March 31

Traveling with the kiddos used to be a giant ball of suck. Between stopping for diaper changes and screaming fits and endless not-so-harmonious choruses of "I need to stretch my legs", short trips often morphed into stressful chores. Fortunately, we're (mostly) past that phase, so our little road trip to kick off Spring Break this afternoon wasn't bad at all.

We had one potty break (which also featured the stretching seen here), one food break, one gas break, one squabbling session that involved BearBear being used as a weapon, lots of reading and listening to music, and a lot of peace.

I sometimes miss the baby and toddler phase, but those calm, mostly peaceful trips are priceless.

March 30

I had to take a quick trip to Costco between pick-ups this afternoon. Fortunately, Brady went along with the chore like a true pro, so we stopped at the food court on the way out for a quick hot dog.

I'm blessed with remarkably patient, (usually) good-natured kids, so it was a pleasure to just sit with him while we ate.

Just a little mundane moment, but nearly all of life is lived in those mundane moments, so we may as well enjoy them.

March 29

I didn't sign up to volunteer at the Little Boys' Fun Run at school today, but I showed up to watch them circle the field. (And I even jogged a few laps with Brady. My knees will probably hate me in the morning.) As I returned some silly bands to the set-up table, the PTA president asked if I wanted to take a shirt and be an official volunteer. Each grade level was assigned a different color so theoretically, I should've gone with green (to match Isaac and the third graders) or purple (for Brady and the kindergartners). But I didn't. I went with blue, the color for fifth grade.

To this day, I still struggle to decide whether to say Logan would be in fourth or fifth grade. The reality is that he'd be in fourth if he'd lived, since he fell a year behind while he was in treatment. But if he'd never gotten sick in the first place, he'd most definitely be in fifth. So something in my mind clicked when I chose blue. In a way, it's like I was representing him, even though he never got to be a student there at all. And that one small thing did a great thing for my heart.

March 28

I'm not sure why, but this afternoon, Abby spontaneously decided to write a story about Bear Bear. (You know, Brady's beloved teddy bear, with whom she's been ever so slightly obsessed for several years.) When she finished writing, she read it in Bear Bear's voice. It was completely demented, but totally hilarious.

I'm not surprised that she adores musical theater because she's quite funny. She has a real gift for physical comedy... well, for comedy in general. When she's not being sassy or talking back to me (or disliking me for looking at her through the wrong eye or breathing too much... she is 12, after all), she helps to lighten my mood quite a lot. And that's a huge blessing.

March 27

This little patch of white flowers caught my eye as I walked to retrieve Brady from school, and I made a mental note to stop and take a photo on our way back through. I liked the symbolism of the tiny heads reaching upward toward Heaven and toward God. And I still do. But I'm using this image for an entirely different reason.

As I steadied my phone to snap the shot, Brady came racing into the frame and dropped to the ground. Initially, I was annoyed that he was slowing down the process, but then he turned to me, his arm outstretched and a smile on his face. And this became my new image for the day.

Some of you know this, but there's a big photo of Logan as a toddler in my dining room. It features him smiling and offering me a tiny flower with an outstretched arm. It's one of my favorites photos of all time, and Brady quite unwittingly recreated it when I least expected it.

Be open to surprising moments that mess up your plans, because sometimes they're the biggest, boldest blessings of all. (And God's plans are better than yours anyway.)

March 26

At church this morning, the worship leader talked briefly about living with joy and what that means. Joy, she stated, isn't, as it's usually defined, an overwhelming sense of happiness. Instead, it's a sense of inner contentment that arises from knowing that no matter what life throws at you, God is ultimately in control.

These guys so often exemplify joy --both contentment and happiness-- in the way they live. It's in how they interact with one another, in how they play together, and in how they love each other (and everyone else).

I could learn quite a lot about life by watching them, methinks, and that's a good thing indeed.

