June 30

This is probably the saddest-looking bean plant in my current bean plant arsenal. (And I have about 50 of them.)

It sat in my kitchen window --day after day-- while most of its buddies were transplanted, one by one by one, into the ground outside. I had a plethora of reasons to believe that it would never produce any beans: it was slow to sprout, it grew at an awkward angle in its peat pod, and it just looked sickly. But I noticed about a week ago that it had produced a little white flower, so I decided to put it outside. Not in the ground; just outside. And then a few days later it had sprouted another little white flower. And then the first flower fell off to reveal a tiny green bean. And then the second bloom followed the same course. The irony? Only a small handful of my 50-plant crew is currently producing beans. This little one --this little, weak, sickly-looking one-- is ahead of the curve.

The lesson here may be an obvious one, but it's also vital: never discount what the so-called "weakest link" can do. Because God can and will use anyone and everyone to spread goodness. Even --and especially-- the most unlikely among us.

June 29

We've been slowly working on getting our old house ready to go up on the rental market. The house itself (we won't talk about the garage) is now empty, so last week we had the entire interior painted and necessary repairs made. Today, we moved on to flooring.

I played with samples as a sales rep took the necessary measurements. And I quietly marveled over how a few surface changes can make a place look so different. In a way, the idea of painting over crayon marks and pulling out the carpet that played host to the first steps of three of our four kids made me sad, but it also stirred a sense of gratitude for the memories we made in that house. And for the thousands of pictures we have from those days. Because although those early days of our family were hard --much harder, in some ways, than I ever could have imagined-- they were mostly good days. And I'm thankful that they're part of our history.

June 28

Instead of playing video games this afternoon, Isaac and Brady flexed their collective creativity muscles. First, they transformed an Amazon box into a racecar for their stuffed animals and zoomed them around the house. Then they made a pair of wings for BearBear and made him "fly".

Yup. Brady stood by the overlook on the second floor and gleefully tossed him to Isaac in the family room below. A year ago --before all of this crazy set in-- I probably would've told them to stop because throwing toys over the banister is just a no-no, but today... nope. I just watched my boys giggle as BearBear rocketed toward the ground.

So today, I'm thankful for that little change I saw in myself in that moment: the ability to just relax and see little harmless things as what they are -- little harmless things.

June 27

Today began with Isaac's first baseball game since March. It wasn't exactly a game, per se, in that it was just a scrimmage against another 11U team from another town and didn't count for anything, but it sure brought a lot of joy to my boy.

He didn't fare especially well at the plate, but he did wind up on base at one point and made his way around to third. (White pants, high socks, dark shirt, red batting helmet.) We watched him as he skittered back and forth along the baseline trying to get into the pitcher's head, and saw his lips break into wide grins between pitches as he returned to the bag, pleased with his execution of mental warfare.

He loves the game of baseball, this boy of mine. And I'm grateful for his happiness.

June 26

It was a slow Friday: just a grocery store run and a walk with the hubs around the neighborhood. That's it. So on this slow day, I figured I'd share what my boys have been doing for the past several months:

That's right: playing video games in their pajamas. In the room that will (eventually) be my pretty formal sitting area (but that, for now, is the Video Game Room.)

Kinda boring. But boring can be a good thing, so I'm thankful for the mundane.

June 25

My garden is coming along nicely. There are wee white flowers on the bean and pea plants, the basil smells amazing, and the bell peppers are gradually sprouting sets of leaves. And today, I noticed the first itty bitty tomato starting to form.

I've grown lots of tomato plants in the past, but I never get tired of watching those little yellow flowers give way to itty bitty green tomatoes. It's soothing to me. And given how many stressors there are in this life, "soothing" is a blessing.

June 24

Isaac had baseball practice this afternoon. While stopped at a red light en route to the Sports Park, I turned to look at him in the back seat. He was busily tying the laces of his cleats and I mused (to myself) that I could remember when he couldn't tie his shoes at all. Then when we got to another red light, I turned again and snapped this pic before he could react.

I know it's common --and natural, I suppose-- to pine for the way things used to be; for what was. And to some degree, I do that, mostly when it comes to Logan because it's hard --torturous, at times-- to be denied the chance to see him grow up and become a man. The only way I can "see" him, so to speak, is to remember.

