May 30

School is almost out here, and the kiddos all came home with their yearbooks today. The boys had fun sitting and finding candid photos of themselves and their friends, while Abby gleefully showed me the collection of colorful notes from friends that she'd accumulated. (She even took a pack of rainbow colored Sharpies with her this morning with yearbook-signing in mind.)

The end of each school year is always bittersweet. On one hand, it's a huge blessing to watch Abby, Isaac, and Brady grow and change and mature over time. On the other, it's always painful to be reminded that Logan isn't growing and changing and maturing. Not that I can ever really escape that truth, but the reality of it --the finality of it-- is sharper this time of year. And it's especially sharp this year, since if he'd never had cancer and life had progressed as we'd expected, he would be finishing fifth grade on Friday and moving on to join Abby in middle school this fall. That truth didn't occur to me until this morning, but I think that's why his name has been everywhere lately. My heart and my soul remembered even though my mind lagged a few faces behind.

But to get around to my original point here, I'm thankful for these books, because they so beautifully mark each chapter in (most of) my children's lives.