March 28

Adam and I decided that a major shopping trip was in order, so we braved Costco this morning.

The employees did a good job of gradually allowing customers inside the warehouse, but it was still strange to stand there in line outside under those cloudy, drizzly skies, trying to maintain a proper social distance. And it was strange to see the signs encouraging said distancing and the other sign that announced which hot-ticket items (toilet paper, anyone?) were in and out of stock at that moment.

Signs of the time, I suppose. Weird and uncomfortable, but I still feel blessed that we are well and still able to so to the store. And hoping that continues to be true.

March 27

Well, week one of remote learning is officially in the books and fortunately, it seems that none of us are any worse for the wear. Were there technical issues? Yes. Were there bickering matches? Yes. Were there moments of frustration for kids? Yes. Parents? Yes. But there was also this, which Adam received from one of Isaac's teachers this afternoon:

I never want to take too much credit for my kids' personalities since it was God who made them as they are and I'm just glad that I haven't marred his creation too much, but it's definitely a reminder that it's a blessing to be his (and their!) mom.

They're good young people, these kids of mine, and it's awfully nice when other people notice just how great they are.

March 26

When I came downstairs this morning, I found Isaac in the living room on his Chromebook and Brady in the family room on his computer. (Well, my computer. Details, details.) He was getting ready to begin a Google Classroom chat with his class when he suddenly realized he was still wearing his pajamas.

With just seconds to go before the conference was supposed to start, he scurried up the stairs to put on daytime clothes (as we call them) before returning in the nick of time to join his teacher and classmates.

I was truly impressed by how well his teacher handled the situation; although she had them mute their mics, each child got chances to speak and she patiently listened to every word they had to say. I know we're in the midst of an extremely challenging educational predicament, but so far so good. And for that, I'm grateful.

March 25

I lost my wedding and engagement rings a few weeks ago. I'm significantly thinner than I was 18 years ago, so I didn't notice when they fell off my finger one morning. Though I tore my house apart, crawled on my hands and knees at Walmart to look under shelves, went through the trash cans at Starbucks, and combed over the parking lots and my driveway, I was never able to find them. Although I was sad over the loss, my engagement ring was --fortunately-- insured, so I reminded myself that they were "stuff" and that it was okay. And I told Adam to feel free to pick out something new for me, since he selected my original bands. And then I went on with my ring-less life.

Fast forward to today. The doorbell rang this afternoon, and Adam literally thundered down the stairs to get it. Although he's not typically a big fan of answering the door, I didn't think much of his urgency at the time.

After he finished work, he announced that we were all going on a field trip and ushered us to his car. When I asked where we were going, he looked amused and told me it was a surprise and that it had something to do with the Fed Ex delivery. I had no idea what was going on and was --quite honestly-- annoyed over the whole thing, because I was hungry and in general, I'm not a big fan of not knowing what's going on.

Anyway, we pulled up to a local park, and after a beat, I realized what he had planned. Sure enough, we made our way to the bench where we got engaged on my 24th birthday, and he --with BearBear's help and as the kiddos and Lambie looked on-- shared sweet words and re-proposed with brand new rings. And yep, I said yes, with my no-makeup face and my Valentine's Day socks that once belonged to Abby and my partially-brushed hair. It was a far-cry from our original exchange 18-plus years ago, when he wore a suit and I had on a skirt and some lipstick, but this... this was lived-in real. And honestly, it was better. As were his heartfelt, unscripted words.

This life we've shared has featured some pretty horrible moments, but it's also featured some amazing blessings. So as I sit here this evening looking at my beautiful new blingy-bling, I'm thankful for him and for our kids and for our life --even the hard parts-- because they're all pieces of a wonderful existence.

March 24

Brady asked if we could play Super Scrabble after dinner tonight, so that's what we did.

It's weird not having physical school and baseball and dance and work (although all of said-activities are indeed taking place via Google Classroom, Zoom, and a slew of other creative means), but --as many others out there on the interwebs have noted, it is kind of nice to have the time together. And it's nice that the air outside smells and feels cleaner and that life is just... quieter. So for the respite from the usual Springtime crazy, I'm thankful.

March 23

My coffee cup this morning shared a vital message, so I'm passing it on to all of you:

I'm loved, you're loved, he's loved, she's loved... we're all loved. And that's a pretty big deal, since love --that self-sacrificial kind of affection that comes from the spirit and the soul and the heart all at once-- is the most important thing we can share with one another.

March 22

In many ways, my relationship with Kathy can be challenging. We have different needs and different understandings of what close, genuine friendship should look like, and those truths sometimes make communication hard. But I love her and I try because I think she is worth the work and the introspection.

I say all of that because though today was good and made my heart happy at times, it also featured more difficult moments. It began with late-morning coffee on the couch in her living room as a light snow fell --and briefly accumulated-- outside. I shared some truths that made me cry and she responded by coming closer and putting a hand on my knee which --given her need for personal space-- was no inconsequential gesture. And she said some words that were small but meant so much to me: When I lamented not having a sister of my own, she responded with 'you have me.'

We eschewed getting dressed and watched a movie --Mansfield Park this time-- while munching on handfuls of peanut butter M&Ms from the ginormous party-size bag I sent her via Amazon last week when I thought I'd be rescheduling this trip. And that was well and good. (And delicious.) But then the day took a left turn of sorts when a difference of opinion left me feeling sad and her feeling defensive; I started to retreat but instead parked myself on the bar stool in the kitchen so we could hash it out. Which we did, in a way, at least. It was far from a perfect exchange but I think a little understanding was gained. And then we took a walk around the neighborhood and remarked on housing styles and unusual front door colors and the like, and then we had Starbucks via Target and we drove around to see houses she'd once considered buying and did (another) drive-by of the house she is buying before we returned to her (current) home, where we ate a late dinner and then did face masks she bought at Target (which she promptly washed off because it hurt; mine, conversely, was all good. Another way that we're different).

And then we sat in her room and I brushed her hair and then she brushed mine and we talked in hushed tones about important things. And then we prayed together --because honestly that's one of my favorite things to do-- and I asked if I could put my head on her shoulder for five minutes (because it's what I needed and part of me thinks that maybe a very small part of her maybe kinda-sorta needed it, too, even if she didn't know it). And then once the five minutes ticked by, I was off to bed, and that's where I lie right now.

So what's my point here with this long, rambling message? Well, part of it is to refute the notion that only easy relationships with others who are just like us can be good ones. I've never thought that was true. It is true that I get frustrated and hurt sometimes because we don't see eye to eye, but I've also grown more in the past few years than I did in the entire decade before. There are lots of reasons why that's the case, but having her in my life is one of them. So today, I'm thankful for the good times and laughter and the ways she challenges me. And I'm thankful that we don't give up on each other --even when it's hard to keep taking those steps forward and giving up would be the easier path to take-- and that we keep pushing and pulling and bending and genuinely trying to understand and honor our differences.