March 31

Usually when you buy (or sell) a house, you go to a title company's office space and sit in a nice room with a pretty table across from someone in a suit who offers you bottled water or coffee and then hands you page after page of docs all primed for your John Hancock. But this is what it looks like when you sign papers during a shelter-in-place order and virtually everything is operating remotely:

Adam set up a card table on the sidewalk leading up to our (current) house, so that's where we sat --a safe-ish distance from our sweatpants-and-bun wearing title company rep-- this evening to sign our papers.

It was an unconventional experience and our close date was pushed back a little thanks to the bank and the title company (and the county recorder's office) trying to adapt to new COVID19-related regulations, but hey, at least we signed. And we're moving forward. So for that, I'm thankful. (And one day, the story will be funny.)

March 30

I spent some time this afternoon sorting and packing up part of my closet, and when I came downstairs, I found Adam and Abby sitting on the couch watching something on his phone. And he was laughing hysterically.

So of course, I took video. And a few pictures, because I love it when he gets lost in fits of out-of-control laughter. It doesn't happen nearly as often as it used to, but I treasure the moments when it does because that kind of unbridled happiness is truly priceless. And it's totally good for my heart.

March 29

During my afternoon walk with Adam, we strolled by a row of bushes. They were rather unremarkable plants, and in fact, at first blush I thought their yellowish huge made them rather ugly. But then I looked closer and saw these sweet little faces grinning back at me:

A cluster of tiny, perfect, pinkish flowers amid all of that unattractiveness. I had to look pretty hard to see them, but when I did, they were right there.

I think that's an important truth to keep in mind as we're experiencing this bizarre reality of dismissed schools and working from home and sheltering in place and social distancing: there's beauty everywhere. We just have to be more deliberate than usual if we want to notice it.

March 28

Adam and I decided that a major shopping trip was in order, so we braved Costco this morning.

The employees did a good job of gradually allowing customers inside the warehouse, but it was still strange to stand there in line outside under those cloudy, drizzly skies, trying to maintain a proper social distance. And it was strange to see the signs encouraging said distancing and the other sign that announced which hot-ticket items (toilet paper, anyone?) were in and out of stock at that moment.

Signs of the time, I suppose. Weird and uncomfortable, but I still feel blessed that we are well and still able to so to the store. And hoping that continues to be true.

March 27

Well, week one of remote learning is officially in the books and fortunately, it seems that none of us are any worse for the wear. Were there technical issues? Yes. Were there bickering matches? Yes. Were there moments of frustration for kids? Yes. Parents? Yes. But there was also this, which Adam received from one of Isaac's teachers this afternoon:

I never want to take too much credit for my kids' personalities since it was God who made them as they are and I'm just glad that I haven't marred his creation too much, but it's definitely a reminder that it's a blessing to be his (and their!) mom.

They're good young people, these kids of mine, and it's awfully nice when other people notice just how great they are.

March 26

When I came downstairs this morning, I found Isaac in the living room on his Chromebook and Brady in the family room on his computer. (Well, my computer. Details, details.) He was getting ready to begin a Google Classroom chat with his class when he suddenly realized he was still wearing his pajamas.

With just seconds to go before the conference was supposed to start, he scurried up the stairs to put on daytime clothes (as we call them) before returning in the nick of time to join his teacher and classmates.

I was truly impressed by how well his teacher handled the situation; although she had them mute their mics, each child got chances to speak and she patiently listened to every word they had to say. I know we're in the midst of an extremely challenging educational predicament, but so far so good. And for that, I'm grateful.

March 25

I lost my wedding and engagement rings a few weeks ago. I'm significantly thinner than I was 18 years ago, so I didn't notice when they fell off my finger one morning. Though I tore my house apart, crawled on my hands and knees at Walmart to look under shelves, went through the trash cans at Starbucks, and combed over the parking lots and my driveway, I was never able to find them. Although I was sad over the loss, my engagement ring was --fortunately-- insured, so I reminded myself that they were "stuff" and that it was okay. And I told Adam to feel free to pick out something new for me, since he selected my original bands. And then I went on with my ring-less life.