So today, I'm thankful that this kid, who's grown so, so much in the past year in multiple ways, is continuing to grow and change. And I'm thankful that Abby and Brady are, too. And Adam. And me. Because we're all getting a wee bit wiser with age. And wisdom is a blessing.

June 23

Brady has the strangest way of eating tacos. And since today was Taco Tuesday, said unique consumption strategy was on full display at the dinner table.

He fills taco shells with meat and cheese (because vegetables are gross, as are all condiments except ketchup) and then eats the meat and cheese, leaving the empty shell to eat last. (And he does this over and over again, since it's not unusual for him to consume six to eight tacos in a sitting.)

It's quirky, but Brady is definitely a quirky kid. He does random, spontaneous dances that make me laugh aloud and makes random sounds that are distinctly his own, but also decidedly reminiscent of his biggest brother. So for the blessings of him being himself and of the ways he reminds me of my Sunshine, I'm thankful.

June 22

Abby spent the past several weeks learning songs and dance moves as part of this summer's Vacation Bible School worship team. Today, she donned her jeans and the bright orange tee shirt and headed over to the church to record the routines.

She told me afterward that the recording process made her nervous because she didn't want to mess up (which I already knew), but I'm proud of her for stepping a bit outside of her comfort zone and taking part. And I'm even more pleased that I didn't even have to try to goad her into it.

June 21

One of the sneaky, ongoing repercussions of child loss is not knowing how a given holiday will strike you until the hour arrives, so going into today, I wasn't sure if it would be a good Father's Day for Adam or a not-as-good one. Fortunately, I think that it was more of a good one. (I hope it's been, at least.)

There was online church in the morning followed by our usual visit to the cemetery, where I gave my little wave to the sky and then headed back to the car so Adam could have some time on his own. Then he took the kids for a quick visit with his dad and they brought home Zachary's Pizza for dinner. From then there were presents and homemade cards, and a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake. A nice day. An easy day, I think.

Anyhow, one of his presents was the picture in the photo. He'd offhandedly mentioned last week that he was bummed that we had so few photos of all six of us, so I did some digging and (after determining that we do have very few full family pics and that it's extremely difficult to get a herd of Littles to a) smile and b) look in the same direction at the same time) I found this series. I'm not sure where we'll put it, but I'm glad we have it now because though Lambie is a great stand-in for his Boy, having Logan in pictures with us is priceless.

June 20

Adam's parents came over this afternoon to celebrate Isaac's birthday a few days late. We headed straight to the back yard, where we all chit-chatted, Adam managed to light the candles on the giant chocolate-chocolate chip-raisin cookie that Adam's mom brought for the occasion (which was no small feat given how the breeze swirled around), and Isaac opened his presents.

My appetite for social interaction is pretty significant these days, so it was a pleasant enough afternoon. So for that --and for the slightly less uncomfortably hot temperature that made all of my plants quite happy-- I'm thankful.

June 19

I was sitting in my car yesterday at our old house killing some time between a trip to Walmart and VBS worship team practice pick-up. A song with a familiar melody came on the radio and for some reason, I listened to and actually heard the words for the first time. And it blew me out of the water.

I texted the song name to a friend who recently shared that she needs more Jesus, and then came home and downloaded it. And then I listened to it over and over again until I'd committed the words to my heart. (And that's a hard thing to do because though I handily remember dates, I am not a champion song lyric remember'er.)

Here's the thing about this beautiful song by Jason Gray: I could've written it 10 years ago when Logan was diagnosed with cancer. Those feelings of anger and frustration mixed with a sense of needing Jesus to take another step... it's how I felt --and still feel at times-- to a T. And I've never seen it explained any better.

I know I don't do "overtly Christian-y" very often, but this song... this is it. Google it. Listen to it. Digest the words. If you're new to the idea of faith, let the words wash over you and confirm to you that no, not even self-professed Christians have it all figured out. We know that we don't and we definitely feel anger and hurt and frustration and doubt. It's not always sunshine, and those platitudes designed to put an "it's okay and everything will work out" stamp on very real human problems? Those piss us off sometimes, too. And that's all okay. But you can find comfort in Jesus. Just ask for it.

