November 30

Today, in addition to an impromptu visit with Santa and a carriage ride around the local shopping center, we got our Christmas tree. And then we started the decoration process.

We didn't get to the homemade ones yet, but it was a trip seeing my kiddos hanging ornaments from my childhood on the tree. I won't lie: I did a wee bit of re-decorating after they'd left the room and it's still just :cough: slightly lopsided, with about 3/4 of the ornaments hung on just a few very low branches, but I love it anyway.

Because traditions and family and the fixings of Christmas time are blessings.

November 29

I posted this photo to Facebook earlier today and I don't love re-using images, but it's really the best one I have.

I'm not one of those people, but I do shop a little on Black Friday, after the initial crowds go away, and usually by myself. But not today. I was shocked when I asked Abby if she wanted to come and she actually said yes. She's always been the can't-you-just-buy-me-clothes-and-bring-them-home kind of kid, but today she wanted to come along.

So she did.

And we had a mostly lovely time visiting a few select stores, picking up some presents for a few unnamed people and a few fun things, too. It was fun listening to her chatter about this and that, and it was even more fun seeing her personality shine. She actually wore that plastic-and-feather tiara everywhere went, and more than a few people told her how awesome it was.

That special mom/daughter time... it's a blessing.

November 28

Thanksgiving. All in all, a pretty good day. We took a preemptive strike against our collective calorie consumption by taking a walk this morning, and then headed over to Adam's parents' house for dinner. This is, admittedly, something of a staged photo, but it expresses much of what this particular holiday means.

First, my name card. It's always nice to have a place at the table.

And the place mat, drawn by my girl. In fact, she drew place mats for everyone there: grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles. Such a gesture of care.

And then, of course, the pie with whipped cream, because food is a delicious blessing.

And finally... Lambie. He still accompanies us on special days to special events; it's kind of like having a little piece of Logan physically with us.

So that sums up how I see God in this picture. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

November 27

I escaped up to my room for a few minutes after dinner tonight. When I came down, Adam and Brady were sitting together in my chair reading a book, so I plunked down on the couch. I could see Brady making faces at me from across the room, and when Adam finished reading to him, he bolted across the room giggling and threw his body up against mine. And then we took bunches of selfies. This is one of them.

Goodness knows I look lousy and Brady has that pacifier jammed in his mouth. But those giggly, cuddly selfie moments are so special to me.

And on this Thanksgiving eve, with the knowledge that tomorrow will be a bittersweet kind of day for us, I'm happy to have a reminder that good times can --and do-- pop up at any time.

November 26

Logan's friend McKenna shared this picture with me today.

(My computer is being finicky; just pretend it's right-side up.) Anyway, she was in his class during his last year of preschool, and took something of a shine to him from the get-go. I remember their teacher, Holly, telling me on the first day of school that she thought a little girl named McKenna had a thing for him. I was so happy to hear that.

Just like I'm so happy to know that she still thinks of him now; that he's continued to be a part of her life even though she can't physically see him.

Because that kind of thing... well, it's everything to me.

(Oh, and this picture? She drew it because Logan showed her how to draw cars. And I can see a lot of him in her design.)

November 25

The kiddos and I went for a little ride this afternoon to get smoothies. (Okay, and to put a band-aid on my sanity.) While we were in the car, I heard the newest Lady Antebellum song. Rather, I heard snippets of it.

Mostly assurances from one band member to another that he/she would never be alone.

I guess that's an important thing for me to remember: that I'll never be alone.

Because sometimes, when it seems like all I manage to do is tick people off, it sure doesn't feel that way.

November 24

I was sitting in my chair watching a Perry Mason movie not long ago, wondering what I'd write for today's entry. I asked God to give me something. Anything.

And then Isaac came downstairs from his bath and insisted that Abby and I check out his hair:

To anyone not inside his cute little head, it looks like he has spiky hair.

But nope that wasn't it. He looked at us very earnestly and said that daddy had helped him to create "angel hair."

I looked at Adam, puzzled, and he further explained that Isaac thought his hair looked like angel wings.

Cute. And a nice reminder of Heaven.

November 23

These are my glasses.

My vision actually isn't bad at all so I hardly ever wear them, but lately, I've had a persistent sinus headache, so wearing them now and again --taking that tiny bit of strain off my eyes-- has proven helpful.

I'm grateful for things like glasses that can make life a little easier.

November 22

The kiddos didn't have school today, so it felt a little longer than most Fridays. We laid low until mid-afternoon, when we herded over to Abby's dance class. While we waited, Isaac and Brady shared some peanuts.

There wasn't a special aha moment involved. In fact, this particular moment wasn't unlike many of the other moments that when strung together, made up the entire day.

But it was still sweet.

