February 28

It was a game day --opening game day-- so I picked up Isaac at 1:30 and we drove out to Tracy.

I could talk about the game here, but honestly, the best part of the day was that ride. He was in a good mood when he got out to the car, and he chattered on and off the whole time we were on the road as he changed his pants (super impressively done, really) and munched on his chicken sandwich from Mickey D's. He seemed enthusiastic and happy, which is always so, so good to see.

So for that not-small blessing, I am thankful, because peaceful, enjoyable car rides with teenagers are never guaranteed. And because it's always good to see this sweet, thoughtful boy of mine feeling content.

February 27

I've spent quite a bit of time working on this of late.

The complexity of the pattern has held my attention better than most of my projects typically do, so I've kept going. And going and going: at the Mother Ship, while watching TV, in the car waiting for Brady to finish with school or practice.

It's rewarding and gratifying to see the progress, and I am grateful to God for the talent He's given me to create.

February 26

During dinner last night I offhandedly mentioned to Adam that I don't do many coffee dates these days. At one point in my life, they were regular occurrences, but lately, not so much. He pointed out that I have my Starbucks people but I said that didn't really count, since our meet-ups are (almost) never planned (except Terry); we either go or we don't. 

Truthfully, my realization made me kind of sad. 

But then this morning, as I stood at the register waiting for my coffee to brew, one of the monosyllabic older guys (as I call the crew of four that holds court at the same table at the Mother Ship each day) came up behind me and noted that I hadn't been around much last week. Yes, it'd been a busy one, I replied. 

And then as I headed back to my chair a moment later, I realized what had happened: I'd been acknowledged. And I needed that acknowledgement that people actually do notice mt comings and goings. And God made it happen.

February 25

I woke up early this morning and sneezed a few hundred times, so I was pretty tired by the time I got back from running my morning errands.

So I dealt with it by taking a nap in my spot in the family room, and felt decidedly better (and less sneezy) by the time I got up to retrieve Brady from school.

I know that not everyone has the flexibility to just lie low when they're feeling tired or under the weather, so I feel blessed that I do.

February 24

I took a walk while I waited for Brady to get out of school this afternoon. And while I strolled, it was impossible to not notice the sky.

And it made me think.

Human life is multi-dimensional. We experience high-highs and low-lows and everything in between, just like this sky shot with all its variability of light and shade.

And, like this sky shot, it's beautiful in its complexity. And I'm thankful for that truth.

February 23

Brady had his first start of the spring season this afternoon. 

Overall, he pitched well. Adam remarked that he seemed to be throwing harder than last year, and his control was, save one hit batter, solid. He threw three good innings, getting out of a jam along the way, and then started the fourth. And then a defensive meltdown struck that resulted in several runs scoring and him being relieved of the ball (although he never lost control -- I think the coach was probably more concerned that he might eventually lose control and wanted to nip it in the bud).

In the end, they lost the game by a final score of 2-5. (But the team that beat them went on to win the tournament 9-3, so there's that!)

I felt badly for Brady because it seems like he often falls victim to defensive meltdowns, but he handled it really well, and was in a decent mood during the drive home, which was a huge and unexpected blessing.

I'm grateful for his resilience. And I'm grateful that there are more games to come, too, which will no doubt provide more opportunities to practice being both gracious losers and gracious winners.

February 22

It was back to the ballpark for us today to begin the Spring season of play. And by day's end, the TVBR 14s had notched two wins and (hopefully) a good seeding for their next game tomorrow.

It was a beautiful day in Sunnyvale and we didn't need to be there until 1PM, which was awesome since most tournaments have us leaving the house by 7AM. 

Over both games, Brady went 1 for 4 with two walks. The team was a bit rusty defensively, but like I mentioned, they still played well enough to come out with two wins: the first 5-3, the second 10-5.