June 18

Way back when (which is basically another phrase for "a few months ago"), I used to take advantage of the Mother Ship's BOGO days fairly often. They've been few and far between for a while now, so I did the proverbial grenade-jumping exercise when I saw an offer pop up in my app today. I grabbed the girl, hopped in the car, and headed over to the closest Sbux (which, fortunately, is open til 4 these days and not just 2 like most of the locations 'round these parts).

A mocha cookie crumble frap for her (delicious but far too many unjustifiable calories for my 42-year old body) and a honey almond milk flat white for me. Frou frou, yes, but a great way to spend a few minutes with my girl. (And coffee? That stuff is a perpetual blessing. Believe me.)

June 17

I took one picture today. Now ordinarily I might wander around the house at this point deliberately looking for something better to snap a shot of, but I'm feeling lazy so this is what ya get.

My piggies were in need of some care so I painted my nails this morning. I used a teeny tiny bottle that was part of a set that a good friend sent my way last month, so in a way, it was like I was getting a pedicure with someone else. I didn't talk to myself, but I did listen to some music and try to zero out my overactive mind as I painted.

So today, I'm grateful for thoughtful friends and for simple things --like sparkly nail polish, even if it is gray-- that can make my days better.

June 16

One of Isaac's birthday gifts was a huge, dog-face pool floatie. (He really likes dogs.)

He and Brady decided to lug it outside this afternoon with the intent of inflating it and given my own pathetically failed attempt at inflating my own doughnut-shaped floatie last week, I wasn't optimistic that they'd be successful. But as it turned out, I clearly underestimated their youthful lung capacity and they had it up and ready to go within half an hour.

It's a blessing to watch them work together to accomplish a shared goal. (And it was also a blessing to watch them give a pair of their stuffed animals --Slime and Chubbycorn-- rides on the raft a little later since I know the days of them openly playing with their toys are numbered.)

June 15

Isaac turned 12 years old today. Twelve! It seems completely crazy to me that my sweet-tempered Number Three is a mere year from becoming a teenager.

Given the whole ongoing COVID thing combined with this being the very first birthday we've celebrated at the new house, it was a different kind of day, but I think he made the best of it. He had bacon and chocolate-covered doughnut holes for breakfast, and then opted for carry-out from Red Robin for lunch (since the corn doggies and mandarin oranges from the kids' menu are a long-time fave for both Isaac and Brady) and pizza from Mountain Mike's for dinner. He was disappointed to miss out on his annual birthday photo shoot, so he got dressed in actual nice clothes --all on his own-- and we did a little shoot of our own in the back yard. Then, as is our custom, we closed out the festivities with presents and cake and a picture on the couch and the customary height-check. (He came in at 5'5", for anyone wondering about that! Won't be long til he passes me.)

I hope he had a good day because he truly deserves good days. He is kind and smart and thoughtful and compassionate, and I am so proud and blessed to be his mom. Happy birthday, bup!

June 14

When Adam and I put together the wish-list for our theoretical 'long haul' home, I added a bunch of things that seemed realistic, like a big kitchen with an island, a tub in the master bathroom, a fifth bedroom, and a swimming pool. When Adam added "a view" to the mix, my initial thought was "uh, yeah, right", since views are definitely few and far between in this town. But then --as y'all know-- this happened.

I love watching him look out at his view. And I love that this view will always be a tangible reminder to me to never underestimate what God can (and sometimes will) do to make us happy and to grant us the desires of our hearts.

June 13

It's safe to say that Brady is rockin' a good head of Quarantine Hair these days.

(Isaac is too, of course, but his hair is much less malleable than Brady's (think duck feathers).) Anyhow, Abby amused herself (and him) this morning by running her hands through his hair until it stood up like this. It added an extra element of oomph to his already oft-goofy demeanor, so it made me laugh. And lately, lighter moments are good moments.

June 12

I had coffee downtown this morning with my friend Sherrie. It was my first coffee meet-up in quite a long while, so I was more than happy to get up a wee bit earlier than usual to make it happen.

