Per usual, we went hard on Halloween. Per usual, it was awesome. Special thanks to my husband for becoming a photojournalist and following me around all day with his camera. He shot the team at work and the team at home. Also, we were all back and showered and in pajamas by the fire sorting candy at 7:30pm; it was glorious.
There is a theme that repeats itself most Saturday afternoons, where I remember it’s my only real day off and I cannot believe every single thing hasn’t gone right in the week leading up.
Some of it is about me learning to relax, and some of it is about my family learning to love me better. It’s both.
Tonight we went to dinner with some friends and their new baby. At the restaurant, we saw some other friends and their new baby, and some other friends and their old baby with a new baby still on the inside. I looked at my teen and tweens and thought I wish and also glad that’s behind us.
What is it that makes me want to center myself in my son’s birthday? Gosh, dang. That was a magical, terrible, life-changing twenty-two hours for me. I remember it as fuzzy as a hundred years ago and as clear as yesterday.
I came home to this twin of mine, who turns thirteen next week and likes my music and says things like I don’t like who I am when I’m grumpy and tired. I love him so.
We’ve reached an age in our marriage when we abort arguments mid-sentence and allow the children to bring us correction. These are the good old days.
Tonight, I got to take my preteen daughters to their first women’s ministry event at my church. The speaker shared about the need for community, and about being encouraged by a book written by an old friend of mine, and all of the worlds I’ve ever known collided at once. I’m teaching at this event next month and I don’t know how I’m gonna get through it with my girls in the audience. Following Jesus is the hardest and sweetest adventure.