September 30

If you listen closely, there's always music in the air.

As is his custom, Brady collected sticks as we walked to the school to retrieve Isaac from kindergarten this morning.

After he'd dropped all but two of his treasures, he rubbed the smaller stick against the larger one, looked up at me and announced that he was playing music. I smiled and asked if he was playing his violin. After pausing to consider my query, he replied 'yes, I'm playin' my bi-o-lynn'.

Of course, there was no actual music. But there was music in his intent and music in his eyes. And they alone composed the sweetest symphony of them all.

Simple wonder is wonder-ful, especially to God.

September 29

When we stepped outside for our Sunday evening walk, I was reminded of precisely how spectacular fall season sunlight can be:

There's something simply otherworldly about how the cooler, apple-crisp'er air of pumpkin season mingles with the sun's golden, late-day rays. It's the same physical sun that hangs in the sky and bakes the earth during the summer months, of course, but there's something beautifully muted about its rays once autumn arrives.

The sight made me think of the comfort and peace of Heaven.

September 28

As I walked this evening, I looked down at the sidewalk and saw this:

Sure, it's just a pair of leaves. But something about the scene struck me; something about the interplay between advanced age (the brown leaf) and youth (the mostly green one).

I guess I don't have any real, formed thoughts on the subject, other than I thought it was a nice image; a good representation of one generation supporting --by simply coming alongside-- another.

Simple, really, since we're called to be there for one another.

September 27

This one brought a song to mind...

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine....

When we got home from dinner this evening, Brady took a moment to admire the lights that adorn the trees along the fence that borders our front walkway. There was really nothing unusual or special about the gesture; he does it every time they're on and we pass by. He calls the purple ones blueberries because they're small and round, and well, color aside, they do look like blueberries.

I guess the innocence of his wonder tasted saltier than usual tonight, that's all. And my cynical mind can always benefit from moments of sweet, wide-eyed enjoyment.

September 26

This may well be my most politically incorrect entry ever.

My kids, after school this afternoon:

They're dancing on a volleyball pole on the blacktop outside Abby's classroom. All of them. Pole dancing together.

Okay, so it may not be all that funny to some of you, but understand that a) this week hasn't been particularly great for me and b) I'm high on cherry Slurpee and the remnants of a fun evening out.

Sometimes, it's nice to just remember that I don't have to be in serious mode 24/7.

Because like I've said before, God knows we all need down time now and then. And wherever he is, I know Logan is laughing. (And probably dancing right along with them.)

September 25

As I walked to pick Isaac up from school this afternoon, I glanced at a random house's lawn. After noticing a patch of brown grass, I felt compelled to stop so I could take its picture:

It reminded me of an important truth. Every lawn features, at one point or another, a few rough patches. But the big picture --the expanse of full, lush grass-- is still beautiful despite those imperfections.

Life's like that, too. We have down times and dry spells that serve to discourage us, but the overarching reality is that despite those times, life is still a lovely thing. And those hard times are just pieces of the patchwork that make us who we are.

September 24

I've not been feeling particularly well for the past week. I don't want to go into details, but it's definitely made it harder for me to see or feel God. So today's entry is a simple one:

This is what a run-of-the-mill Costco trip looks like for us. Kiddos hanging on the cart, giggling (often much too loudly), chattering, and just having a good time.

When I'm feeling off, it's a blessing to remember that the mundane, everyday moments of life are as important as the big ones.

September 23

I'm annoying myself by doing this (since I just wrote about Isaac yesterday!), but, well, I have to!

Isaac found a dry erase board this evening and decided he wanted to practice writing. This is a very big deal, because up until he started kindergarten, getting him to write was harder than giving a cat a bath.

Anyway, these are the words he wanted to write, so Adam spelled them out for him. Then after Isaac went to bed, Adam brought the board down for me to look at.

I love the words he chose. Disney, Cars, mom (of course :) )... Logan.

I love that Logan is always in his heart.

September 22

I'm glad we decided to send Isaac to kindergarten this year. He's a June kid, so we really could have gone either way. But he's really starting to blossom into an eager beaver of a little learner.

Fine motor skills aren't exactly his strong suit, but I do love this picture that he drew this afternoon. I love that we each have five fingers and big smiles and that Abby and I have bows in our hair. Most of all, I love that he always, always includes Logan (who, incidentally, Isaac identified as the blue guy on the right).

I'm thankful beyond measure that he's still part of my kids' daily lives, even though he can't be with them (at least, not in any way we can possibly understand) right now. And I'm thankful that the truth of our family unit comes out in their artwork.

September 21

This morning, I asked Adam to download a few images from a memory card I had in my computer bag. The photos were there, of course, but we also found an unexpected and definitely surprising treasure: previously undownloaded home movies from Christmas 2010.