March 25

Something unexpected happened this morning: Isaac pitched the last two innings of his team's baseball game.

It was a notable event because he had --literally-- never pitched from the mound before. Not during practice and definitely not during a game. Just never.

I freaked out a little bit when I saw that 1 next to his name on the lineup card pre-game; after all, pitching can be hard when you've had a lot of practice, so I held my breath when his toe touched the rubber for the first time. But you know something? He did fine! He struck out a few batters and seemed to keep his cool the entire time. They wound up finishing in a 9-9 tie, but they should be super proud of themselves because they were playing a team that has, so far, fared much better than they have during games.

And a bonus: he also, at long last, collected his first hit and an RBI. I was glad to be wearing my sunglasses despite the clouds because I almost cried. He hasn't historically been particularly comfortable at the plate, but he took the coach's comments to heart and it worked.

So yeah. After several tough games, a good hit, a successful pair of innings on the mound, and a high-scoring tie all taste pretty sweet --and definitively blessing-like-- tonight.

March 24

Friday is usually movie night at our house, and tonight was no different, though we did deviate from the animated Disney norm by introducing the kiddos to "Back to the Future."

Abby initially pulled her customary Stubborn Pre-Teen routine and tried to resist, but it didn't take long before she was engrossed in the plot just like everyone else. Brady laughed until he could hardly breathe at points, and Isaac showed off his sharp skills of deduction by figuring out that Marty McFly was going to convince his dad to ask his mom out by pretending to be from another planet. (I was genuinely surprised when he caught onto the wording in advance and pointed it out!)

It was way fun to watch it with them. It was a little sobering to see how many '80s ideas (and items) that we had to explain (and identify) for them, but man, what a gift to be able to watch a movie I watched as a kid with my own kids. That's an oft-overlooked blessing for sure.

March 23

While I sat in my car waiting for the kindergarten bell to ring this afternoon, I ate a donut. This very donut, in fact:

I like donuts, but given that they're not exactly healthy, I rarely eat them. So what, exactly, is my point here? I guess that today, I'm just thankful for this very small, very delicious thing that came into my life for a short time to make my afternoon a bit tastier than it otherwise would've been.

March 22

Brady plucked this little flower for me this afternoon when I picked him up from school. I was standing on the sidewalk at the time talking with a friend so I didn't really look at it until we finished chatting. I was bit surprised when I finally did take a gander at the gift.

I don't know about anyone else, but I see a tiny heart. I guess I could call it an imperfection since the entire center should be yellow, but I won't because love --real love that comes straight from God Himself-- is never imperfect. It's sometimes surprising and unexpected and isn't always easy to give --or, depending on who you are, to receive-- but it's always perfect.

March 21

Wacky was the word for today's weather: sprinkles, sunshine, and a huge rainbow followed by a downpour of epic flood proportions. And then by the afternoon, sun and enough wind to coat the ground with tiny white flowers that looked a whole lot like snow.

Brady was fascinated by those little flowers when he got out of school. At first, he genuinely thought it had snowed --which is funny since it doesn't snow here at all-- and then he was just interested in knowing how so many had fallen from the trees at once.

I love how his mind works. It should probably mortify me to admit it, but some days, he makes connections that I miss out on.

Ah, kids. One of human life's biggest blessings.

March 20

A sprinkling of afternoon rain summoned the snails, and the Little Boys were enthralled with the slimy sliders.

They hovered over this one as it creeped along the concrete sidewalk that fronts the dance studio. They dubbed him Turbo and marveled over how quickly his little body covered the distance. (It wasn't really that fast; think 'normal snail speed.' But their eyes saw something decidedly more impressive.) I love how they so often see what could be rather than what simply is. I guess age has jaded my view a bit, but I'm blessed to have little people around me who can remind me of what it's like to just make believe now and again.

March 19

It breaks my heart because I want to store every precious detail in my mind forever, but there are little things about Logan that I've started to forget. Fortunately, every now and then, something jogs one of those wayward memories and I can't help but smile.

