May 31

Here's something you may not know about me: I really, really enjoy gardening. And by "gardening," I mean sowing tiny seeds, carefully tending the sprouts, and (ideally) harvesting the fruits (or veggies) of my labor. Maybe it's because I grew up with huge gardens, but there's something deeply, soulfully satisfying about being part of that process. In fact, if I hadn't been born during the dead of winter, I'm sure my wish list would be filled with various gardening supplies and sundries.

With that said, this week has been especially exciting because the tiny lima and green bean seeds I planted last week are morphing into plants. I checked this morning and was pleased to see that the first little seedlings had broken through the soil and were primed to turn their heads toward the sun. By evening, I was doubly pleased to see that several had not just emerged from the dirt, but had gone a step further by sprouting tiny, tender leaves.

I could be vain and say "I love growing things" which is, I suppose, true. But what I truly enjoy is seeing God's handiwork on display. I may be the seedlings' caretaker, but I'm not their creator. I can plant them and water them and tend to them, but if God doesn't want them to grow, it won't happen. So for me, watching seeds transform from dried out, dead-looking pellets into beautiful, lush, thoroughly alive and bountifully productive plants is one of the biggest God-things of all time.

May 30

It was another quiet day on the homefront. Abby was at her friend's house til late in the day, so we took the Little Boys to a pizza place for lunch.

Nothing profound to share; we just had a nice time sitting and eating and chatting. I quietly marveled over how much they ate and, by association, how much they've grown over time. The reality and the reminders were all blessings.

May 29

A little more than a year ago, we spent a sunny Sunday afternoon at Adam's brother's house to learn why he and our sister-in-law chose to name their first son Theo Lev. Today, we went back for the naming ceremony of their second child, Asher, who was born just 14 1/2 months after his big brother. Before we left to take Abby to a sleepover at her friend's hosue, we took a "cousins" photo featuring our kids, Emily and Eric's boys, and Emily's sister's girls.

Anya, Amira, Asher, Isaac, Brady, Abby, and Theo.

No matter how precious these photos are, taking them is always a little bit bittersweet since Logan can't be in them. But as I look at how sweetly Isaac is holding Asher (and remembering how eagerly he asked if he could be the one to do it) and at how nicely Theo is sitting with Abby, and recalling how frequently Logan asked to nuzzle newborn Brady five years ago, I know that despite being physically absent, he was there. And that makes me smile.

May 28

Today was a lovely, low-key day. I slept in well past my usual wake-up time, had a leisurely lunch with my favorite people at Red Tractor, took a family walk before the mercury rose too high, watched the Columbo marathon on the Hallmark Channel, talked with my mom, did some transcription I'd been putting off, and caught the end of the Warriors' game. So yeah: a good, blessing-filled day.

Since I didn't have a big aha moment, I figured I'd use this image that I snapped as we were leaving lunch. These people factor heavily in determining the quality of my days, and I'm always thankful that they're part of my life.

May 27

Late last night, as I was going to bed, I suddenly realized that I'd left my purse in the van, so I went out to get it. As I reached the driveway, I noticed that the dome light was on in our commuter car. I thought it was odd, since the sun was still shining when Adam got home, but I shrugged it off. Then this evening, as Abby and I were leaving dance, I noticed that one of the ceiling lights in the van was on. So I turned it off, but naturally I had a flashback to last night.

I might have been tempted to dismiss yesterday's incident without much of a thought --by assuming that maybe Adam inadvertently hit the switch (the very tight, difficult to flip switch) on the ceiling as he got out of the car. But to have the same thing happen again tonight in a different car makes me think there's more to it. I always think of Logan my Sunshine when I think of light; it's simply where my mind goes. But in this case, lyrics flashed through my mind during tonight's repeat: Light of the world, You stepped down into darkness, open my eyes, let me see... So perhaps it was a reminder to see --and look for-- the Light. And to give praise where praise is due.

May 26

I know this will sound crazy, but I had a really nice lunch at McDonalds today. Preschool ends tomorrow (insert big, waterwork-y *SOBS* here) so these guys (who were giddy that they got to ride to the restaurant together in one car! I love how small things are so significant to them) scarfed down their Happy Meals and hit the giant (and thankfully, empty) play structure for some rough and tumble little boy time.

