. I've done a good job of hunting down most of the Corvettes produced over the past few years, but this one --thanks to its relative rarity-- had eluded me until today. I almost cried right there in the store when I found it, because for just a half-second, it felt like Logan was giving me little wave; telling me 'hey mom, I've had this here for you for a while now.'

A small thing for sure. But a valuable one for me.

September 21

I really dislike driving due west when the sun is going down, just as I dislike driving due east in the mid-morning hours. Why anyone ever thinks east-west roads are a good idea is beyond me, given how blinding the light can be. Anyway, I went out this evening --just before sundown-- because Isaac needed some sticky notes. As I waited to make a left-hand turn, I looked ahead and saw the most beautiful golden light filtered through some trees.

It's a lousy image, but you can kind of see what I'm talking about over toward the left side of the picture: rays of orangey-yellow light.

A nice reminder that pretty things can spring from undesirable --or even unpleasant-- circumstances and situations.

September 20

This evening featured a sky painted with an assortment of multicolored and variably shaped clouds. Some looked like discs. Some were large with fluffy, whimsical edges. Some looked like angel wings.

Or at least it's how they looked to me as I drove Abby across town to her youth group meeting. And when I think of angels, of course thoughts of Heaven aren't far behind. And that's always a very good thing.

September 19

A trio of past-their-prime bananas sat in a bag on our kitchen counter this afternoon. After walking past them several times, I finally stopped and gave them a good look, and what I saw wasn't pretty: black peels and mushy flesh that would draw eeeews from just about anyone. But then I remembered that over-ripe bananas are good for baking, so a quick internet search yielded a crop of good-looking recipes. I chose one by Ina Garten, eliminated some of the frou frou elements that I knew the kids --nor Adam-- would like, and had the muffin pans in the oven within half an hour.

Granted the ridiculous amount of sugar in the mix probably didn't hurt, but the final product turned out really well: great texture, great flavor.

As the kiddos --well, Abby and Isaac, since Brady is really picky right now-- and I ate our muffins, I couldn't help but notice how once again, something ugly --something seemingly beyond redemption-- was transformed into a desirable indulgence. Something beauty. Something well-worth a few minutes of my time.

It's good to remember that even during our rotting banana moments --because dude, we all have them-- we're not past the point of no return with God. We can always become something new and better.

September 18

Brady went to his friend's birthday party today.

It was held at one of those bounce house places that takes care of the details for you, so your only job as a parent is to watch the kiddos bounce, slide, and laugh with their friends.

It's such a blessing to see my young ones having fun, especially at birthday parties. After all, we should always be conscious that the simple act of living is an "event" worthy of celebration.

September 17

I could probably wax poetic if I tried, but I think this speaks volumes all by itself.

It means so, so much to know that his friends still remember him, even though he died more than four and a half years ago and they were so very young at the time. So thank you, B, for sharing, and for raising M to care.

September 16

Ah, sweet Friday. Today was the day for Clifford the biggish red stuffed dog to return to kindergarten, so Brady double-bagged it as we headed out to the car this morning. There's something just so precious about watching someone quite small managing the weight --and the inherent awkwardness-- of two backpacks, so after I asked if he wanted help --he said no-- I stopped and watched him amble along the sidewalk for a moment.

I think, sometimes, that God views us in the way that I viewed Brady here: As precious little kiddos who must learn to navigate life with our baggage. Of course, He offers up help just like I did (and we so often turn Him down, just like Brady turned me down).

It was an interesting parallel to draw.

September 15

It's been... a week, I guess. A less than awesome week. But there have been a few bright spots, including this one from today.

One of the fun kindergarten activities that my kiddos have enjoyed is a visit from Clifford the Big Red Dog. They get to bring a stuffed animal home, along with a backpack, Clifford books, and a journal. They're supposed to interact with Clifford and then share what they did via a journal entry.

It's always fun for me to see what the kiddos want to share with Clifford; will they want to feed him? Will he join us for dinner? Will he ride in the car or hang out with the other stuffed animals who share our home? Will he have fun? The exercise gives their creativity and inventiveness a chance to shine, and I love hearing what they say because invariably, they'll come up with something that makes me smile. And when it's been a week, those little funnies mean an awful lot.

September 14

I was quite tired this evening after the kids and I got home from swimming, so I laid down on the couch for a rest.

It took Brady about 10 seconds to say that he wanted to cuddle, so under the blanket he came. I don't have a photo of it, but after he vacated the spot, Isaac took his place.

Like everyone, I like to feel loved, so my Little Boys' devotion meant a lot.

September 13

This may come as a surprise to some because I don't talk much about it, but I've always struggled with anxiety. I know the Bible says I shouldn't worry, but knowing that doesn't always change the way I feel. Sad, I guess, but it's the truth. And I confess it. Lately, I've felt an uptick in anxiety, to the point that I'm waking up overnight worrying over issues and situations that aren't typically more than blips on my radar. When I feel like this, I look for little things that make me smile --even if it's just for a minute or two-- and this is something I saw tonight.