And as I've said a few times before, there's something wonderfully sweet about those commonplace moments that get lost in the shuffle of busy days.

November 21

On Logan's "good days" at the hospital, we spent lots of time playing a very particular game. He loved it so much that we must've played it hundreds of times. So when I heard that the community service club at Abby and Isaac's school was collecting toys and games to be donated to a variety of places --including CHO-- I really wanted to donate that particular game.

The only issue? When Abby and I went shopping, I couldn't find it. We chose a variety of other nice things that Logan had enjoyed (and a few of the pink and girly ilk that Abby selected), but I was quietly sad that I hadn't found that one game.

Fast forward to this morning, the submission deadline. I took our bag of goodies to the donation box, which was outside. The skies were drizzly, so I decided to re-arrange things in order to keep the unboxed items dry. When I opened a big bag --the first and only big bag in the box-- I was really (really) happy to find this game inside:

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse-themed Yahtzee Jr.

Logan's favorite game.

The one I'd been unable to find.

Happy memories of mornings at the window overlooking the BART tracks flitted through my mind. His infectious laughter came back to me. His huge grin. His beautiful eyes looking at me.

With a stream of teachers and kids passing by, I had to stop myself from cry-giggling like an idiot, but I was silently thrilled to see that familiar box tucked away inside that bag.

I'm sure that Logan --working in conjunction with God-- had a little something to do with it.

November 20

Remember yesterday when I posted about creating wonder and sharing joy? Well, Isaac and two of his buddies from school showed me exactly how to put those concepts into action after their class Thanksgiving feast today.

When the time to head home rolled around, it was raining kittens and puppies outside. But that didn't dampen Isaac and his friends' spirits one bit. They had a fabulous time ducking around that big umbrella, bobbing and weaving as plump raindrops pelted the concrete below.

I don't enjoy getting wet at all. But those kids, well, they lived vibrant life into an otherwise soggy situation.That, my friends, is joy.

November 19

Yes, this is a Starbucks storefront. (No, I don't live there, despite my admittedly frequent posts about it.)

Anyway, I was sitting in my car after enjoying a truly lovely cup of holiday blonde roast (can you say YUM?) this morning when I noticed the words on the door:

Create Wonder * Share Joy.

Such simple statements, but wow, so profound.

I'm not entirely sure how much we create wonder, per se, but we're certainly supposed to feel it when we think about the great things in this world and to come. And sharing joy... well, obviously we're supposed to do that every day.

They're such plain, straightforward ideas, but they're so important. And I definitely need reminders as to what's important now and again.

November 18

It's been quite a while since I had an obvious wink, but I had one today.

When I turned on my computer this morning and visited Facebook, this is the first thing I saw in my feed:

My friend Ana saw it on her own feed and shared it with me for obvious reasons.

After I scraped my chin off the keyboard, I emailed the store that sells it to tell them they'd made my entire week. Then I thought better of it, and after chatting with Adam, I decided to buy one just like it.

The absolute perfect piece of jewelry, just for me. What are the odds that that exact piece of jewelry would show up on my friend's feed?

Perfect. Just perfect.

And even more perfect for another very good reason. Though I'm truly ashamed to admit it, yesterday I got mad at Logan for dying. I'd never felt that way before, but I was having a tough day and the emotion spilled out. I woke up in the middle of the night troubled by it, and when Adam got up to use the restroom, I told Logan --aloud-- that I was sorry. And then I went back to sleep.

And then... this.

I think my message was received, and he sent such a perfect, sweet response.

November 17

Today, I was just... tired. All day long. Not much spoke to me, so I'm using a picture of one of the few things that really made me smile:

After working on his project at Sunday school this morning, Brady decided to "cook" for me. He donned an oven mitt, and as I sat at a little table nearby, he brought me just about everything he could find inside the cabinets of the play kitchen.

He's still a little kid, and I'm thankful for his youthful exuberance and imagination and enthusiasm. I looked at him as he worked and thought "wow, what a little cutie he is."

And for today, that was enough.

November 16

We went to a local eatery for lunch today. After I'd finished my monster chili cheeseburger, I looked over at Abby and Isaac and Brady and then around the room. And I remarked to Adam that I really, really liked the place. A lot.

It may sound a little strange, but Red Tractor feels like home to me. Logan loved it there, and I have distinct memories of him sitting in one of the signature red booths coloring a picture and noshing on his dish of choice.

Maybe it's because my family has farming roots and the place is decked out with rows and rows of canned goods in Ball jars. Or maybe it's the red toy tractors that line the shelves. Or maybe it's just that I can go in and go back in time a few years, back to when things were less complicated.

I guess it could be any of those. But regardless of where the truth lies, I'm grateful that I can feel at home while I'm there, and that I can carry that little taste of home with me throughout my day when I leave.

