May 31

Today was the last day of school. It doubled as an exceptionally busy last day of school, so I didn't have much of a chance to think about it all until now. And this is what I've got.

Like first days of school, last days of school are always a little bit surreal, and this one didn't stray from that norm. It's strange and vaguely disconcerting that Logan didn't just finish seventh grade and that next year will be our first year with kids at three different (high, middle, and elementary) schools and not our third. So I could get stuck on those ruminations, but I can't because although I have to have those thoughts and I have to honor them, I also have to be grateful for what is. And what is is pretty terrific: Brady finished second grade, an intermittently teary-eyed and dapper-looking Isaac was promoted to middle school, and Abby advanced beyond that oft-difficult (though not for her!) introductory year of high school.

Sure, there are things about this life that I really, really wish I could change and those things loom larger than usual on days like today. But I'm thankful for another good year of school for my kids, for the great teachers who encouraged and cared for them each day, and for the friends who made the hours more fun.

May 30

To quote "Hope Floats" (remember that one? Sandra Bullock and Harry Connick Jr.?), my cup runneth over. I've desperately needed a really good day for some time now, and I finally got one.

I started by getting up (slightly) before the sun to meet Kathy (who squeezed me in during a quick trip) for a brief walk and coffee. I always love time with her so though I don't even pretend to be a morning person (and in fact, I cannot wait to turn off my alarm clock for the summer tomorrow), the interaction put me in a happy place.

Then I dropped Abby at the high school for her last freshman year final exam (!) and scurried across town to take the boys to the elementary school, where I patroled Field Day for a few hours (which, given that it's a PTA event, seemed logical since I'm still the PTA President). While there, I watched Isaac and Brady have fun, of course, but I also had some really nice, restorative conversations with some friends and took in some confidence-boosting words of gratitude from a handful of teachers. And honestly, I really, really needed to hear them.

So yes. A very good day and my little heart couldn't be more full. And for that, I couldn't be more thankful.

May 29

Since it's finals week and Abby gets out early each day, she decided to accompany me to pick up the boys this afternoon, mostly so she could say goodbye to this gal.

After many years at the school, Melanie is pulling up the stakes this summer and starting a new adventure in a brand new state. It's bittersweet to see her go; since we met four years ago (when she was Abby's fifth grade teacher), I've enjoyed our every-now-and-again chit-chats about country music concerts (because I swear no one goes to more of them than she does) and veiled commentary over shared socio-political opinions and convictions.

It's always a bummer when good people leave (and it's a double bummer since so many of them have exited in recent history), but I'm happy for her and wish her many, many blessings from here on out. And I'll always be grateful for the time Abby spent in her classroom.

May 28

The boys both finished playing nearly a week ago, but baseball season reached its end-end tonight with Brady's team party. We gathered for pizza at a local joint and spent a little time chit chatting, and of course, coaches Noah and Rishu (thanks guys!) recognized the boys for their efforts.

He didn't have an awesome season at the plate (at. All) so I could understand why it might've been hard to find much to say about his contributions to the offense, but I liked what they wound up saying about him: that he always had a positive attitude. There's far too much negativity in this life, so it's a blessing when my people help to swing the pendulum in the right direction.

May 27

The boys went to their friends' house this morning, and during a stroll around the neighborhood, Adam and I swung by to pick them up this afternoon. Brady and his friend were industrious during their time together (as they often are), and he came home toting a long chainlink "snake" complete with a tongue, little containers of homemade slime, and a wine box full of... something. (I didn't look inside so I'm honestly not sure about the contents, but there were plastic Easter eggs involved.)

I chuckled as I walked along behind that pajamaed kid (because since his friend was in PJs when she showed up at our house, he figured he may as well stay in his too). There was something so precious about the way he bobbed along with that box in-hand and that colorful snake chain tucked around his neck that the sight made my heart grin.

My own childhood wasn't particularly amazing, but I'm grateful that I can sit back and soak in my own kids' positive experiences now. It doesn't change the past, of course, but it certainly makes the present pretty sweet.

May 26

As I started to back the car out of the driveway this morning, I momentarily glanced into the back seat and saw this:

I asked what they were doing, and Isaac explained that Brady liked it when he rubbed his ear, and Brady confirmed the assertion. ('Twas news to me but okay.)

