February 11

Fourteen years. When I type it out, it seems... unfathomable. But regardless of my ability to believe it, today marks the 14th anniversary of sweet Logan's passage from my arms to those of our Savior. And even after all the years that have passed since I last saw him take a breath on this side of Heaven, I'm still not sure how to react to what happened. But I do the best I can.

And this year's version of "the best" began with my usual stop at Starbucks. I nestled into a chair and sipped my coffee and nibbled on a slice of chocolate pistachio loaf, which I tried for the first time because of its tangential relation to chocolate cake; as I reasoned on Facebook, I like to think that Logan's taste would've matured to appreciate more flavors by the time he was 19 years old. While there, I had a brief conversation with Jim, one of the quartet of eightysomething gentlemen who hold court at a big table each morning; I quietly shared that it was the anniversary of my son's death, and after a pause, he remarked, with great sadness in his eyes, that he couldn't imagine anything more painful than losing a child. 

Then it was back home, where I continued with my Bible reading and then joined Adam to watch some Olympic coverage. We watched athletes live out their dreams in skiing. And on a day like today, that feels like a worthy activity.

Next up we went to Costco for lunch as we sometimes do on this day. Logan had an affinity for that cheesy cheese pizza, so we took the opportunity to enjoy one of his favorite meals before traversing the aisles in search of necessities. While there we picked up a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (and spoiler alert -- we enjoyed it after dinner and it was delicious. He would approve). Then a little later we donated blood, as we do every year. And then dinner --before the cake and after Isaac brought Brady home from baseball tryouts-- was spaghetti and meatballs, another Logan-favorite.

So that was my day. As I noted at the outset of this entry, I'm still not sure what to make of the reality that he's not here; of the hard truth that God didn't answer my fervent prayers in the way that I so hoped that He would. And I've come to realize that I probably won't understand on this side of Heaven because I can't know the mind of God. But despite my uncertainty about the circumstances that came to pass, I am certain about a few things: for one, Logan is in Heaven. Two, God is still unassailably good, even though Logan is in Heaven and not physically present in my life. And three, we will see that sweet boy again some day. And for the knowledge of those important truths, I am as grateful as I could possibly be.

February 10

Brady hasn't been feeling well for about a week now. Since his primary complaint is a sore throat, I decided to take him to urgent care this afternoon in order to rule out strep.

He was --as I hope he'd be at 15 years of age-- agreeable about the whole thing; he put up with both the nasal (for COVID and the flu) and throat swabs and waited for the results without complaint.

In the end, all of the tests came back negative, so I gave him some Delsym Cough and Sore Throat this evening and told him to get some good sleep. Hopefully, prayerfully, he'll feel better very soon.

The experience reminded me that easygoing kids who roll with the proverbial punches are a blessing. So I am thankful for mine.

February 9

The boys didn't have school today --in remembrance of Lincoln's birthday-- but the baseball calendar marches forward regardless of holidays so Brady had day one of freshman team tryouts this afternoon.

When I picked him up afterward, I asked how it went and then held my breath (because after years of being a sports mom, it's what I've trained myself to do). I released said-breath in relief when he replied with an enthusiastic "actually, it was good!" as he slipped into the backseat with his gear.

In short, he pitched well and hit well, so he was satisfied. And given that he wasn't feeling the best when I dropped him off, that realization was a blessing to my mama-heart. I know what he can do so I was relieved that his under-the-weather'ness  didn't significantly impact his performance.

(And yes, the photo has nothing to do with tryouts or Brady because I didn't think to take one as I picked him up. This is actually a photo of my current work-in-progress. It's backwards so it's impossible to make out the pattern, but it's a fun one. And I'm enjoying it. So that's a blessing, too.)

February 8

Abby and Adam typically video chat on Sunday afternoons.

During today's call, Brady and I both leaned over Adam's shoulders to say hello. I laughed to myself when I saw the three of us clustered together in the upper lefthand corner of the screen, just because I thought we all looked very cute.

So much to the kiddos' collective chagrin, I snapped a photo. (And then I snapped this one, because Abby didn't want me to post a non-approved photo of her.)

Anyway, the sight made me feel a heightened sense of gratitude for our family and for the technological advancements that make keeping in touch via video calls possible. Because phone calls and text messages and emails just aren't the same as connecting face to face.

February 7

Adam was napping and I was taking in some Olympic coverage on TV this afternoon when Isaac appeared with a football in hand and went outside. Brady followed him into the backyard a few minutes later.

I finished the crochet row I was working on (since of course I was multitasking) and looked outside to see what they were up to. Rather than seeing the simple game of catch that I'd expected, I watched as they took turns hiking the ball and running around the pool to catch the pass.

They were getting exercise and having fun together. 

I love their relationship. And I'm grateful to be able to watch it continue to grow.

February 6

The sun was out and the temp was a comfortable sixtysomething late this morning, so I took the opportunity to take a solo stroll around the neighborhood.

Since we've enjoyed several sixtysomething days of late, signs of Spring abounded, including these cherry blossoms that adorned a random tree.

I do love the look of Springtime: how the bees go about their important business and how the plants sprout new leaves and flowers like these. (And pollen. That's the part I don't like so much.)

How the whole world seems to revel in the splendor of new --and refreshed-- life. So for all of that beauty and promise, I am grateful to God.

February 5

I was awakened this morning by the sound of the garage door opening as the boys headed off to their Thursday pre-school Bible study. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and craned my neck to look out the window. And when I did, I saw a whole lotta nothing, because it was foggy. And I mean fog-e -- it took my brain a few seconds to compute but I eventually concluded that the notorious Tule Fog must've made its way in from the Central Valley.

As I headed out to get my coffee a short time later, I marveled at how the fog nestled into every nook and cranny, obscuring even the most obvious and familiar details from view. I continued along the usual path --albeit more slowly and cautiously-- but still felt a twinge of fear because I couldn't see what was ahead.

I think life can be like that sometimes, particularly when when we find ourselves in situations where the outcome is up in the air and we can't see what's coming next. And that can be scary, because The Unknown is often filled with more questions than we can answer. And if you're like me, you like answers.

But the good news is that the path we're to follow is still there, even if we can't see it, because God laid out the pavement before us. It's our job to keep going --varying the pace when need be-- and trusting that the fog will eventually lift because He said it would.