the new year... take 2{020}

We rang in the new decade celebrating the 20s with friends and strangers. We never go out to ring in the new year, but our favorite pub announced a Roaring Twenties party, and we immediately signed up. We dined at home, fancy around the table. Candles and twinkle lights made the clear glass baubles of the Candlewick glisten, and set the mood for our night. Then we were off to the pub for games and the count down. Our midnight kiss was sweet and full of promise... there will be lots to love in this new year.

 I've probably said it before, but I'm not much a New Year kind of girl. The late hour makes me sleepy, and the resolutions make me queasy... full of false hope and already set up for regret. What makes January the boss of fresh starts, anyway? But maybe... how we feel about the new year coming relates to how successful we were in the twelve months prior.

And my last year? It was focused and full of hard work.
From beginning to end, I was focused on my health and being active. I gained an accountability partner - who immediately seemed like a long lost sister. Together we have stayed on track and inspired each other to keep going. And I lost... a good amount of weight and regret. I even did things I have never done... like exercise vacation, and run a 5k {actually, two!} My confidence soared and knowing I can do hard things, has made me a little proud, and a little fearless.

So what do I wish for this new year? More.
More energy, more motivation, more pounds lost.
More creativity, less phone.
More life, more adventure.
More love, more gratitude... more kindness.

I am truly thankful for the gifts of 2019.

a dream come true... and so much more

This is one of my favorite pictures of me...

I am at my grandparents, in this sparkly, blue vinyl chair, talking to my Uncle Sonny who lived in Colorado. Even though I only met him a few times, he held a very special place in my heart - and because of that, I have always had the desire to travel to Colorado!

Well, today is the day.
We are getting on a plane, and heading west... and by tonight, I will have my arms around my girl. We are really proud of her and her bravery to step out in the world, time after time.  We are excited to see her in her new life, and we are looking forward to helping her do a little more exploring!

It's a bonus that Camden will be along - and Laura was thrilled to hear he is able to come. And so... just that makes this trip wonderful before we have even headed to the airport. I say it a lot, but it is one of my greatest gifts - the relationship between the two of them. These days, I know that to have the four of us together is a rare gift. One day soon, Cam will be offered a job, and he's likely to head off to parts unknown, much like his sister.

Cheers to my always favorite...four. Together.

the violets...

I was so excited to see Palisades-Kepler State Park in the spring, after our winter visit - and I had unfinished business. As we were leaving, I had spotted a foot bridge way down in a valley, and though we had already hiked a good measure, I really wanted to walk over that bridge. Eric looked at me and said I think we've pushed your lungs far enough, maybe next time. I probably pouted, but held it close to my heart, holding on to next time. {I had hoped that would be the next day but that next day, and the next, was a dreary, rain-filled, blustery day.}

But on this chill-in-the-air spring day, under a sky so blue, I was excited to find that trail with the foot bridge. Nothing was going to stop me! And then I saw the violets...

“My breathe would catch at the sight of violets-so common in the
woods at home, so surprising in the mountains. The violet's message was
"Keep up your courage, stay true to what you believe in." 

― Jessica Stern

Picking violets are one of my most vivid childhood memories. My cousin Jenny & I would sit in her front yard, which seemed a field of violets, creating bouquets of the sweet flowers. I'd then race home, through the sparse stretch of woods between her home and mine, to find a little cup of water to keep my precious bundles bright. I remember my Mom showing me how to arrange the heart-shaped leaves just so around the blooms, to create a ring of green, the perfect frame for the spring-time treasure.

On this day, the violets stopped me in my tracks.
They were so beautiful, and the memories flooded in to bring me right back to my childhood days. We don't have violets in Florida, and it was pure joy to find them. Pure joy! I couldn't resist plucking some of the sweet flowers into a bouquet... my soul was soaring! And when my parents pulled up to join us on our hike, I thrust my little bouquet through the car window, greeting my Mom with the sweet purple flowers of yesterday.

