September 25

Valerie's annual cookie party was tonight, and as improbable as it seemed going in (because it seems like she raises the creativity bar every year), she outdid herself yet again.

From the ingenious Costco theme (yes, we're all wearing aprons with nametags that she made) to the incredible homemade chicken pot pie that came out at the absolute perfect temperature to the trivia game to the mini grocery cart party favors, she thought of everything. And I so appreciate her creativity and care for all of us.

Needless to say, I look forward to this party every year. I've known most of these ladies for more than 15 years, and although I don't see most of the them often these days, I enjoy catching up with them at this gathering. I treasure the conversations and the laughs (and the incredible dishes Valerie whips up for us).

So today, I'm grateful to God for long-term friendships, and opportunities to reconnect.

September 24

Although the current $7 per gallon'ness of gas nearly dissuaded me, I went for a drive after my morning stop at the Mother Ship.

I took surface streets up through Dublin and San Ramon until I got to Blackhawk, and then came back via Camino Tassajara. (And sorry, if you're not local you'll have no idea what I'm talking about. So I'll simplify by saying I went north, then east, and then came back south again.)

I always forget how much open space there is along Camino Tassajara. The hills are all brown since it hasn't rained in months, but they're still there. Still untouched, and still beautiful in the way that they roll and how they're framed by God against the blue sky.

Given how it seems like new pack-and-stack housing pops up on the daily, I'm thankful that we do indeed still have open space nearby, even if I don't see it every day.

September 23

Given that it's not unusual for me to frantically look for my phone while I'm holding it in my hand, it surprises me that all these years later, Heath Bar on Forbidden Chocolate ice cream still makes me think of my high school bestie and the scent of smoke and the crackle pop of fallen leaves takes me back to crisp Autumn evenings in Maryland. It's a blessing that we were created to associate sounds and smells and tastes with meaningful people and experiences.

So I was delighted when, as Brady and I were sitting in the car at a red light this evening, a red Corvette in full Lightning McQueen livery cruised through the intersection. He excitedly pointed it out, and I looked just in time to get a gander. 

And I think we both loved it. And even though Brady doesn't directly remember his biggest brother, I think we both thought of Logan, who held deep affection for both Corvettes and McQueen.

Not all memories are sweet, of course, but I'm grateful that God wired us to be able to look back and smile when they are.

September 22

I like pinning my crochet pieces to blocking boards just about as much as I like folding laundry. (Spoiler alert: not much.) It's uncomfortable measuring and re-measuring down on my hands and knees. But it's a necessary part of the creative process, so I spent some time this afternoon getting it done with my latest projects.

It's hard to tell from the image, but there are probably about 250 pins pressed into these two boards. And the bottom one is only a little more than half done, since I don't have enough mats to pin the whole thing in one shot.

Despite my general disdain of blocking, I do get a sense of satisfaction when I stand up and look down at what I've accomplished; when I see the stitches expanded to reveal their full detail and intricacy.

It may sound strange --and it sounds strange even to me, since the thought just came to mind as I sat here writing-- but human beings can be an awful like unblocked crochet pieces: pretty in a way, but not nearly as lovely as we could be if we allowed God to stretch us and shape us into the people HE wants us to be. It's a great reminder that it's not only okay to be stretched sometimes -- it's necessary for the good of not only ourselves, but others as well.

September 21

Abby's back up at school for the week and Adam is away for work for a few days, so it was just me and Brady this evening.

I picked him up after his baseball practice and then he drove us over to Chick filA, where we retrieved our mobile order for dinner.

Once we got home, we plunked down in front of the tube and turned on the Monday Night Football game. We agreed that he could watch the Manning Cast until halftime (because that's about all I can take of Peyton and Eli's slack-jawed staring), so we ate our food and he told me about his day with the hum of the TV in the backgroud.

His vaguely goofy expression aside, it was a good time with my baby. And I am so grateful to God for those precious minutes.

September 20

I didn't feel great when I woke up this morning. I had a pounding headache and felt vaguely sick to my stomach, so as I fumbled my way into the kitchen in search of coffee, I considered staying home from church.

I asked God about it, and ultimately decided that I should go, so I did. But I also did something unusual: I put on a jacket over my dress instead of my typical lightweight sweater. That may seem like a weird and random detail, but I'm at a phase in life where I tend to run a bit warm. 

But when I stepped into church, I immediately realized why I felt the need to wear a jacket: it was COLD in there. The pastor apologized to the congregation for the chill and explained that she'd fiddled with the thermostat a bit too much.

Given that I already didn't feel my best, I was very grateful for that jacket. So for the prompt that didn't make sense at the time, I am thankful.

September 19

I was bummed out when, about four weeks ago, I accidentally gave my big, beautiful volunteer tomato plant too much water and it slowly, slowly turned brown and withered. (I put the hose in the pot with the plant, unaware that it was leaking.)

I did all I could to try to save it; I drained the extra water, gave it fertilizer, pruned off the dead limbs to maximize nutrients to any remaining healthy part of the plant that might've still been in there. But nothing seemed to help. So I stopped watching it and told myself I'd be more careful next time.

And then earlier this week, I noticed something surprising: bright green leaves and little yellow flowers sprouting from the same root system as the original plant. (And right next to it, an itty bitty volunteer that must've sprung up from one of the tomatoes that fell into the dirt last month.) 

The sight surprised me and reminded me of a Biblical truth. God often takes things that we think are dead --relationships, dreams, goals-- and breathes new life into them. And He often acts when we're least expecting His hand to move. So for that great blessing, I am thankful.