September 30

Tonight, I'm chilling in my chair with a fuzzy blanket, my laptop, a steaming cup of hot water (because that's what you drink when you're congested), a plate of crispity-crunchity brownie brittle, and 'The Voice.'

It's a luxuriating kind of evening, and I'm so fortunate to be able to enjoy it. It's essential to always --every second of every day-- be mindful of and grateful for my blessings, no matter how small or trivial they may seem. Try it -- the gratitude makes life instantaneously better.

September 29

I overheard a sweet moment between Isaac and Brady this afternoon.

Isaac was playing Swamp Monsters on the big play structure with some boys his age after school. After some time in the sandbox alone, Brady approached and asked Isaac to play with him. My ears perked up because I wondered what would happen next, and I was touched by what I heard.

Rather than telling his little brother to scram or ignoring him, Isaac climbed down from the web and asked his buddies if they could go play their game on the smaller (and Brady-friendly) play equipment. And that's what they did.

It's such a blessing to have kids who truly care for one another.

September 28

Today we went to a surprise birthday party for one of Adam's aunts who's visiting from out of town. Here's a scene from the gathering, shortly after the birthday girl's arrival. (For the record, the really happy lady on the left is Adam's mom.)

Although my family isn't here, a huge portion of Adam's is. Although work and kids and vacations keep us from getting together very often these days, it's a blessing to know they're all nearby. A very good thing indeed. (And of course, birthdays are blessings, too, but I thought that was a given.)

September 27

Some Saturdays, after lunch, we (well, some of us) get ice cream and then sit outside to enjoy it. Today was one of those days.

It's just another moment from a typical kind of day, but as I've said more times than I can count, those moments are life in motion. And that's a very good thing indeed.

September 26

The evening sky was a stunning mix of high, diffuse and billowy, low-level clouds. I could've stood there looking up for quite some time, especially as the sun set and the brilliant blue of daytime gave way to sweet late-day hues of orange, pink, and yellow.

There's something utterly calming about watching the sky. For me, it's almost as if time stops as the clouds embark upon ever-so-gradual trips across my line of vision.

I'm thankful for the time of reflection and the silence that goes along with that always lovely view.

September 25

I spent most of the day feeling horrible thanks to an allergy flare-up. But nonetheless, there were still a few blessings along the way. One of them came when I woke up and realized that it was actually raining outside! Another came as I dropped Abby and Isaac off at school.

Of course, this little sweetie of mine came along with us, and brought this popsicle mold along for the trip from the car to the building. I wasn't sure exactly why he had it, but I assumed that he was doing what we've been doing for months now: saving water.

But his intentions became clear as we made our way back to the car when he asked when he could put his popsicles in the freezer. Some people see rain and think of growth and renewal. Others see rain and think 'oh good grief, STOP!' But Brady? Brady thinks of popsicles. Gotta love the way little ones think.

September 24

Adam and I headed home --and back to reality-- early this morning. The trip was uneventful, though some congestion set in for me overnight so the descent into Oakland was a bit rough for my poor ears. I was happy to retrieve Brady from preschool and then Abby and Isaac from school later in the day. As we returned to the car after a short park-visit, I looked up at the sky and saw this:

My first thought was that it looked like an angel. Initially I continued on my way, but after a few moments, I turned around and took this picture because I felt compelled to do so.

Signs of peace and comfort are priceless, and they come so infrequently sometimes that I like to savor them when they're shown to me.

September 23

Today was a giant God wink. We got up early, dropped Abby and Isaac off with a friend and Brady with Adam's mom, and then headed to the airport to fly down to LA. No one fought getting up, the drive northward was clear, and our flight took off just a minute behind schedule. We arrived in Burbank early following a smooth flight, got the rental car without a hitch, and drove to The Grove, where Adam and I both had to take calls. And then finally, we joined the line to watch the "Dancing with the Stars" results show live.