We saw this car this morning on our way to church. After riding behind it for a few seconds, Adam laughed and exclaimed 'look! It says Ponow!' I noted that it was spelled wrong, but agreed: Ponow.

It sounds like a weird thing to remark upon, but it's not. When Logan was about three years old, he used to chatter on about how he was from a far-away planet called Ponow. I have no idea what inspired him to create Ponow in the first place, but it quickly became a common discussion topic. I can still remember the sassy faces he pulled and the little dances he did as he chattered on about it.

I hadn't thought about Ponow for some time now, so seeing that car's plate was a super sweet reminder of what was... and what will be again, some day.

March 18

I told our friend Kristine that I'd go to her team's softball game this evening. As I headed toward the door, Isaac chirped that he wanted to come watch too, so he joined me. As we sat in the stands together, he compared and contrasted baseball and softball, remarking on everything from the difference between the girls' chalk pitching circle and baseball's mound, to the strike zone, to the way some of the girls wore full masks while playing. He's truly a student of baseball, and tonight, he expanded his repertoire a bit to include softball.

Anyway, it was fun to take a few hours and hang out with just him: a middle child of a middle child. It's such a blessing to be with him and to hear his thoughts.

March 17

It was a beautiful blue-skied day. As I walked to school to pick up Brady, I passed by this tree and paused to look up at the scores of fledgling blossoms that dotted its branches.

Every spring, I find myself marveling over the genius of intelligent design; over how incredible it is that, like clockwork, the trees sprout tender new leaves to replace those that went before. It seemed an especially appropriate reflection for me, given that today saw not just one but two members of our extended family --my Great Aunt Marcella and Adam's Uncle Lane-- bid farewell to this earthbound life.

I feel blessed to know that because of Jesus, Heaven awaits.

March 16

I am so happy that Abby has found her Thing, even if that Thing appears to be drama.

I think I first mentioned it last fall, but she's taking a musical theater dance class this year and she could not possibly love it more than she does. She loves it so much that she almost literally glows while she's performing. And I'll tell you something: it's definitely good for her, but it's almost as good for me.

Watching her rehearse for her "Hairspray" themed recital routine takes me back in time in a big, sweet, happy, nostalgic, bittersweet way. Before Logan died, my girl was a huge performer. She practiced her recital routines to both "Good Ship Lollipop" and "Rockin' Robin" until she had them down pat. When she was really little, she nearly drove me nuts by repeatedly rehearsing her "Outrigger Island" VBS songs and talking about how when she was a big girl, she'd be a hula girl. So she's always been a performer, but it's like she took a break --a long, self-imposed hiatus-- when she lost her best friend. I don't know if performing lost its spice for her or if she felt like she was being disloyal to him by continuing to enjoy the arts or if something entirely different drove her disinterest, but it's so amazingly good to see that long-dormant part of her personality re-emerge.

I think Logan would definitely approve. And he would be so, so proud of her for continuing to live in a big, bold way.

March 15

Brady got up this morning and seemed much better, so after I took his temp (which was normal) and he assured me that he felt okay, I gave him a dose of Tylenol and took him to school. He just happened to have his annual well-check this afternoon, so I figured the doctor could take a look then. Long story shorter, that's what we did, and he does indeed have a raging double ear infection, complete with a perforated eardrum. But that silly health detail couldn't throttle his energy.

After we left the office (and after I'd gotten him some ice cream, since little dude is apparently long and lean to the degree that he's significantly underweight like his bigger bro), we stopped briefly at the playground by the school while we waited for Isaac to be released. He climbed right up onto the play structure and grinned as he pretended he was surfing some big-time waves. Just to create a point/counterpoint situation here, I'll admit that the last time I had an ear infection --probably five or six years ago, and just in one ear-- I laid on the bed in my room and pressed my face into the pillow so no one would hear me screaming in agony.