I've said it before but I'll say it again anyway: I love that they love each other as much as they do.

May 25

With baseball season all tied up with a bow, Abby and I resumed our usual Saturday routine by going shopping this afternoon. She wants to make herself a skirt so we hit Hobby Lobby for some fabric, and then Target (because Target), and finally, Wendy's (because she had a hankering for a 50-cent Frosty. And a cheeseburger. And apparently some fries).

Since I have fond childhood memories of dunking McDonalds fries in chocolate milkshakes, I wasted no time in borrowing a few to reenact the old days. Abby was disgusted but I persisted, and laughed about it (because her disgusted face is funny).

I love this time with my girl, especially since I'm conscious that in just three short years, she'll be just days from graduating from high school. Time with those we love is a blessing, so we may as well enjoy it.

May 24

Adam worked from home today as he sometimes does on Fridays so we went out to lunch. There was nothing extraordinary about it, just some time out with my husband, but he was in a good mood and it gave us a chance to chit-chat sans kiddos.

And the day was made even sweeter when, this evening, I remembered I'd forgotten to eat my dessert. So I ate cheesecake in the family room while Netflixing "Cheers" with the hubs and the girl. A simple time but a good one!

May 23

Yesterday after Isaac's game, both boys said they wanted to go to TPC (aka baseball clinic) today. So after the homework was finished early this evening, I honored the request.

I'd initially planned to drop them off and head to Target for some retail therapy, but there were only four kids present, it was very quiet, and it just felt nice to be there again. So I stayed and watched them practice and hone their skills and enjoy themselves.

The experience was just a little reminder for me that things don't always go as planned, and that's not always a bad thing because we can find blessings anywhere -- as long as we're open to seeing them.

May 22

When all was said and done, the AAA Braves went quietly in their final game of this spring season. A few --including Isaac-- fought back tears as they came off the field that last time. I watched from the bleachers as the coach gathered the boys in shallow right field for one last post-game meeting, and kept watching as the meeting concluded and the boys scattered to pack their bags and join their respective families and friends for what were probably longer and quieter-than-usual rides home. And I watched as Isaac slung his bag over his shoulder and headed to the outfield, his shoulders slumped in dejection, for some alone time.

Since I know my boy and I know that he needs time to process on his own, I gave him a few minutes to collect himself before I arose from my seat. Brady joined him as I approached, and from a distance I could hear Little Brother encouraging Bigger Brother, reminding him that he'd had great defensive plays (and he did indeed) and that his second at-bat had resulted in a hard-hit ball, but the defender had been perfectly positioned to get the put-out. He told him he should be proud of how he played. Brady glanced up and saw me coming, and --with a look of helplessness on his face-- gave me a frantic "get over here, mom!" wave. And so I did.

It's both a trial and a gift to comfort your children when they face disappointment head-on. As we stood there (and then again later, as we sat on the curb outside the car before heading home), I hugged him and told him that I was proud of him for playing well, and even more proud of him for being the kind of teammate that teammates want to have: the kind who finds the good in everyone, keeps a positive attitude no matter what, and faces daunting situations with an encouraging cheer and a smile and a sincere "it's okay, we'll get it next time!"

And in the end, the sadness dissipated and he smiled a genuine smile. He's disappointed, I know, but I also know that he'll bounce back, because when I asked if he wanted to go to baseball clinic tomorrow, he immediately said yes.

May 21

Abby wanted to buy herself a frappuccino this afternoon, so we ducked into Starbucks after school. The barista apparently misheard her name when she ordered because when she claimed her drink a few minutes later, the cup was for "Happy" and not "Abby".

The error made me smile for two reasons. One, she grinned when she saw it, and I do so love her cheerful face. And two, I firmly believe that we could all use a few extra shots of happy in our lives.

May 20

Ah, sweet perseverance. If I had to praise Isaac and his teammates for one thing, it'd be their stick-to-it-iveness, because even though it took them a really, really (REALLY) long time to win a game, they've been on a tear during the playoffs. Another win tonight (over the number three seed, in fact) secured them a spot in the final four. Boom, right? I think so.