Brady was about 10 days old. Logan was four months into his treatment protocol. They were both sitting with me on the couch in our living room, close to the Christmas tree. Abby jumped in front of the camera, trying hard to be the center of attention. Isaac was a grunty two-year old. We were... whole.

Watching Logan smile and hearing his high-pitched voice gleefully talking about this and that brought me a sense of great elation. And of course, a measure of sadness, too.

But I'm so glad we found those misplaced clips, because all in all, they did my heart a great deal of good. And God knows when I need those little bits of Heaven on earth.

September 20

I had no idea what I'd write about until the moment after we finished Movie Night.

The second that the credits rolled and peppy music played, Brady jumped up from his seat and danced. And when I say danced, I mean he went completely bananas, shaking his bum, laughing, spinning and of course, falling over repeatedly. Isaac joined him in the fruit salad-y fun (get it? Bananas?) and they had a truly grand time.

Abby, Adam and I didn't join in, per se, but we had a grand time, too, for two different reasons. For one, I enjoy seeing them having fun. And also because they were doing precisely what Logan would've done had he been here with them. In my mind's eye, I could see them all bumping booties and giggling and having a blast.

And for all of that, I'm thankful.

September 19

After I took Brady to preschool this morning, I went to water Logan's flowers.

Though I hadn't seen him in about a year, this guy was there, toting his bucket of water, dutifully stopping to sprinkle every live plant he came across.

I've talked with him a few times. I don't know his name, but I know that his wife and mother are both buried down the hill from Logan. I know he's about 90 years old and he loves to chit chat. I know that he visits the cemetery almost every day at about the same hour so he can water the plants; it gives him both something to do with his time, and a chance to transform the otherwise under-maintained land into something more presentable.

I admire his steadfast dedication to his self-appointed task, and I love --and relate to-- how he continues to take care of his family, even though they're no longer with him physically.

And the picture? I love the rays of sunshine in the corner. I didn't notice them until I looked at the image several hours later, but they're a sweet little sunshiny wink to me.

September 18

Moonrise this evening was absolutely stunning. I caught a glimpse of it in the side view mirror of the car as we drove home from Costco, and I spent the rest of the ride trying to snap a decent image.

The final result of my effort isn't nearly perfect, but it works.

There's just something so awe-inspiring, even breath-taking, about a ginormous, almost-full moon in a clear sky. It's almost like a little window out of this world that looks right into Heaven.

And because of my experience, I just love that concept.

September 17

We spent our lunch hour today in Brady's preschool room, dining on a Lunchable with his teacher. After the Little Boys finished their food, they played while us grown-ups chatted. When a grinning Isaac brought me an armful of sheep, I whipped out my phone and snapped a pic:

Sheep are special to me. To my whole family, really, both because Logan loved them so and because Jesus is the Lamb of God.

The piggie on the end? Brady's addition to the line-up. Though the sheep touched my heart first --especially how painstakingly Isaac sorted through a big box of animal figures to gather them all up-- it gave me a little jolt of joy when Brady trotted up, told me that pigs say oink, oink! and plunked the little pink guy down on the table. I won't moralize over what it might mean because frankly, I'm too tired to make an intelligent statement.

Suffice it to say that I love my babies --my sheep and my piggies and my entire barnyard of energetic little people-- so.

September 16

This is so one of my happy places.

I blogged about DWTS back in March so it feels a bit repetitive to be doing it again, but hey, this show means a lot to me. I started watching it while I was pregnant with Logan, it's about dance, and it's just... happy. So on premiere night, it seemed appropriate to make it my entry as I remember my little dancer and whoop and holler at my TV. ;)

Because sometimes, that's all you can ask for, right?

September 15

This is the way things were supposed to be before it all went so horribly wrong three years ago.

The Little Boys playing a giggly game of Ring Around the Rosie in the back yard on a cool, near-autumnal evening.

They were supposed to be a pair all along. Abby and Logan were the other pair. And now... well, it's not how things turned out. I mourn the loss of what should have been.

But I celebrate stolen moments like these, when I glance out the window and get a glimpse of a piece of the beautiful reality that, once upon a time, I thought would be mine.

September 14

Today, we celebrated love as Adam's family got together for his cousin Amanda's bridal shower. It was a beautiful afternoon --cool but not too cool, sunny skies-- and the kiddos had fun playing bocce for the first time and noshing on some yummy vittles.

Since I was behind the camera all afternoon, this is the sole picture (that I have) that includes my mug.

Despite my customary disdain for pictures that include me, I like it a lot. It's one of those selfie deals. I like that I look kind of like a brunette Daphne from Scooby Doo; the notion makes me giggle. I like that I look happy. I like that my necklaces are so strikingly visible. And I like that my mini muffin is there with me (even if he was trying to karate chop my phone).