Unfortunately, E's mom had to head out, but J and I had lots of time to sit and chat, and it was awesome. We're surprisingly similar people in many ways, and for me, it can be really affirming to talk with someone who understands my perspective and gets where I'm coming from. I haven't met many people who fit the bill in that way, and it's always a huge blessing when I do.

And beyond that, I got to listen to the sounds of Brady and his friends having fun, and I got to see their smiling little faces as they squirreled their way up into the structure and came barreling down the slide.

It was just a regular Thursday afternoon, but I think I'll remember it for quite some time.

May 25

My last preschool co-op date was today. I didn't let myself think about it too much since I didn't want to start crying, so I put on a smile and went about my duties for the morning. One of them was helping the kids to glue colorful buttons on crosses. At some point, when I was between kiddos, the preschool director, Kelly, walked into the room carrying a huge box of buttons. (And I mean seriously large. The little cup in the photo had nothing on the tub.) I'm not sure why I did it because I had plenty of buttons right in front of me, but I got up and wandered over to have a look. And then, before I knew what I was doing, I reached into the tub and pulled out a button that was upside down, just because I thought its shape was intriguing. I had to stifle a laugh when I flipped it over and this was staring up at me from the palm of my hand:

A car, of all things. Of all of the round, oval, square, scalloped, bronzed, matte, and glossy buttons in that container, I pulled out the one shaped like a little car; the 'shape' that Logan --the kid who by age three was able to identify the symbol for every car he saw-- loved to draw and re-draw more than any other. My heart skipped a beat (or three) and Kelly said something about it turning into a blog entry (you know it!).

It was another "I'm here" moment to remind me of my Sunshine as we're preparing to move on from the preschool. And also a reminder that God is everywhere --even in the tiny details-- and that even though life is anything but funny sometimes, He still has a pretty good sense of humor. And beyond even that, it's a reassurance that He meets us where we are, and with the comforts and reassurances that we need.

May 24

Tonight was the annual Open House at the elementary school. We were a little late getting there, since Adam was on the late train and the kiddos had swimming, but once we finally arrived, Isaac was excited to show us all around his classroom.

He buzzed around the room like a little bumble bee, showing us artwork that graced every wall and written assignments and other creative displays. It was such fun to see his work displayed, and it was more fun to see his thoughts written out; his wonderful, sweet, innocent thoughts, like how teachers are the best part of school and how he's proud of how he's improved as a reader this year and how he believes in God and in Jesus. (Yep, he managed to work that one into a public school paper!)

I'm so thankful for my kiddos. Their growth amazes me every single day.

May 23

The sky this evening was pretty spectacular. I gazed at it as we drove toward home following our Costco visit, and mused that it looked like stairs in the clouds. Adam quickly shared that he'd been thinking the exact same thing.

I often wish there was an actual stairway to Heaven; I'd give so much to be able to use those steps --the thousands upon thousands of them necessary to make the trip-- to visit my Sunshine. That is, of course, just a dream, but this visual --this stunningly beautiful visual-- will do for now.

May 22

Adam and I got married almost 14 years ago, so it's fair to say that I'm pretty far removed from the wedding world. But today, I got to help celebrate Corie at her bridal shower.

Jamie and I drove up together and enjoyed a nice afternoon at Christina's beautiful home. We had a really nice lunch and had the chance to catch up a bit. And to think: my friendships with all three of these amazing ladies initially arose from a disappointing set of circumstances.

See, way back when Abby was three years old, she attended the preschool at our church. Near the end of that year, the church decided to change up the preschool and transform it into more of a daycare center, which meant a huge price hike and longer hours that, as a stay at home mom, I neither wanted nor needed. So that meant finding an alternate school. I'd heard great things about Shining Light --and had heard Ms. Kelly speak at a mom's club meeting-- so I called them up and asked about enrollment. They were full, but Abby was placed on a waiting list for the Fall term. Fortunately, a spot opened up in Christina's class, and the rest is, as is so often said, history.