I really can't fully express how great this day was. It was a blessing to get to see my favorite TV show in person. It was a blessing to have the travel go so smoothly. It was a blessing to feel so carefree.

I could probably go on and on with tales from the experience, but I'll just say that I feel such a sense of gratitude that I'm heading off to bed a happy girl.

September 22

I know some of you all are sick of rain, snow, sleet, and anything at all that falls from the sky in liquid form, but not me. I'd love to see some good, steady rainfall. The earth here is parched, plants are dying, we're stuck taking camp-quality showers. But not all is lost -- I saw this as Brady and I arrived at school to pick Isaac up from school.

A vibrant, happy little yellow dandelion. Despite the dried grass and dirt all around it, this little beauty is still thriving. Still growing. Still putting buttery, sunshine-y yellow-ness on full display.

It reminded me that even when times are tough and we're boxed in by strife and struggles, we can still choose to be bright lights in this world.

September 21

My allergies have really gotten to me over the course of the last 24 hours, so I spent most of the day lying low -- sitting in my chair, watching football. (My 17-year old self is back in 1995, gagging at the very thought.) So I didn't have any aha moments; at least, not until this evening when I passed through the dining room and saw my comfy flats sitting there on the floor.

I routinely go through phases with my footwear. A few years back, all I ever wore were flip flops. It could've been pouring down rain and I'd still slip 'em on and head out. The idea of wearing boots never even came to mind. Last winter, I was all about my black sneakers. But right now, these black flats are my go-tos. They're comfortable and easy to put on and take off.

I can't speak for everyone, but I think we all go through phases where something comes into favor while something else fades out. It's part of the growing process; after all, nothing truly stays the same... except God, that is. God is the one variable that isn't variable at all. And for whatever reason, looking at my flavor-of-the-season shoes reminded me of that overarching, important truth. Go figure, huh?

September 20

This afternoon, we went to a backyard party hosted by one of Adam's co-workers. It's not something we do especially often, so we repeatedly went over the ground rules with the kiddos as we drove over. And fortunately for everyone, they had a great time.

And the good times really rolled after the sun went down and the deejay cranked out the dance music. They all went nuts hoofing it on the grassy dancefloor to the sounds of Pharrell and Taylor Swift and a bunch of bands I can't even name. It was good to watch and laugh (yes, I admit it, at them at times -- Isaac's Robot Hands were beyond hilarious) as they fearlessly put their moves on display.

That kind of courageousness --that live-out-loud, don't-care-what-anyone-thinks, inhibition-free courageousness-- kind of dies out in most of us as we age, so it was a big blessing to see our young ones fully embracing it. It's a good reminder that though we don't, we should all strive to live without --or maybe just with less-- fear.

September 19

At school this week, the kiddos made pinwheels for peace. It's a little hokey, but they do a good job writing their desires and wishes on those pinwheels, so at least they're thinking about ways to make the world a better place. And the wind today had them spinning quite nicely on (what's left of) the lawn by the school.

Although we live in precarious times, there's truth here: peace is possible. And one day, it'll be an actual reality rather than just an ideal. And to tie it back to God in tangible fashion.... He is the source of peace... and peace that passes all understanding. And that's something to be thankful for as we head into the weekend.

September 18

You know you're living under severe drought restrictions when a light misting elicits shrieks of delight from the young ones.

It's raining! It's raining! They shouted as we walked to school this morning. And they did a happy little rain dance. It was really nothing more than a few very light drops, but I love that they were so excited to see any at all. And I love that Abby grinned and said oh, rain! Thank you God for some rain!.

Ah, sweet enthusiasm and thankfulness for something very, very, very small. Many adults --myself included-- could use a dose of that.

September 17

Every time I reflect on the fact that Abby will be in middle school next year, my jaw drops. (Literally. The teeth separate, the tongue hangs out a little. It's a sight.) To get ready for that momentous phase of her life, I've started letting her walk home from school with her friend, M. But I don't really let them walk alone: I drive ahead of them, and then pull over periodically and watch as they come up behind me and pass by. (Rinse, repeat, until we get home.)