It was such a blessing to watch them play again. And it was a blessing to reconnect with the other parents, who we hadn't seen since the Fall season. I'm cognizant that this is a brief season in my life, and I am grateful for it, win, lose, or draw.

February 21

Nikki and I took a walk around the mall this morning. During our stroll, I mentioned that Abby has a special affection for Croffles (which is a croissant and waffle hybrid, for the uninitiated), so when we walked by the Croffle shop, she said "oh, you have to take a picture and send it to Abby." So we did just that.

It's a hilarious photo but it goes deeper than that for me, because the croffley-angel wings made me think about faith. (I know that sounds weird. Hang with me for a sec.) 

Lots of non-Christians have this impression that as a Christian, I think I'm perfect. (Or maybe just a better person. I don't need to get too terribly specific because I'm not inside anyone else's head but believe me when I say that I've had personal encounters with a few folks who definitely made this kind of assumption about me.) The entirely unsurprising reality is that I'm definitely not perfect. And I definitely don't intend to walk around with a holier than thou attitude, because I know I'm not holier than anyone. In fact, some days I actually suck at being kind and patient, and I fully own my own shortcomings. 

So what I do realize, as a Christian, is that I cannot do it all myself and that I will never do everything perfectly in this life, no matter how hard I try. That would be a depressing end-game reality, but as a Christian, I also realize that it's okay that I can't do it all. And I realize that I'm not expected to do it all, because Jesus did it for me. And for you, if you accept it. All you have to do is believe that it's true and bam, it'll change your life in ways you'd never expect.

And that may well be the best news that's ever arisen from a photo of a person with Croffle wings.

February 20

We had another "last first" today at our house as Brady visited the orthodontist (who is really just our dentist but, well, distinctions help and all) and got braces.

Abby had them for several years in high school (as what I assume was excessive pacifier use wreaked havoc on her toofers' alignment) and Isaac still has his now (although hopefully, prayerfully, not for much longer because he's pretty tired of them). They both now have lovely smiles to show for the discomfort, so my hope is that Brady will have the same outcome in a few years' time.

So today I'm grateful that we can afford to shell out the big bucks to have his grin fixed. And I'm thankful that he has a good attitude about the whole thing, because Heaven knows that positivity is not always a guarantee with teenagers.

(And another tangentially related blessing? I realized that I'd lost my rather pricey Oura ring --it's a health tracker that I got for my birthday last month-- when I got home from the dentist and taking Brady to school and Starbucks. After I panicked for a minute, I scoured the house and the car and no ring. Then I went back to Starbucks, where I asked if someone had turned it in (nope) and then scoured the trash cans, meaning I felt the bottoms to see if I could make out a ring inside. No dice there, either. Then I went to the dentist's office, and the second I walked inside and asked if someone had found a rather large silver ring, the receptionist's eyes widened in recognition and exclaimed "yes!" and then pulled it out of a drawer. I'd prayed that I'd be able to find it, and I was so thankful that God answered my request as He did.)

February 19

Sometimes I pretend that I'm not a schedule person; that I like to be adventurous and veer off-course because the notion of being free like that seems so cool. But then I remember how much deep satisfaction I get from routines and realize that I am, indeed, a schedule person.

Take today, for example. Right now, Brady has practice on Wednesday afternoons shortly after school. The season is still young, but I've already become accustomed to my routine of driving him over to the facility, dropping him off, hitting Wendy's for a Diet Cherry (or Orange... I DO like to mix that one up a bit) Vanilla Coke, strolling through Target, and then returning to the parking lot at the facility. I spend the rest of my time alternately watching him throw (when I can actually see him; usually I cannot) and working on my crochet work-in-progress.

It's such a relaxing and comforting experience that it's almost ridiculous. But it's also a blessing, so I will happily embrace the schedule and enjoy it while I can.

February 18

Adam and I decided a number of years ago that we'd choose a date other than February 14 to have our Valentine's Day dinners. (Too many people out and all that.) Since the brositos had Youth Group this evening, this year's outing took place tonight.