My kids are incredibly resilient people. I watched Logan suffer tremendous pain, yet he still soldiered onward with heart, tenacity, and a mental toughness well beyond his five years until his physical body could no longer manage the fight. Then I watched his siblings cope with the aftermath; with emotional pain and a pair of exhausted parents and a whole slew of challenges that I'm not sure I could've survived when I was a child. They're incredible people, and all four of them inspire me to do better and try harder every day.

March 14

School, baseball, homework, bed. That was, in a nutshell, my Tuesday. And all was well until Isaac's game started at 5 and poor Brady began to complain that his ear hurt. He's usually a pretty tough little cookie, but there were actual tears involved, so I knew it must've been the real deal.

There wasn't much we could do by then, since it was post-doctor's office hours, so he stayed in this position --cuddled up against Adam's shoulder-- through much of the affair.

I've said it previously, but it's a blessing to be able to comfort other people. We may not be able to take away the pain itself, but it's nice that our presence can make it just a little bit better.

March 13

After several chance encounters over the last few months, I finally met my old friend Andrea for lunch today at an eatery in the next town over.

She's a cool and undeniably busy chick; between being a teacher and a fitness instructor, she's also a mom who --at least according to Facebook-- manages to maintain a pretty decent social life.

Anyhow, it was awesome catching up with her and hearing about what's been making her world turn. Having --and making and taking-- the time to make connections with other people is a huge blessing in my life.

March 12

I felt a bit out of sorts today, so levity was in order during my afternoon window shopping expedition with my girl. As we sat in the car, I flipped through my song library until I came across the most ridiculous one of the bunch. And then I pressed play, and the sounds of country-rap filled the air. I didn't take a pic at that moment, but here's one from a little later. It doesn't really duplicate the look of horror on Abby's face as I white-suburban-mom rapped to the beat, but it's good enough:

So two things: one, I will not reprise my act. I know exactly who would love to see it, but don't bother asking because just NO. And two, it worked. The lighthearted silliness really did help to elevate my mood. Ridiculous, yes, but a blessing.

March 11

You win some, you lose some. Last week, Isaac's baseball team got a sugary sweet taste of the former. Bright and early this morning, they got a bitter mouthful of the latter.

No one likes to lose, but I think it's especially tough for kids, since the adult world does such an excellent job of teaching them that being on top --being the best, the biggest, the strongest, the fastest-- is what matters and is what makes them great. But fortunately, that's not the message Isaac's coach is sending his team.

Following one particularly brutal defensive half of an inning, he summoned the boys to a quick huddle. I couldn't hear exactly what was said, but it was a pep talk. A 'keep your head in the game,' 'live the moment,' 'have fun and shake it off' kind of talk. And then they went back to the dugout and the game continued.

And then an interesting thing happened: those formerly quiet, sullen kids --whose hearts no doubt ached with disappointment as they watched their opponents' lead grow-- seemed to find a new song to sing. They cheered for their teammates as they headed to the plate. They made some noise. And they rallied. In the end, they trailed by too many runs to stage a comeback, but they were on a roll when time expired. To use an appropriate baseball cliche, they went down swingin'.

If I know anything about this life, it's that we don't always win. Even when we hope and pray and plead and beg and even when what we're requesting seems like a reasonable ask, we still may not get what we want. But so much of life is about attitude, and I feel blessed that these kids are learning that lesson now. And I pray that they'll continue to carry it with them.

March 10

Adam and I started dating when we were both 19. Two months ago, I turned 39, and today, he followed suit. It's completely crazy to think that our relationship will turn 20 later this year; older than the youngest adult (but still a year too young to drink).

So what can I say about this guy? About us? A lot. A whole lot, really, but I'll try to boil it down to the most essential nuts and bolts. Adam and I, we're different people. We have different interests and different personality types; he likes quiet solitude, while I crave social interaction. He's neat as a pin and well, I'm... not. He's reflective and I'm a wee bit impulsive and reactionary. So yes, we're different.

