September 16

I get into cleaning jags every now and again; I'll feel a sudden jolt of inspiration and will go until the wheels fall off the bus. I had what I'll call a mini jag today.

I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, wiped down the countertops, took out the recycling, cleaned the bathtub, and ran several loads of laundry.

I'm not a fan of folding laundry, but instead of just letting it sit in the basket as I'm often tempted to do, I prayed for motivation and got to work. So I sat there in front of an old "Matlock" re-run and folded socks and pants and shorts and shirts and underwear. And I didn't stop until the last socks were rolled together.

So today, I'm thankful that God answers prayers -- even the dull everyday ones.

September 15

I've always been a fan of crescent moons.

Maybe it's because I was born under a waxing crescent (two days past the new moon, in fact. I didn't actually know that last detail, for the record; I just looked it up). Or maybe it's because I can picture a little mouse sitting on it with a star hung from the top portion, like you might see in an old children's book.

Whatever the reason, I always like how they look. And I like how seeing one fills me with a sense of calm serenity.

God made the earth and the moon and the stars. And I am continually in awe of the scope of His creativity.

September 14

My Bible Study group took a field trip to a local non-profit this morning. Little Miracles collects and distributes baby items to underprivileged families in our local area. It's an amazing ministry, and seeing the facility --and hearing that they include a baby blanket with each gift they give away-- inspired me to get to work.

This particular item that I started when I got home isn't a blanket because I already had a specific pattern in mind, but I've gone through my (extensive) yarn inventory and am planning to get to work on my first donation soon. 

Fortunately, I have an ample supply of yarn that will work well for baby blankets. So today, I'm grateful to God for showing me another organization that can use what I make to bless my neighbors in a practical (and hopefully powerful) way.

September 13

Our church's annual meeting took place this morning after the service. 

I'm not much of a meeting person; I don't get much out of sitting in a room and listening to talk about vision and budgeting and so on. It's not my cup of tea.

But I was voted in to serve another few years as a Deacon, which I enjoyed the first go-round (a number of years back, before I served as an Elder). I hope to be a blessing to others during my term.

And I was also pleased to see this guy interacting with others. Brady got the last seat at this particular table and I watched him from my perch a few yards away. He's growing up, and I am thankful for the gift of watching him morph more into the young man God wants him to be. 

September 12

I predicted that there would be much less overt wrestling at our house when Isaac went off to college, and I was right.

But what I did not necessarily predict was that Abby and Brady would devise new and creative ways to harass one another. They don't wrestle, per se, because Brady would have a clear advantage. But their verbal repartee is top-notch and they routinely chase each other around the house, striking some of the oddest poses along the way (like this one. They were NOT practicing an aisle-stroll, even though it looks like they were).

It's definitely quieter around here these days, but these two manage to keep things lively. And for their youthful spirit, I am grateful.

September 11

I went to an A's/Orioles game during Cal Ripken's farewell tour back in September of 2001. Among a throng of eager autograph seekers who lined and pressed against the infield wall before the game, I was one of the fortunate ones: he reached for and signed this baseball for me, and it now sits in a display case atop a dresser in our room. This was before marriage and kids, so it was a benchmark moment and I was thrilled.

That was a few days before 9/11. And now every time I look at it, I remember that day.

I was 23 years old, living with a pair of roommates in a house in Castro Valley. I was awakened abruptly when one of those roomies --a guy named Mike-- banged on my bedroom door. I was groggy and didn't fully realized that anyone had knocked until he did it again a few moments later. When I peered out into the living room, I found a wide-eyed Mike and Andrea --our other roommate-- staring at the TV across the room. It took me a few minutes to figure out what had happened. And a mixture of shock and horror took over. 

I spent the rest of the day alternately watching exhausted TV reporters sharing updates and silently worrying about my own family back home. I am, after all, from the DC-area, and the notion that I might have known someone at the Pentagon wasn't a silly one. It was chaotic. It was surreal. It was unspeakably awful that human beings could do this kind of thing to other human beings. And I quietly mourned the innocence that had been so violently stripped away from all of us.

But then the healing began to happen. It was slow-going, of course, but it was real and tangible. And seeing the helpers emerge --watching the first responders put their own needs last-- and watching as neighbor assisted neighbor... it was beautiful; an unexpected silver lining on an impossibly black cloud.

Twenty-five years later, I worry --often-- that we've forgotten how to be united like we were in the months and years after 9/11; that we've forgotten how to love our neighbors as ourselves. That we're so wrapped up in our own wants and desires that we forget to consider the needs of those around us. Given all that was lost that day, it would be tragic if we continued to fail to remember the very expensive lessons we learned about grace and humility. And about living and moving together as a truly united nation, which doesn't mean agreeing all the time, but does mean coexisting in peace. The healing that happened post-9/11 was a gift from God, and I feel blessed that I was able to see it for myself. And my prayer is that one day, we will again be able to love and care for one another like we did 25 years ago.

September 10

When Brady was younger, he loved educational coffee table books. You know, the big ones with lots of pictures that are ostensibly designed to teach, but often just sit unopened. On coffee tables. And credenzas. Anyway, he loved those and gobbled up the information like an eager little beaver (which is probably why he, to this day, has much of the Periodic Table of Elements committed to memory).

Although his enthusiasm for learning has waned a bit over time, he still gets into moods where he finds himself wanting to figure something out. And tonight, he's been trying to teach himself how to code. He's been sitting right there on the couch for two hours now, quietly attempting to understand the wide, wide world of computer language.

It's a blessing to see him interested in something new (to him) because knowledge will (hopefully) lead to wisdom down the road.