And I am because they played together. There was virtually no bickering or fighting or back-biting; just beautiful, blissful, cheerful cooperative play because all of them -- even Abby, who rarely joins the boys for video game fun.
It's always a blessing to see them having a good time together, so tonight, I'm thankful for the spirit of harmony that ruled my home today.
Anyway, I left the grocery store this morning and was heading back to my car when I saw her leaving the pet food store next to the Mother Ship. She took a look at me and astutely noted that I looked a little off. It took her about half a second to suggest that we sit and have coffee and chat. So that's what we did: we sat and chatted about life and about dealing with cancer (Logan's and her own more recent foray into that world) and about how it changes you and how you see the world and this life.
And that unplanned, spur-of-the-moment conversation was precisely what I needed in that moment. It was just so good to sit with someone else who understands those hard-to-process feelings and reactions and impulses. So tonight, I'm thankful that she sensed my need to talk and that she acted on the feeling. It would've been easy for her to have kept walking, but I'm deeply grateful that she chose to bless me with some of her time and hard-earned wisdom.
Happy, buttery yellow flowers on a plant that my friend Nancy gave us on Logan's Home-going day. It's always a blessing to remember the bright, cheerful side of life, so it was a blessing to me to see them sitting there.
They did it tonight --as a demonstration for Abby-- and it made me smile a bit (since it's just so weird. Since all good things --including those oft-elusive grins-- are from God, I'm grateful for that moment.
And the experience made me realize something important: I don't really breathe enough. I mean, I breathe in and out and in and out and in and out all day long, every day, but I don't think I let myself live in those moments very often. I'm usually thinking about what's already happened or mulling what may come in the future, but when it comes to just being and hearing... I have a lot of work to do. So today, I'm thankful for that reminder to just... be.
The boys were taking turns hitting pitches delivered by one of the assistant coaches. And he was throwing pretty hard. I watched one kid flail at (and miss) a ball and then head over to the next net to practice bunting. And then Isaac came up, and I silently wondered if he'd be able to make contact. But he did, and he did so handily. Whack. Lined over the coach's head. I quietly marveled over how his swing has gotten even better than it was last year. And then a few minutes later, I smiled to myself again when he made a beeline behind the nets to help clean up after the coach asked them to pick up the balls. Not all of them were so eager to help.
Anyway, I smiled for that boy of mine. He works hard at perfecting his play and he pitches in to help out because he's truly a good teammate. I'm pleased that his effort is paying off for him and that he's still being a good person and doing the 'dirty work' when asked. As I've said before, it's a big blessing to see my short people happy and doing well. And it's a bigger blessing to watch them as they continue to grow toward becoming conscientious adults.
Once upon a time, Jen and her kids lived across the street from us. She was a busy teacher so I didn't see much of her, but I was always pretty sure that had I needed her for something, she would've made herself available because that's the kind of person she is.
Anyway, she got married and moved to Texas seven (!) years ago so of course I definitely haven't seen much of her since then (aside from my occasional pop-ins to her Facebook page to see what's going on). But I know she keeps tabs on me online, because after she said hello, she hugged me and told me that she's proud of me. Of course I don't neeeed validation to exist, but it's really nice to get it now and then. So today I'm thankful for that encounter, and I'm thankful that she's continuing to be such a light in the world.
We started off at Brady's last basketball game of the season, which saw our little player score another 10 points in what wound up being a loss. From there, we --including Adam's parents, who also came down for said-game-- headed over to a local park for some play-time. This particular park happens to have a giant side-by-side slide, and after some resistance on the part of the young ones, they came around and wound up taking trip after trip after trip (after trip) with Isaac and Brady. Then from there, we had lunch at Fuddruckers.
We don't see our Concord counterparts particularly often, but I enjoy the time we do have because it's always a blessing to see our children being the "responsible big kids" with the littles. And of course, it's also always a blessing to see them --all of them-- having fun.
We ate and drank (well, I drank. She drank Sprite) and talked and laughed.
It's always (always) great to spend time with her so it was a fun evening for me. And I am thankful.
I met her at church a number of years ago; the first time I recall seeing her, we were both very pregnant --me with Isaac, her with her third child-- and I remember marveling over how she was so fit that only a side-view revealed her condition.
We don't talk particularly often, but she's been amazing when it comes to remembering Logan. She's marked every single one of his Home-going and birthdays with one sweet gesture or another; this year, it was a card, a little plant with his name on the pot, and some cookies. I've not always been the best at expressing my gratitude for all she's done, but I'm very grateful for her and for her continued kindness. People like her definitely make this world a much better place.
Although moisturizer with sunscreen usually keeps them at bay, I too have freckles. When I was younger, just a little exposure to the sun would send them sprawling from one cheek to the other, over the bridge of my nose. Although Logan too had a small sprinkling, Abby and Isaac don't, so seeing them on Brady makes me smile because it's a unique way that he and I are connected. (And of course, that smile makes me smile, too.)
All in all, he's had a really good time with this team. He's a much (much) better player than he was last season, so much so that I've lost count of how many points he's scored and how many steals and assists he's logged. And as fun at it is to watch games, the practices have been nearly as entertaining for me.