But a good relationship isn't comprised of two people who are carbon copies of one another. No, we're bonded by 20 years of experiences and memories and hopes and dreams and aspirations. And though it's not always easy to muddle through the heartbreaking times, it's always good to have a partner who loves you in spite of yourself, no matter what. And that's just what I have.

Happy birthday, hunny.

March 9

Brady was feeling whimsical this morning, so he positioned BearBear on the couch like this before we left for school:

I've mentioned it several times before, but BearBear is an important fellow to all of us. He's really the only present Logan ever gave Brady, so he's extra-specially meaningful.

With all of that rehashed, I'll say that we had a BearBear-related scare this evening. It was an unusually hectic late-afternoon, as Adam's commuter train ran into some trouble, which left me to handle all of the Thursday activities plus dinner solo. By the time we rolled into the driveway at around 8 PM, I was pooped and ready to chill. But my anxiety level again shot through the roof when I went to put the boys to bed and no one could find BearBear. We practically ripped the house, the car, and the garage apart looking for him, but Brady couldn't remember what he'd done with him. In the back of my mind, I worried that he'd taken him to tball and left him in the field or that he'd fallen out of the car as we'd rushed from one destination to another. And the idea broke my heart, because in a way that I can't really explain and that may not make sense to others, losing BearBear would be kind of like losing Logan all over again.

Fortunately, we had a happy ending when Isaac spied the corner of his signature bow tie inside a toy chest. Boy and bear were reunited, and all was well again. So what's my point? I guess I'm just relieved and thankful. And sometimes, feeling that deep sense of thankfulness is more than enough to fill my cup.

March 8

Brady and I visited a play structure at the Sports Park this afternoon while Isaac had baseball practice. As he conquered the slides and steps, I looked at the sky and all around and, honestly, at nothing in particular, until a butterfly flitted into view. I watched it swirl and spin and trip and twirl until it finally settled on the tanbark below. It's in this photo. See it?

If you can't, it's okay. I took the image and it's still virtually invisible to my eye.

So what's my point? It's this: sometimes, really good, cool things flit and float and spin and whirl into our lives. And sometimes, those very good things blend into the background of daily life until we lose sight of them and worse yet, we forget to view them as the blessings they're meant to be. So... keep looking for them, keep noticing them, and keep being thankful for them.

March 7

Despite my best intentions, I think I still autopilot through some days. I figure I must've done it today, because though I can recall virtually everything I did --conversations, motions, phone calls, activities-- none of them stand out to me as exceptional. Maybe that's sad or maybe it's just reality. I don't know. Anyway, since I didn't really connect to anything, I didn't have anything to write about til I plunked down on the couch a few minutes ago and found this on the cushion next to me:

When Abby and Logan were little, they were obsessed with VeggieTales. In fact, I had three VeggieTales CDs I used to play for Abby when she was very small, in addition to this book and one called "Peas and Thank you". Over time, their interest in Bob, Larry, and the gang waned, but lately, for some reason, Isaac and Brady have wanted to watch them again.

It's nice to see familiar old faces reappear, even when they're those of cartoon veggies.

March 6

It was a busy, busy day here in Whoville. School, store, field trip, different store, baseball, dance. A lot of back and forth. But you know something? I may complain about it and I may spend a ridiculous amount of time in my car, but it's all good, because every single speck of it is a bit of Heaven on earth for me.

Maybe it's extra perspective that comes from not having all of my kids here with me, but it's an amazing thing to watch little people grow up over time. My girl is hurtling toward full-fledged teenager-hood, and honestly, though she can be (painfully, agonizingly) repetitive when it comes to certain subjects, my heart just soars when she chatters on about her day. And watching Isaac play baseball and seeing Brady read words and share his oft-entirely random but surprisingly profound thoughts when we're out and about... it's all pretty cool.