It's a big deal, this growing up thing: it's a big deal for her to live it, and a big deal for me to watch her navigate it.

And for now, I'm comfortable with giving her a little bit of freedom and latitude... as long as I'm still along for the ride in one way or another, watching to make sure she's safe and happy. I know I won't be able to protect her indefinitely, so it's a blessing to have these moments now while it doesn't yet mortify her that her mom follows her home in the minivan.

September 16

I had an 'oh WOW' moment this morning when I happened to see this image on a friend's Facebook wall:

In my mind, I saw a dove; a beautiful, pure-as-snow dove with its wings outstretched in flight. Immediately, thoughts of Christ and of sacrifice and of joy and of wholeness came to me as if in a flood. It made me remember that although this world is broken and horrible things continue to happen on a daily basis, there will again be ultimate peace one day.

And for all of that --for that quick reminder that I could so easily have overlooked-- I'm thankful.

September 15

No deep observations today. Just a sweet moment to share.

Brady and I got to preschool a few minutes early this morning, so I let him visit the playground. He climbed into this little red car and turned to grin at me before he headed off for a quick ride.

I love watching him grin and grow and be three years old. That's all; nothing more, nothing less.

September 14

I couldn't really take a photo of today's wink, so I'm going with a representative image of the Little Boys "playing football" instead.

When Isaac came out of Sunday school today, he asked Adam and I if we knew what his name means. We said yes, but he was still very pleased to share that he'd learned that his name means "laughter." He talked about it on and off all day long, actually.

Then, this evening, as he watched the 49er game and played with Brady, he suddenly asked an important question: Do I smell like laughter? Adam and I exchanged a bemused look. What does laughter smell like? I have no idea, but I love that he asked because those sweet, innocent questions are priceless.

September 13

Abby had a busy day today: swim lessons, then a movie with a friend, then time at the park, and finally dinner at our house. As we walked her friend home this evening, I looked up at the sky and marveled over the colors:

It may have been a super mega grossly hot day, but it ended with these gorgeous colors overhead. And only that precise conflation of high temperature and stillness of air could create this exact image.

So yeah: just another reminder that pretty things can arise from less than ideal circumstances.

September 12

Sometimes, a happy medium has to be good enough simply because there are no viable alternatives.

At the start of each new year of preschool, the teacher asks for a family photo for the bulletin board. Last year and the year before, I quietly failed to submit one, because our family isn't complete. And it never will be, at least not on this side of Heaven. So the easiest way to cope with that truth was always to ignore the assignment entirely; to hold my breath until the day the happy pictures were all removed and quietly slipped into the kids' cubbies to take the trip home for good.

But this time, for reasons I can't really explain, I felt a surge of strength, printed some images, and turned them in. And up they went, alongside those submitted by Brady's little classmates: one of the five of us from our trip to Florida last October, and one of Logan, back before life changed.

It's not a perfect solution --our family is still represented by two images, which emphasizes our earthly separation-- but it marked an important development in my life: a willingness to turn in those photos and actually smile once they'd been posted on that board.

September 11

The annual preschool parents' night was this evening. All of our kids have gone to this particular school so I'm very familiar with what transpires during said events, but I went anyway. I got to spend some time thinking about Logan and his time there. And I got to chat with a friend I don't see often. And then as I drove off, I saw this:

I know: it's totally not even remotely clear. But there in the center left portion of the image sits a black Corvette. I realized in that moment that I hadn't seen many of those pretty cars lately. And it was good to see one tonight, right when I needed a little surprise physical reminder of my Sunshine.

September 10

This is a picture of relaxed solitude:

No, actually it's just a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. But this morning, it symbolized solitude. Why? Because it's the muffin I got when I stopped at Starbucks after dropping Brady off at preschool. And since I was his class co-op mom on Monday --the first day of school-- today marked my first morning alone in months.

