May 8

It's one of the realities of life these days that air travel, well, sucks. It's unreliable and unpredictable, but on the bright side, you do generally get where you're going. Eventually. And now that I'm on the other side of today's iteration of eventually, I can write.

Abby graduates from Wheaton on Sunday. I have no idea how we're already here, but here we are nonetheless! (And I'm far too tired and stuffy to wax poetic but hopefully later.)  Adam, Brady, and I left the house at 7 this morning intending to board a 9:30 flight to Salt Lake, and then continue on to Chicago. (Isaac had an AP test at noon so he's on a later flight. Thank you to Terry for giving him a ride to the airport! You're a lifesaver.) 

Well, the 9:30 thing didn't happen (although we did get to sit on a plane at the gate for an hour before they decided it wasn't happening). We were rebooked onto a flight through San Diego which left two hours later, but because the southernmost section of Southern California is in the exact opposite direction as our eventual target, it meant hours were added to our total travel time. (You can mentally insert the Whomp Whomp sound here.)

But we did have mostly peaceful flights. I did get to watch "Celebrity Jeopardy" and several episodes of "The Simpsons" with Brady on his phone and I did give him a packet of sugar which he actually ate. And we did get here. We did get our rental car quickly and the one bag we checked was the sixth one to emerge from the shoot on the baggage carousel. And we did get to our hotel. And though we didn't get Culvers (boo) because it was already closed by the time we rolled into town, we did settle for McDonalds. And that was okay.

And now... now I'm tired. My ears also haven't popped at all (which is a consistent thing for me, unfortunately... who says it only happens to little kids?) so I can't hear squat. (Of course, that meant Adam and Brady could blast Morgan Wallen in the car and I literally had no clue until one of them remarked on how it was three times as loud as I'd ever allow.) And I'm still stuffy. 

But I'm grateful to be in town to watch my girl graduate from college. All the travel troubles aside, that is a big blessing.

May 7

Isaac had an AP test this afternoon and Brady did not have practice, but that information wasn't triangulated particularly well between the three of us. So the end result was Brady standing out by the kid-car for 15 minutes after school before he finally messaged me to ask who was planning to ferry him home.

I scurried over to the meeting spot and picked him up. After I apologized for the goof, we ran an errand to CVS and then went over to the Mother Ship to get him an "oops, my bad" treat of his choice. (And of course I had a coconut cream cold brew, too, since I was already there and all.)

To his credit, he took the whole thing in stride, going so far as to assume some of the responsibility for the lack of communication. (And he graciously accepted a chocolate chip cookie.)

He may not be graduating from anything this month like his siblings are, but he's still growing up like a boss. And I am grateful to be part of his journey.

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.