So we dropped them (and Jackson) off and headed downtown to Haps, where we enjoyed way too much good food. We also talked about the kids and his job, and we even took a stroll down memory lane when, for reasons I can't quite remember right now, he recalled a night during our college days when we drove to the beach with some good friends. We both remembered that our friend David brought along a cake that wound up falling victim to the ocean, but we didn't remember the whys. Despite the holes in the story, we laughed over the fragmented memory. And on a whim (and probably thanks to the effects of my glass of champagne), I texted said-friend for details (which he later provided, which was pretty cool since we hadn't talked with him in years).

It's a good life with my hunny, and I am grateful for the years we've shared.

February 17

Since the boys didn't have school today and Brady was a bit under the weather, he opted out of baseball practice and hung around the house all day long.

At one point late this morning, after I'd returned with his Starbucks order (which I honored since he rarely asks for anything), he decided to get out his Geometry book so he could get ahead on homework.

I said a few days ago that I'm proud of Isaac for prioritizing his studies, and I'm proud of Brady for the same reason. It's a blessing to have access to good education, and a bigger one to be invested in making something come of that education.

February 16

This is actually an interaction I had with a friend yesterday, but it kept coming to mind today, so I figured I'd share it now.

I got a text from said-friend earlier this weekend. She was struggling with the second anniversary of the loss of her sister, and was looking for support and validation of her feelings. I quickly responded with affirmation, but felt like I needed to do more. So on a whim, I looked up my blog entry from the second anniversary of Logan's passing, and I was surprised by what I read.

In short, my experience was virtually the same as what she'd described to me in her initial text. So I copied the entry and sent it on to her as further proof that her emotions are hard but normal.

I know that me looking back at my old entry in an attempt to relate to and support my friend was entirely God. And I am so thankful that He prompted me to act, because supporting those we care for is a blessing to both the care-e and the care-r. And it's also a big blessing to ME to know that my personal pain wasn't pointless.

February 15

I'm thoroughly enjoying working on this piece.

It's grown quite a bit since the first time I posted about it a week and a half ago, and although I tend to get bored easily, it's holding my attention (probably thanks to the dire necessity of counting every single stitch and the color changes).

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I truly enjoy and feel energized by the creative process. And I am grateful for that gift.

February 14

I went to the Ladies' Valentine's Day Tea at church this morning. During a lull in the conversation, I raided a little glass container of Conversation Hearts that rested within arm's reach on the table. I shifted the contents until a single candy of the only flavor I like --wintergreen-- jiggled to the top of the heap. 

After I plucked it from the jar I flipped it over in the palm of my hand to see the message, which read "BFF."

I took this photo and started to send it to Abby, who --thanks to a meme I saw a few years back that struck a chord with me-- I sometimes refer to as my broke little best friend who thinks I'm rich. Then I considered sending it to Adam. And then I mulled sending it to my entire family, because the reality is that they're all my dear friends and I love them all so very much.

I may not have a huge group of friends these days, but I'm so blessed to be able to call my family --my people-- my best friends. And I'm grateful that there's a day set aside to celebrate love, because it's the most powerful difference-maker in the world.

February 13

It was a rainy, blustery day.

I don't particularly enjoy driving in the rain, but I had a few errands to run after I dropped Brady off at school so I took care of those before turning the car back toward home.

As I navigated out of the grocery store parking lot, I noticed the vibrant colors of a rainbow against the gray sky, and when I got to a red light, I tried to take a picture. 

Another rainbow, another reminder that God makes and keeps His promises. And that's very good news.

February 12

When I was younger, I was definitely one to panic when circumstances forced changes to my carefully constructed plans.

For example, had Younger Me walked up to my Starbucks this morning and found a "closed due to electrical issues" sign on the door, I would've responded with a mix of panic and frustration. I probably would've become irritable and honestly, it's very possible that that one tiny inconvenience would've ruined my morning.