I have no idea what will happen from here on out, but I'm so thrilled for these boys. I love that they keep trying and keep supporting each other no matter what and keep shouting their more-creative-by-the-day chants from the dugout, and I love that they are --at long, long last-- seeing the fruit of their labor. And I love watching them do their little pregame huddle (which is what this rather lame picture tried to capture).

Regardless of how the rest of the playoffs turn out, I hope they'll realize they were part of something special this Spring. Because they most definitely are something special.

May 19

I'm not entirely sure why, but I was rather cranky today. I could probably come up with a number of excuses if I tried but none of them really matter because the bottom line is that I felt off. Overcast. Cloudy. Like the weather.

But then early this evening, the sun finally came out just as the clouds let loose with a downpour. I watched the raindrops glisten as they fell from the sky and then skittered to the front of the house to see if there was a rainbow. And when I did, I saw the brightest, most vibrant one I'd seen in some time.

It was a nice reminder that beauty can be found at unexpected times and in unexpected places.

May 18

Although the forecast promised more rain today, there were baseball games to be played so we headed off to the Sports Park mid-morning to watch both Isaac and Brady take the field. Since both had 11 AM start times and Adam is Isaac's team's official scorekeeper, he headed a few fields down for that affair while Abby and I settled in for the AA match-up.

As anticipated, the rain arrived about three innings into Brady's game, so we sat (in the rain) for quite a while as the umpires, coaches, and league officials tried to figure out what to do. Isaac's team --the underdogs in their game-- played a speedier game, wound up getting in their six innings, and came away with a 7-4 win to advance to the next round of play. He was all smiles as he and Adam joined us on the (by then very wet) bleachers.

It was, in all honesty, extremely frustrating to sit there in the pouring down rain as the league reps apparently tried to press them to resume play (since not doing so would require a delay of future games in the division), but if I had to sit there and be frustrated with anyone at all, I'd prefer to sit and be frustrated with these two. (Especially given that the boy was happily recounting his hits and defensive success and the girl --filled with soft pretzel and Icee-- was a bit punchy.)

You've definitely got to stand a little rain in this lifetime, but people like them make weathering the storms much more palatable for me. (Oh, and Brady's game? They at long last postponed it.)

May 17

I almost always leave the boys in the drop-off lane at school these days, but since the volunteer appreciation flag salute was this morning, I parked and accompanied them to the blacktop. I trailed a few feet behind them and played with my phone for a few moments, but I was touched when I looked up and saw this.

I don't know if they usually hold hands while walking to class or not, but it was a sweet moment for me. After all, Isaac will be in middle school next year and I'm sure holding hands with his little brother won't have a place on his to-do list when those future days become the present.

It's bittersweet knowing that they're all continuing to change and grow, but I'm grateful anyway, because I also live the alternative -- wishing someone was still changing and growing. And I'll take the former over the latter any day.

May 16

It was, in simple terms, a wonky weather day, marked by heavy rain followed by sunshine followed by light rain followed by clouds. Followed by yet more rain. Certainly a strange kind of mid-May day in Northern California, where it rarely rains at all after April. As the sunlight and rain did their extended dance, I kept telling myself that surely a rainbow had to be out there somewhere -- perhaps just beyond my line of sight. And then this evening, as I drove from the boys' open house at school to Abby's dance class, I finally saw one.

As I drove along and periodically glanced up at those colors, I was reminded of a pair of truths. One, it's really easy to get lost in rainstorms; to be overwhelmed by the painful parts of life. If we're not careful, we can even give in to the darkness, close our eyes, and fail to see the points of light that often appear unexpectedly and illuminate the way. And two, rainbows truly do often follow the rain. Sometimes we just need to be conscious of that truth so we'll remember to look up.

May 15

Isaac is a try'er, so when the school year began, I wasn't at all surprised when he said he wanted to try playing an instrument. After a brief (and panic-inducing) flirtation with the idea of taking on the drums, he eventually settled on the saxophone, and spent the last several months learning the basics. Since Abby passed on her own chance to learn an instrument in elementary school, I attended what was my first-ever fifth grade band concert this afternoon.

(Isaac is way over to the right of the shot wearing the green A's shirt.)

I can't say it was the most amazing music I've ever heard, but I smiled the whole time and truly enjoyed watching him play.

He may or may not continue on with music in the future, but I'm really proud of him for broadening his proverbial horizons by once again devoting time to trying something new.

