Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Coal miners' doctor: Review of Skip Rock Shallows by Jan Watson

Lilly Corbett isn’t what the folks of Skip Rock, Kentucky expected when they heard a new doctor was coming to town — she was a woman. In an age (the early 1900s) when women doctors were rare, Dr. Lilly Corbett has her work cut out for her in the small mountain town.

In Skip Rock Shallows, author Jan Watson takes us into the close-knit, often close-minded, community of a mining town. Lilly not only has to practice medicine, she has to work at being accepted by the people. Lilly is sent to Skip Rock for a short stint before she gets married to a fellow doctor and moves to Boston. As she serves and saves the residents of Skip Rock, she finds herself in a dilemma: to stay or go.

The familiarity of one of the coal miners makes Lilly’s decision that much harder.

Watson gives us plenty of drama in the book, a trait common to most mining towns, I’d expect. Accidents, injuries and death are part of the risk of mining. I enjoyed Lilly’s tale.

FAVORITES: The setting was so unique among other historical fiction I’ve read that I was hooked. And that Lilly is a female practicing medicine in a time when that wasn’t the norm is intriguing. I liked Lilly and the way she approached the twists and turns of her life.

FAULTS: A couple of the turning points in the story seemed to come without much personal strife in the characters. I felt the buildup was a little lacking. And the first part of the book was a little slow as Lilly did her rounds in the community and started to get to know people.

IN A WORD: Enjoyable.

NEED MORE? Check out the first chapter here. And find out more about the author here.

A tribute to a memorable man

The Championships at Wimbledon always make me think of John. As does the French Open. Or anything tennis related. Or cycling related. But I don’t know much about cycling anyway.

John, however, was a guy who knew a lot about cycling. John knew a lot about a lot of things.

Especially loyalty.

The semester I went to England, Fall of 1998, John was a student at the same school. And by student, I mean he was 20 years older than the rest of us.

That’s John on the left

But John was friendly. And helpful. And cheerful. And knowledgeable. And a little bit daring. Despite the age difference, he fit right in. And despite the miles that separated our class after the semester was over, John found a way to keep us all in touch with a Facebook group, connecting old friends and making memories.

Memory. That was another of John’s strengths. I think he remembered every conversation we ever had like we’d just had it yesterday.

I’d noticed that John had been absent on the Internet lately, but that wasn’t unusual for John. He struggled to find work and to make ends meet, so he was often on with his Internet access for a few months, then off. Nothing to worry about.

Except that it was.

John died last summer. Unexpectedly. And it would seem that none of us knew until now.

I’m not sure what’s sadder: that he died, or that we didn’t realize it.

John didn’t travel much, from what I understand, and when he did, he didn’t go far.

Except that one semester. When he joined a bunch of college kids for an unforgettable semester in England.

These are his words, written at the end of that semester.

In real life, I’m an introvert, so it really meant a lot to me to have people make the first move.

I was wondering how I’d be accepted when I came here, but I’ve never been around such a supportive group of people in my whole life. I’m used to eating meals alone, and all of a sudden I had fifty people saying hi to me while I was waiting in line, and asking how my weekend was, and trying to help me through some rough times.

I know that to a lot of you, heading for Harlaxton was kind of a routine thing. Your older siblings had done it, or your friends, and especially at UE you know a lot of people who’ve done it. But in the world I come from, the decision you made to leave behind your friends and loved ones was truly exceptional. Hardly anyone I’ve ever met has traveled the way you have, or had a chance to get a worldwide perspective at such a young age. I applaud you for the courage it took, and for sticking it out and making the most of it.

I’ve been amazed at the amount of talent and intelligence this class has shown. I learned a couple of months ago that it was impossible to typecast anyone here, everybody had surprises.  I’ve enjoyed being in classes with you, and watching you perform, and just plain having you around.

Most of all, as an older guy, I’m just plain proud to have known you. Shared classes and interests have helped me to know some better than others but the semester would not have been the same if any of you hadn’t been here. I k now that not getting to know all of you better has been my loss.

I’ve been quietly amazed by some of you, and I’m sure that all of your futures are bright with promise. I expect some amazing things from you. I wish you all the best in the world. Be happy.

Sincerely, John Calliott

John may be gone, but he is not forgotten. He was exceptional and I am proud to have known him. And there is suddenly a hole in my life and in my heart that I didn’t know he filled.

If you knew John, feel free to leave a memory of him here. I’m looking for more stories from our days at Harlaxton. I’d like his family to know how much he  meant to us.

Saturday smiles: family festive fun edition

We’re home.

That’s No. 1 on the list. No matter where we live, home will always bring a smile to my face.