: :

Did we find the footbridge? Yes!

the beach rule

We've had a rule since they were pretty small - always bring extra clothes to the beach. It sounds silly, but there have been lots of evenings we'd go to just splash our feet, play in the sand and watch the sunset... not planning on a swim, because maybe it was too cold, or we just had 20 minutes. But we learned our lesson early on. Someone always ended up soaked from head to toe - either by chance or by desire. So it became a rule. No matter what, towels & a full change of clothes were part of the plan.

Until Cam's last night home in June.

A storm was rolling in at home, and we thought it might be storming at the beach... but on his last night, we took a chance. Twenty minutes of drive time can make a big difference, and it did. Perfect beach night weather, with not a storm cloud in sight.

We walked and wrote messages in the sand. We laughed at the coquinas at the edge of the surf. We talked, and we didn't. And then we waited for the sun to set... the whole reason we came on his last night home. As we stood in the shallow, waves lapping over our feet, he said... I kind of want to just swim. His shorts were half-way to soaked, and it didn't take him more than five minutes from to wanting to, to deciding he just needed to be in.

What can a mom do but smile? And remember that rule from a lifetime ago. A time when I was almost his whole world, when I could scoop his whole little self into my arms and just hold on.

There are days I'd go back to... try again, do better... savor.
But tonight I just laugh... and soak in this time, just us... hoping it will last until Christmas.


p.s...and when we were almost home, he asked did you grab my shoes? And so his favorite footwear spent the night on the beach. He was able to rescue them, with an hour to spare, before we had to leave for the airport!

how to plan an eagle court of honor...

He was a Cub Scout for five years, and earned his Arrow of Light, the highest honor in Cub Scouting. He climbed the ranks as a  Boy Scout from Tenderfoot to Life Scout, and then made the decision he was going to earn Eagle Scout.  Twelve years, and hours and hours of time and effort is something to make a big deal about.  A really big deal...

Step One:  Choose the date for the Court of Honor, and the venue, then check with all of your important people to see if it will work.  Hooray! Everyone said it was PERFECT!  Then, re-schedule it for the next day, because there is a chance your son will have to interview for a scholarship in a different state on the day you thought was perfect.  Now you can create your invitations.  After a disappointment at a certain drugstore that offered "premium paper" {thank you for not making me take these!} I created my own in photoshop, ordered from Mpix and was delighted!

front...

...back

Step Two: Start looking through pictures to find all of those adorable Cub Scout moments!  This of course, can turn into a huge job... especially if your pictures are on two different computers, several flash drives, and an external hard drive that may or may not have been dropped.  Oh, and then there are the years before I had a digital camera, but had the photos put on CD.  This might turn into the best time to organize all of your photos... or at least begin.  Once you find all of the pictures you thought were missing, you can try to finish the scrapbook you started ten years ago. Don't forget to put your absolute favorites in a different folder so you can make a power-point presentation that will make you cry your eyes out and wonder where the time has gone!  {Disclaimer- this step might have to be worked on through every other step of the process, until you finally decide it must be finished the night before the Court of Honor. And... your husband might gripe that he made everyone else turn in their completed presentations three days before the ceremony!} 

Step Three: Decide what you want to eat after the ceremony.  We decided to have a cake and punch reception, and thought about making the cake ourselves... until we had the super-fancy-and-delicious cake at another Eagle Scout ceremony!  We went to the bakery, Cam tasted some white chocolate mousse filling, and we asked the advice of the very experienced bakery how much cake should we order? We were very happy with their advice and and recommendations... and then we second guessed them and changed our order to include a larger cake.  I also ordered some very special, beautiful cookies that I just had to have.  As for punch, I didn't want red... so I tweaked our favorite lemon/lime refresher punch recipe to include strawberries and lemon sherbet.  You might have to change up the punch recipe in the grocery store when you discover that they don't sell lemon sherbet. And if you are just not sure how much to buy?  Throw a few extra bottles of lemon/lime soda... you might need it to wash down all of the leftover cake!

