We found ourselves by the bay this morning for a memorial service for someone dear to people we love. The service was held in a beautiful restaurant, on a dock next to the water. As we listened to people tell their stories and share their memories, the waves lapped against the dock, small boats motored by, and large yachts skated past the floor to ceiling windows.

Where we live now there are beautiful winding rivers and streams, with easy access. The cold water rushes past as you wade through the creeks, dodging crawfish and algae covered stones. It is magical.

But I miss the bay. I miss the sound of the waves and the way the wind buffets you as you walk along the shore. I miss the shells and the sharks teeth that litter the beach and the way you can never quite get all the sand off your feet and out of your hair after a visit.

There was something incredibly peaceful in watching the ducks bob along the waves outside the window. I could have watched them all day. Some days, like today, I just need water.

I’m about seven and a half years into being a mom of boys, and I confess I was totally unprepared for the amount of potty humor I was in store for. No one warned me it would start so young (around 18 months, if you care to know) and that it only gets worse. I wouldn’t say my boys are vulgar, but they find great humor in nearly every bodily function- and my conversations with other boy moms inform me that this is completely normal!

No one had to teach my kids to do armpit farts or burp on command (well, they did have help on that one) and they find those things (and a whole host of others) completely hilarious.

So when I saw this “Underwear” book at the library I figured I had found a winner, and boy was I right. I’ve already read through it twice this evening and I am probably going to have to smuggle it out of the house on its due date.

So my request of you, my dear readers, is that should you imagine me spending time with my children you would picture me sitting with my them, reading something clever and cultured and sophisticated. If you can do that, I would be much obliged. Because in reality, I will likely be reading about underwear.

I woke up this morning with the weight on my chest lifted. As I went through my day, absolutely nothing of consequence happened, and that is exactly as I would have it.

I never know how this day will hit me until it comes. I never expect the anxiety leading up to it, though I should at this point.

“Never forget” is a resounding charge you see and hear on this day, and while I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment, for those of us that lived it, we would love to, at least for a day, forget. I don’t know what it’s like to view that day from afar. I read peoples’ stories about where they were when it happened, how it affected them, and how they changed.

For me, I can’t divorce that day from the smell, the dust, and the sirens. And I can’t confine it to one day, but rather months of dodging ash and feeling the rumbling beneath my feet. I mourn for those who were lost that day and for the families that still feel their absence.

Thank you for your kind words and to those people that reached out to me today. God is good, and I am grateful for you.

If you want to read my story, you can find it here.

I’ve been feeing anxious lately. There’s been stuff going on in our lives that I haven’t shared here, and I probably won’t, but the past few weeks I have felt overwhelmed. I hate to put it out there, but that’s where I am. It’s been steadily increasing, and I think part of it has to do with tomorrow.

Eighteen years is a long time.

This evening social media started to rehash the images. The moments I lived in real time. The demons that still whisper when I’m feeling sad. I don’t think I cried last year, but I have tears tonight. In a few years my ‘after’ will be longer than my ‘before’ and I think that will be even harder. It’s been eighteen years since I breathed that air, tasted that smell, and dodged the ash that danced like snow. Eighteen years or eighty… you don’t forget.

I’m thankful to have a God that has walked those years with me and has constantly reminded me that that day does not define me and that he held that day as surely as he holds today. I can trust Him completely. He is my comfort, my light, and my salvation.

Psalm 27  (ESV)

The Lord Is My Light and My Salvation

Of David.

27 The Lord is my light and my salvation;
    whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold^[a] of my life;
    of whom shall I be afraid?

² When evildoers assail me
    to eat up my flesh,
my adversaries and foes,
    it is they who stumble and fall.

³ Though an army encamp against me,
    my heart shall not fear;
though war arise against me,
    yet^[b] I will be confident.

⁴ One thing have I asked of the Lord,
    that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
    and to inquire^[c] in his temple.

⁵ For he will hide me in his shelter
    in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
    he will lift me high upon a rock.

⁶ And now my head shall be lifted up
    above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
    sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.

⁷ Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud;
    be gracious to me and answer me!
⁸ You have said, “Seek^[d] my face.”
My heart says to you,
    “Your face, Lord, do I seek.”^[e]
9     Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger,
    O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not,
    O God of my salvation!
¹⁰ For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
    but the Lord will take me in.

¹¹ Teach me your way, O Lord,
    and lead me on a level path
    because of my enemies.
¹² Give me not up to the will of my adversaries;
    for false witnesses have risen against me,
    and they breathe out violence.

¹³ I believe that I shall look^[f] upon the goodness of the Lord
    in the land of the living!
¹⁴ Wait for the Lord;
    be strong, and let your heart take courage;
    wait for the Lord!