All of those things serve as very good signs that God is indeed at work among us, giving us things to smile about and people to smile with us.

September 13

It doesn't get any simpler than this:

(Just pretend it's flipped in the right direction because try as I might, I could not convince my machine to turn it upright.)

This world can be an excruciatingly ugly place and it's easy to feel discouraged. But when it comes down to it --to the most rudimentary details of our existence-- love --and not the distracting crap that's thrown at us to pull us off the good path-- is what should be our focus.

And I'm thankful that Abby's sequined headband provided me with such a meaningful realization.

September 12

This photo was one of the first things I saw when I checked my Facebook account this morning:

It may lack the fabulously familiar circular taillights, but it's a Corvette nonetheless. And it's even blue. In my mind's eye, I can see Logan tooling around some seriously majestic mountaintops behind the wheel. (Because duh, I doubt there's a minimum driving age in Heaven.)

I so love it when days start off with such lovely little winks.

September 11

I love a good victory.

After he refused to even set foot inside the studio last week, Brady sort of participated in his dance class this morning.

It was a definite sort of, though; he refused to put on his shoes and stood stock still during tap. He started to thaw a little during ballet, joining the rest of the class in a circle (as seen in the photo) before executing some pretty fine chases. (And when I say 'fine' I must remind you that he's two!) By tumbling time, he was pleased to try out forward rolls, and showed off his masterful bunny-hop skills to close out his debut session.

A nice bit of nostalgia for me. And sometimes, that has to be enough.

September 10

This is a symbolic photo, because it's not really possible to take a photo of today's wink.

That's me. I don't usually like photos of myself much because my nose is crooked and my hair is usually a mess and I generally don't consider myself much to look at. But I like this one. And I like the timing of when I took it. So here goes.

I dropped Brady off for his first morning of preschool today. I didn't know how I'd respond, but when push came to shove, I handled it just fine. He was a little tentative about it, but didn't cry or even get upset. He made sure I would return to pick him up, and then said see you later. And that was that.

Then I did what I always do after dropping a kid off at preschool: I visited the cemetery to water Logan's flowers. I told him about Brady being in preschool and how I could hardly believe he'll be three in a few months. I told him about Isaac being in kindergarten and about how weird it felt to see Isaac doing something he never had the chance to do. I told him that I loved him. And that I wished I could see his face again and dance with him again and watch him grow up. And then I got in the car and drove away. As I did, my soul quietly asked for confirmation that Logan had heard me; that though he couldn't respond to me in a way that's tangible, he could still respond on a deeper level. The kind of level that I can't really comprehend. I wished very, very quietly --so quietly that only God Himself could've been privy to the thought-- that I'd hear "See You Again" on the radio. Just because.

And then I did.

So why did I use my own photo? It's complicated. It's partly because I was sitting in my car at the cemetery when I took the picture. It's partly because I hope, on some level, that the goodness of God and His grace and mercy and kindness are somehow, in some rudimentary, deeply flawed way, reflected in my eyes every now and then. And it's also partly because I will literally see him again.

Kind of complicated, I guess.

September 9

After he and I dropped Isaac and Abby off at school this morning, Brady found himself facing a quandary: to jump or not to jump.

He changed his mind an impressive four times before finally opting out of this particular morning puddlejump. (He did, however, wind up jumping in a different puddle a few minutes later. He is a self-respecting two-year old, after all.)

I think we all do what he did: evaluate our options, analyze the data, make a decision. That's a simplistic way to view it, I know, but it's also meaningful to me, because that kind of thinking reminds me that yes, life really is that simple, and that yes, our adult lives do, in many ways, mimic our early lives. The circumstances and situations change, of course, but the way we process things remains largely unchanged.

And when things feel big and bad and overwhelming, I'm grateful for that set of truths.

September 8

It may have been 100 degrees out today, but there are still little signs that my favorite time of year --pumpkin season!-- is approaching.

Although it's not terribly uncommon around these parts to see the odd colored leaf all throughout the year, there are definitely more of them turning up now. Even though we won't see the brilliant reds, yellows, oranges, purples and pinks that I was accustomed to seeing when I was growing up back east, I find pinches of nostalgia in each and every one I see. It's like I can smell the hot cocoa and cider and feel the brisk breeze whisking across my skin on a cool afternoon.

So for the little leaves --and for the memories-- I'm grateful.

September 7

I had a thought this evening. (It happens now and then.) I decided that grass is a highly under-appreciated plant. I mean, it can do this

...provide a lush, full, expansive, soft cover that shields us from the harder ground below...yet more often that not (unless we've experienced troubles with grass-growing), we don't notice its presence.