May 14

We were running a bit behind schedule this morning, so I sent the kids out to the car as I was locking up. When I followed them outside about 30 seconds later, I was a little annoyed when I found them huddled in the corner of the sidewalk, looking down at this:

As I got closer, I heard the boys talking about a snail race, and as I shooed them toward the car one more time, I stopped to look watch for a moment as the snails slimed their way along. And the annoyed feelings quickly dispersed. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love how simple things can entertain kids. I could learn quite a lot from that example.

May 13

Mercy.

The little league baseball playoffs kicked off this evening with the set of games no one really wanted to play in: the sole round of single elimination, win-or-go-home match-ups between the lowest-ranked teams. By virtue of placing in the top four, Brady's team didn't have to play, but Isaac's oft-beleaguered Braves --who finished the season in 9th (out of 10) place-- took to the field for their one shot at advancing to double elimination play.

They executed what's become their patented fall-behind-early routine, but this time --thanks to some great defense-- they didn't let their opponent get too far ahead. Then they executed their also-patented late-game-comeback routine, and led by two runs entering the bottom of the final inning. The other team scored one run, and with just one out recorded, another runner on base and the outcome of the game looking specious for our boys, something amazing happened: the batter hit a fly ball to shallow left, which the shortstop (who was playing deep) snagged to record out number two. Then with the tying run bolting for home, he gunned what can only be termed a perfect bullet to the catcher, who caught that perfectly thrown ball perfectly and then applied the tag to the runner well-before his foot had a chance to hit the plate. The home plate umpire called him out, and boom, game over.

They have absolutely struggled with throwing out runners at the plate all season long --it's part of why they've lost so many games-- but they got it together and nailed it when it really mattered. It was an awesome moment for both the boys and for us parents. We went completely nuts screaming (which was a challenge for me because I've mostly lost my voice thanks to what I'm guessing is a head cold. But I powered through).

It's been a hard-luck kind of season for these Braves, so victory is so, so sweet. And when we got home, I was so, so happy to hear Isaac gleefully exclaim "right, because I need it again on Wednesday!" after Adam told him to toss his uniform in the wash. Those little happy-maker moments are some of the best things life has to offer, I think. And today I'm thankful for this one.

May 12

I've spent the last hour trying to figure out how I feel about today, my eighth Mother's Day since Logan passed on. It wasn't a sad day, but I wouldn't call it a happy one, either. It was a day of MOM-lettered pancakes and amusing gifts and church and the cemetery and two loops around the Sports Park and an afternoon nap and dinner at CPK with a strawberry margarita that didn't leave me even the slightest bit tipsy. (And if you know me, you know that last bit is nothing short of miraculous.) It was all of those things.

And it was all of those things because of these people, these three young ones and the fourth represented by his precious Lambie. These people who made me a mother and a better person by pushing and challenging and aggravating and restoring and loving and encouraging me every single day for the past 14-plus years.

Yep, being a mother has broken me in ways I never imagined possible, but it's also given me a joy I can't explain. I'm stronger and weaker all at once; keenly aware of how much I need a Savior to carry me when the road is impossibly rutted and I can no longer navigate it on my own, but also aware that I can channel pain into positivity. That I can weather the harder days with the knowledge that good days will surely follow.

So after thinking it over more, I'd call today a peaceful day. A nice day. And a day for which I'm thankful for the five --including Adam, of course-- biggest blessings in my life.

May 11

Baseball's regular season came to a close today. Brady's Red Sox came out on the losing end of their match-up, but Isaac's Braves came from behind to notch their third win and then gathered at the end of the Sports Park for the team party. I took a number of pictures as they laughed and ate and ran around like the cheerful bunch they are, but this is probably my favorite image of all.

This is (of course) the certificate Isaac's coaches gave him, and I love it for multiple reasons. For one, what it says about him as a player shows how much he's grown as an athlete over the past several seasons. He wasn't a strong hitter until this year, but he worked really (really) hard during the off-season at mastering his technique and wound up finishing the regular season with a huge .531 average. So he earned that Mr. Clutch title.

I also love what it says about him as a person. It's true that he was always in the dugout leading cheers --regardless of whether they were winning or losing (and trust me, it was hard for us parents to stay upbeat during some of those heartbreakers!)-- and it's also true that he did wind up taking something of a leadership role.