Step Four: Send away for letters of commendation.  There are Boy Scout sites that have lists of addresses- there are some you can even do online!  And you can even have a flag flown over the Capitol Building to honor your scout!  We took the note to go for quality over quantity, and chose to request from people that would mean something to Camden.  The president, George W. Bush, JK Rowling, Dale Jr.  It takes a while to get these, and Cam is actually still receiving some. You might even receive a letter that will take your breath away and have you keeping a secret for months...

Step Five: Write the ceremony. You can check out the Boy Scout sites again, and there are books, too, that have sample scripts.  Of course, don't forget Pinterest!  You can pick & choose, cut & paste and rewrite to your heart's desire. Some are flowery, others are very formal.  If your guests don't know as much about scouting as you think they should, choose some segments that will make it come alive for them.  Make it meaningful. And... if you have a way with words, be brave and write from your heart, then take a deep breath and decide to read the words in front of your family and friends. They may say they hate you afterwards, but it is probably only because your made them ruin their mascara.

Step Six: Plan your decor.  This step makes me giddy.  I had all kinds of pie-in-the-sky ideas {thanks to Pinterest, of course} and moms who had already had their ceremony offered me whatever they had left over.  But I am me, and I had my own ideas... which turned out to be very simple and easy. I wasn't trying to out-do anyone.  Glass vases, American Flags, clear plates, cups and forks with flag napkins for accent.  Fresh flowers from church.  Tablecloths I already had (plus a borrowed one or two.)  A few curtain sheers that somehow were arranged to look like the Eagle Award.  The only crafty things I made were two paper banners to decorate the fronts of tables, and one of those was re-purposed from Christmas.  But if you are still working on Step Two while you are figuring out Step Six, your son might have a few words for you.  He might say I think you are over-doing the pictures, in which case, you decide not to add a photo to the flag vases that will go on each table.

Step Seven (which is kind of a continuation of Step Six, and closely related to Step Two):  Put all of your memorabilia together so that it can be displayed.  His Cub Scout shirt and hats.  Pinewood Derby cars and trophies. Patches and awards.  There are some great examples of scout shadow boxes online (ahem, Pinterest) and if you can find all the pieces you are looking for in the first trip through the boxes on the top shelf of the closet, you might be able to replicate one.  Or... as you admire them online, you might find that the WEBELOS Compass with the earned points might be among the missing... along with the American Heritage Award, and Tiger Cub bead-y thing-y. You could still manage to make a beautiful shadow box, or you could just lay it all out on the table willy-nilly and give people the opportunity to be able to admire and pick up the patches and... see what they feel like?

Step Eight: Make a program. Or not. I did, but only because I like to know what is coming when I am sitting in the audience, and I wanted some of the scouts to have a job to do at the ceremony.  The truth is, most people won't keep the program... even though it has a really great picture of your son on the front.  I made ours in Publisher, and it didn't print exactly as I had planned... but I put those imperfect pieces at the bottom of the stack and moved on.  Done is better than perfect. And if my mother happens to get one of the icky ones?  She will still think it was beautiful... because it has a great picture of her grandson on the front.

Step Nine: Recruit help.  Friends and family will offer to help... say yes.  Write out a set-up plan (with sketches if need be!) and let them follow your instructions.  Recruit a few someones to cut the cake and maybe someone else would offer to mix the punch.  And if you are your family photographer, hire a high school student who has a nice camera and loves to take pictures.  I couldn't ask anyone to live this once-in-a-lifetime-moment through the camera!

Step Ten: Breathe. Tell your son how proud you are of him. Sit back and enjoy the day... even if that means wiping away the tears as his sweet little face slides by in the power-point and then again when his Scoutmaster recounts the years that brought him to this moment.  Bask in the glow... because anytime your child is shining, it also reflects on you. Smile, visit with your guests... and hope that no one asks for that punch recipe...