November 15

Nothing particularly in depth to say today. As we passed the park this morning, I looked toward the school and was struck by the way the light filtered through the trees. It's hard to see it, but hey, I tried:

There's something so appealing to me about sunlight and how it tickles the earth and illuminates dark areas. In its very simplest form, it makes the entire world a brighter, happier place.

But it's much more complex than that. When I close my eyes and turn my face toward the rays and allow the heat to warm my cheeks, it feels like Logan is reaching out to touch me one more time.

And that is invaluable.

Oh, and before I forget, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my grandma, who turned 91 today. Thanks for the stories and sunshine you provided for me when I was young.

November 14

This is my image for the day, though I should explain exactly *what* it is that I want you to see, because it may not be obvious from the outset:

As we left preschool early this afternoon, what seemed like hundreds of yellow and orange leaves fluttered from the trees above the parking lot to the ground in front of us. If you look reaaaallly closely, you may be able to see a few of them.

The funny thing was, I couldn't feel the wind at all. But given the constant flutter-flutter of those leaves, it was clearly there. And then the connection hit me a few minutes later as I was driving Isaac to his dance class: God is like that wind I couldn't see: powerful, and oftentimes, it seems like He's not there at all. But He is, and we can see the fruits of His work even when we can't feel Him.

That made more sense in my head than it does here, but I hope the message is clear enough.

November 13

Life is better when it sparkles a little, don't you think?

This is an extreme close-up of the skirt that Abby wore today. You can't really tell, but it's actually a nice dark blue. And it glitters like a disco ball!

There's just something so happy about sparkles. I don't know if it's how light seems to dance when it hits them or if it's something else entirely. But it makes me smile, and I'm grateful for that simple luxury.

November 12

We've had a super dry fall season to date. It's a little depressing, to be honest: in a normal autumn, the sun-scorched hills would be well on their way to attaining a lovely wintry greenness, but that's just not the case. That's part of why I love the persistent roses in my backyard:

It's November, so this guy and his little friends should be hibernating until spring. But they're not! I've been watching this one for several days now and taking mental note of its pretty colors. It lights up my back yard with a vibrancy that only something crafted by God's hand alone can create.

And that's a beautiful thing.

November 11

This, my friends, is the top half of a peppermint mocha, one of my favorite seasonal drinks.

After enduring a weekend without my beloved blonde roast coffee, Adam stopped at the Starbucks in Angels Camp so I could get my fix while we were heading home.

They didn't have any prepared --boo-- so I opted to go for my first cuppa this deliciousness instead. (Tall, of course. The caloric content of these treats... yikes!)

Anyway, it was just as yummy as I remembered.

It's just a little thing, but it was such a great small comfort. And Adam stopping somewhere just so I could get a coffee... another little thing that's indelibly sweet.

November 10

We went for a walk this morning at a nearby state park. (We had to go this morning because Adam didn't want to miss the Niners game. :) ) Anyway, the kiddos has fun running along the trail, dancing on giant tree stumps, taking plenty of photos and looking up at the enormous sequoia trees. At one point along the way, we came upon this, and it wordlessly (obviously, because you know, it's a tree and all) compelled me to take its picture:

In case it's not clear, the image shows a tiny new tree growing out of the stump of an old, fallen tree.

It's totally and hopelessly corny, but it's a metaphor for this life: we grow and change largely thanks to the efforts of those who have gone before us. The baby tree is sustained by the body of the older tree; the older gives of itself to help the little one grow.

Poetic, no? And definitely a God thing.

November 9

I'll be the first to cop to the fact that this is a crappy iteration of what's otherwise a pretty cool photo.

I took it with my DSLR this afternoon during our brief walk around the cabin. The sunlight was just so striking and the trees so majestic that it felt like a can't-miss opportunity.

And then when I looked at the picture later on, I was really struck by the shadows and the tiny circles of light that dot the scene. The orange one in particular... it makes me feel like Logan was right there with us, his strawberry blonde locks shining in the sun's rays.

I'm not an outdoorsy girl, but even I could see God in this image.

November 8

You're going to have to just take my word on this one. This is part of a pillow that sits on a chair in Adam's parents' cabin:

You really can't tell from the picture, but some of the threads used are metallic, so it shimmers in the light. It's really quite lovely.

Anyway, I took one look at it tonight and it made me think of snow (which may seem logical) and Heaven (which may not).

It makes me think of Heaven because it glitters and sparkles and gleams with an eye-catching sort of intensity. It makes me think of how stunningly amazing Heaven must be. And that's a good thing indeed.