I love spending time with Brady and I miss him when he's gone, but there's something rejuvenating about being by myself every now and then. It's a blessing to collect my thoughts and just be for just a little while.

September 9

Every time I see a mom lamenting her kids' growth and development --"oh gosh, just stop growing up already!"-- I quietly (okay, well, sometimes not-so-quietly) shake my head. It's a huge blessing to watch every second of my kids' lives because I've learned the very hard way that the old cliche is 100% truth: every single nanosecond is a gift. So today, I decided to recognize a mundane moment from this morning.

It's Isaac and his good buddy T (on the left) flanked by Brady. Now this scene is a blessing in so many ways that they're hard to count, but I'll try. It's a blessing because it's amazing to think that Isaac is already a first-grader. It's a blessing because despite my many failings as a parent, he's a sweet, kind-hearted kid who is well-liked by his peers. It's a blessing because he has a really great friend in T. And it's a blessing because the two big boys took no issue with the little boy joining in on their fun.

It can be bittersweet to see them getting bigger; it's hard, at times, to accept that they need me less and less as time passes. But it's also amazing to see them becoming the bigger people that God designed them to be.

September 8

Today marked Brady's first day of pre-K (also known as the 4's class). I was all set to use one of my cute photos of him standing beside the welcome sign at the school, but changed my mind this evening because of this:

After he took a short, late-afternoon nap, I retrieved him from his crib and carried him downstairs. He told me he was cold, so while Adam finished prepping dinner, we sat down in my chair together and cuddled under a Lightning McQueen blanket.

After Adam sat down on the couch to watch the football game (with Isaac, who was completely enthralled by the on-field action), I asked Brady if he wanted to stay with me (since we'd been together all day long) or go see daddy. He quickly whispered 'stay with you.' And then he grabbed my hand.

That sweet little gesture warmed my heart. There's just so much oft-overlooked love packed into those little, almost-missed-'em moments.

September 7

We had a lovely time at Adam's parents' house this morning and into the early afternoon. While the kids played cards with granddad and Adam chatted with his mom, I stole away to the garden for a look around. This sight took me back in time; way back:

Zinnias. When I was young --about Abby's age-- we lived with my grandparents out in the country. Up the winding driveway out by the road, they had a huge garden that teemed with colorful zinnias and marigolds. I remember wandering up and down the rows of that garden, searching for the perfect little petaled faces.

And looking at those familiar flowers today took me back. And when time seems to be speeding by at a faster pace than I'd like, those little glances back are a big blessing.

September 6

We watched a movie together this evening that cut into the kids' bedtimes so I wound up taking a walk by myself shortly after sundown. I thought about a lot of things as I looped and coursed my way through the surrounding neighborhoods. Since it was dark, I let myself really chew on my frustrations as I walked. I even cried a little since I knew no one could see me.

I didn't really come to any grand conclusions and I wasn't able to solve any of my issues, but this scene reminded me of an important truth:

A lot of people think that being a Christian means that you have it all figured out (or worse yet, that you think you know it all). That's not true. I don't have it all figured out; not even close, really. I don't know why God didn't heal Logan and let him stay and grow up with us. I don't know why some people struggle to make it financially. I don't know why life has to be so bloody hard sometimes.

But this scene gave me a moment of clarity. It reminded me that being a Christian means having faith, even when things don't make sense and even when your heart breaks and even when you want to throw in the towel. It means believing that a sacrifice was made for you so that one day, you can live a life unencumbered by pain and heartache and tears.

And for that peaceful moment of clarity, I'm thankful.

