April 4

It was a day filled with blessings.

The final school bell of the day ushered in Spring Break.

Brady and his friend Jackson rode their bikes to McDonalds for Big Macs (the Minecraft adult happy meal, to be precise) and then rode over to the high school to watch Isaac's game. It was Brady's first time doing both things, and though I was nervous over the idea of him riding in traffic, it went just fine.

Isaac smacked a beautiful double to center field during said-game.

And we enjoyed a post-game dinner out with Adam's parents, who attended the game. Their birthdays were yesterday (mom) and this coming Monday (dad) so it was sweet to be able to celebrate them.

So yes, today was filled with blessings. And I am thankful for each of them.

April 3

I am overwhelmed. 

And these days when I feel overwhelmed, I crochet. So for several hours today, I furiously worked my hook through the yarn as if the speed of my hands could somehow grant me faster understanding of things that make no sense, thereby alleviating the unpleasant sensation of being overwhelmed.

But that didn't happen, of course, because some things that happen in our very human realm don't make sense.

And this most definitely does not make sense: Our church family suffered the loss of one of our own a few days ago in horribly tragic fashion. Hers was a lovely life taken far too soon by someone she should've been able to trust. It's awful and heartbreaking. And for me, unexpectedly triggering.

When I heard the news, I was transported back in time more than 30 years to my middle school days, when the mom of a friend of ours who lived just three houses down was shot and killed by our friend's stepfather. The sharpness of the violence was surreal and I remember literally collapsing when I got home from school that cold February day and another neighbor told me what had happened. About the SWAT team and how our other neighbor had helped to drag her injured body into his yard. That no, she wasn't okay. That she was dead. Just... gone. That day changed me.

I remember being deeply affected; I wore all black to school the following day and a cloud of grief hung over me for weeks like a wool coat. Eventually, I dealt with it by not thinking about it anymore. I put the memories in a box, sealed it, shelved it, and moved on. 

Until this week. Thirty-some years later and a similar tragedy broke the seal on those memories and uneasy feelings, and I wasn't ready for it. I'm tempted to do what I did before and just stow the awfulness away in that old box, but that doesn't seem right, because now, as an adult with significantly more life experience under my belt, I understand more about life and death. And more importantly, I know more about God. I know that God weeps when we weep; I know that it grieves His heart when we use our free will to make choices that leave others with painful scars. I know that He wants the best for us but that He will never force us to make choices that will lead to those best lives because He wants us to feel the depth of His love and choose Him.

Yes, I know that He is good, even when I don't understand and when it makes no sense, just like I knew He was good even after Logan died. And I know that He comforts us when we weep and brings solace when we ask Him to be near. And that's a heartening, encouraging truth.

So tonight, I am grateful for the peace that He brings that will --eventually-- settle my overwhelmed feelings. And I am grateful for His goodness, even when this world makes no sense.

April 2

This week I've been dealing with either allergies or an especially nasty cold --the jury's still out on which it is-- so I feel kind of like I'm walking around underwater, if that makes sense. But there were still things to be done, including Brady's little league make-up photo day and an away game for Isaac.

Playing at Granada is always an experience because their kids are, for the most part, really-really good. And, as Isaac mused on the way home after said-game today, they really-really love baseball.

But the final score notwithstanding, it was a good showing for Isaac, who singled during one of his at-bats and had a huge catch on the right field warning track that ended an inning and prevented several additional runs from crossing the plate. And I could hear him out there in right field throughout the game, too, offering up encouraging words to his teammates.

And best of all, he was chipper on the way home and then during and after dinner, too. Seeing that extra spring in his step is a blessing.

April 1

When Adam and I went to dinner tonight, we were seated in an area that's often forgotten by servers (as we knew from previous experience).

As we waited (and waited), Adam assumed this pose. He froze just like this --smiling at and making eye contact with everyone who passed by-- until our waiter finally appeared.

He can be such a goofball at times. It was one of the (many) things I liked about him when we were young. We don't have nearly as many lighthearted, silly moments as we did back then --mostly because we're busier and older and have more responsibilities than we did as teenagers and twentysomethings-- but I'm always thankful for the moments when they come.