So had the original preschool not shifted gears (and caused me much frustration), I never would've gone to Shining Light, and I never would've met Corie or Christina or Jamie. So today, I'm thankful for the reminder that big blessings can arise from not-so-ideal situations.

May 21

Violet, our kitty, has been with me for nearly 16 years. I adopted her from the Oakland SPCA back in 2000, shortly after I finished college and moved northward to begin post-graduation life. She was my roommate before Adam and I got married, and we enjoyed many an evening in my Livermore apartment watching TV. (Well, I watched TV. She luxuriated in my lap and purred as I rubbed her behind the ears.) Later, she became Adam's special buddy and she learned to be cautious of the often-unpredictable children we kept bringing home with us from the hospital every few years. I'm not sure how old she actually is --though my guess is in the neighborhood of 18 or 19 years-- but she's elderly, and recent times have seen her moving more gingerly and sleeping more often. I finally told the kids today that I'm not sure she has much more time with us.

After digesting my words, Isaac disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared with a small handful of cat treats, which he let her eat from the palm of his hand. Shortly thereafter, she climbed into Logan's chair --which made me catch my breath, because she almost never sits in that chair and the visual of her resting in his "arms" was almost too much for me to take in-- and Isaac stretched out on the carpet and just looked at her for a long while. My sweet boy was keeping watch over his furry friend.

It's a gift to see that kind of compassion and genuine care expressed by my children.

May 20

One week from now, Brady will have officially finished preschool. In my head, I know he's been there for three years and I know that he's ready for kindergarten. My heart, however... well, my heart is still getting used to the idea that after years of sticky fingers and stickier kisses, I'm about to retire my 'preschool mom' title. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Tonight, we attended our last preschool carnival, and while we were there, I got a bit of closure that I'd always kind of longed for, but never really expected to receive.

I was surprised when Brady's teacher came up to me after I'd dropped Abby at her youth group adventure and told me that a certain girl was at the carnival. This girl, Presley --the girl in the blue sweatshirt in this image-- was in Logan's preschool class, and she's a central figure in one of my favorite preschool stories of all time. See, way back before everything went so wrong and Logan was just a regular kid in preschool, he was sitting at circle with his class one day when Presley leaned over and kissed him right smack on the lips. Logan's teacher --who is Brady's teacher right now-- told me about the smooch with a mixture of horror and amusement when I picked him up that day, and I laughed it off.

After he passed away, it occurred to me that Presley was not only his first kiss, but his only kiss (aside from family, of course), so I've always wondered what became of her. And tonight, I got to see her, and I got to share the story with her mom. So much unexpected closure, and such perfect timing.

But that wasn't the only way that Logan was present tonight to say farewell to the preschool: his second teacher --the one who taught him the year that he passed on-- pulled me aside to say that he'd meant a lot to her. And as I left the parking lot to head to my dance class, I pulled behind a beautiful, brand new, cherry red Corvette. As Adam said, it's as if he was doing victory laps around the place. That very special place that will always mean a lot to me, even after my little ones are no longer little. So tonight, it was a blessing to look back and remember and be thankful before my family takes another big step forward together.

May 19

When the school year started, all I heard from Abby was "I HATE MIDDLE SCHOOL. I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL." Really. Every school morning, we went through the same rigmarole: I cajoled her out of bed, nagged her to get dressed, ushered her out the door. But at some point when I wasn't paying attention, her tune changed. A lot. So much that at tonight's open house, she literally skipped around campus in search of her friends so she could introduce them to me (since my very existence doesn't yet serve as a source of embarrassment. Note to self: Must. Try. Harder. Kidding. Sort of.). We ran into her long-time (and I'd use the term 'best', but I just don't care for the labels) friend Bridget several times, and one of those times, the two of the did an odd little dance in virtually perfect harmony.

I've said this before, but as someone who agonized over being accepted by my peers when I was 11 and 12 and 13, I love that she doesn't care what everyone else thinks. And I love that B doesn't care, either. I love that they can be utterly ridiculous together where everyone can see and not worry over who may be judging them from across the room.

