December 7

I'm probably inadvertently begging him to have a dramatic personality shift by writing this, but I feel like I should give credit --and thanks-- where it's due: Brady is one of the most patient kids I've ever known. He spiked a fever yesterday after school and I'm a big rule follower --it goes hand-in-hand with having had a critically ill child-- so I kept him home. I rescheduled a lunch date, but opted to keep my morning coffee meet-up. I took him along for the ride, set him up at his own table (in the virtually empty Starbucks, which was a miracle in and of itself given how busy it usually is on Thursdays), and sat down at the next table over with my friend for some long overdue chat time.

I gave him a notebook, crayons, two Hot Wheels cars, a donut, a vanilla yogurt, and a cup of ice water, and he sat there quietly amusing himself for two hours. He interrupted us maybe twice to ask how much longer we planned to talk, and when I replied, he just nodded and went back to his table without another word. And he's six.

His patient perseverance has always been --and continues to be-- a giant and most definitely undeserved blessing.

December 6

Every now and then, when I'm receptive, I can feel God trying to get my attention. And that's just what happened this chilly evening. (The image doesn't have a lot to do with what's to come, though it is a representation of finding comfort where we can and Brady asked me to take it, so it's good enough. And it's also the only one I took today.)

Adam is out of town, so before I took Abby to her 7 PM dance class, she and I and the Little Boys swung through the McDonald's drive thru. As I rounded the corner to enter the parking lot, I saw a homeless man pushing a shopping cart along the side of the road. Even after I'd parked the car and started to eat, I was peripherally aware of him as he walked slowly through the lot and toward nearby storefronts. I felt pressed to approach him, but I tried to ignore it; after all --and this is me being painfully honest here-- homeless people tend to make me really uncomfortable. And I had the kids with me, and it was dark... my mind built an impressive 'why to ignore God' checklist, and for a while, I did just that.

As I went to leave, I took the long way around the lot and saw him digging through a trash can at the gas station next door. That sight did it, and on an impulse, I made a u-turn, drove up next to him, rolled down my window, and asked if he'd like me to buy him some food. He looked surprised and accepted the offer, so I parked, told Abby to watch the boys for a minute, and we walked into the convenience store together. He considered the display of sandwiches for a minute before finally choosing a modestly sized one; just plain old turkey and cheese. I paid, and then handed him the sandwich and part of my change as we headed back outside. He looked surprised and replied with three words that went straight to my heart: I love ya!.

I'd never seen that man before and I'll probably never see him again, but that's what Jesus is all about, right? Loving everyone, even --no, especially-- the ones society considers to be undesirable or so deeply flawed that they're unworthy of love. But this guy, even in his unenviable position, hit the nail on the head with his response.

The whole interaction came to pass not because I'm some awesome person (and please, please don't think that's my aim here because it absotively, posolutely is not the case), but because God spoke to me and --after waffling-- I got over myself and listened. So next time God speaks to you, be sure to listen, because you never know how He'll surprise you with whatever He has up His sleeve.

December 5

I needed a Hello Kitty toothbrush for a gift I'm putting together, so I hit the dollar store to see if they happened to have one in stock. (They did!) As I checked out, my casual conversation with the cashier took a rather unexpected turn.

(So yeah, these are Christmas cookies from the cookie party last week and they don't have a lot to do with where I'm going here, but that's okay. They're still Christmas-y and that's what matters.)

She asked how I was and I gave one of my usual responses --either 'eh, I'm still here' or 'still breathing!' or the like-- and then I asked how she was doing. And the girl got real very quickly. She shared that she's okay but doesn't really like the holiday season because she doesn't get along well with her parents, and her other relatives and friends aren't local. She then said she'd had a hard time finding a Catholic church but felt like she wanted to attend a service for Christmas.

I smiled and told her that when it comes to Christmas, Jesus is what we're celebrating whether we're Catholic or Protestant, and I suggested she try any church. She seemed hesitant and said her parents would be upset with her for visiting a non-Catholic church, but I smiled and assured her, again, that connecting with other people --any other people-- to celebrate Jesus' birth is what really matters. It's what's in your heart, not where you go. She looked teary-eyed by hopeful as she replied "really? You think so?" and I said "definitely." I wish I'd had more time to connect with her because I sensed a profound sense of loneliness, but just then a woman appeared in line behind me and I had to scoot so she could get back to work.

But I'll definitely be praying for her, and I'm thankful for the reminder to be perpetually sensitive because there are lonely people all around me who need kind words and encouragement sent their way.

December 4

First off, a big happy birthday to my big brother Bobby! He's not a Facebooker and probably has no idea this blog exists, but I figure I'll say it anyway.

Now onto my usual business. As so often happens, I only took one photo today, and it was a completely random one that I snapped just because of the mood it emanates:

I was on my way upstairs this evening when I looked over into the living room. I always appreciate the glow of the Christmas tree, but the glow of the TV as the Little Boys played a video game gave it a slightly different look. And it made me think a bit. A few weeks ago, even before we got the tree, this room had a different look: we previously had a couch where the TV is, and the TV was over in the far right-hand corner. I'm not generally a big fan of change, but while I admired the scene tonight, I couldn't help but think about how change is both inevitable and necessary. And given that this scene is still lovely, the different layout isn't such a bad thing at all.

December 3

We decorated our Christmas tree today. It's been up and illuminated for over a week but until now, the desire to drag the boxes in from the garage --and down from our room-- had eluded both of us.

Honestly, trimming the tree is always a little bit bittersweet for me. I have this distinct memory of Logan --exhausted from treatment-- performing a lovely, lyrical dance in front of the tree for just a few moments as the other kids worked to decorate. It wound up being one of his final dances since he lost the ability to walk just a few weeks later. So yes. It's bittersweet.

But still, I enjoyed watching Abby, Isaac, and Brady rooting through boxes and finding the ones they each wanted to hang: the homemade photo frames featuring their sweet preschool faces, the Cars characters, the fun ones that play music or light up. And though it's easy to be sad, I had to smile a bit when I looked at this image after I took it and realized that Logan is indeed in it, front and center, in one of those old preschool photo frames.

December 2

I didn't get home til nearly midnight last night and then had trouble dialing myself back down when I did, so morning came much sooner than I might have liked. Still, I got up and headed over to watch Isaac's baseball evaluations with Adam and Brady anyway.

It was a rather lengthy process, but the weather was lovely, he did just fine, and I had the opportunity catch up a bit with some friends I don't see particularly often.

And then once it was all said and done, the Little Boys and I waited around while Adam helped hand out numbers to the boys who'd arrived to try out for AAA ball. At one point, Isaac looked down at Brady and just smiled, and the gesture made my heart happy. They definitely fight like bulldogs at times, but I know there's a boatload of genuine love underneath the occasionally rough outer layer of the relationship.

December 1

My friend Valerie held her third annual cookie exchange party tonight and it was --as it always is-- awesome. She had an amazing spread of delicious appetizers, cider, and even a hot chocolate bar complete with a wide array of toppings and syrups. And, of course, a lot of cookies. (Seriously, she thinks of everything and then thinks some more.)

I always look forward to this party and for good reason: it's a fabulous time of eating and laughing with friends, some who I see routinely, and others who I see only every now and then.

So for the opportunity to laugh so hard my lungs ached (more than once) and for silly conversations and for the gift of fellowship with friends, I'm so very grateful.