September 5

My sweet muffin had a great time at grandma's house, but completely flamed out when he got home this afternoon: I'm talking more than an hour of full-on screaming. He yelled as we walked over to pick up Isaac from class, he whimpered pathetically as we waited outside the school, he whined loudly as we waited for Abby to come out an hour later. His nose was runny and he looked like he just plain didn't feel well, so I wavered between feelings of frustration and compassion. But inevitably, this is what melted me:

After racking my brain for ways to make him comfortable while we waited for Abby's class to end, I finally remembered that the stroller seat fully reclines, so I asked if he wanted to lie down. He replied with an eager yes, so I helped him into the seat, and he finally settled down. To commemorate the moment, I pulled out my phone to snap a pic to send to Adam, and much to my surprise, he tried to smile. Behind that pacifier and through more than an hour's worth of tears, he made an effort to smile for his mommy.

It's not that I want my kids to pretend to be happy if they're not; I want them to be real with us. But at the same time, I was touched that he dug deep and released a dose of his bright inner sunshine for me, despite feeling under the weather. It also reminded me once again that even when times seem black and frustrating, there are still points of light that break through the darkness.

Kids are amazing, and I think we're all blessed by their presence in our lives -- even when they're screaming.

September 4

I love spending time with this guy.

After drop-off this morning, I took him to Starbucks so I could get a vanilla iced coffee (because, well, yum). As we stood waiting to order in front of the case of goodies, he looked up at me, batted those eyelashes, and said can I please have a pumpkin cookie, mommy? Please?. And then he smiled that smile.

Two minutes later, we left with a vanilla iced coffee, a cup of ice water, and... a sugar cookie decorated to look like a pumpkin.

He doesn't get everything he asks for. Far from it, really. But that little face and that little voice make my heart melt. I'm so thankful to have him because he's a wonderful kid. And I'm also thankful because he's just enough like Logan that it feels almost like he has his biggest brother's thumbprint stamped on his heart (as do Abby and Isaac, in their own ways). It's like having a tiny bit of Heaven within arms' reach.

September 3

Today was a frustrating one. A lot of things went wrong, and the kids were completely crazy this afternoon. But still, as I was looking back through the small handful of images I took with my phone, I felt a little jolt of happiness when I saw this one:

Brady typically walks to school, but he was a bit out of sorts this morning so I took the stroller. A little before the halfway point of our stroll, Abby asked if she could push him. So she did. And Isaac walked along beside them, chatting about PE and music and the things that he thought might happen during his day.

I walked a little ahead of them, silently listening in on their conversation, feeling an acute sense of gratitude for the privilege of being a mom.

September 2

I love how just when Logan starts to feel a little too far away, I get these non-subtle reminders of his "presence" in my life.

Abby needed a sketch pad for school, so I ventured out to Walmart solo this evening. (Well, two Walmarts, because the first one didn't have what I needed, but I digress.) I found myself in the die cast toy aisle of the first store --I think I auto-pilot myself into that section these days, hoping to find him there in one way or another-- and immediately found the red and yellow ones right there are eye-level.

At the second store, I was perusing the cereal aisle, which just so happens to double as the toy aisle (which I didn't realize previously), and I spotted the purple one. Purple wasn't exactly one of his favorites, but he would love the flame job.

Those little reminders are truly everything when the weight of the world --and my emotions-- feels like too much to carry.

September 1

As I investigated our backyard this afternoon, I found this in the grass underneath the apple tree.

It's just an apple, but it's very special because it's the first apple we've ever gotten from our little tree. It was put in when we had the yard re-done two years ago, and it didn't fruit last year. I was thrilled when, several months ago, I saw tiny apple flowers blooming. I watched the blossoms turn into tiny fruit, and admired them as they grew larger and larger. Since they're still pretty small --I have petite hands and this apple fit very nicely into my palm-- I wasn't sure they were ready to be picked. But this one certainly was. I brought it inside and divided it so I could share it with Adam, Abby, Isaac, and Brady. It was sweet and flavorful, and I was happy to be able to share it with (most of) the people I love most.

I've always wanted fruit trees, so it's a blessing to be able to enjoy apples from my very own yard for the first time.