And perhaps beyond all of that, I'm deeply thankful that they stuck together this first year of middle school; that year when relationships can be so complicated and the importance of social status gains so much importance (if you let it). I feel like they keep each other grounded and authentic --even in all of their wonderful, unique weirdness at times!-- and that's such a terrific gift.

May 18

It was hot out today, and because Murphy's Law is a thing, Isaac had a baseball game with a 4 PM report time. And we were the home team, so we were stuck sitting on the sunny (which today translated to "hot as blazes") side of the field. But it was all good, because I got to watch one of my boys do something he really enjoys.

Despite my frustrations with some things that have happened this season, I've seen Isaac improve quite a bit over the past few months: his swing is faster, his throwing is better, and he's actually a surprisingly natural catcher. (And I only say it's surprising because he really didn't want to catch when the season began because he said it bothered his knees. But if that's true, you wouldn't know it watching him now because he's up and down and tossing the ball back to the pitcher like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to do.)

It's such a blessing to see my kids learn and grow.

May 17

I am a creature of habit. So is Brady. So this morning, we did exactly what we did a week ago: after drop-off, we went home for a few minutes, picked up a bag on mini rice cakes, and went to Starbucks, where I had some coffee and he had a cup of ice water.

We sat in those big chairs and enjoyed our drinks and talked and swapped silly faces. And I couldn't help but to reflect that despite the challenges and the heartaches, aspects of this life are so good --like the fact that I get to look at this little face every day-- that God must certainly be in them.

May 16

One of the irritating things about grief is its unpredictability. I can go for weeks feeling reasonably "normal" (though I admit that I use that term very loosely, since I'm still not exactly sure what "normal" means anymore) and then out of nowhere, I'm thinking about my Sunshine and feeling those same old stabbing pains around the heart and sobbing. Late last night was one of those times. So today, it was a blessing to me to see Brady playing with these:

Some of them belonged to Logan, and some were added to "his" collection after he moved on. But Brady likes to play with them now and again; brothers connected by little cars with faces. And the sight is most definitely good for my battered heart.

May 15

There's something about childhood innovation that's so precious. We have access to incredible amounts of technology --real, actual, usable TVs and phones and computers-- but somehow, Brady always prefers to "make" his own machines, typically using cardboard boxes.

This is the "computer" he made this weekend. He sat at it this morning and happily pecked away at the old (and non-functional) keyboard that Adam gave him. A few minutes after I took this picture, he decided that he wanted it to be something else, so he cut a hole in the back wall and propped a tablet behind it so he could "watch TV."

I so love his creativity and his desire to build -- and to work and enjoy the fruits of his own labor.

May 14

Today Abby and I donned our nerdy finest for dance picture day.

This is our fifth and final year as part of the Mother/Daughter dance. We've been Country Girls, California Girls, Ladies of the '80s, Tina Turner's River Rollers, and this year, simply The Nerds. I've worn a straw hat, teased and sprayed my hair into a frizzy mass of tangles, jumped around in mounds of swingy fringe, and shaken my bum at the audience. I've enjoyed getting to know other moms I wouldn't have otherwise gotten to meet.

But more than anything, I've enjoyed time with my one and only daughter, who I know will be starting and then finishing high school and moving on with her life well before I'm ready to let her go. So although I'm sad that Abby ages out this year, I'm so thankful that we've had this special girl time to ourselves. (And I know that somewhere out there, Logan is smiling, even if he never did get to see us perform on that stage with his earthly eyes.)

May 13

It may not look like it, but this is a photo of pure determination.

Today marked our final Bike Day at preschool, and though I tried to convince Brady to take Isaac's bike (which is actually too small for Isaac anyway), he insisted on his tricycle. Now that decision in and of itself didn't bother me too much; sentimentally speaking, it was the perfect choice since all three of my boys rode it for their respective Bike Days, and in fact, the bumper and handlebars of the trike are still adorned with the paper license plates from each boy's turn around the parking lot behind the school.

