July 7

I had a crappy evening. Without rehashing it all, it was partly my fault, partly not. I took a little shopping trip to try to defuse my frustrations, and it wound up being a Car night.

I guess it's pretty silly since I'll never again get to see Logan smile as he excitedly rips the packaging off brand new "Cars with faces," but as I've said before, I still collect them. I smile whenever I see a new one that's not in my collection; if I close my eyes and let my mind wander back in time, I can still see his eyes light up with grateful enthusiasm every time I gave him a new one while he was in the hospital.

I'm thankful to have those memories. And I'm thankful that something new can help to bring them to mind, and that this one time, the resellers who typically deplete the supply hadn't yet gotten a chance to do their thing.

July 6

Today was just a regular day. In the morning, we sat at home playing video games and watching TV. In the afternoon, we headed to the pool for the first of two weeks of daily swim lessons for the kiddos. While Isaac had his time in the pool, Abby read one of my old Baby-sitters Club books and I sat with Brady on the bleachers. At one point, he reached over and took my hand, and I pulled out my phone to take a picture.

When I showed him the image (because he always has to approve selfies after we take them), I noticed that he'd made the I Love You sign with both hands. Actually, he pointed it out to me before I even had the chance to notice. Logan was really big on making that sign for our comings and goings, and Brady has adopted the same habit -- even when we're not going anywhere at all.

Never can have too much love, I suppose. It's good to be reminded of that truth now and then.

July 5

I had one thing in mind when I took this photo, but in hindsight, there are two ways that this sight is a special one to me.

I initially snapped the image because it's where the first home we bought is located. We brought both Abby and Logan home to this house, and enjoyed many a day nestled within its walls, celebrating birthdays and holidays and, with far more frequency, regular old every-days that didn't hold any special meaning but continue to live on in my memory anyway. We didn't live there long; Abby was two-and-a-half and Logan a little less than eight months when we outgrew its small cozy confines and moved on to our current home. But this place will always mean a lot to me. No, more than a lot; far more than feeble words could ever adequately convey.

The unexpected aspect? Abby and Isaac walking along together, talking and getting along like friends.

Old, treasured memories melded with newer ones in the foreground. Gold and silver.

July 4

It doesn't seem like it's been a year since we first watched the fireworks from the top of the cemetery's highest point, but somehow, it has. We returned this evening to see them once again with Logan's freshly bathed and pajama'd siblings in tow. It wasn't the smoothest of evenings; Abby carried on in a fit of pre-teen drama from the way back seat and Isaac worried that the police would come and arrest us (or give us a ticket). Only Brady was in good spirits. But once we settled in and the peaceful, silent solitude of the experience enveloped us, the mood changed dramatically.

We gathered together, first on the bench we occupied one year ago and shortly thereafter just a few paces down the hill where Abby discovered a better spot for viewing, watching as one glittering display of magnificence after another exploded in the night sky.

As I silently stood and observed the show, I marveled over how amazing fireworks really are; over how remarkable it is that mere humans can create such creative and powerful art. I also marveled over what a blessing it is that we once again were able to watch them together, in a place we so often visit to remember and honor Logan, away from the partygoers who I'm sure were whooping and hollering in celebration below.

On holidays, it's important to us to be together but separate from the madding crowd, and I'm thankful to God for providing the opportunity.

July 3

It was but a stitch in time, but this evening I went into the kitchen. Adam had Bon Jovi playing on the sound system. A moment later, Brady came into the room and starting breakin' it down (albeit it with a little prompting from yours truly).

There's something utterly smile-jerking about seeing a four-year old strut his stuff to quality '80s music. It took me back five years to when it was Logan doing his thing on that very same patch of less-than-perfect linoleum with a similar sense of reckless abandon and of course, a similar smile.

Both the reality and the memory... both very good things indeed.

July 2

I woke up this morning feeling kind of down. Nothing's really wrong per se; I think the weight of the world's seemingly never-ending issues and troubles weighed heavily on my heart. I said some prayers for reassurance and peace. And then I forgot about the whole experience... until after the kids and I took a quick trip in the car this afternoon and this caught my eye from its position on the floor in the back seat.

It might be a little hard to read, but it was penned by Abby and it says "You are loved, do not be afraid."

I don't know why she wrote it; I don't know if it was part of a Sunday school lesson or if she was just doodling and those words came to mind. But it doesn't really matter, because that little piece of half-crumpled paper in my car was an answer to a prayer. I think that's pretty cool.

July 1

After a morning row over the computer and TV led to me ban use of all electronics for the day, my dose of monotony-busting came in the form of a quick trip to Target. While I checked out the shoe department, the kiddos flocked to the sizing chart (as they often to; there's something innately satisfying to them about finding out their correct shoe sizes).

Tired (and exasperated) though I was, it still made me smile to listen to them excitedly exclaiming "I think I'm a 4!" and "11! 11!"

We should all get excited about those little things, I think.