November 7

It's been years, but I can still hear Logan's chirpy voice "reading" from the Cars character dictionary. Of course, he never actually read anything at all; he never learned how. But he knew the little profiles by heart. In my mind's ear, I can still hear him saying a few of those clever names with his special inflection... Todd 'The Shockster' Marcus... and Mildred Bylane. So I was thrilled to find this at Toys R Us this morning:

I still look for new cars, but it's really hard to find them because resellers buy them all up as soon as they hit the pegs. But this Mildred was sitting right at the front of her peg, as if she'd been waiting for me.

And maybe she had: just half an hour earlier, I went to water Logan's flowers and asked him to find a way to be near.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe it was a Logan-infused God wink.

November 6

Here's a different kind of image for y'all:

We stayed to play after kindergarten pick-up today. Isaac and his friend Trevor disappeared behind some bushes at the park and emerged hauling this massive branch. At the time, I thought it was funny. Now, hours later, I still think it's an amusing scene, but it's more than that.

This was truly a team effort. There's no way either of them could possibly have carried that branch across the playground to show the grown-ups without the other's help. And that, of course, points to a truth about life in this world: we really, truly need each other. And we need each other not only for manual tasks like carrying ginormous wooden planks, but also to feel loved and appreciated and wanted.

It reminded me that though I carry a load, there are others around who voluntarily walk with me and share that burden. And for that, I am SO grateful.

November 5

I was all set to use a picture of tonight's moon, which is absolutely stunning. But then I read the creative writing piece Abby wrote as part of her homework this afternoon and I changed my mind.

I love this. I especially love the very last line; it's just such a perfect descriptor, born of the good stuff that is childhood innocence and idealism.

But what I love most of all is that it made me smile and think Aha! Proof that she's really and truly mine. Of course she's mine. I'm exaggerating. But writing is one of my passions, and she often tells me how much she dislikes writing her own stories. So seeing her put pencil to paper and create a vivid little vignette... well, that's a blessing to me.

November 4

My kids were loud today. I really have no idea why; they just were. So loud, in fact, that I mandated The Quiet Game as we walked Abby home from school. As we strolled in (relative) silence, I looked down and saw this:

Brady's little hand pressed up against the stroller 'window'. He peeked at me and beamed, and asked me to press my hand against his. So of course, I complied.

Those little moments --the ones in the midst of chaos-- are so precious.

November 3

My Abby, my first-born and only daughter, turned 9 years old today. Nine. Already halfway to adulthood.

Time has effectively weathered my more precise memories of that day in 2004, but I remember the emotions of the big picture; the overcast skies; the uncertainty that comes with experiencing labor for the first time; the sound of the doctor telling me 'it's a girl'... we didn't find out in advance, and I'd convinced myself that she was a boy (since I was not-so-secretly desperate for a girl) so the words rang in my ears like the sweetest music I'd ever heard.

Fast forward to today. You may not see it, but that girl in the picture is one of the strongest, bravest, more tenacious people I know. She had to watch her very best friend in this entire world be sick, go through appearance-altering treatment, and then die. I don't talk about it much because it breaks my heart to remember, but Abby was there the day Logan passed on. She decided, on her own accord, to come into the room to say good-bye to her best friend before he moved on. She did that, at just seven years of age. She said good-bye and I love you and I'll see you again. It destroys me to remember that moment and the tears in her eyes.

But the strength that grew from that moment... it's truly remarkable.

Sure, she drives me crazy and sometimes we don't get along. But I will always be in awe of her ability to put her own fears aside so she could be there for her little brother in such a tangible way. I'm in awe of how she gets up and goes to school and does well despite her loss. I'm in awe of her when she smiles, because I know that she lives with the same heartache as me, only I'm an adult and she's just a little kid. I'm in awe of that maturity.

She is an amazing person, and I'm blessed that she's my daughter.

November 2

I looked down while we were walking early this afternoon and saw this:

Beyond the obvious and oft-referenced 'footprints in the sand' connection, I had another thought.

Life is hard sometimes. I'm painfully familiar with that truth. But it helps a little to remember that many others have walked paths similar to my own. Though our precise footfalls are different --just like the shoe impressions on the ground in this image vary in location and depth-- inevitably, we're all headed in the same direction.

And for that realization-- especially on days when I'm feeling alone-- I'm grateful.

November 1

At 10 AM today, the formerly dead-end road that runs behind our house became a through street. Just about everyone who doesn't live in our neighborhood is thrilled. (Go figure, right?) I went for a drive to try it out (and yes, to clock the distance to Target, which wound up being six minutes there, four minutes back). While I was coming home, the sun dropped below the hills, and the view was lovely:

As I watched the yellow and orange light fade into darkness, I thought if this extension hadn't gone through, I wouldn't be seeing this awesome sunset.

I still don't like that road, but at least I'm learning --kind of late in life-- to make lemonade from lemons.

And there has to be a God wink in there somewhere.