More Eagle festivities to come...

time not wasted

This has been sitting in my drafts for quite a while... and after spending most of the weekend in our pajamas (so thankful for time to rest!), I thought to scroll through and find it.  We are sorta no longer four, at least not within four walls... but maybe, just maybe, our girl was sitting her pajamas on a lazy Saturday morning, too...

The clock ticked past one... in the afternoon. Only one of us had made it from pajamas to actual clothes. The sun was shining for the first time in days, and there we were, stretched out in front of the TV.
But we were... together.
The four of us, within four walls.
And there was nothing else that seemed remotely important.
All we needed.
Right here, where we were.
And it was a good feeling.
A right feeling.
So, hello sunshine... keep on shining.

five minute friday...remember...

One year can fly... and still, be so near to my heart. I sent her a text filled with birthday wishes before the sun rose in the sky... and she replied quickly I am so thankful to be celebrating this day.  Many texts flew that day between us two... but that first one was most telling. And the one that made me full.

We celebrated ringside... at the hog show. There was no place else to be but the county fair, her favorite. Hugs and sweet gifts, and watching her son walk 'round the ring. I snapped photos but wondered if it was possible to capture all of that joy...

Today, before sunrise, I sent birthday prayers and wishes towards heaven.  Our friendship played before my eyes... too short, and yet... so much. Love. Grace. Laughter... and cheesecake.

Oh my dear, how I love you... and miss you...

departing from friday letters today... because the five minute prompt was made for my heart today...

the red boots

There was only one pair left on the shelf... red.
They were a size or three too big, but a cowboy needs boots when he's celebrating his birthday.
I knew he would love them, but there was so much I didn't know...

I didn't know he would wear them here and there and everywhere... and that the bit about a cowboy sleeping with his boots on might just be truth.
I didn't know that he would wear them far longer than five. Longer than six. A little of seven.
I didn't know that... the boots were two different sizes. Until he started growing into them, at seven.
I didn't even know that both boots were for the left foot.
But most of all... I didn't know how sad I would feel when I realized they were gone.
I really wish I had stowed them away for a rainy day...

be open

Our church building is becoming more magificent by the day... and as I watch it grow, my dreams grow alongside it.  And to walk through the Early Learning Center, that will be our mission, is to feel and know that God has so many more dreams to nourish.  Though the rooms are empty and the walls are blank, I can imagine the children who will laugh there... who will learn there... who will press their hands along the walls and mark it as Jesus has marked my own heart with His hands.  For a flash, I wish my kids were actually little again... but then the warm memories of their own preschool flood over me and I know that the Holy Spirit dwelled in that space, too.  And finding that space?  Oh... it was surely a gift straight from the Maker. 
Laura was signed up for a different pre-school.  All dressed up for the big first day, smile wide with nervous excitement and hands grasping a yellow beanie cat for courage, we arrived... and the doors were locked up, with no one in sight.  I never did find out what happened.  Home again, with plans dashed and one disappointed little girl, we started scouring the phone book... and of course, anywhere that we called was full with a waiting list.  There I sat, on the nubby green carpet with the yellow pages spread out before me... discouraged and as disappointed as she.  And then... this little memory of a little girl at a swim lesson snuck into my head.  She was signed up for preschool... and I seemed to recall her Mom saying there were only four kids in her class.  Four.  Certainly not full.  Fingers flew through the pages urging my brain to recall the name of that church... and finally, there it was.  I called... and was invited to head right over for a look.  I met Miss Sherry, and the rest was history.  Beautiful history, spanning two years each for my children and my nephew, one down and one to go for my niece... and all of the years in between.  A place to grow.And that little girl from swim class?  Charlotte.  Best friend of 14 years. 

Divine? 

I don't doubt it for a moment. 

It seems to be what he does best, if we let Him.

Beauty from ashes, success after many trials, trading joy for sorrow. 

