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. 

September 9

It was boss-level gross outside today, with a 105-degree high temp and virtually no breeze. I chose to stay inside as much as I could.

But it was also Back to School Night for Brady, so Adam and I sucked it up and ventured out early this evening so we could attend and put faces to his teachers' names.

As the program closed and we headed back to the car, I admired the late-day clouds in the distance, and then, a little later, the pink of those very same clouds as the sun dropped completely behind the sightline.

It was definitely a yuck kind of weather day, but it ended on a high note. And it served as a reminder to me that beautiful things can result from less-than-beautiful circumstances. Sometimes we just need to be patient and wait for the loveliness to show itself.

September 8

It's Tuesday so not surprisingly, Adam and I went to dinner while Brady was at Youth Group.

He shared about his day at work and I tried to remember what I bought during my post-Mother Ship shopping trip. (Incidentally, it's amazing and vaguely alarming to realize how bad my recall is at the moment. Yikes. One of the many gifts of being a woman in my late 40s.)

Nothing extraordinary happened but was good to be out with my hunny. So for the gift of that time on a regular old Tuesday night, I am grateful.

(P.S. Those are my new glasses, which I got from Costco last week. I'm grateful for them because my previous pair was very old and the prescription was quite wrong.)

September 7

This is my squish.

He's a knock-off of those dumpling-things that've been so insanely popular for the last several months, and other than being a wee bit stinky, he's a good, reliable squish.

I'm someone who has always had issues with anxiety and although recent years have seen a marked decrease in that area, I still look for practical ways to manage stress. And squishing my squish definitely helps.

So today, I am grateful that God gave someone the idea to create squishies.

September 6

All of the unicorns came down to the kitchen this afternoon, and I had to commemorate the moment.

I love that these two are 21 and 15 and have zero reservations about hanging out with this particular gang of stuffies (and a few others. These are just two of the major players plus BearBear). Although they're not little kids anymore, they still maintain playful personas.

The whole scene makes me smile, and for that not-small gift, I am thankful.

September 5

Brady accompanied Adam and I to Costco this morning.

Actually, he drove us there after we dropped Abby off at the Toyota dealership to pick up her car after its service.

Anyway, when we arrived at the store, he scurried over to get a cart and then proceeded to push it all throughout the trip. There were no arguments and no sassiness and no complaints. 

After we checked out, we enjoyed lunch in the food court, where he sampled (and finished) his first-ever chicken bake. (He was pleased when I informed him that they do indeed sell them boxed in the frozen section. Or at least they used to do that.)

It was a very pleasant time with our baby. So for that --for his willingness to just go with the flow-- I am grateful.