However, it proved a challenging selection for Brady in the end because the gears slipped when he tried to pedal, so he couldn't get far, and he certainly couldn't keep up with the kids zooming around the course on their bikes and scooters. His friend James briefly loaned him a scooter, which he loved (and which prompted him to ask when I could get him one of his own), but then he found himself sitting on the curb facing a quandary: should he sit and watch the fun, or work a bit harder and join in?

After mulling the options, he hopped back on the trike and rode it Fred Flintstone style. I could see his brow wrinkled in determination; it's not easy to Fred Flintstone a tricycle that's already too small, after all. He could easily have gotten frustrated and given up as he watched his friends breeze by --and honestly, I wouldn't have blamed him one bit-- but he didn't do that. He pressed on, tackled the challenge, and enjoyed himself despite his circumstances. That's certainly a lesson I should embrace.

May 12

Sometimes the complete and entirely random way that my kids think makes me giggle. This afternoon, Brady was playing a video game while I was reading email. At one point, he ran into the room and asked me to take a picture of something. I was confused, but also quite curious about what had so piqued his interest that he needed to commemorate it, so I grabbed my phone and joined him in what the kiddos affectionately call "The Wii Room." (Us grown-ups call it "The Living Room.") This was the scene that demanded preservation:

It's Mickey Mouse and some other creature. He rattled off an explanation in rapid-fire video game terminology. I had no idea what he was talking about, and even now, hours later, I still have no idea. But you know something? I loved his enthusiasm so much that it made me smile. And I also loved the little smile he flashed when I showed him the photo. I have no idea what he plans to do with it, but I don't care: that grin and his excitement made for a wonderful 'living in the moment' experience for me. And given how often I live in the future (and truthfully, the past), those little reminders to enjoy the present are priceless.

May 11

My littlest sweetie has a sweet routine: each day, as we pass by the on-site daycare facility at Isaac's school, he stops to pick one of these flowers:

Then depending on the day, he tells me that it's for me, or for me and Daddy to share. And every time, the gesture melts my heart.

I don't really know that I can think of a more precious and thoughtful gift than a pretty little flower plucked from the earth by someone who loves you. To quote a Kenny Chesney song, that's the good stuff.

May 10

Yup, that's a squirrel.

As I approached Isaac's school this morning, I noticed this squirrel standing stock still up on his hind legs in the middle of the street. I slowed and finally stopped and just watched it. Of course, the moment that I turned on my phone's camera, he ran off, but the sight of him sitting there at attention was an amusing sight to all three of us.

Given how contentious mornings can be 'round these parts, starting off a day with a random moment of mirth is a blessing indeed.

May 9

What made today remarkable was its wonderful unremarkableness: I took the kids to school, had my coffee, picked up a few things at the grocery store, did some writing, read Brady some books, made dinner, and watched "Dancing with the Stars." So in celebration of my wonderfully mundane day, here's a look at a scene that I take in just about every weekday.

Each day, Isaac and Brady play at the park before we walk over to the school to get in line. And each day, Brady joins Isaac in line until the bell rings, just like he's a member of the class. It's just an everyday moment, but as I've said probably 100 times before, everyday moments are often the best moments of all.

May 8

Mother's Day, like Logan's birthday and the anniversary of his Home-going (and most major holidays), is bittersweet for me. Or, as I remarked to a friend a few days ago, it's one-quarter bitter. But I guess that's not really right, either, because Logan definitely isn't a "bitter." So I guess my feelings are best described as "complicated."

At any rate, mixed feelings aside, today was pleasant enough. The family brought me breakfast --a waffle-- and gifts in bed.

Then we went to church, had lunch, visited Logan's grave, went for a long walk, and played a few rounds of cards. Then we had homemade pizza for dinner. Adam even groomed the cat for me (which, if you've ever cleaned a cat, you know is a challenge).

So yes, it was a gentle, nice day. And for now, that's all I ask of my special days.

May 7

It's nice to feel appreciated.

At lunch today, Isaac decided --totally on his own-- to make me a Mother's Day 'card' on the back of his placemat. He wrote out 'Happy Mothers Day' and added gobs of celebratory confetti. It's a small thing, but those small things can mean quite a lot.