Preschool learning is not just for the littles.  I am living proof.  From renewing my faith and beginning me on a true relationship with my Savior to simply being open to possibilities other than my own plans... the rewards and lessons are endless at an age, at every age. 

Be open. 

He has wonderful plans to carry out and dreams to nourish... some we haven't even thought to dream yet.

a field trip

I remember the giddy gasp of excitement that would filter through the classroom when it was announced that a permission slip would be going home. A permission slip meant… a field trip. It almost didn’t matter where we were going, the promise of a break in the ordinary was enough of a reason to celebrate. A field trip also meant a special lunch… Twinkies, or Hostess cupcakes, or the most decadent Suzy Q. My insides still quiver when I think about running my finger over the waxy paper, gathering the last bits of moist chocolate the Suzy Q had left behind. Of course, you couldn’t have a field trip lunch without something to wet your whistle. I would watch as my Mom wrapped that Orange Crush in foil before slipping it into my lunch bag… and I would feel special. Not out of the ordinary special, but the just like everyone else special that you think your soul needs to feel at seven and eight and nine.

Even though the destination was nothing compared to actual adventure of the field trip itself, I have saved memories of horse-shoe crabs on the beach, of the giant T-Rex at the Museum of Science, the Salem Witch Museum and Plymouth Plantation (although I would gladly banish the memories of the wax museum and getting wet in the crossing of the Mayflower!)

It seems today that field trips in school are far and few between, but when that permission slip does come home, you can bet that a special lunch is in order. And if I can, I chaperone… because I remember how much I loved sitting with my Mom on the bus on our way to anywhere. Twice a year, I have a field trip from work… and with giddy excitement, I scrawl the words on my calendar. It is always after lunch, and just down the road a few miles to hang an art show… but it is the break in the ordinary that I love.

Tomorrow, come on by and we’ll make a little field trip ourselves.  I have written my very first guest post, and you are invited. Sharon is celebrating a birthday and her two year blogiversary… at her very new bloggy home.
Don’t forget to wrap your drink in foil… I’ll bring the cupcakes.

6-2+2-1-1-1-1-1=1

You don't have to get hung up on math. 
It is the equation I need today... to remind me of my riches.  To have had six grandparents at any stage of my life, let alone two stages... is a blessing too big to fathom. 
I know that some people never even know one. 
But I didn't just have them, I knew them.  My life was impacted by theirs... and I have a storehouse of memories.  I am far beyond rich.  And as they have passed from this life to the promise of the next, I have cried and remembered... and fallen in love all over again. 

The call came last night... as we were on our way to celebrate a birthday.  I called my sister back from the car and we talked for less than five minutes.  I begged my husband not to tell anyone at the party.  I held it all in.  Until late last night, after I had finally spoken with my Dad.  My grandmother's passing was a blessing.  At 93 she was ready, perhaps past ready.  My swollen eyes attest to my sadness, but grief seems almost too strong a word.  Because she lived a full life that was decorated with friends and family... and the past years have not been as beautiful as one would hope for. 
But the ending? 
Oh, I hope it was lovely. 
I hope she was dreaming.  I hope memories danced before her eyes, and that my Grandpa was waiting just beyond them.  He was always known to be a grouch, so I'm sure he might have been slightly annoyed that it had taken her eleven years to find her way Home.  And I can just about hear her laughter as she brushed his scowl aside. 

Gently, knowing that tears are sure to follow, I let the memories resurface.  Hot oatmeal in her kitchen, and the bowl of ice cream that I stirred to melted soup... fluffy food.  Trips to the toy store... Barbies, Strawberry Shortcakes... and outfits too many to count.  Walks through Wheeler Park... all the way to the bench, passing the fallen down tree along the way.  Bingo at the hall... or in her living room.  Bedspreads that changed with the seasons.  Ravioli and soft biscotti.  Late night TV watched from the sofa bed, and the flash of her knitting needles, even in the dark.  Candy dishes... always full.  And that trip... when I was eight. 