He's a good person, that boy of mine, and I'm thankful that his coaches saw in him what I see every day. Now onto the playoffs. :)

May 10

There was much baseball today. We started with Isaac's game across town at 5. They lost a heartbreaker in extras against a team with a very good record, but on the plus side, Isaac went 3 for 4. Then as soon as that ended, we loaded into the car and drove to Oakland for the A's game. They were already in the fourth inning when we arrived, but that game also went into extras --with the A's scoring a walk-off homer in the bottom of the 12th-- so we saw eight full innings there, too. And then a fireworks show. Phew.

As Adam reminded the kids as they bickered on the way to Isaac's game, they're all growing up quickly --Abby will be in college in less than four years, as crazy as that seems-- and we won't always have the luxury of being able to spend time together. So today, I'm thankful for that time (and for the big bag of cotton candy that kept us all --well, except for Abby, because "mom, no, that is so much sugar!"-- awake until we were finally able to head home at around 11:20. That was pretty clutch, too).

May 9

While I was out walking this evening, I decided to stop and take a picture of a rose. I didn't see anything especially noteworthy today, so I figured I could (briefly) wax poetic on the loveliness of creation and be done with it. Initially, I was annoyed when a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the rose bush just as I snapped my shot, but when I looked at the image, I saw something unexpected.

Objectively speaking, it's a dimly lit, blurry photo of a flower. From a technical perspective, it's a lame rose picture (not unlike the other hundreds of lame rose pictures I've captured over the years). But it's also more than that. It's a visual reminder (to me, at least) that even imperfect things --like us-- can still be beautiful. Even when storms are raging and life gets hard, it's still rife with dimenson and color and richness and quite pretty in its too-blurred glory. And given that I've felt rather blurred of late, I'm thankful for that truth.

May 8

I went for a walk alone after dinner tonight, partly because I hadn't yet met my lofty daily step goal and partly because I wanted to think and pray without distraction. As I strolled along, I came to a particular section of sidewalk that I've traversed many times over the 15 years we've lived in the neighborhood and had a new thought.

See, this stretch of concrete differs from the surrounding sections in two notable ways: one, the surface is uneven thanks to the dedicated underground work of a series of tree roots, and two, due to said trees and the curvature of the path, one can't see what's around the corner.

And the sight got my mind a'churning. Illness and treatment, divorce and relational discord, job challenges, financial difficulties. We all struggle with assorted painful circumstances and obstacles that cloud our vision; sometimes the road that's literally just beyond the tips of our noses is impossible to see. I know that I've walked such difficult roads more than once, and there are people I hold very close to my heart who are walking them right now.

But there's good news: as I rounded the corner, I was reminded that even when we can't see where we're going, the path is still there. And although the pavement isn't smooth, it's not impassable. And better yet, even when we feel alone, we're not. Particularly when I'm wishing I could make a hard situation better for someone I love, I'm thankful for those grains of truth.

May 7

I have one pic for today but it's actually a twofer.

Moment number one came as I was walking between the boys' practice fields late this afternoon. I'd wanted to talk to a particular friend for some time now but hadn't been able to make it happen. Lo and behold, I looked up just as she walked by. So I joined her and we had a really nice chat (and I got in the rest of the steps I needed!).

The second moment arrived as Isaac came up to bat during the first inning of his game a short time later. Although Brady had been playing with some friends, he suddenly popped up behind the backstop and watched as his big brother swung the bat and earned his first hit of the game. (Incidentally, he wound up going 3 for 3, so another solid night for him.)

I love it when they overtly support one another, even if the act is something as simple as pausing to watch an at-bat.

May 6

Brady had a good game tonight: he lined a nice double into right field, drove in a run, and crossed the plate himself. And he also spent an inning behind the plate.

The hit and the win were nice, but my favorite part of the game was that inning he spent catching. He's expressed interest in that particular position throughout the season --even going so far as to ask me (repeatedly) if he could please get some catcher's gear of his own-- but hasn't had many chances. Tonight I feel like he earned more shots at it in the future as he dove for balls, ripped off his mask to try to pick off base stealers, and rarely let any pitches get to the backstop.