Fast forward to today. The doorbell rang this afternoon, and Adam literally thundered down the stairs to get it. Although he's not typically a big fan of answering the door, I didn't think much of his urgency at the time.

After he finished work, he announced that we were all going on a field trip and ushered us to his car. When I asked where we were going, he looked amused and told me it was a surprise and that it had something to do with the Fed Ex delivery. I had no idea what was going on and was --quite honestly-- annoyed over the whole thing, because I was hungry and in general, I'm not a big fan of not knowing what's going on.

Anyway, we pulled up to a local park, and after a beat, I realized what he had planned. Sure enough, we made our way to the bench where we got engaged on my 24th birthday, and he --with BearBear's help and as the kiddos and Lambie looked on-- shared sweet words and re-proposed with brand new rings. And yep, I said yes, with my no-makeup face and my Valentine's Day socks that once belonged to Abby and my partially-brushed hair. It was a far-cry from our original exchange 18-plus years ago, when he wore a suit and I had on a skirt and some lipstick, but this... this was lived-in real. And honestly, it was better. As were his heartfelt, unscripted words.

This life we've shared has featured some pretty horrible moments, but it's also featured some amazing blessings. So as I sit here this evening looking at my beautiful new blingy-bling, I'm thankful for him and for our kids and for our life --even the hard parts-- because they're all pieces of a wonderful existence.

March 24

Brady asked if we could play Super Scrabble after dinner tonight, so that's what we did.

It's weird not having physical school and baseball and dance and work (although all of said-activities are indeed taking place via Google Classroom, Zoom, and a slew of other creative means), but --as many others out there on the interwebs have noted, it is kind of nice to have the time together. And it's nice that the air outside smells and feels cleaner and that life is just... quieter. So for the respite from the usual Springtime crazy, I'm thankful.

March 23

My coffee cup this morning shared a vital message, so I'm passing it on to all of you:

I'm loved, you're loved, he's loved, she's loved... we're all loved. And that's a pretty big deal, since love --that self-sacrificial kind of affection that comes from the spirit and the soul and the heart all at once-- is the most important thing we can share with one another.

March 22

In many ways, my relationship with Kathy can be challenging. We have different needs and different understandings of what close, genuine friendship should look like, and those truths sometimes make communication hard. But I love her and I try because I think she is worth the work and the introspection.

I say all of that because though today was good and made my heart happy at times, it also featured more difficult moments. It began with late-morning coffee on the couch in her living room as a light snow fell --and briefly accumulated-- outside. I shared some truths that made me cry and she responded by coming closer and putting a hand on my knee which --given her need for personal space-- was no inconsequential gesture. And she said some words that were small but meant so much to me: When I lamented not having a sister of my own, she responded with 'you have me.'

We eschewed getting dressed and watched a movie --Mansfield Park this time-- while munching on handfuls of peanut butter M&Ms from the ginormous party-size bag I sent her via Amazon last week when I thought I'd be rescheduling this trip. And that was well and good. (And delicious.) But then the day took a left turn of sorts when a difference of opinion left me feeling sad and her feeling defensive; I started to retreat but instead parked myself on the bar stool in the kitchen so we could hash it out. Which we did, in a way, at least. It was far from a perfect exchange but I think a little understanding was gained. And then we took a walk around the neighborhood and remarked on housing styles and unusual front door colors and the like, and then we had Starbucks via Target and we drove around to see houses she'd once considered buying and did (another) drive-by of the house she is buying before we returned to her (current) home, where we ate a late dinner and then did face masks she bought at Target (which she promptly washed off because it hurt; mine, conversely, was all good. Another way that we're different).

And then we sat in her room and I brushed her hair and then she brushed mine and we talked in hushed tones about important things. And then we prayed together --because honestly that's one of my favorite things to do-- and I asked if I could put my head on her shoulder for five minutes (because it's what I needed and part of me thinks that maybe a very small part of her maybe kinda-sorta needed it, too, even if she didn't know it). And then once the five minutes ticked by, I was off to bed, and that's where I lie right now.