However, Current Me handled the situation outlined above easily: I shrugged, told Brady we'd go to one over by his school instead, and drove off without another thought. And let me tell you, the no-stress response is so much easier on me than the previously hard-wired high-stress variation.

I know that it's only by the grace of God that my temperament and reactions have changed for the better over time. And I am grateful for that measurable personal growth.

February 11

Thirteen years ago today while resting in my arms, Logan took his final earthly breath and his first in Heaven. I still remember how it felt to realize that he was gone after his tiny, battered body shuttered with one last inhalation. 

The complexion of this day has changed over the past 13 years. It started out as impossibly, impenetrably black, so dark that I wasn't sure that light could ever pierce its thick, intense mantle. Those were the early years when I dreaded February 11 and wished I could just skip directly from the 10th to the 12th. 

Then after a few years it transitioned to a mottled green and blue-gray; green for jealousy of others who got the miracle for which we so fervently prayed, blue-gray for sadness. But a muted sadness that felt less hopeless and pervasive and more chronic; it was a lingering, melancholic state. But I gradually began to see that there was still room for joy, even if I was unable to feel it.

And now... well, I'm not sure what color it is, because none of those shades fit the bill anymore. Maybe it's reddish-yellow for his hair or that magical shade of bright blue that matched his eyes. I'm not angry or depressed or envious. Sad, yes. I wouldn't be fully human if I weren't still sad and reflective over losing my five and a half year old son to the beast that is cancer. But I'm not stuck in grief: I'm living. 

So today we remembered Logan by living. Adam took the day off and shuttled Brady to school for me. Then we had some quiet time at home, just talking in low tones in the family room before we took a walk around the neighborhood. A little later, we left to give blood as we do each year and enjoyed lunch at the Cheesesteak Shop (because Adam wanted red meat). Then this evening, while the boys went to Youth Group, we went to Costco and had that cheesy pizza that Logan loved so much for dinner. 

It was, all in all, a low-key day of remembrance. And after having the entire day to reflect on my time with that booty-shaking kid with the incandescent smile whose existence fed my soul with so much light, the bottom line is that it still doesn't make sense to me. I still don't understand why he's not here; why he's not growing up alongside his siblings and why I don't get to see him become a man. But I believe that God has a plan for us and that we will see Logan again. And I am grateful for --and cling to-- that truth. Even on the hard days.

February 10

I'm really proud of Isaac.

I was proud of him on Saturday when he headed over to the Sports Park to help with Little League New Player Day. I was proud of him on Sunday when he went to church early to assist with the little kids.

And I've been proud of how he's dedicated himself to getting his school work done. He was up late last night working at the dining room table and he's still up now at 10:45 PM. (I'd suggest he go up to bed but he's pretty dialed in.)

He's a good kid. And a big blessing. And I am grateful for who he is.

February 9

Our church is in the early stages of helping another church to launch. This morning, we got to hear from the new church's leader during our service.

I've actually been acquainted with Pastor Ai-Ling for a few months now since I'm on the Elders Board and we've spent time discerning whether or not we should move forward with the arrangement, so I've already seen and felt her passion for intergenerational ministry and for spreading the Gospel.

And her message this morning was so good and so encouraging. Like her, I marvel over how our church was looking for ways to reach our community just as she was looking for a partner for hers. 

If God blesses our partnership in the months and years to come, the result will be so beautiful. And I am grateful for that possibility.

February 8

I like it when my kids have their friends over. It doesn't happen often at all, but when it does, it just makes me smile to see them interact. It gives me a glimpse into a different part of them that I don't often get to see.

So I rather enjoyed it when, after Brady went on a bike ride, he and Jackson thundered up the stairs from the garage and into the kitchen. And then, after milling about for a few minutes, Brady announced that he wanted to make pancakes. Some low-level drama bubbled up as he realized we didn't have the necessary amount of Bisquick to proceed, but I lickety-split Googled a scratch-recipe, and all was well again.

