October 4

This is my Starbucks friend, Rob. (There are actually three Robs and a Bob, but I digress because this entry is about this one particular Rob.)

This Rob lost his wife not long ago, and the two of us have had a handful of very honest conversations about the role that faith can play in a grief journey. He's told me that he walked away from the church after encountering hypocrisy, and I've told him to remember that the church is completely comprised of imperfect people who can and will screw up and hurt others. And I've reminded him that regardless of how he feels about The Church, God is always with him.

Anyway, he came in today after the other Usuals had already departed and plunked down in the chair next to me. With a measure of excitement in his voice that I hadn't heard before, he shared a pair of recent unusual experiences that left him with the distinct feeling that "someone" was trying to get his attention. He said he wasn't intending to share the stories with everyone he knew, but wanted to tell me because he knew I'd get it. 

I smiled, showed him the goosebumps that had appeared on my arms while he was sharing, and said that I would say that it was God who was trying to reach him. Although he wasn't entirely sold on that idea, he was open to it. And he added that he felt a new conviction to move forward and find joy in his life, so he booked himself a cruise later this year.

I know it's been a tough year for him, so it was a big blessing to see him find a measure of peace and happiness. And maybe even a seed of faith.

October 3

I don't remember exactly when it began, but at some point during her latter teenage years, Abby started coming downstairs to hang out with Adam and I after bedtime.

And now, at age 16, Isaac does the same. He came down tonight, got himself a snack, plunked down on the couch across the room, and joined in on our conversation about the episode of "Lakefront Bargain Hunt" we were watching.

I could be annoyed over them not staying upstairs after they've been "put to bed" (in quotes because it feels weird to write about teenagers being "put to bed" like little ones). But I'm not. It feels like part of their ongoing march toward adulthood, so I'm glad to have them with us for those precious, unplanned moments spent discussing the virtues of living in the forest versus suburbia.

October 2

I was out running some errands this morning when I went into a store and saw this on the shelf:

A Lightning McQueen sun visor for my car.

I've mulled buying one for months now, and given how hot it was yesterday (and today), I decided to pull the proverbial trigger today.

I used it in the pick-up line this afternoon and was stunned by the difference it made.

I'm grateful that it kept the temp in my car down. And I'm also grateful that when I look at it, my sweet boy immediately comes to mind.

October 1

When I parked my car in the middle school pickup line this afternoon, it was a moderate 107 degrees outside. Over the course of the next half hour, it rose to a toasty 113.

It's true that I was sitting in full sunlight so the air itself probably wasn't quite that hot, but as I wandered around picking up the errant traffic cones that the office staff forgot to grab from the parking lot, I mused that it would be accurate to call the temp uncomfortable. Oppressive, even. Definitely hot with a capital H.

Although I'm not generally one to keep my engine running (even though I have a hybrid), I made an exception to my rule for obvious reasons. And that air conditioning felt really, really good.

So today I'm grateful for air conditioners. All of them. Because they have the power to make less than great situations much more palatable.