In that way, I think God is kind of like grass: abundantly present, but often unappreciated, unnoticed or worst of all, trampled underfoot without a second thought.

Just thought that was kind of interesting, and certainly a different way to look at the lawn.

September 6

I'm pretty spent. Although it was a short work week, it sure felt like a long one.

While Adam was putting the Little Boys in bed a few minutes go, I ventured out into the backyard for a breather.

I plucked a few ripe pears from our tree, and then my eye rested on this pretty pair. It's incredibly simple, I know, but the sight made me appreciate --for the upteenth time-- the blessing that it is to grow my own food.

September 5

It's felt like The Brady Show in here lately!

Isaac had his first dance class of the season today (and as an aside, he did really well!). The teacher decided that to keep the little girls focused, the moms and other looky-loos had to go elsewhere during the session. Since the front room was full, Brady and I sat in an adjacent hallway.

He chittered and chattered while I sat against a wall, listening to the familiar Disney music that plays during the ballet portion of the class. The sense of nostalgia was powerful, and had I been alone, it would've been easy to get lost in it. But I had Brady with me. And just moments before I snapped this photo, he looked at me with his impish grin and made a simple yet pretty darn profound statement:

You're lucky.

I was perplexed. I had no idea what he was talking about. And I also don't believe in luck; that's what I tell people -- I believe in God, not in luck.

But still, there was a grain of truth in his words. I am fortunate. And I'm thankful for the reminder.

September 4

Today felt both way too long and way too short, between late-start day at school, Brady's (completely failed) first dance class, and the rest of our usual routine. And truthfully, just acclimating myself to another new schedule is exhausting!

So it was nice to see a familiar face this afternoon: Clifford the Big Red Dog.

When Abby was in kindergarten, Clifford came home with her for a visit. Though the trials of the past few years have effectively eaten away at my memory, I do remember how excited she was to include him in some of her activities.

So when Isaac came out of his classroom wearing the Clifford backpack, it felt like a happy blast from the past. He was super excited to eat lunch with his fuzzy friend, just like his sister was four years ago. It was a wonderful reminder that though things may change --sometimes for the better, sometimes not-- other things --like kindergarten home visits by Clifford the Dog-- don't. And it's completely marvelous because sometimes, familiarity feels like home.

September 3

Despite my fears that our home will one day resemble that of Clark W. Griswold, Adam insists that we add a new ginormous light-up figure to our Christmas display each year. And despite the fact that it's the first week of September and still technically summertime, tonight was the night that said decoration joined our collection.

The kiddos were first to see it --a giant, light-up Mickey and Minnie Mouse climbing a chimney-- sitting there on the shelf at Costco. And Brady immediately --as in within seconds-- fell in love and began pleading with us to buy it. He was completely taken with it, and first tried to lift the box himself before alternately begging Adam and me to put it in the cart...Please mommy, can we buy it? Daddy, please daddy, can we buy it? Please?

It was kind of ridiculous. But at the same time, it was also completely precious. Is it a silly lawn decoration? Absolutely. But that wonderfully childish enthusiasm was such a God-send. And seeing such innocent exuberance on display is well-worth the 'cost' of having a pair of Disney characters camped out on my front lawn for a few weeks in December.

September 2

Y'all probably think all we ever do is go for walks! That's not the case, though I admit that I do tend to be more open to feeling God's presence when I'm outside.

Anyway, it sprinkled all throughout our walk this evening; just occasional, gentle, pit-a-patty droplets. In fact, there were so few drops that sometimes, in order to see the rain, I had to be facing the sun. And I took this picture during one of those times:

The sky ahead was incredibly bright, and had the kind of overwhelming luminosity that I equate only with my imaginings of the light in Heaven. It was intense, yet somehow, I couldn't make myself look away for long.

When I turned around a moment later, I saw a rainbow. But somehow, this image --of my family walking in that beautiful light-- is the one that moves me the most.

September 1

I have fond memories of eating handfuls of freshly roasted hazelnuts as a kid. Only back then, I knew them by the name my grandpa used --filberts-- which I now understand is merely a difference in geographical naming convention.

Anyway, we made pizza for dinner last night. Before Adam left to buy supplies, he asked me if I had anything special in mind for mine, and I absently remarked that I really liked the hazelnuts that CPK puts on their pear and gorgonzola pizza. (Seriously, so good.)

I was surprised when he came home with a bag of chopped hazelnuts. I used a few on my pizza, and yes, they were tasty.

But they were even tastier today. Throwing fat and calorie caution to the wind, I ate several handfuls. I relished the memories of savoring that exact flavor many years ago while sitting in my grandpa's recliner.

And I realize I was twice-blessed through the experience: blessed to have the memory, and blessed to have a husband who brought it to the forefront of my mind with a simple but extraordinarily grocery gift.