Adam and I didn't stick around to watch the cooking in action (because we went for a walk on what was finally a nice day outside), but the idea of them in the kitchen getting something done together warmed my heart. 

God didn't create us to live alone, so friendship is a huge blessing. And I'm glad that my kiddos have some good ones to enjoy.

February 7

The weather couldn't decide if it wanted to be sunny, cloudy or rainy today, so it sort of cycled through all three options as the hours progressed.

By mid to late afternoon --after school pick-up but before Isaac rolled in-- the sky looked like this. A bit chaotic with the patchy, erratic dark and light, but also striking and beautiful.

And like this life we all live, a bit chaotic. But --once again-- beautiful nonetheless. And I am thankful for the beauty around me -- even the kind that comes and goes.

February 6

It was another rainy (and currently extremely windy) day 'round these parts, but the mood inside the Mother Ship was sunnier than usual this morning.

When I went in, the baristas I encountered --who I know fairly well at this point-- were unusually jovial. They were just little comments and smiles and an accidentally opened apple croissant that came my way for free, but the whole experience really lifted my mood.

It was a great reminder that being kind is effective and free, and can completely change someone else's --and your own!-- day for the better. So go be a blessing!

February 5

After all of the clouds and rain we've had this week, I was more than ready for some sun. And today delivered.

It was a gorgeous, blue-sky Wednesday. It was still cool out, but during my pre-Brady-pickup stroll around the school and my early-afternoon jaunt up and down our street, I soaked in the clarity of the air and the purity of that color. 

I am thankful for the way that the rain washes away impurities and leaves such loveliness in its wake. On days like this, it's a blessing to take those slow, reflective breaths.

February 4

Isaac texted a photo of a rainbow that arched over the sky at his school to the family group chat this morning.

I was in my preferred spot at the Mother Ship at the time so I whirled around to peer out the window. And then I saw it, too, and ducked outside for moment to snap a pic of its loveliness.

I love rainbows; I love the colors and how they represent a promise God made to us long, long ago. And I love that my kiddo decided to share the beauty he saw with the rest of us. All beauty is a blessing, but shared beauty glows with a bit of extra special sparkle.

February 3

After a few rain-driven cancellations, Brady had his first Juniors baseball practice today: his last first day of a little league season.

The truth of that last statement didn't really hit me until I'd been watching from the bleachers for a few minutes, but when it did, it got me right in the heart.

I've spent years watching my boys play little league baseball. And now, after all of those years and all of those wins and losses and championships and heartbreakers and friendships, we're down to the last few months of our collective family experience.

So despite the wind that mercilessly whipped my hair and sent its icy fingers up the back of my too-thin shirt, I sat there a little longer than I'd initially intended taking in the drills and the laughter. And during my eventual brisk walk back to the car, I felt a strong sense of gratitude for the gift that little league has been to us over the years. It hasn't always been perfect, but it's always been good.

February 2

I downloaded a new pattern Friday evening and began working on it yesterday.

As of this moment, this is how far I've gotten into the design. (Spoiler alert: it's pretty fine yarn, so "not very far at all.") I can handle fairly complicated instructions, but this one is proving to be particularly involved and I find myself repeatedly referring to the pattern for stitch-by-stitch guidance. So it's been very slow-going.

But I'm enjoying the process and the challenge. I'm not exactly someone who seeks difficult things to conquer and overcome so it's a blessing to have a visual reminder that challenges can sometimes yield not just palatable but pleasing results.

February 1

It was a lovely, quiet Saturday. 

I slept in and then rainy skies kept me inside for the duration of the day (save a quick run to the Mother Ship to use some stars that were on the verge of expiration). I crocheted and watched TV and got in my steps and worked on my crossword puzzle.

Restful, restorative days are a blessing, so I'm grateful to have experienced one as we begin a brand new month.