I know precious little about the ins and outs of basketball, so it's a blessing to watch him learn from others who do actually have some experience. And it's been a big blessing to see him have so much fun.
It wasn't exactly a glamorous outing as we hit up Hallmark, Safeway, Walmart (and of course, Starbucks, where she was clearly amused by my Customer of the Month sign and snapped a rather epic pic of me with said sign), but it was nice to be out and about with my one and only girl. So yep, I'm grateful for that simple blessing.
I listened (and offered up a slight modification of the events) as he remembered Abby's first steps in the kitchen and as he explained the configuration of the furniture in the nursery. I smiled as he remembered how we'd sit on the couch downstairs watching TV and use our secret code phrase for "Abby is out of bed; don't make eye contact with her" --the Pop Tart is out of the toaster-- whenever she'd appear at the gate at the top of the staircase after the bedtime routine was complete. And I silently agreed when he told the house that it'd been a nice place to begin our family because it certainly was just that.
My own silent thoughts were similar, I guess: I remembered taking weekly belly pics in the family room when I was pregnant with Logan and I remembered sitting under the chandelier in the "dining room" spoon-feeding a high-chaired Abby a plethora of solid foods when she was a baby and I remembered decorating her Strawberry Shortcake birthday cake. And I remembered how it felt to be alone with my little family of four on the day we first brought Logan home from the hospital and I remembered how that 28-year old me wondered how I'd ever survive with two kids in my care each and every day. I remembered a lot of details that had already dimmed in my mind.
So I guess here's my truth for today: I really don't like change at all. I don't like the idea of forgetting (or of being forgotten) or of losing those precious bits and pieces that make up my story. But at my very core, I'm still thankful for what was, and I'm thankful for what is, and I'm thankful for what will be. Because I know that the details that really matter -- those will never fade away for good. They'll always be a memory-jog away.
When the boys opted to go to the park this afternoon to toss around a Nerf football, Brady was the first one out the door. After he put on his shoes, I glanced out the window and saw him bustin' a move on the sidewalk. I watched him wiggle and shake. And when I walked over to the door and he knew I was watching, he went into Full Entertainer mode complete with giggles, sassy lips, disco arms, and elastic hips.
Logan may not be here physically, but I'm always thankful when he "shows up" --as he has many times this past week-- and especially thankful when those glimpses are given via his siblings.
This is what I saw when I left Starbucks this morning. That's my car on the left, next to not just one but two Corvettes. The parking lot wasn't exactly full, so I stifled a snort when I saw it because I think it would be just like Logan to cuddle my car with a pair of Vettes on this day dedicated to love.
He's really shown up this week --far more frequently and more obviously than I ever expected-- and I am thankful.
It's a Super Chase car-with-a-face, which means it was produced in a very small batch and is very, very hard to find. Yet it was just laying there on the shelf like it was waiting for me to find it.
I texted Adam a few minutes later to show it to him and noted that Logan was at it again. And I really think he was indeed.
Brady's been working on his batch since last week and finally finished up the final few this evening. And I have to say that I'm really, really impressed by his work. He drew unique pictures on each card, and the compliments on the back are tailored to each individual child.
I'm always pleased when my kids treat others well, so I love that he took the time to do a really good job with something that will make his classmates feel good about themselves. That's the love of Jesus in action.
I awoke feeling vaguely melancholic, and then a few beats after I opened my eyes, I looked over at Lambie and remembered. I gave that sweet lovey an ear rub --because that's what Logan did; his little fingers wore away the fluff, leaving them in a threadbare state only achievable via conveyance of the purest form of love-- and got dressed before I headed downstairs. Adam did me a solid by taking Abby to school, so I headed out with the boys, and then made my usual stop at Starbucks, where I'd planned to sit for an hour or so as I sipped and surfed a fraction of my morning away. I plunked my bag down on my usual table and got in line. I ordered my usual and a cheese danish and headed over to wait. And that's when things got a little weird. In my periphery, I saw one of the baristas, a super pleasant gal named Katie, approach the manager, and the two of them had a conversation. A moment later, Katie turned and walked toward me, holding out a card from another barista, who ended her tenure as an employee last week, and a mug. Then she directed my attention to this:
That's right: I'm the customer of the month at my local mother ship. (It's totally fine to laugh aloud at that.) It's an honor that's usually bestowed close to the first of the month, yet I found out about it today, February 11. Logan's day.
As I looked at the sign, I found myself caught in the frozen space between laughter and tears. Sensing my emotion, Katie asked about it, and she hugged me after I shared my hard truth.
I thought about it more as I went about the day: as I talked with Adam when I got home a little later and as we sat eating cheeseburgers at Nation's and then again as I donated blood. And the funny thing is, although I wasn't a coffee addict back then --in fact, back when Logan was physically here, I went to Starbucks maybe once a month-- I'm sure this was him delivering two messages to me: 'hi mom!' and, more poignantly, 'you may not be able to see me right now, but I can see you. And I know what matters to you. I know what will make you smile. And yep, I'm still the same goofy guy.'
