blessed beyond measure

It's been a while. Unintentionally, of course. And hard to explain, given the joy I once took from adding to our little family history here. It's not for lack of memorable moments, no sir, not at all. The photos to follow are but glimpses into our fantastic spring and summer. There's no denying I've been riding a physical, emotional, spiritual roller coaster for a while. Maybe my frustration with myself has been the ultimate writer's block. Maybe I've run out of things to say. Or maybe the blog was just meant for a season of our lives. I have cancer. It's a whirlwind of a story, fairly new news. Thyroid cancer with no symptoms, no pain, a really good outlook for being totally cured. Even with that, it hasn't been easy. The word is the worst part, dread-inducing and scary as all heck. Equally difficult was sharing the news with the people in my life who are heart and soul to me. Every time, I wanted to apologize and reassure. Their worry over me break...

It's a cloudy, upper-sixties Sunday evening. I'm sitting on the porch in a rocking chair that's almost as old as I am, feet propped on an overturned five-gallon bucket. Traffic in front of the house is picking up as we inch toward Memorial Day, our beautiful lake taken over by vacationers who both keep our little economy going and frustrate the living heck out of us on the roads. Between vehicles passing, I'm listening to the birds. So many, all with different tweets, some close, some far away, all compelled to share their song. What I wouldn't give for wings. To be high above everything, eyes closed, soaring in the sunlight, not a care in the world. A woodpecker drums out a beat, then the poor confused rooster a few fields away sounds his call. Maybe his human works nights. There are two bald spots in the front yard. One is a pitcher's mound, the other home plate. Our wiffle ball games are rowdy, as rowdy as plastic sports can be. For a still-broken window ju...

Last summer, our extended family grew in one of the best ways possible. My parents adopted a puppy, who they named Kobe. He was teeny tiny, oh so sweet, and a little slow to warm up. Of course that could have something to do with the loud, overwhelming attention he received from my boys. Bless his little heart. He grew and grew and grew, both in stature and in enthusiasm. Mom trained him from the beginning to do tricks like rolling over, standing on his hind legs, and high five. But while he became smarter, he also developed a mischevious side. He would eat worms and bugs and deer poop, his own bed, Mom's curtains, Dad's money, and the guts of so-called super-tough toys that he could ravage within only a few minutes. Poor thing can only have nylon toys anymore. He earned himself the nickname Demon Dog. But he is so, so sweet. He is floppy and clumsy, strong and fast. The leash makes him think he is a sled dog. He chases ice cubes around the floor, and his zoomies guarantee ...

Two winters of nothingness, and finally, the Lord has blanketed us in snow. Twice in the last week, no less. It has brought so much joy. Like kids on Christmas morning we are, hands wide open to receive this gift of grace from a God who loves us lavishly and knows the perfect moment to remind us that we are not forgotten. Not sure what it is about snow that makes me think of peace. The silence of its falling, the smoothness of white across fields, the red-cheeked breathlessness of boys out in it, the free pass to go nowhere and do nothing. I breathe deep the sharply cold air, breathe easier as stress melts away. I needed this one, y'all. Life kept going in January, not too far removed from what it had been. Pretty regular basketball practices for the school teams, but no games, as ours is one of very few counties in the state that still will not allow competitive sports. Aden's travel basketball season began, and how heart-swelling to see how those boys have grown and streng...

So there were some really great things that happened in 2020 that didn't make it to the blog. I don't want to forget these, so I'm hoping to do a series of how many ever posts to cement them into the family history. Our family Christmas is one, as it should be. With the man cave being carpetless due to flooding (have I mentioned that?), we moved the celebration upstairs and crammed ourselves and the gifts into the living room after a delicious breakfast. Such a fun and meaningful time, being all together, going a little lower key on gifts, reading the story of our Savior. The house doesn't get many decorations, but the little spots of holiday merriment are worth remembering too.