So what's my point here with this long, rambling message? Well, part of it is to refute the notion that only easy relationships with others who are just like us can be good ones. I've never thought that was true. It is true that I get frustrated and hurt sometimes because we don't see eye to eye, but I've also grown more in the past few years than I did in the entire decade before. There are lots of reasons why that's the case, but having her in my life is one of them. So today, I'm thankful for the good times and laughter and the ways she challenges me. And I'm thankful that we don't give up on each other --even when it's hard to keep taking those steps forward and giving up would be the easier path to take-- and that we keep pushing and pulling and bending and genuinely trying to understand and honor our differences.

March 21

It was a really nice day. I woke up in Missouri (where I went to sleep last night. With all that's going on right now, I didn't feel like facing the judgment I figured I'd get for not canceling the trip I'd been looking forward to for months) and spent the hours that ensued hanging out with Kathy.

A stay-at-home order hasn't yet been issued here (at least not as of this afternoon), so after breakfast we were able to check out some flooring stores and one cute little shop in town and take the walk from the high school to her soon-to-be new house before we headed back inside for a pair of movies (Forever Your Girl and Book Club) while we brushed each other's hair. Then I kept her up far too late for her taste by being chatty, but eh, I had a lot to say.

I adore her so I appreciate every minute we have together. So today, I'm grateful for that time.

March 20

I grew up with cats and have never been much of a dog person, but I have to say that petting a pooch can be an extremely soothing pastime.

(Nope, not my dog.)

So tonight as I head off to dreamland, I'm thankful for the provision of pets, who were given the power to offer up emotional support when we need it. And I'd say that now is a darn good time for a hefty dose of that.

March 19

After Adam finished working today, we went for our customary stroll around the neighborhood. There were a handful of people out and about, but in general, it was a fairly quiet walk under cloudy skies that seemed primed to paint a stunning sunset. (And, in fact, they did just that a little later on.)

It's always nice to get out and walk when I've been stuck inside all day long, and it's always doubly nice to walk with the person who knows me better than anyone else. Although it's not a blessing I appreciate as often as I should, it's a significant one indeed.

March 18

Apparently I haven't looked in Brady's mouth for a while, because I was genuinely surprised when I got a gander at his grin a few minutes ago and saw this:

This cute little muffin of mine has been missing his upper lefthand (facing him) front tooth for months now. Actually, it's probably been closer to a year. We waited and waited (and waited) for that tooth to break the gums, but it just didn't happen. I'd even started to wonder if it would need "help" from the dentist to make an appearance. But nope; just when I realized I'd stopped waiting for it, it showed up.

That tooth --like so many things in this human life we all lead-- moved at its own pace. It didn't show up when we thought it should nor did it show when common sense would say it should. It came when it was ready.

It's a good reminder to me that though it's difficult at times, patience is an essential component of a truly content life.

March 17

I confess: since it's been deemed a non-academic week while the teachers figure out how to facilitate online learning, I'm not making my kids do anything they don't feel like doing. (Blunt, but truth.) So that means that when I came downstairs this morning, Isaac and Brady were cheerfully playing one of their video games. As the noon hour approached, I told them that I expected them to get dressed today and they said okay. Here they are after the fact, after re-assuming video game play formation:

Yup. They changed into clean pairs of pajamas. Insert facepalm here.

I told Adam what they'd done when I went upstairs a little later, and he said he wasn't surprised because they'd asked me if they could just change into different ones and I said okay. I have no memory of that exchange, but apparently it happened. So voila, my boys spent the day in sleep clothes.

It's kind of ridiculous, but these are weird times, so tonight as I mull going off to bed, I'm thankful that I can look at them and at myself and laugh. Because laughing is way, way better than crying.

March 16

Oh, what a day. With the shelter-in-place order in effect for our county as of two hours from now, we can expect some serious monotony in the days and weeks to come. Add to that the truth that we're supposed to close on our new house on April 1st, my laptop died last night so I don't have a reliable computer, I'm going to have to reschedule a trip I've been looking forward to for months, and another very serious issue I can't go into publicly, I'm feeling worn out at best. So after a nice (well, not so nice but necessary) cry this afternoon, I came downstairs and made myself some coffee in this mug. (Because coffee makes things better, right?)