In part, that’s because of the people we love. The weekend has been full of catching up with cousins, celebrating a marriage, meeting our nephew, spending time with aunts and uncles, and sharing life with family. What we lack the other months of the year, we pack into our short trips home. No matter how long we stay, it’s always too short.

Here are some pictures from the past few days. Of course, the weekly smiles post wouldn’t be complete without saying that it’s good to have the family back together. I missed the kids like crazy and even though they drive me crazy sometimes, I’m glad we’re all in the same state (crazy?) again.

Yeah, they’re angels. Including the monkey.

They were all dressed up for my brother’s wedding reception. Congratulations to Chris and Clara!

Best. Reception. Ever. And we’re so happy to have Aunt Clara in our family.

The kids haven’t really been to many weddings, and now that they’re older, we get experiences like these.

Daddy-daughter dance preview. She enjoyed her dance lesson.

And her very own big girl soda. (Oh, wait, we were in Chicago, so it was “pop.” Yes, Pennsylvania, you have converted us.)

I don’t know if this was the actual reaction to the lemon-lime taste or the excitement of being awake far later than normal. Or all of the above.

 The reception was the first chance for my brother, my cousin Shawn and me to all be in the same place at the same time for the first time in a VERY long time. It was Cousins Collide Part 1.

Part 2 took place at Uncle Jon and Aunt Cassie’s house when our kids met their cousin Kaiden for the first time.

Two things about this picture: a) This reminds me of every forced family photo I’ve ever seen. Someone in the photo is always visibly unhappy to be there. Thank you, Corban, for filling that role, and b) you can’t tell me these three aren’t going to find some way to get in trouble together. Man oh man are we in trouble.

(Side note: Phil was speaking in a list like this to Corban that day and said, “A, such and such …” and before he could continue, Isabelle said, “What’s “B” Dad?” It was sass-tastic if  I’ve ever heard it. Cute when she’s 4, not so much when she’s 14 and rolling her eyes at the same lecture we gave her a week earlier.)

It was so much fun to be able to feed Kaiden on our first meeting. I love narrating for babies, so in this picture, I think Kaiden is saying, “Look, man, are you sure you know what you’re doing? It’s been a while.” Actually, Phil is an accomplished bottle feeder because he and Isabelle had to share some bottle moments in her early months.

I’ve loved this little guy since the day he was born, and I love him even more now that I’ve met him in person.

We also got in a visit with Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Zach. Fun times at the park. FYI, if you’re anywhere near John Dixon Park, watch out for the “snakes.” Corban drew a bunch of them on the ground with chalk and said, “I’m not going to protect you.” You’ve been forewarned.

And the weekend isn’t even over yet. We’re off to see some fireworks tonight and visit Uncle Lewie tomorrow. Then it’s back to PA for, literally, God knows what.

A week without the kids was refreshing and somewhat productive. When I look back at all that happened in a short week’s time, I feel good and blessed.

May your week be full of blessings and may your eyes be open to see them!

Seeking simplicity: A review of Almost Amish by Nancy Sleeth

Ah, the lure of the Amish. For whatever reason, the Amish way of life evokes feelings of simplicity, peace and perfection. When we moved to this area of Pennsylvania four years ago, I was intrigued by the Amish. I read lots of Amish fiction and rushed to the window every time I heard the sounds of a horse and buggy.

Nancy Sleeth draws on this fascination with the Amish for her book Almost Amish: One woman’s quest for a slower, simpler, more sustainable life. I, too, long for simplicity and greater sustainability, so I was eager to read what the author had to say.

Sleeth’s family had what they call a spiritual and environmental conversion about a decade ago. Not only did they align their lives with Christ, they significantly and drastically changed their lifestyle. They gave half their possessions away. They learned to live with less. They made caring for the earth their job. You can read more about what they’re doing and why here.

In Almost Amish, Sleeth uses 10 Amish principles to offer ways the rest of us who aren’t Amish can learn from their examples.

I really wanted to like this book, but by the second chapter — on technology — I was angry. And that attitude tainted the rest of the read for me. I think Sleeth has a lot to offer those of us who want a slower, saner, earth-friendlier life, and I look forward to adopting some changes in our home and life.

But I have two major issues with the book.

First, tone. Sleeth is a highly educated woman who also has been an educator. I can appreciate her passion for this topic, but I felt guilty more than inspired by her words. For each of the principles, she offers a practically perfect example of the life of someone she knows. So close to perfect, they almost don’t seem real, and even though I trust that these are real people, I don’t know if I’d want to hang out with them. They seemed unapproachable, and many of the principles, though practiced by Sleeth’s family, seem unattainable by regular folks.

I often felt like Sleeth was talking down to readers. I don’t know. Maybe it was just my interpretation.