This is one of Abby's stuffed animals, a penguin that's alternately known as Big Eyes and Waddles. I have no idea why it's wearing a sparkly doll dress, but it is, and it was sitting next to me on the couch for quite some time this evening before I noticed it was there. I chuckled when I finally saw it.

A small thing. An inconsequential thing, really. But it made me forget my troubles for a moment, so that makes it a blessing.

September 12

This year, the kids' schedules are such that I can usually walk to pick up Brady from kindergarten, so that's what I did this afternoon. On the way home, we both enjoyed the satisfying crunch that results from stepping on fallen leaves, and at one point, he bent over to examine one more closely.

I don't remember which one of us noticed it, but there's a heart in the center of the leaf, so Brady asked me to take a picture. Afterward, as we continued along our way, I asked him how he he thought the heart had appeared. I suggested that a bug might've chewed through it, but I liked Brady's explanation exponentially more: he mused that it was the footprint of an animal with a heart-shaped paw.

Innocence is a sweet blessing.

September 11

On a day when we, as a nation, remember a day that cost us so very much, we headed north to enjoy an evening with family. Although we make a point of celebrating birthdays, my sister-in-law Emily's came and went a few months back, and we never managed to make a big get-together happen, so we opted for a smaller gathering with just our two immediate families.

So we talked over dinner, and the kids had fun playing their their young cousin Theo (and cooing over younger little guy Asher).

We don't get together nearly often enough, but it was a blessing to see them today, and to watch our kids enjoying one another; to see Abby acting as the big sister/overseer, and to see Brady excitedly darting to and fro trying to get Theo's attention, and to see how Isaac held Theo's little hand as they walked. There's an undeniable mutual admiration between the two that I look forward to watching develop as time passes.

Family is a blessing.

September 10

It was a pleasant enough, low-key weekend day. We didn't do much --just lunch, then chill time at home, and an after dinner walk. Then we closed out the evening with a few card games.

It's kind of incredible to realize that they're all old --and mature-- enough to play actual card games with virtually no help. They're growing up, and though some would lament it, I feel quite blessed (even if they do play better than me sometimes).

September 9

They definitely bicker sometimes --usually over whose turn it is to play a video game-- but I know they adore one another. Here's an ounce of photographic proof.

This is pretty much how I found them when I came downstairs this morning: cuddled up on the couch together watching a Mario Brothers cartoon on Netflix. (Brady shifted a little while he saw me pointing my phone in their direction, thus the "pretty much" notation.)

I always felt like I missed out by not having a sister, but I'm glad that these guys are blessed with each other. Brotherly love is a beautiful thing.

September 8

I feel silly, but I'm quite pleased with this:

It's the top of my dresser, and it's remotely organized. It's kind of embarrassing to admit it, but I'm not the best cleaner-upper. In fact, I'm probably not even in the top 50th percentile of top cleaner-uppers. But the dresser had been messy for years (yes, years), and I finally decided today that I'd had enough. So I neatened it up. Threw out stuff. Moved stuff to new homes. Thoroughly dusted stuff.

Never mind that I still have entire rooms to clean, but I felt a sense of accomplishment when I finished. And I was reminded that any kind of positive change begins with a step, no matter how small it may seem.

So closet, you're now on notice: I'm coming for you. (Not really. At least, not yet. I'm still tired from the dresser.)

September 7

I spent a lot of time today straightening up around the house, so tonight, it was nice to just kick back a bit.

A Cars blanket, re-runs, and down time: the makings of a wonderfully quiet evening that I'm blessed to be able to enjoy.

September 6

The staggered start schedule began today at the elementary school, so after I dropped off Isaac (who is full-day) and Abby, Brady-the-late-bird and I had some extra time to chill. We went home for a short time, and then hit the park for a few minutes of pre-class play.

There was nothing remarkable about the experience; it was merely the start of another phase of life. But given that these new phases and experiences are never guaranteed, I'm thankful to have these little mundane moments.

September 5

Before I get on with today's observation, I feel like I have to say something more about my Violet. When I adopted her almost 16 years ago, I'd finished college just a few months earlier and had just moved to Northern California --a place I'd never lived, where I had virtually no friends-- so Adam and I would have a shot at being together for the long haul. We chose to live apart, so my kitty was, very seriously, my closest buddy (and even at times, my confidante) for a few years. She made living here bearable and was my "person" to whom I could always come home. I'll never forget how important she was to me.

So today. Labor Day. I slept in much later than I'd intended, and when I finally came downstairs, I was surprised to find the kiddos playing. Together. Peacefully. Mostly quietly.

They'd gathered together an assortment of Animal Jam creatures, Littlest Pet Shop pets, Legos, and stuffed animals, and had built a sort of village on the family room floor. What surprised me the most, though, was that the game actually persisted throughout the day.