This is often the cup I choose when I'm feeling blue, partly because one of my favorite people gave it to me and using it makes me feel closer to her, and partly because, well, it's true! Purple glitter rocks.

So did the coffee boost work? Eh, sort of. I guess I'd say that it took the edge off. The thing is, I'd be totally justified in feeling defeated right now, but I'm not going to let the devil steal my joy. (Or at least not any more of it than I've already offered up on the altar of fear and disappointment.) I'm going to take this day at face value, be annoyed over the lousy things that are going on, and then pray, because at this point, underneath all of the frustration and sadness, I know that's really the only thing that's going to give me peace. And it's the only thing that has the power to change our circumstances in miraculous ways.

March 15

I was doing a little straightening in my room earlier today when I came across this.

It's one of those re-usable shopping bags. I can't remember precisely when I bought it, but I do remember that it tickled me pink when I saw it hanging by the checkout lane at Safeway. So it made me happy to see it again today, because I'm always happy to think about my Sunshine.

March 14

With the exception of a quick jaunt to the mother ship with my girl late this afternoon, I hung around the house and spent the day thinking about what I need to do before we move (though admittedly it didn't result in much action). And I felt stir-crazy.

It rained on and off all day, and at one point the sun came out, so I did what I always do when that scenario presents itself and went outside to look for a rainbow. And voila, I found one.

There's something reassuring about rainbows, so I was glad to see it there, arching its way across the sky in the distance.

March 13

It's definitely a strange, strange time. Courtesy of COVID-19, our school district decided today that kids will go to school on Monday, retrieve books and whatever else they'll need, and then return home for at least three weeks --through Spring Break-- for "distance learning." I could worry over how much actual "learning" my children will do while constantly in each other's faces or how hard it will be to get them to focus or how they'll probably render me a complete lunatic, but I won't. Nope. Tonight, I'm going to open these Monopoly tickets I've been hoarding.

I'm going to hope for free donuts and coupons that I'll actually want to use. Although I'm always praying that the best outcomes will come to fruition, this evening I'm thankful for the blessing of silly distractions --like little grocery store game tickets-- that make the ills of the world fade for a short time.

Now come on -- mama wants some donuts!

March 12

It's been a crazy, crazy week. I think we're probably all collectively --to one degree or another-- stressed over COVID-19 and its implications. But even amid the panic, it's important to be calm and kind and rational. And as strange as it may seem, it was this tank top that reminded me of that truth this evening:

I bought it last week at Walmart because, well, because it screamed at me to buy it. (Let's just say that I do love my sparkles so I totally buy into the message.) It is important to spread joy however we can. So... do that. Be the person who helps out a neighbor or calls a friends who's feeling isolated. Be mindful of those you know who could suffer adverse effects from being socially distant from others, and give him a call to check in or shoot over a text to say hi.

God's got His hand on what's going on in this world; we just need to remember to be there for each other in the small moments and to spread the sparkles, so to speak -- even when we can't really be there.

March 11

Isaac umpired his first game tonight. His first-ever paid gig, in fact. Here's my cute little working guy between innings of the match-up between the AA Pirates and Red Sox:

Although he wasn't calling balls and strikes this go-round --that'll happen in a few weeks and I'm sure I'll be a mess when it does because man alive, adults can be mean sometimes-- he did serve as the first base umpire, which meant he spent the game patrolling the area between first and second.

Isaac has something of a poker face at times --especially when he's concentrating-- so as we walked back to the car post-game, I wasn't sure what the response would be when I asked him how he'd liked it. But I smiled to myself when he replied "it was fun!" and said he was looking forward to doing it again soon.

As I've said ad nauseum, there's really nothing quite like getting to watch my kids do things they love to do. It's one of the (many) big blessings of parenthood and I am grateful.