Secondly, Sleeth seems to idolize the Amish, painting them as perfect examples of simplicity and living out God’s intended way of life. Even the more controversial aspects of their culture, like shunning, she justifies as necessary discipline. I find it hard to believe that a woman with a master’s degree education would say we all need to be like a group of people who don’t educate their children past eighth grade.

In defense of families, Sleeth quotes these statistics about the Amish: “the divorce rate is less than 1 percent, illegitimate births are nearly unheard of and the suicide rate is less than half the American average.” That all sounds good, but bear in mind, that’s the stuff that’s reported. I’m not saying Amish communities are dens of iniquity but let’s not pretend that bad things don’t happen to them, too. Those statistics made me wonder how many miserable Amish women were trapped in abusive marriages because divorce is rare or whether there were cases of rape or incest among the brethren.

The Young Center at Elizabethtown College, which Sleeth references in the book, provides a partial answer. View it on the site here.

Q: Do the Amish have problems?
A: Yes. They are humans and, like all human societies, have their share of problems. Sometimes rebellious youth act out and abuse alcohol or use drugs. Some marriages turn sour. There are documented cases of incest and sexual abuse in some families. Although such problems do exist, there are no systematic studies to enable comparisons with other groups or mainstream society. In general, the Amish way of life provides many sources of satisfaction for most of its members.

Don’t miss this point: “there are no systematic studies to enable comparisons with other groups or mainstream society.” And a key word at the end: “most.” I don’t doubt that the Amish way of life is satisfying and fulfilling. For most people. And that emulating an Amish lifestyle might provide the same for some non-Amish. But they are not a utopian society nor are they perfect.

In the end, I think I’m mostly disappointed with this book, although it has given me some guidelines for simplifying my life.

The blessings and curses of creativity

God made me a creative. I’m no better or worse than someone who isn’t. It is what it is. Lately I’ve been realizing creativity is a blessing and a curse. With the following list, I’ll try to explain.

BLESSING: You’re never lonely. As a creative, I’ve always got characters and stories in my head. Or a good book within arm’s reach.

CURSE: People might think you’re antisocial because you prefer to spend your time in a made-up world.

BLESSING: The more you use it, the more you get. Sometimes the words or ideas won’t come until I start writing. Anything.

CURSE: It’s an unpredictable gift. Case in point, when I should have been packing myself for the overnight trip to take the kids to their grandparents, I was engrossed in a new writing assignment, letting the words that have been lodged in my head flow freely at last. I’ve been jotting notes about this assignment for days, in between other activities because I can’t take the time I need to sit down and write for a long period of time.

BLESSING: Your kids will ask you for “imagination stories” to put them to sleep.

CURSE: You will sometimes put yourself to sleep with your stories.

BLESSING: You tend not to be satisfied with “the way things are” thinking that everything can be improved upon. (This may also be a curse.)

CURSE: You will fight the urge to answer respectable questions like, “Where are the kids?” with ridiculousness like, “We sold them to the circus.” Or “We traded them in for a new pair of shoes.” People will not always find this as funny as you mean it.

BLESSING: You can do what you love and get paid for it.

CURSE: People might think you’re flighty, ditzy or lazy because you work with words for fun and get paid for it.

BLESSING: Your friends will think you’re clever with your Facebook posts and tweets. (Or at least you hope they will.)

CURSE: You’ll think you’re much funnier than you really are.

BLESSING: You’ll need LOTS of alone time to hone your art.

CURSE: You won’t get it because you have two kiddos demanding your attention. All. The. Time.

BLESSING: Your kids will enjoy being creative, too.

CURSE: They will interpret creativity as meaning it’s okay for them to color their entire legs green or draw dots on their faces.

BLESSING: You are full of ideas and opinions.

CURSE: You can’t turn it off.

And on that note, I leave you with this incomplete and possibly incoherent list.

Cheers!

Saturday Smiles: Weird and wonderful edition

Two words: Bacon milkshake.

If you could put heaven in a cup, it would taste like the vanilla bean apple pie bacon milkshake at The B Spot, Michael Symon’s burger joint in Strongsville, Ohio. Besides eating the best burger of my life, the Blue Cow, and some tasty sauces (coffee barbecue sauce? Genius!), I had the pleasure of sharing the bacon milkshake with my husband. If I had $6 left to my name, I would buy one of these milkshakes. That’s a whole lot of happiness in a glass.

Our trip to The B Spot was a treat after we transferred the kids to my parents’ car in Toledo, Ohio. We’re on what feels like an extended date for a week as the kids visit their grandparents in Illinois and we prepare our house for a potential move. (Read: clean the kids’ room and hide away toys they aren’t going to miss.) It is, as the title of this post suggests, weird and wonderful. We are freer with our time and schedule, yet we feel like something is missing or that we’re being negligent in our parenting duties. We video chatted with the kids this afternoon and got a taste of what it’s like on our side of the screen most Sundays.