May 6

Today was the Mommy and Me Tea at preschool. It was my last one, and of course Brady's last one, given that he's off to kindergarten this fall.

But the tea isn't just a tea; they also present a slideshow featuring photos from throughout the year. In years' past, my kiddos have always giggled at the images of themselves and their friends while I tried to hold back the "Oh my gosh, how did my baby get so old?" tears. It's been so predictable that I could reliably count on the experience playing out in just that precise way.

But this time, it was different. Brady sat quietly with the side of his head pressed against my chest. After it ended and the moms and kids filed out, he remained fixed in place, unwilling to move at all. I looked down at him, and that's when I saw the tears. I asked why he was crying, and he seemed embarrassed. I told him that it was okay to be sad when things change, and he nodded.

I was genuinely surprised by this show of emotional maturity. Maybe I shouldn't have been, given that he's the oldest kid in his class and given that he's spent three happy years within the safe confines of Shining Light. But it was a blessing to me to have the experience of comforting him in his moment of sorrow; and in fact, in what was likely his first moment of mature, thoughtful sorrow -- a sorrow with legitimate complexity that went beyond "he stole my truck" or "he called me a name and hurt my feelings". It's a gift to be a comforter, and I was honored to be able to remind him that even though he's sad right now, new and wonderful experiences will be waiting for him just around the corner.

May 5

I write every single day, so I guess I qualify as an artist of one sort, but I rarely get to exercise my other creative muscles. So I was happy to put this together for Isaac's teacher.

It's your run-of-the-mill gift card tree (though I guess it's more of a plant), and there are hundreds of them on Pinterest. But there was something so satisfying about picking out the supplies and cutting those free-hand flowers and using the tiny (and totally adorable), brightly colored clothes pins to fasten the cards to the blooms. It made me feel productive. And being productive in a tangible way is a huge blessing to someone who spends most of her time doing work that goes largely unnoticed.

May 4

Despite all of the "May the 4th be with you" nonsense going around (because UGH NO), today was a lovely day, I think. I had a productive morning that didn't feel rushed, actually had fun at baseball practice (but we totally need to start doing yoga, Steph), and the kids were generally well-behaved enough that I didn't so much as bat an eye when Adam texted to tell me he'd be really late. Then driving home from picking up dinner, I looked up and saw that the sky looked like this:

I took the picture while I was sitting at a red light, so it's not the best ever, but I love the whole "inverted rainbow around the sun" thing. It's a phenomenon that I don't see particularly often, and for some reason, when I do, the sight fills me with a sense of awe. It's like God Himself is wrapping the sun in a hug. The idea may sound corny, but I think it's pretty darn cool.

May 3

My muffin and I had a busy morning.

After drop-offs, we headed to Starbucks --coffee for me, ice water and Goldfish crackers for him-- and then to a nearby park so he could dig in the sandbox. And then it was on to a sporting goods store for socks (and a t-ball bat for a certain little boy who batted his eyelashes at me and said "pleeeeease?" so sweetly that my desire to be firm and say no completely left me) and the grocery store for cat food.

As I sat with him having my coffee, it occurred to me that these days are limited. Very limited, now that he's in his final month of preschool. My final month of preschool. I get emotional when I think about it, so I don't usually go there, but today I did. And I resolve to savor every last God-given moment.

May 2

Brady plucked a wisher (as my kids call them) as we walked from the car to the elementary school this afternoon.

I was a few paces ahead of him as he drew in a breath to scatter the seeds, but I heard his wish --I wish that Isaac's cough would be all better-- and my heart melted. Isaac awoke this morning with what I'm assuming is an allergy issue: stuffy nose and a cough. He took some Children's Mucinex before we left for drop-off, but I know he was worried about how he'd feel during the day. So it made my heart smile to see Brady using his wish to benefit his bigger brother. I love that they love and care for each other.

May 1

I was inside for most of the day, but took a walk by myself after dinner this evening.

The temperature was pleasant and the skies were mostly clear, save this little cluster of puffy clouds. It was a blessing to have that alone-time outside, where I could breathe in the sweet scents of spring time and enjoy some rays of sunshine on my face.