March 10

Adam turned 42 today. Since he had work and the kiddos had school and baseball and he and Abby had dance, the celebration window was limited, but we made it happen. There was Zachary's pizza (his dinner pick); a lemon cake made by Abby, frosted by me, and decorated by Isaac and Brady; and a small stack of carefully chosen presents. And there was this:

Although I'm sure we've forgotten to a time or two over the course of the past 13 years, we've taken a version of this image on just about every birthday we've celebrated in this house. And as I sat there setting up my phone to snap today's iteration, it occurred to me that this would be the last one we'd take in this spot with those precious pieces of artwork drawn for and by Logan and our other kids on the wall behind the couch. Though I'm looking forward to all of the new memories we'll make in our new home, the thought was a bittersweet one.

Still, I'm thankful for new beginnings -- like new homes and birthdays that signal new years. And I'm thankful for my hunny.

March 9

Isaac had a baseball game tonight (as will be the case many, many times in the weeks to come so get ready). The White Sox fared better today than they did over the weekend and wound up blanking the Red Sox 6-0 in a super-speedy 90-minute affair. Isaac singled in his second at-bat, and made his way around to third base, which is where he is in this image.

I have no idea what his coach said to him after he arrived at third, but I do know that whatever the words were inspired my boy to do a strange little dance right there on the line. And that little dance, of course, made me chuckle, because it was a lighthearted, happy little jig. And it's always a blessing to see my kids enjoying life.

March 8

I love it when I run into people I've not seen in a while.

With that said, Adam and I were rounding the Sports Park today (as we so often do while the boys are at baseball clinic) when we came face to face with Brady's second grade teacher and her baby. I hadn't seen her since the beginning of the school year and I'd never seen her little boy, so I enjoyed the encounter. I'm a personal contact kind of girl, so those surprise meet-ups are always blessings. (And I'm always down with meeting cute babies, too!)

March 7

'Twas a good start to the 2020 little league season for the Wight boys, who both went 2-for-3 at the plate and drove in runs (four for Isaac, one for Brady) for their teams. Brady was the first pitcher of the AA Cardinals' season and struck out three, and Isaac --who hadn't pitched in two seasons-- ate 1/3 of an inning for the Majors White Sox and earned a strikeout of his own. Brady's team earned a 6-4 win, while Isaac's wound up on the short end of a 9-12 final, though theirs was an exhibition game so it won't count as part of their record. And the last bit? Isaac was given the game ball for his offensive and defensive efforts.

It was a cold, intermittently rainy, nasty kind of day, but I loved being out there watching them play. I loved seeing Brady pump his fist after posting his third strikeout in the first inning and I loved watching Isaac grin at nothing in particular as he played second base (his favorite position). I loved hearing them cheer for their teammates and I loved listening to them call out the game situation. They just love baseball. And though I've always followed the sport myself --suffering Orioles fan am I-- watching them enjoy it and seeing how they've improved as the years have passed by make me love it even more than before.

So yep, this evening I'm grateful for baseball. I'm thankful that we live in a town with good coaches who are willing to volunteer their time to teach and I'm grateful for access to such a beautiful set of fields.

March 6

It's been quite a week, so I'm settling into my spot on the couch this evening with a box of See's Candy Adam brought home for me and a glass of wine.

Yep, it's certainly been an unexpectedly stressful week, but it's also been a really, really good one, so I feel a significant sense of gratitude heading into the weekend. And I am, as was the case all week long, very, very, very thankful.

March 5

If all goes as planned, this will be our home as of the beginning of April. (Surprise!)

I know, I know: back story. After we sold our townhouse last month, Adam and I started to casually peruse listings in the area. I was comfortable with the idea of taking my time because I had a very long, very specific list of wants and figured it would take a while to find something that would fit the bill.

But then we walked into this place (which is, for the record, about 10 minutes from our current house) on Sunday and it just felt like our home. It has a pool and a stunning view of the hills from the back yard and a very private master bedroom with an amazing bathtub and a huge kitchen with a huge island and a built-in desk and a fifth bedroom that's already painted in Logan-blue. And it has a side of the house for the boys and a separate side for Abby and a bathroom that's just for her and a laundry room that's actually near the bedrooms. It's a place where I can imagine hosting friends and watching our kids and their friends hanging out in the pool or the family room. I could just see us there, and in fact, I even told Adam as we were admiring the view that I was afraid to go upstairs and see that it was perfect (and it was indeed perfect) because I knew I'd want it.