Yep, he loves to catch, and it showed. I'm grateful for that enthusiasm because seeing my kids happy makes me happy, too.

May 5

It wasn't a fully typical Sunday at the Wight House. We went to church as usual, but then we parted ways for much of the afternoon, as Adam took the kiddos to the movies and I headed home solo. A few moments after they got back to the house (and I mean literal moments -- so little time passed before the doorbell rang that I suspect they were lying on wait on the sidewalk), Isaac and Brady's friends showed up and asked if they could play, so they departed. Then Abby went off to her room, and Adam and I headed to the Sports Park for our usual Sunday afternoon stroll.

I did the lion's share of the talking (as usual -- I am a bit of a chatter) as we rounded the loop. I've been trying to resolve a few different issues in my head and hearing myself say aloud what I've silently mulled can help.

At one point, I looked up at the sky and saw sunbeams radiating from the clouds. I love the beauty inherent in that filtered light; I love how soft it looks, and I love how no matter how many times I see it, it never quite looks exactly the same. And I love the soothing effect that simply looking at it from below has on my soul. So for the blessing of those moments of calm amid an otherwise rather emotionally taxing time, I'm grateful.

May 4

During Brady's final at-bat this afternoon, I turned my head and happened to notice his friend Kaylin standing behind the dugout. I watched her as she watched my littlest boy swing the bat, and then I watched as she crossed the field to get to her brother's game (which also happened to be Isaac's game since they're on the same team).

A few minutes later, after the game ended and the gear had been gathered, Brady and I followed suit. He joined Kaylin in the outfield, and I joined Adam and Abby on the bleachers. I alternately watched the game and the two of them. I smiled as they hit up the snack shack for Icees, and as they sat in the grass chatting, and again as they scurried around an adjacent field playing a casual pick-up game.

Few relationships are sweeter than childhood friendships.

May 3

Ah, if bleachers could talk.

I know that's a strange observation, but it's one that I had as I sat at the Sports Park --right there on the visitors' side bleachers by LL1-- watching Isaac's team practice this afternoon.

I've spent a lot of time perched on bleachers over the past five years. I've enjoyed idle chit-chat and full-scale belly laughs in sweltering heat under a blazing sun. I've cheered on teams both skilled and not-so-much in pouring down rain that left my soaking wet jeans clinging uncomfortably to my skin. I've even engaged in serious conversations about the challenges and pains of human life and shed a few tears on those bleachers.

I've lived valuable vignettes of life on those clangy metal slats. And for those moments --those mini-stories I'll probably carry with me for years to come-- I'm thankful.

May 2

I've been pretty open about the fact that I haven't exactly loved this school year. It's been challenging in ways I didn't expect, and it's probably going to come to an end with me feeling a bit less balanced than I'd like. But I came across something I wrote back in 2015 in this very blog that still rings true. (And yes, this feels horribly self-indulgent but hang with me.)

The reality is that though I've faced a number of difficult --even traumatic-- events throughout the course of my life, none of them define me. And even though the past several months have been disappointing in a number of ways, I am still --and will always be-- okay. The bad moments that made me cry still will not define me. They may mar this chapter a bit, but they don't change the definition of me.

And that truth is a blessing to my tired heart and mind.

May 1

So admittedly, this adorable picture of my sun-freckled Brady at Isaac's baseball game this evening doesn't have a whole lot to do with what's to come, other than calling to mind memories of Logan (who he happens to resemble). But here we go anyway.

I was sitting in my usual spot at Starbucks this morning when a mom from the elementary school came in with her young son. We'd exchanged pleasantries in the past, so she came over to say hi, and we spent a few minutes chatting.

I can't even remember how the topic came up, but I happened to mention that my kids had gone to Shining Light Preschool, and she said her daughter had as well but the cost was a bit prohibitive so she'd moved her to transitional kindergarten for this year. I told her that the preschool offered a scholarship to a family each year, and she shared that her family had been blessed with it last year. And then the goosebumps came and I froze for a moment, because the scholarship was created in Logan's memory. I asked if she knew the story behind the gift and she didn't, so I filled her in. And I think we both had A Moment.

Of course I wish I could hit rewind and undo Logan's illness and passing, but those rare moments that give me a peek at how others were blessed by his life and gifted by his legacy make the bitter substantially more sweet.