These pieces of my life remind me how special, how important, a grandparent can be.  And I speak the words to the One who has them in His care... thank you.

a memory and more

I settled into my seat and flipped through the bulletin... seeking a glimpse of what God had in store for me this Sunday morning.  A hymn I love, one I don't, a scripture I had never read... and then the Gospel Lesson.  The beatitudes.  I could feel the sigh slink out, and then the smile that snuck up on my face.  The beatitudes are some of the first verses I ever read... not on thin almost-see-through pages, but on colored glass around the church that was my start. 

A girl of ten doesn't quite give her full attention to the speaker before her, and seeks distraction to fill the time.  Daydreamer that I have always been, my eyes would always flee to the window.  Church was no different... except that I focused on the window itself rather than what was just beyond it.  The colors and the swirling vines delighted me, and the words etched themselves within me.  And even though I didn't quite understand them, I felt like we were kindred spirits, those window-words and me.

Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kindgom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. 
-found in Matthew 5

Today, I find comfort in those words all over again, and with a lot more life behind me, the words stir my spirit and shed light on what is real, where my heart needs to be.  I know that my spirit must cling to God, because I need my Savior.  When my heart breaks over the world, it is in Him I can find comfort... peace.  And am I meek?  I have always believed so... and pictured my shy self peeking from my hiding place in the dark.  But His Light tells me meekness is humble patience... strength under control.  Strength not for my will, but for His purpose.  Maybe I need to take a step closer to meek.  And I am sure, at ten and twelve and twenty, I did not have an inkling about hungering or thirsting for God... but now, most days I crave Him.  I long to be more like Him, and show my little world less of me.  I yearn for the pureness that is Jesus.  And peace?  I yearn for that, too.  At every turn.

I am years and miles and so many states away from the church where I began... but the steeple that reaches into the sky, the sturdy wooden banister that rounds around the bell rope, the altar where I made promises for my life and the windows that declare me blessed will forever be... a part of me.

i have loved

I said it outloud for the first time yesterday.  My kids are fourteen and seventeen.  All of the preparation, all of the "they are going to be..." did not prepare me for the real thing, did not prepare my heart for the mix of loss and joy.  I'm not quite sure where the time has gone, I only know that I cannot get it back, except in the memories.  It might go without saying that the tears are rolling, even as I think about it again.

It happens in a blink, it happens in a flash
It happens in the time it took to look back
I try to hold on tight, but there's no stopping time
What is it I've done with my life?

When it's all said and done,
No one remembers how far we have run.
The only thing that matters is how we have loved.
I don't want to miss even just a second more of this.
-lyrics from Blink by Revive.

Oh, I have loved. 
I have loved with the most gentle whispers of butterfly kisses, and the fierceness only a mama knows. 
I have loved... and love still... forever and ever.

unsung heroes

She dresses carefully, indulges in one last spritz of perfume, and looks into the mirror with a critic's eye. 
Will he still think I am pretty? 
Will he still love me?
The answers come in the crush... his arms wrapped around her, after being away so long... tear-stained faces held in the others hands while eyes meet... home at last.  He pulls her close again, and spins her around... she, the unsung hero.

She, who put on a smile and waved goodbye, so many months ago... then wrapped her own arms around their children, making promises she doesn't have the power to keep.   She gives them everything she has... encouragement, energy, love... to fill the void until he comes home, and so often has nothing left for herself.

She is the one that holds a well of tears just behind her smile, that refuses your offer of taking the kids for a few hours... because to be alone is to have time to let the fears to slip in.  To have them away at school is far too long as it is... their touch, the only thing that is truly comforting.

She, who chooses the comfort of the couch over the lonliness of the bed that stretches into emptiness... that is far too quiet.  Unless she is lying across it weeping tears that make her wonder Can I ever stop?
 