This year the kids’ curriculum is focused on geography and culture. We will be studying various countries and cultures from around the world. Today we took a field trip to the Compassion Experience. It is a traveling exhibit put on by Compassion International to introduce people to what it is like to grow up in a third world country and how sponsoring a child can have a positive lifelong impact on them.

The exhibit contained the stories of two Compassion ‘graduates,’ (kids that were impacted by Compassion’s ministry.) When we got there we were each given a set of headphones and an iPod and we were directed into the first exhibit where we followed the life of a little boy growing up in Guatemala. We got to visit various places that were important to him growing up and we listened to a child narrate his story. When we finished his exhibit, we went back through to learn about Shamim, a girl who grew up in the slums of Uganda.

Both stories were fascinating and the kids were spellbound. The exhibits were kid friendly, so they could touch and feel the things in each room. They learned a lot about growing up in a culture and country where you might not have the resources we have here.

For the rest of the afternoon, the kids kept thinking back to the walkthrough and comparing their lives to the lives of the kids in the stories. It was a very humbling experience that I hope the kids remember for a long time. If you ever get the chance to visit the exhibit, I would highly recommend it.

We dropped by the shop this afternoon to check on a project that my dad has been working on. While we were there, the kids came out of the office to visit us in the back of the shop. In order to get to us, they had to walk past some panels that had been sprayed and were drying. The kids don’t come back in the shop often, but I am hyper-vigilant when they do, so as always I warned them to not get near the panels. I have visions of a domino effect should one of the kids bump one.

The response from my kids was not what I expected. I thought at that warning, my kids would take a large step away from the panels in order to be as far away from them as possible, but instead they took a tiny step. If they continued on their path they would be fine, but if they tripped or lost their balance they were still close enough to bump a panel. I reminded them to move further away and they did.

This evening I was reading the verse that came up when I opened my Bible app- Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. 1 Peter 2:16 ESV.

I thought about my kids and how they knew they weren’t supposed to be near the panels, yet they chose to walk close enough they could touch. Technically they weren’t doing anything wrong. They weren’t touching the panels. They were paying attention to the line they shouldn’t cross, but they weren’t distancing themselves from it.

I think our approach to sin is often the same way, at least it is for me. I’ve been a Christian since I was a little kid. I know that I am completely saved by grace. With that in mind, I recognize that there are actions and attitudes that aren’t helpful, that are sinful. There are lines I shouldn’t cross (not because they wouldn’t be forgiven, but because they wouldn’t be Christ-like.) And yet, sometimes I toe the line. I see a sinful behavior or attitude and instead of giving it a wide berth, I stay just far enough away from it to not be sinning but close enough that if I lose my focus I could slip right in. In those moments, I’m not living as a servant of God.

Living as a servant of God is to be so enraptured with Him, to be so enamored by His truth, that when you look down you aren’t anywhere near the line. You are closer to Christ than you are to that line of sin.

I think that’s why as Christians we should have conviction about what we watch, the music we listen to, the books we read, the hobbies we have, and the words we let slip from our mouths. Are we toeing the line of sin? Are we sinning? Maybe not. Maybe not yet. But are we being Christ-like? Are we living like we are free from sin?

“Mommy, can I go down this hill?” Big E called to me from his bicycle. He was about 30 feet up the street from me, his bike facing the grassy slope next to the road. I was walking next to Baby E as he hurried to catch up with his siblings on his balance bike.

I did a quick assessment of the area in front of Big E, and from where I stood it looked fine. A typical ditch next to a street, maybe six feet at its lowest point and then a slope up the other side. I gave him the go ahead and with a smile he started down the hill.

The next thing I knew he flew over his handlebars and went out of sight. A second later he popped up. “Mom, you said it would be ok!!”

I ran over to check on him and as I got closer I noticed that at the bottom of the ditch there was an additional small drainage area etched out from rainwater. His front wheel had caught on it, causing him to do his aerial stunt. Thankfully he didn’t even get a scratch and we laughed at how silly it looked to see him fly through the air.

I hope you guys are ready for a whole lot of homeschooling posts in the months to come, because this is what most of my life looks like right now. I don’t think I will ever stop being thankful for the opportunity to stay home with my kids. I’ll take sitting on the floor putting words together over meetings and deadlines any day. I may miss the work and I may miss the people, but I will never regret this.

I think I can easily say that this year’s curriculum is more intense than last year’s. It is designed for a wide range of students, and you can personally cater it to your family. My kids range on the younger side of the spectrum, so I have spent the past week trying to gauge what works and what doesn’t. I know that hands-on activities are very important at their ages, so I’m trying to make a concerted effort that those aren’t the activities that get cut if our day runs long.

Today we did linking paper dolls for our art class. The lesson was talking about how the U.S. is made up of so many people from different cultures from around the world. After coloring and taking pictures with them, the kids hung them up on the classroom whiteboard. I’m pretty sure art was the highlight of their school day.