So anyway, we made an offer on Tuesday morning, the seller accepted it Tuesday evening, and we're now in escrow. And although I'd be lying if I said I didn't find the suddenness of this development a bit stressful, I am amazed by God's provision, because as it turns out, the seller sold the house to someone else almost a year ago but the deal fell through, and I just happened to see the listing right after she put it back on the market last week. The timing was, in a word, perfect.

Given that ours is the second amazing home-related story of the week, I'm reminded that God is always, always faithful and that I should always trust that things will work out. And I'm also reminded that He wants to give us good gifts and that though we sometimes have to look hard to see Him at work, sometimes we don't have to look hard at all because the gift is just Right. There. And I am so, so thankful.

March 4

I changed up my hair yesterday. I've tried (and tried) but can't get a decent selfie, so this last-ditch effort will have to do the trick.

My reasoning was twofold. In a practical sense, I was in the middle of a rather ugly grow-out from a layered cut, and I just wanted it all evened up and the same length. (Which it now is.) But I also wanted to prove to myself that one, that kind of superficial change won't kill me, and two, I'm still me -- even with this really unfamiliar medium-to-short hair.

Given how much "change" has been a theme for me over the past year or so and how much I did NOT like some of said change, it was refreshing --maybe even empowering-- to choose to make a small one of my own. Given that I can be such a pushover and, honestly, such a chicken when it comes to anything different that tries to impede upon my treasured sameness, I'm grateful for the newfound sense of boldness that I'm gradually starting to find within myself. And I'm doubly grateful that though my circumstances are constantly evolving over time, God is the ultimate anchor in the storm.

March 3

There were many good things about today, but I'm going to zero in on a small moment that went straight to my heart.

Since Brady's baseball practice ended just as Isaac's began, I was a minute late getting to the field to pick him up. When I arrived, I was surprised to find just Brady and one of his teammates still there, sitting alone on the bleachers. I called out to Brady from the sidewalk, and he headed in my direction, but I noticed that he kept looking over his shoulder. When he got close enough for me to hear him, he asked if we could please go wait with his teammate until his mom showed up. I said of course we could, so we walked back over to the bleachers and Brady invited said-teammate to play catch.

Fortunately, the mom arrived just a few minutes later, but I was so struck by the sweetness of Brady's gesture that the moment lingered in my mind as the evening wore on. No one else stayed back to be with this kid, but he didn't feel right about leaving him alone. I think that shows really good character. And I feel blessed that despite my many flaws, my littlest little chose to do the right thing when he didn't have to do it.

March 2

Isaac had a huge smile on his face when he got into the car after school today. I asked him what was behind the grin, and he said he couldn't tell me because it was his friend's secret. I said okay and didn't press for details, but seeing him so clearly amused --and seeing Brady so happy to see his big bro-- made me happy.

They may bicker incessantly at times, but I so adore these young ones of mine. I hope they're enjoying their childhood as much as I'm enjoying watching them grow up into good (increasingly bigger little) guys.

March 1

I love boxed chocolates. (And I really love them when they're on post-Valentine's Day super-sale but I digress.)

There's just something fun about not knowing exactly what I'm going to get when I take a bite. (And yeah, I know some of them come with diagrams that spell out what's where but there's no entertainment in that so I pretend they don't exist.) Chocolate? Strawberry cream? Coconut? I mean, I can kind of guess sometimes based on the shape (because duh, of course the square ones are either caramel or toffee) but the uncertainty is entertaining.

I suppose that's a rather Forrest Gump'ian thing to say, but it's true. And it goes deeper, too, because I sometimes wonder what life would be like if we approached every unknown with a modicum of expectant anticipation and enthusiasm. What if every time we pick up a new chocolate and muse over what we'll find inside, we expect to find something delicious rather than something disgusting (like marzipan. Sorry, marzipan lovers, it's disgusting)? And what if, on the occasions that we do find ourselves with a mouthful of marzipan, we opt to relish the delicious dark chocolate instead of focusing on the less-than-great filling? I bet it would change life for the better.