She writes love letters and waits by the mailbox for one in return.  Her breath catches every time the phone rings... hoping that it might be him.  And when it is, she lets the untruths slip from her mouth... We are okay.  Everything is fine. 
 
She sits in the unknowing... waiting with hopes wrapped up in prayers, so proud of what he gives.  And she keeps wiping away tears, keeps trying to muster up a smile and an I'm doing just fine, keeps praying for her soldier... because it is her part.  She does what she does in service to her country... so he can serve his.  To make his job easier, to lift burdens from his heart.   It is the least she can do... and the most.

They are two, serving their country with honor and pride.
The soldier arrives home in glory... she is the unsung hero. 
And she would have it no other way...

this sentimental girl

Tucked away, safe in a miniature cedar chest... there are treasures from another life. Treasures that speak of the girl I was then, and the dreams she held for tomorrow. Golden graduation tassel, Class Day program, concert ticket stubs, a high school journalism award... and a ring.

She came home with the ring packet... excitement wrapped around her face, already putting her style to work on the pages of the catalog. These rings are not inexpensive... but we had already put her off one year. And a Mama's heart wants to give her everything she can. Delving deeper into the price list, I notice addd-ons galore... but I tell her to pick out her dream ring... and then we'd go from there, perhaps cutting off options to make it a bit more affordable. She smiles back agreeable, and I am thankful. The price is still a bit mind-boggling... and I wish I could tell her someday some beautiful man is going to bless her with another kind of ring, and this one will be tucked away, a treasure from another day. But I won't. Because that is not fair to a sixteen year old's fantasies.

After inquiring about a friend's idea, I found out that the company will recycle a gold class ring... for a fairly significant amount. So I dig into this box that contains memories and slide that gold over my finger one more time. I loved it then... and I kinda love it now. But I know... that the chances of me donning it every day, or ever again, are so slim. And wouldn't I give so much more than this to make her smile?

while you were sleeping

I peeked back, as we raced on forward, world whipping by at 75 miles an hour, and there you were... sound asleep. I was thankful your eyes had given up the scenery for rest... and couldn't resist dragging the camera from my purse. Sleeping boys make Mamas think. And dream. And remember.
The scar on your cheek, that has been there since day 2. I thought it would fade.  But it hasn't... not in four thousand nine hundred-something days.  And speaking of a million days... five thousand days ago?  I wasn't sure how I would love a boy... a son.  But from the instant I held you, I knew that God had taken care of all of those fears.  All those, and more.
While you were sleeping, my mind raced through the last few summers.  The days we've spent apart... the adventures you've experienced on your own... how much you have grown.  Oh, you have grown.  From stocky little boy to a stretched out young man... and with every inch your body has grown, so has my love. 
Four thousand nine hundred-something days later... and I wonder how I could have ever wondered how to love a boy... and I'm so thankful you've taught me things I never knew I never knew.

breakfast treat

She called them doughboys... my sister & I knew they were a treat. A treat that only our Gramma made for us... on Sunday mornings before church. We would sit in little chairs, watch Inspector Gadget... and munch on delicious balls of fried dough, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. I seem to recall that one of us liked to dip them in maple syrup... but I cannot remember which one of us needed that extra shot of sweet. Probably me.

This morning, the first morning of summer... I find myself with one more loaf of bread dough and a fryer still full of oil (from Sunday's beignets). What to do? I prepare this same sweet treat for my kids. And I share the story once again... with them... passing it on. And when we ran out of cinnamon?  We made them New Orleans style.

