January 7

I've said this before but it's still true so I'll repeat myself: I don't love change. I like to be comfortable and to know what's coming next. But I know that's not realistic --especially these days-- so I pray for flexibility. (A lot of it. And often.) And today I exercised that flexibility by trying something new at the Mother Ship.

I used some stars to buy a pistachio latte. (The verdict: very sweet. Not bad, but also not super pistachio-y.) 

I know that seems silly, but here's a truth: there's value in baby steps. Even the Bible says (and I'm heavily paraphrasing here) that we should be faithful in all ways, big and small. So if something small helps me to become more flexible over time, it's a blessing.

So today, I'm grateful for pistachio lattes.

January 6

 Very, very early this morning, I finished the cardigan sweater I'd been working on for a few weeks.

The last details were a bit tedious for me --seaming and then attaching the sleeves, weaving in the last of the loose ends and then discovering even more loose ends to take care of-- but once I'd finally tied off the final loop and slipped it over my shoulders, I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment.

I modified the pattern I was using to eliminate what I decided was a flaw in the original design (the backside had something of a bubble butt look that I didn't find particularly attractive), which meant modifying several elements, including the thickness of the collar and the sleeve length. 

So I was completely gratified that even though I'd been operating in a world of guesstimates (because believe me, even though I was using a tape measure, there were plenty of guesses involved), it wound up being a perfect fit. 

I'm not exactly overconfident (or even especially confident) as a norm, so it was a blessing to me to feel that sense of pride. And I'm thankful that God gave me the determination and tenacity (which is no small miracle given that I couldn't even turn my work five months ago) that I needed to help see the entire project through to its end.

January 5

These two crack me up sometimes.

I wandered into the kitchen in the minutes after dinner tonight to find them engaged in a conversation about a book I've never read. Adam was sitting on the center island and Abby was standing nearby, gesticulating as she often does when she speaks.

Then when Adam moved to the family room, Abby followed and plunked down on the couch next to him. I left the room at that point so I'm not sure what transpired after my departure, but I'm thankful for their relationship because it's a beautiful connection to have.

January 4

I woke up embarrassingly late today (and note that I said "today" and not "this morning") after going to bed embarrassingly early last night. (Or maybe I should say "this morning" there. Yeah.) And when I did get up, I didn't feel well at all. Dizzy, stomach ache, headache. So I spent most of the day lying low.

But at least I got to see a few rainbows. (Here's one of them. Squint at it and it'll show up. It's between the trees.) The morning (I'm guessing anyway) and early afternoon featured driving rain and high winds interspersed with brief appearances by the sun. And every time the sun came out, I hustled over to the window to look because I knew that each time, there had to be a rainbow somewhere.

Life is like that -- storms intermixed with sunshine and rainbows. So today, in spite of not feeling the best, I feel fortunate that I remembered to look for rainbows.

January 3

I was in our room crocheting and watching TV this afternoon when Adam came in, looked out the window, and noted that a bank of clouds had settled below the hills in the distance. To get a better look, we headed up to the deck in the yard.

I didn't stay up there long because it was a bit chilly, but the scene did make me remember an important truth. Sometimes, when we're in the thick of a storm and when troubles really press in on us, it can feel like there's no life beyond the clouds. 

But as this illustrates, there is. We just have to rise a bit higher --and maybe, in some cases, even just look up (and keep looking up and looking up and looking up...)-- to transcend our difficulties. 

January 2

I didn't watch tonight's impromptu Mario Kart tournament in the living room, but I did listen from our bedroom, where I was busily doing laps to hit my 10,000 steps for the day.

And what I heard made me chuckle. There was Abby noting that it's hard to play without her glasses because she couldn't see (although she'd apparently fetched them by the time I wandered by and took this pic). There was Isaac making random exclamations in his (still to me) oddly deep pre-teen voice. There was Adam complaining that someone had hit him with a mushroom. (And then another mushroom.) And there was Brady, just cackling. 

I'm not a video game person, but it's a blessing to see them all having a good time together.

January 1

And so another year begins.

It began slowly at our house, with the kids playing video games and me FaceTiming with Kristine and Adam working on the new hammock and the new firepit in the backyard. 

A little later in the day, after us grown-ups returned from a neighborhood stroll, I had a hankering for a Diet Coke so I headed off to Mickey D's. As I drove down the hill in Adam's pretty blue truck, I looked out at the sky ahead and it was... captivating.

It was so captivating that I pulled to the side of the street and took a picture so I'd remember the precise shades of blue and the arrangement of the clouds. In my mind, it almost looked like some sort of airborne superhighway to... who knows where. But somewhere indubitably amazing.

Anyhow, that's the great thing about brand new years like this one we've just begun: they're full of possibility. They're full of new roads to travel and new experiences to be had and new chances for personal growth. And they're full of the promise of something different and, better yet, better. 

So for as-yet unexplored paths that lie just beyond our visibility, I'm grateful.