January 15

It's been a really strange week. Not bad-strange. Just... unusual-strange.

First there was the conversation with Diane yesterday.

Then today, I had yet another conversation --at Starbucks-- with a woman who had experienced a loss. And to make it doubly-odd, it was a woman whose daughter was in Isaac's dance class last year. She didn't know about Logan, and I didn't know about her husband. I'd seen her sitting at the counter several times, but today was the first time we'd spoken. And our stories tumbled out. Another opportunity for me to feel... not so alone in my ongoing grief.

Then this morning, I was given the opportunity to interview an Olympian, which I did via phone a few hours later. I'm enthralled with the Olympics and with writing and with telling stories of people chasing their dreams, so it was a wonderful blessing.

But even though I keep saying it's been a weird week, I shouldn't be surprised, because what it's been is an answer to a very quiet prayer. On my birthday, I prayed that Logan would please show himself to me. That he'd find a way --or that God would find a way, on his behalf-- to be present. And he has. In Diane, in Jen, in the unexpected interview, and in this very simple moment:

Brady isn't generally a lovey-dovey child. He can be sweet, but he's not a big cuddler. This morning, however, he was. When we got home from Starbucks, he asked me to turn on Paw Patrol. And then he sat on the couch, patted the cushion next to himself, and asked me to please come sit with him. It was a sweet set of moments to me, sitting next to my baby, my eyes closed as I smelled his hair and hugged him close to my side.

It's all a gift. All of it. And I'm glad that this week, this very strange, special week, I'm realizing the weight of those very true words.