While we were there, a steady stream of vintage cars drove through town. The sight made me smile because I know Logan would've loved it and in the recesses of my mind, I could almost hear his steady (and surprisingly intelligent) commentary on all of the cool wheels and colors and flame jobs. And "hearing" his voice? That's always a good thing.

June 11

The weather was quite lovely by the time the evening hours rolled about, so Adam decided to fire up the shave ice machine for dessert. Unfortunately, the ants found out where we were storing the syrups so we spent some time hosing off the bottles before we could indulge, which meant I stood over on the deck turning the water on and off (since that particular hose nozzle doesn't have an 'off' option. Yeah, weird).

And as I stood there, I looked out at the wonderfulness that is our backyard and at my family, and felt a great sense of thankfulness. No, this world is not perfect and yes, I've certainly faced numerous painful challenges over time. But this? This is a blessing, bar none, and we're supposed to give praise for the good things in our lives. So I am grateful.

June 10

I don't like bugs. I really don't like bugs that flutter their lacy wings and make loud buzzing noises. So imagine my joy when not just one but two lacy-winged, buzzy bugs --a dragonfly and a damselfly-- found their way into my living room this morning and then couldn't figure out how to leave. I watched them buzz and fly into the upper windows for a short time, practically paralyzed by a wave of 'oh heck NO-ness', before I went to ask this guy to help. And of course, he did. My rescuer.

He went outside to get a pool net and then sent me outside for the other a few minutes later. And then voila, he cautiously ushered each of them outside the door and watched as they flew away (to terrify someone else, no doubt).

So sure, I may want to deal with my irrational fear at some point, but today, I'm grateful for my bug-dismissing hubby who's willing to vanquish the creepy crawlies for me.

June 9

So yeah, this is where I spent most of my day.

Why? Well, it started out like any other day with me getting up, making the bed, and wandering into my bathroom. That's when I looked in the mirror and knew --instantly-- that I was about to have a panic attack. I don't really know what triggered it, but I spent the next 10 minutes lying on the floor with my eyes closed as my heart pounded, my arms transformed into leaden blocks, and sweat trickled down my cheeks and dampened my hair. (Fortunately the cold tile floor had the effect of shocking my system a bit, which made this episode not quite as bad as others I've had.) Then when I got up, I took two steps and had to sit down because I started to black out again. And you can rinse and repeat that scenario for the next half hour, until I finally gave up, dragged my noodle-y limbs back to my bed, and texted Adam to tell him I wasn't feeling well.

And that's when things got better. He didn't come right away, but showed up a little later after he finished a call with his company's CFO. He brought me coffee and Peeps (since he was sure that raw sugar would help) and the remote controls and my laptop and a stuffed animal that calms my nerves. (Yes, I have one.) And then he asked if I needed anything else and to text him if I did. And then I was essentially off-duty all day long trying to recover.

I don't know what causes panic attacks and I hate them, but I'm beyond grateful to have my hunny here to help me when they strike.

June 8

I was really (really) pleased when I checked on my garden this morning and found that one of my pea plants is flowering.

It's the first of my many (many) plants to shows a concrete sign that veggie production is on its way.

Just a small thing, yes, but I'm thankful for that peapod in-the-making and I'm hopeful that it's the first of many more good things to come.

June 7

When I was growing up, our church would place a rosebud at the front of the sanctuary to celebrate the birth of a new baby. Although I hadn't thought about the practice in years, that memory came to mind when I spied this pure white rose and a host of buds in my yard this evening.

New life. Thankfully it's something we can all have through Jesus, but even though I have confidence in my salvation, I'd be lying if I said my heart isn't deeply troubled right now. I've hashed and rehashed this current reality in my mind over and over again over the course of the past week, and it all comes down to this simple truth: we are called to love each other, regardless of race or religion or creed or shape or size or age or ability or political philosophy. Society is broken because we so often fail to love.

Love is engaging in conversation and not tuning out when it gets hard or uncomfortable. Love is accepting that we are not always right. Love is resisting the urge to attack someone publicly no matter how much you think they deserve it, because we all --every single one of us, even the lowest of the low-- are worthy of grace. (And when you trash someone, you're spreading seeds of hate. Think about that.) Love is learning to be sensitive and avoiding judgment because personal histories are powerful and no two are exactly alike. Love is seeking truth and adapting our thoughts and attitudes and behaviors when we find it. Love is thinking and reflecting and then, when led, doing something. Love is realizing that we are all unique creations who are known intimately, valued immensely, and loved deeply by the God who created us.