Did I tell you we were going to New Orleans this summer?

today, yesterday and tomorrow

It was Confirmation Sunday yesterday. I love the celebration of it... and enjoyed being witness to the three young people making their commitment to their faith. Each of them took part in the service in their own way, which seemed to make their commitment a bit more.
As the confirmands received Communion for the first time, the choir sang... Every Day is a Gift from the Lord. The same song Laura had sung as her part of her Confirmation service three years ago. Nearing the end of the song, my daughter stepped out from her row and sang her solo. Through tears in my eyes, I thanked God again for the gift of her song, and for the courage He places in her heart. It was a very sweet reminder of yesterday.
When it was time for me to receive Communion, Camden was by my side, and Pastor placed his hand on Cam's head, looked into his eyes, and told him Next year this will be you being confirmed. Jesus loves you now and always. And there was my peek at tomorrow... and the promise it holds.

tradition... and my hero

As my kids are winding up their school year (not quite quick enough for me!) and bringing home interim reports that have my eyes seeing ABBABABABABBA... I think back to when they were so small... and all that mattered was how they behaved, what they shared, and how well they played. I often refer to "the preschool years"... in kind of a negative way. It was just hard... learning to balance my life with two little sweeties, who depended on my every scrap of attention. The truth is, even through the mess I was, I knew is was a magical time. And I was so thankful for the opportunity each of them had at pre-school. I'm not sure they would be the people they are today without it. I don't think I would be the person I am without it. It was there... that we opened our hearts fully to Jesus. You never graduate from Jesus... but they did graduate from pre-school... with flying colors tucked into their pockets and Jesus tucked into their hearts.


And this school... has always been a place to grow.... and it has become a family tradition. When Tina called and told me that Oakley was going to Grace... I cried. And soon... I hope that Chelsea(that sandy-oreo-eating-sweetie)will have her turn.

And then there is this man... my hero. While I was struggling my way through the pre-school years... he juggled being a daddy & husband along with his full-time job, the USCG reserves and school. I am so humbled by the way he shows his love for us... the way he provides for us. But perhaps, never so proud as when he came home from his many deployments and set to work on one more goal... graduating from the police academy. He is... and always will be... my hero.


Flashing back on a Friday... with a few tears in my eyes.

gifts on the doorstep of my heart

It has been just two years... since I dove, heart first, into blogging. I barely knew what a blog was... but I pushed the "create" button anyway. And I just kept on going. A leap of faith? Or perhaps just a blind leap into the unknown, since I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. What I did know, was that I had words and stories and thoughts and emotions all bottled up in my head, and the jumble of it was worthless. And so I began. Day after day... the words poured out and my fingers typed away, recording the past and the present, along with the everyday ordinary. Every so often I wonder of I am out of words... but so far, God keeps on providing. Just today... I had that what if I hadn't done this kind of thought. Because this little blog... has brought such gifts my way. Beautiful gifts. Gifts I might have missed out on.

• I see the little bits of life that make up a day, instead of viewing it as one big blur. Better yet, I find myself seeking them. And I think... it makes a better life for me and for my family.
  
  
• The girl I was, and have always been, kept her stuff inside... the good the bad and especially the ugly. By letting some of it out through my words, I have let others see the real me. My Mom says she knows me more than she ever has. And I think I know myself better than ever before...


• Friendships have always been a priority for me... and I cherish them. I certainly never dreamed that I would make such wonderful friends through blogging... but I have. Each, a gift. Someday I hope to meet them face to face instead of just knowing them heart to heart.


• My faith has grown. By sorting out my own thoughts, and reading the thoughts and prayers of others. It has added one more facet to learning about the wonderful God & Savior we share.


• Two years... is quite a commitment. I don't like to be a quitter, but I certainly am not great at completing everything. But maybe... if I can do this... I can learn to finish what I start.


• In writing, I have found a passion... that isn't messy. Unless you count emotions, of course. But there are no scraps of paper to clean up, no pins to pick up off the floor. Just me and my heart, and the keyboard.

I don't know if one day the words will be dried up and gone... or if the gifts that sit on the doorstep of my heart will last forever. But whatever will be, will be. And it will be alright. Because I know to cherish these things right now. And it has taken blogging to teach me that. Cherish... and savor. I'm not sure I fully knew how to do that until now. I do hope that the cherishing and savoring will go on forever... long after the words are gone.