May 6

I had to venture into the boys' bathroom this afternoon to deliver some face soap, and I was shocked by what I found inside.

Although I was mentally prepared to see the domestic equivalent of a toxic waste dump, the countertop and sinks were actually organized and clean.

I rubbed my eyes and blinked hard a few times to be sure I was actually seeing what my brain said it saw, and yep, still clean.

I'm so proud of Isaac and Brady for finally cleaning up their shared space because it shows that they're continuing to grow and mature and take responsibility for themselves. So I am grateful to God for that reality.

May 5

Adam was in Oregon on business for a few days. I picked him up from BART this evening while the boys were at Youth Group and we were able to head out to our customary Tuesday night dinner, this time at Black Bear.

It was nice and quiet inside --which was particularly pleasant to me, since I felt like I had a headache coming on at the time-- and I felt a sense of contentment as I sat there in a booth eating my omelet and catching up on the past few days' activities.

I adore my kiddos, but I also enjoy this time we've set aside each week to be alone together. After all, Scripture tells us that feeding a marriage with love and energy is essential.

May 4

I went to Walmart this morning in search of a second pair of swimming trunks for Brady. As I entered the store, a man stood near the entrance holding a clipboard. I gave him half a glance and dismissively said that I'd already signed all the petitions. He caught my fleeting gaze and smiled, and then pointed down at my shirt --which featured a Bible verse about love-- and said that that was the most important thing of all and that he'd found out about it two years ago. I smiled in return and continued into the store, but his words lingered in the back of my mind as I navigated up and down the aisles and to the self-checkout counter.

By the time I exited the store, he was seated at a small card table. I turned to wave and said God bless you, which he returned with a big smile. I continued out to the car, and that's when I heard God telling me to go talk to him some more. 

I don't mean that I literally heard the voice of God --I wish-- but I got the sense that He wanted me to have a more extended conversation with this guy. It was a feeling in my chest. I got in my car and asked for a sign (since apparently the feeling wasn't enough for me). Nothing happened. So I said "okay, God, if my car doesn't start right away when I push the button, I'll take that as a sign." The engine turned over right on cue, but I still felt like I was ignoring a prompt. Because I'm a stubborn gal, I drove halfway back up the aisle toward the exit  before I finally changed course, glided into a new space, and cut the engine. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to say or exactly why I was supposed to go talk to this man, but I knew I'd be sorry if I didn't. 

So I got out of the car, walked up to him, and said "well, the Lord told me that I needed to come talk with you some more. I'm not entirely sure why, but I try to listen when He provides instructions." And this guy's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He asked my name and introduced himself as Sherman. What followed was a brief history of his life and how he came to discover --through many difficulties and challenges-- the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I honestly don't remember much of what he said because my memory isn't my best attribute these days, but I do recall him repeatedly saying that he's been saved and that he just wants people to know that God loves them, because if He can love a sinner like him who has done bad, bad things, He can love anyone. I encouraged him to keep walking in faith no matter what the future may bring, and he thanked me for coming back to talk. 

Initially, I was arrogant enough to think that I was going to be the one ministering to him, but the reality is that I think it was the other way around, because although his story rambled, the message was clear: Jesus saves. So for his story of redemption and for the unexpected reminder that grace is truly free, I am so thankful.

May 3

A few years ago, I posted about my maiden experience with cleaning the washing machine filter. (It was quite the dramatic incident.) It's been cleaned out several times since then, but I fully admit that I detest doing it so it'd been a hot second since its last good rinse. 

Anyway, as Adam folded laundry this afternoon and noted that Brady's newly washed jacket still didn't smell particularly fresh, I mused that the filter needed to be cleaned. And I told him that when he was finished folding, we should go upstairs so I could show him how it's done.

A few minutes later I looked over and saw Isaac standing by the kitchen sink, holding something in a stream of hot water. When I asked him what he was up to, his response startled me: "cleaning the filter." While Adam and I made plans to deal with the problem, Isaac Googled instructions and got to work without saying a word. (I added the bit about blasting the filter with a hose, which is what he was doing in the pic. It was satisfyingly effective.) 

I love how he so often takes on the jobs that no one else wants; how he's willing to humble himself and tackle menial tasks just because he knows they need to be done. I see Jesus in the way he gives of his time to be with and serve others. So for his heart, I am so grateful. And humbled, because I may be his mom, but he definitely teaches me lessons, too.

May 2

The experience of being a baseball mom probably isn't a unique one, but it's definitely distinctive since baseball is a sport that's marked by more failure than success. And that's why it's vitally important to have mom friends with you in the trenches as the season wears on.

We're bleacher warriors. We cheer the successes and lament the difficulties not as single people, but as a unit. We're perpetually hopeful for the best, but also keenly aware that anything can happen during the course of a seven inning game so we're always ready to shout out the good plays while simultaneously addressing and then putting to bed the ones that don't shine.

We notice more than you think we do. In fact, we know far more than you'd guess about the sport and about which kid on the roster is the best choice to pinch hit and which has a wicked, Varsity-worthy curve. We know, and we sometimes share those nuggets with one another, but for the most part, we keep those thoughts to ourselves.

And we do that because at the end of the day, we're just there to support our boys; to celebrate wins and to offer listening ears after losses. So today, I'm grateful to God for the community that I've found this year in my fellow baseball moms, like Shelley and Brooke. Without them, watching games would be a lot less fun.

May 1

This picture --which was taken about 15 years ago-- hangs on a wall in the first floor of our house. It's in a well-traveled location, so I pass it numerous times each day, and every now and then I stop and take a close look at who we all used to be.

It's a snapshot of what feels like an entire lifetime ago, with baby Brady and grumpy Isaac and little girl Abby. And, of course, Logan wearing a tired yet resilient version of his signature grin. That's part of why I love this picture as much as I do despite its obvious "flaws" -- he's in it. The six of us are all together. There aren't a lot of photos of our entire family in existence and there will never be a new one, so I treasure the ones I do have.

So tonight, as I think back on and give thanks for what was and look forward and give thanks for whatever will be, I am grateful to God for the gift of photography. Because during this phase of my life, I definitely need pictures to help me remember the details.

April 30

I've been gradually replacing the plants in my hydro garden, and yesterday, I moved this happy little guy from my seedling tray to his own slot.

Most of the seedlings I've transferred thus far have been ordered online, but this one began as a seed in my kitchen window. I'm hopeful that he will continue to get bigger and produce some robust kale leaves for us to munch in the months to come.

I've said it before (probably lots of times), but I so enjoy growing plants. And I especially like watching them sprout from seeds. Seeing God's handiwork literally expand and flourish into a plant that can provide nutrition for my family amazes me. 

The world would be a better place if we could all find God in something as tiny and unassuming as a seed; if we could just see the gifts inherent in the smallest of things.