So yeah. For today, if you want get a glimpse of what Heaven looks like, just look at the people you love.

March 5

It was Youth Sunday at church today, and Abby was part of a skit put on by a group of middle and high schoolers.

In addition to being very proud of my girl for getting up on the stage and acting our her part --alongside some community theater veterans to boot!-- I was struck by the message of the skit itself. It was, simply put, about grace.

The concept of grace has loomed large in my life of late. Our church's name features the word 'grace.' I have a friend who, whenever I start to go off the tracks about someone or something that's caused me frustration, will simply say 'grace.' And, well, I guess I'm just conscious that we all need buckets of it, both for ourselves and to extend to others.

So yeah: Grace. Accept it. Extend it. Live in it.

March 4

And just like that, the baseball season is open.

Both Isaac and Brady were chomping at the bit to head to the ballpark when they got up this morning; Adam said he had to tell them --at 7 AM-- that it was too early to suit up.

But of course, the time to get dressed eventually arrived and they gleefully slipped into their brand new attire and we all piled into the car for the big day.

Brady was up first with his first-ever tball game. It was your usual tball affair, with kids hitting the tee and running the wrong way and dogpiling for a shot at coming away with the elusive ball. But Brady's team actually did something I'm not sure I've seen a tball team do before: they actually got a few outs (which didn't matter since outs aren't recorded in tball anyway, but it was amusing). In the end, Brady gave the ball a good enough whack at one point that he was awarded the Game Ball.

Isaac's game followed a little while later. His season started on an auspicious note as he was hit in the neck by a pitch during his first at-bat, but there wasn't any damage done and it improved from there: I don't think he recorded a hit, but he did walk once, and did a really nice job catching the last inning. I was on the bleachers but Adam was behind the plate and said he could hear him encouraging the pitcher, and at one point, when the batter from the other team was hit by a pitch, he asked if he was okay. He even tried to clean off home plate when it got a bit too dusty to be easily visible. And his face when he caught the last pitch and the game was over and they'd won... priceless. Such glee. Such heart.

I've always loved baseball. I can remember watching my older brother play when I was quite young, and seeing my Little Boys play is like a much-needed shot of nostalgia in the arm. It's like a bit of home when I'm far away from home.

March 3

It was a beautiful day outside: 70 degrees, mostly sunny, and a Friday to boot. As I walked Brady home from school, I looked skyward and saw this:

The sight triggered a memory of the first time I can remember seeing this phenomena. I was 28, Abby was one and change, Logan was a little baby, and I was in throes of what I now realize was a pretty bad case of PPD. I was lying on our family room carpet by the sliding door, just staring up at the sky, when I noticed the ring around the sun. It made me think of God and of miracles and it made me hopeful that one day, I'd feel better.

Things aren't perfect now, but I can say that I feel better now than I did then. And that's a blessing.

March 2

Once upon a time, I was really good about snapping photos of important moments. I've fallen woefully short of the mark lately, though, and somehow managed to miss Brady putting on his first-ever team sports hat tonight.

He was very excited to plop it down on his head, and equally excited to dig down into the bottom of his bucket to find out which number he'd been assigned (which, for the record, is 3).

I wish I'd thought to capture that excitement for Adam to see when he got home, but it's okay: I know he'll probably be even more excited when he suits up for his first-ever game this weekend.

Good times, these are.

March 1

It's not unusual for Brady to run up to Isaac to give him a hug at pick-up. It's a little less usual for them to walk down the path toward the car like this:

I felt a twinge as I strolled along behind them, and my fingers fumbled in my jacket pocket to find my phone before the moment ended. But as it turns out, I didn't really need to hurry, because they walked like this, heads bent toward one another, nearly the whole way.

I'll probably say it over and over again and I'll never get tired of saying it because I'm blessed that it's the truth: these kiddos genuinely love each other. And that's a giant gift with a big bow on it for me.