I suppose it might be easy to dismiss my words because I'm just some white chick who lives in an affluent town, but please don't because I'm no stranger to deep, life-altering suffering. Contact me and we can chat. I'll tell you the grittier, uglier details of my life story to date because vulnerability may be hard, but it can also lead to healing.

I see and hear and empathize in ways you can't imagine but I have to do better. A lot of us probably could. Because in the end, love is what gives us the only kind of life that truly fulfills us and meets our needs. It is the only thing that will cure what ails our society. And no matter how painful or how trying a path we've had to travel, Love offers us all New Life. And that's no small gift.

June 6

The kiddos got their report cards this week and all did well, so Adam took them to Wendy's this afternoon for celebratory Frosties.

No real reflection here, other than to say that I'm extremely grateful to have children who are intelligent and (generally) self-motivated when it comes to school and learning. Not small blessings, I think, but mighty easy to inadvertently overlook.

June 5

I took this picture of Brady during dinner.

There's just something so sweet (and ironic) about my baby (bruiser) hugging his electric pink stuffed unicorn, so I wanted to remember it.

And there you go. Just a quick snapshot from my life, but a good one. And I'm always thankful for the good ones.

June 4

Between textbook return and VBS worship team practice for Abby, a grocery store run, and the dentist for me and the boys (and that was an experience), it was something of a busy day. I didn't think to take any pictures, so when I went outside to take care of my little garden tonight, I snapped one of two of my bigger (but still little) tomato plants.

I don't love the 100 degree temps we've withstood this week, but I do love that my wee tomato plants love the heat. And I do love watching them grow and I do look forward to consuming the tomatoes they'll eventually (hopefully) produce. And that all serves as a salient reminder for me about life in general: Sometimes, in order to be able to enjoy those things we love, we must first put up with some "heat".

June 3

With temps already over 90 by mid-morning, Abby was first to ask if she could get in the pool today. Brady and Isaac had some kind of brou-haha over a video game so Brady was next in line to don his swimwear (and goggles. I have no idea why he likes to wear them so much but he does). They were both waiting out their prescribed "15 minutes after sunscreen application" period and I was taking a picture of Brady by himself when Abby appeared in the frame and got down next to him like this:

I have no clue what she was doing or why she was doing it but I love this photo. I love Brady's smile and I love that these two --who are rarely together-- are together. And I love that Abby looks so beautiful and grown-up and I love that (unlike me) she doesn't suffer from resting you-know-what face so she's actually capable of looking beautiful even when she's not smiling.

And then 20 minutes later, when they'd gone outside and Isaac had joined them in the pool, I loved standing in the dining room and watching them as they played together. With six-plus years between Abby and Brady, that doesn't happen all that often these days. So when it does, I am one thankful mom.

June 2

Adam and I were rebels tonight and broke the county-imposed 8 PM curfew.

In our defense, dinner was a little late and he opted to put the boys to bed before we headed out for our evening stroll, which began at 8:15. I didn't even think about the curfew until I mused whether or not it was still in effect a few minutes later, and by then it seemed silly to turn around so we continued along our way. (Mostly I think it's just kind of funny that I violated my first curfew at age 42.)

Anyway, it was still over 80 degrees so the elevated temp plus the aforementioned curfew made it a very quiet, very pleasant walk. And given how busy my mind has been of late, I'm thankful for those moments of respite with my hunny.

June 1

Several months ago, Isaac's baseball coach from the 2019 season contacted us to see if he'd be interested in joining a travel/tournament team. It took quite a while to get to this point, but today, that team finally had a chance to practice together. It's hard to see, but Isaac is a small dot on the right running toward the dugout in white pants and a dark green top.

Both of the boys were bummed when the Little League season was canceled, so Isaac was particularly excited to get out there and play again. And although it was definitely a different kind of practice, I know he had a good time. So for this small bit of "normalcy" in an alarmingly abnormal time, I'm grateful.