Don't get me wrong, they love each other. I know that. But I also know that they're of different ages and have reached different developmental stages and have different interests. Yet somehow, today, they put their heads together and came up with a game that they all enjoyed. If kids can do it, it's my hope and sincere prayer that some day, adults will figure out how to do it, too.

September 4

My kitty died today.

Adam and the Little Boys went to church while Abby and I chose to stay here with Violet; I knew that she didn't have much time left, and I couldn't bear the idea of her being alone while she passed on. I laid down on the floor with her for much of the morning as she slept a deep sleep, her chest rhythmically rising and falling, rising and falling to the beat of life. At one point, Abby got up and asked if I wanted her to take a picture. I said yes, so she did, and this wound up being the very last photo of my dear companion of 16 years.

I stood up to stretch shortly before the boys got home and turned on the TV. There wasn't much on, so I left it tuned to a random IndyCar race. The next few moments wound up being critical; the boys came inside, I got up to check on her and it seemed that her chest was no longer rising and falling, rising and falling with that rhythmic familiarity, so I asked Isaac to go get Adam. (Adam later told me that Isaac was near tears as he delivered the news.) Abby sat with us on the floor, hugging her knees and crying, as Adam stroked kitty's back and I alternately touched her paws and her soft, soft head.

She took a sharp breath, and then another about 20 seconds later. Her breaths grew further and further apart until finally, at about 12:40, she breathed in the very last one of all, a soft, contented little sigh. And she was gone.

We all cried. Abby and Isaac openly, Brady more begrudgingly; I found him hiding behind the couch in the living room trying to hide his tears. I told him it was okay to be sad and he tried to fight me as I lifted him to my chest, but he eventually gave in and cried into my shoulders.

Even though she went peacefully, it was so hard to watch her die. It pulled on the thread that keeps memories of Logan's passing sewn away in one of the quietest, furthest recesses of my mind. And it hurts. It just hurts.

I remember that I went to the Oakland SPCA in September of 2000 looking to adopt a kitten, but I saw Violet first. And she was unwell and a single little sneeze convinced me that she and I were meant to be together; that I was meant to be part of her healing process. I don't really know how old she was when she moved on today; 18, or even upwards of 20, maybe. I do know that we spent nearly 16 full years together. I know that she was my constant companion and roommate through four rental units and two houses. I know that she was completely my girl until I married Adam and she and I moved in with him; then I discovered her affinity for men. I know that she liked to be scratched under her chin and she loved pets like most cats do. I know that she wasn't exactly a big fan of young children, though she was never mean to or aggressive with them, even when they pulled on her tail or startled her with their enthusiastic 'oh, look, kitty!' glee.

I know that she was a good cat and a good friend. And I know that I was very blessed to have her for as long as I did, so though I'll miss having her with me, I'm thankful that I had her at all. And I'm hopeful that she's in Logan's lap, having her chin scratched right now.

September 3

We had lunch at our usual haunt today. Per their normal routine, the kiddos drew on their placements while we waited for our food.

Abby drew one of her dolls on the back of her paper before flipping it over and shading in the farm scene on the front. Isaac drew what appeared to be a dancing chicken. (Don't ask. I have no idea.) And Brady drew the image above. When I asked him about it, he told me that it's a Skylander in a Skylander vehicle.

I love watching them create -- coloring, writing, drawing, whatever. I keep saying it, but its true so it bears my incessant repetition: it's a blessing to watch them grow every single day.

September 2

Isaac has a good friend at school named K. In fact, K actually lives a few houses away from us, though we rarely see him when classes aren't in session. Anyhow, K is in Isaac's class again this year, and since K also has a sibling at the middle school, he and Isaac have a pick-up tradition that seems to amuse them both.

K gets out of his mom's car, runs over to our car, and both boys (plus Brady) giggle like mad as he dances around on the sidewalk. They chatter, too, though most of the time I can't figure out what they're saying over the laughter.

Sweet, simple childhood friendships are such a blessing. I know most don't last an entire lifetime, but I'll tell you something: I cherish my very old friends like they're pure gold.

September 1

I can't believe it's already September. It's nearly pumpkin season, which is pretty much my very favorite time of the whole year. I love cool, crisp air and warm coffee and cider and crackly leaves and the smell of other people using their fireplaces. (But not me, because I'm allergic. But I like to smell the smoke from a safe distance.) And mushrooms. Okay, well, not really, but I needed a transition.

I pointed these out to Brady as we trekked over to the school to pick up Isaac this afternoon. Not at all surprisingly, he immediately said they looked like Toadies (like from the Super Mario games). I, meanwhile, marveled aloud over how amazing mushrooms really are: over how there's zero sign of them one day, but just hours later, they're fully grown. It was a nice little reminder that sometimes, really cool things can spring forth from the most unlikely places, so we should always be hopeful that unexpected blessings will pop up.