blessed beyond measure

Because church is basically an extension of our house. Maybe because we're there so much. Maybe because of so many wonderful memories. Or maybe because these days, it is a place of peace, a refuge from the storms of life and society. Even when we're the only ones there. And so when we're looking for somewhere to go on a Friday night, it's always a fun and uplifting place to end up. One photo of each boy, every week, doing their thing.

So very thankful for this amazing man that God is allowing me to do life with. Couldn't have hand picked a better coach for our basketball team of adopted sons, daddy for our actual sons, or husband and best friend for myself. I love you forever and ever. Happy birthday.

Music is part of my soul. I remember long-ago moments, both important and mundane, by the song that was playing at the time. Sing along word for word to tunes I haven't heard in decades. Feel the tingle of the Holy Spirit when a song expresses so much more about God and faith than words alone ever could. Worship more deeply in singing and swaying than any other possible way. How thankful I am to my parents for the sacrifices it took to keep me in piano for so many years. Though it still makes me vomit-nervous to play in front of people, it is an honor for me to share God's love through my fingers. Brandon finds it strange that I can pick up sheet music miles from a piano and read the notes like words in a book. It's a privilege. When things started to go wrong last year, I clung to the keys. Played at every opportunity because it was the only thing I could find to bring me peace. I don't want to let that go. There is power and joy and mourning and beauty in ...

Because when they are like this, the pressures and frustrations of everyday parenting wither and fade, and for a few priceless moments, I see them as babies. My precious, sweet, wide-eyed and whole-face-smiling baby boys. Sometimes I wish I could go back and do it again. (With THEM, not another kid!) There is so much I'd do differently, hopefully better. But I love them completely as they are, which means God has worked in spite of me to bless them and make them such amazing little men. How I love my babies. One picture of each boy, every week, doing their thing.

I love America. While I strongly disagree with some of what she has come to stand for, especially recently, there is so much about my homeland that brings me nearly inexpressible joy. This place, where within all its borders lie the tropics, mountains, glaciers, desert, prarie, farmland, and beaches. Where, every once in a while, people pay for each other's meals in the drive-thru. Where, every once in a while, teenagers say ma'am. I love having the expectation of freedom and, on a large scale, not having to fear for my life or the lives of my loved ones every day. In a sort of first-world, anti-humanitarian way, I love being able to spend a couple of bucks on silly little valentine cards for my kids' friends, knowing they'll just be looked at and then tossed. There's nothing like the Super Bowl to make a person bubble over with American-ness. This one in particular, since we actually had a rooting interest. Panthers fans we are, in a rather loose sense. ...

So they're a little staged, this week's round of doing-their-thing pics. It's my blog and I'll stage if I want to. Stage if I want to. Stage if I want to. In all honesty, I was fairly certain there wouldn't be photos this week, as it was packed completely full. Five basketball games and then church stuff. Some local flooding gave us one night at home, and very close to bedtime I realized this was my only shot. Whipped out the phone, begged them to stand still for just one second, please , and snapped exactly two photos. This boy has kicked himself into high gear school-wise. In half a grading period, he has pulled up his language and writing grade by ten points, won third place in the spelling bee, and received a perfect score on his first ever stand-up-in-front-of-a-class oral presentation on his Poppop's turquoise antique car named Betsy. As if that wasn't enough good news, the kiddo is starting to like me again. We've sort of had a rough ...