Of course I wish I could hug him and look into those eyes and tell him that I love him, but I'll head off to bed tonight feeling confident that he's still here with us in whatever way God makes possible. And for that not-small reality, I am grateful.
The kids didn't have school today so we did as we so often do on such days and went to brunch at Black Bear. When we were first seated, I noticed a little boy with his parents at the table across the way. Stray words from their conversation floated in and out of my consciousness until a few choice ones --seizures, can't figure out what's wrong, fourth child, exhausted, Children's Hospital-- caught my attention.
In that moment, I felt a soft nudge to talk to the mom and so, as they got up to leave, I too arose. I apologized for eavesdropping but told her that I understood how she must feel having to deal with a difficult health issue. I told her that I get the worries and the fears and the frustrations. And I told her that I'd been in her shoes once, and though I lost my own little boy --eight years ago tomorrow, in fact-- I would pray for her son and that they'd be able to get to the bottom of his issue. She released a breath and hugged me and said thank you and explained that every time her son --who happened to be named Isaac-- has a seizure, they have to drive from Sonora to Children's Hospital. I assured her that the neurology staff there is amazing and that if it comes down to it, Dr. Sun --Logan's surgeon-- is incredible. She looked relieved and thanked me again. And then she was off.
So this evening, I'm grateful to have had an opportunity to bring a little bit of comfort to another mom. It doesn't matter that I'll probably never see her again because in that moment, I was given the chance to connect with her and to share my experience. And hopefully, our interaction made a difference in her day. And for that, I'm thankful. (Oh, and the pic... thank you, dear Meg, for thinking of us. Such a lovely, lovely surprise.)
It reminded me that my job isn't necessarily to write a complete symphony -- it's just to contribute a note or two here or there. And it's not my job to rewrite someone else's story for him or her -- it's about planting seeds that will (prayerfully) grow into much bigger, much more fruitful plants that will enrich that story some day. It's my job to realize that small acts can indeed make a difference.
So this evening, I'm grateful for a God who counts granules of sand and sees the enormous potential encapsulated within a single mustard seed.
In Myers Briggs terms, this means he's introverted, a senser, a feeler, and a perceiver. So, in a nutshell, he's primarily controlled by his emotions. Since I'm his mom and I see him in action so often, none of this surprised me, but it was really, really interesting to see it in black and white. And it gave me a bit of a boost to have concrete proof that yes, I know my kiddo.
Given how difficult and frustrating parenting can be, it's a blessing to know that despite my shortcomings, I do know and see him as he is at his core.
Afterward, we crossed the street to get ice cream at the dairy -- orange and vanilla for him, chocolate and cherry for me. (And locals, the cherry was spot-on sweet and tangy! It's seasonal so if you like cherry, go get some!) We didn't call it celebratory ice cream, per se, but it felt like it to me as we walked down Main Street with our drippy cones. It's taken us a very (very) long time to finally sell a house, and it feels pretty good. So tonight, I'm thankful for hitch-less sales. (And hopeful that it will continue to be hitch-less until we formally close the deal.)
BearBear's commentary is so amusing and off-the-wall most of the time that it catches me off guard and I find myself laughing, no matter what else is going on inside my noggin.
I can't remember exactly what "he" was saying this morning, but I remember laughing and I remember feeling grateful to have a daughter with such an amazing sense of humor and such spot-on comic timing. Laughter is such an amazing gift.
As I slipped my own car into a nearby space, I smiled to myself. Logan's Home-going anniversary is next week and he loved cars with bright, bold flame jobs. Just like this one. So it was kinda-sorta like he was saying 'hey mom'. And I am thankful for that.
It's not unusual for them to sit together, and of late, it's not unusual to find Isaac reading to Brady. But as I watched them, I noticed how they paused to laugh over each new wrinkle in the story.
I've said it many times over but I don't really mind repeating myself yet again: I love how they love each other. They may fight like crazed geese (go ahead and laugh but geese are mean) sometimes, but they're also best friends. And that is a huge blessing for them -- and for me.
We had lovely adults-only time, chit chatting about our respective Monday happenings while noshing on tacos and sipping a yummy mojito (me) and strawberry lemonade (him).
Time passes faster and faster, it seems, and connection is important to relationships we value --especially marriage!-- so I'm truly thankful for the time we had together tonight.
The wind whipped and whirled throughout the entirety of the 90-minute practice, but I stayed and watched from the bleachers. I saw them run the bases and execute agility drills and hit. And I heard plenty of encouragement from his new coaches, who --blessedly-- seem quite organized.
I think it'll be a good season of ball, and I am thankful.
Happy, smiley Lily (who is already four months old), Kristine, and I took a turn around a park I'd never been to before (which is miraculous given that I've probably been to 100 parks over the past 15 years). Lily smiled that super-sweet grin at me (which totally melted my heart) before dozing off, and Kristine and I walked and talked and caught up on this big, challenging thing we call life.
It was time very well spent, and I am thankful to have had the moments with them.