Isabelle’s first question: “How clean is our room?” Slow down, Sally. We got home at midnight and spent most of today away from home.

Corban’s concern: “Are you playing with my toys?” Tempting, but no.

On the plus side, I took a nap this afternoon with no concern that a child would wake me up after 5 minutes. We ate supper later than usual. We’ve got a full slate of activities planned for the week, which will go fast.

We had a wonderful visit to Lancaster today, and we’re pretty sure we’re going to move in that direction for church, job and house. We’re still waiting on God to help us put the pieces together, but there was an excitement we felt today that’s been missing for a while. Again, it’s weird and wonderful.

Then again, so are we.

Have a great week!

There’s a book for that: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

I give full credit to PBS and Robert Downey Jr. for sparking my interest in the classic tales of a British private investigator with a keen eye for detail.

Does that description even do Sherlock Holmes justice?

My husband and I have watched both of PBS’ Sherlock series (brilliant, I say, and I have a mild crush on Martin Freeman as Watson) and saw both of RDJ’s Sherlock movies in the theater. (That’s a big deal. We don’t get to the theater more than 3 or 4 times a year, if that.) And I’m looking forward to a CBS series this fall called “Elementary” starring another favorite, Jonny Lee Miller (I loved his show “Eli Stone,” which of course, means it was canceled.)

Somewhere, in the midst of all that Sherlock on-screen love, I read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Once again, I was amazed at the storytelling. Throughout this series looking at classic books that have become movies, I have been disappointed in myself for not having read these books earlier. It was the same for Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. I have yet to read the other Sherlock compilations by Doyle, but I am eager to read them, and re-read this one. Each story, or “case,” is a quick yet thrilling read, and like the screen versions, are full of twists and turns you don’t expect.

So, it’s on this note that I end my first ever “There’s a Book For That” series. I could write endless posts on books that have become movies, and I’ll consider another series later in the year. For now, I hope you’ve enjoyed these looks at classic works. My own reading history has been enriched by these stories. I’m open to further suggestions, if you have them.

Happy reading!

A fictional tale of Mormons and polygamy: Review of the Sister Wife series by Allison Pittman

If “Mormons” and “polygamy” in the title of this post didn’t scare you away, then I’d like to introduce you to two novels I recently read by a new-to-me author, For Time & Eternity and Forsaking All Others by Allison Pittman.

First, though, a couple of things:

1. Mormonism is a current events topic these days with a presidential nominee who is Mormon. Not only is it current, it’s controversial. And although these books are fiction, they are based in historical fact. To some, they will be controversial.

2. The author grew up in Utah and her husband is an excommunicated Mormon. Form your own opinion about whether that makes her more or less credible as a writer.

3. I’ve never seen the TLC reality show Sister Wives. If you have, please feel free to weigh in.

The story of Camilla Deardon Fox begins in For Time & Eternity when she’s living in Iowa near an encampment of Mormons who are heading west, to Utah. Camilla hears them singing and is drawn to them although her parents have warned her to stay away. She meets Nathan Fox, a Mormon, on the way to school one day and is captivated by him. When she meets other members of the group, she is enlivened by their faith, something that hasn’t happened in all her 15 years of church attendance and nightly Bible reading. She defies her parents to join the group on their journey west, marrying Nathan along the way.

For Time & Eternity is a page turner as Camilla adjusts to married life and life in Utah among other Mormon believers. I can’t recall any other novels I’ve read where Mormonism plays a prominent role. The author’s personal experiences and research bring new light and understanding to the teachings of that institution. The book ends on a cliffhanger, and I’m glad I had checked out both books at the same time or else I would have gone mad. (Not really. But I hate having to wait for a sequel if I know it’s already available. Our library system is good, but I still have to wait days, sometimes even weeks for the books I want to read. [Heavy drama and sarcasm.])

Here’s a good place to jump ship if you haven’t read either book and don’t want to know anything of what happens in the second one.

Forsaking All Others picks up where the first one left off. I had high hopes for the sequel given the dramatic ending. And while the book held potential, I really thought the first one was better. In this one, Camilla has left her family and her church and is in the care of a colonel in the U.S. Army. Forsaking All Others is the story of Camilla clinging to the truth of Scripture and the love of Jesus while breaking free from her relationship with and love for her husband. The action is slower in this novel, and frankly, I expected more from the conclusion. Sort of anti-climatic.

That said, I think these are worthwhile reads simply for the subject matter. And for me, they’re provoking more interest in what Mormons believe. Not because I want to be one but because I want to understand. They’re also a fascinating part of U.S. history. I’d like to learn more.

FAVORITES: Pittman seems to capture the time period, mid-1800s, with historical realism. She is a talented wordsmith who makes settings and actions come alive. I like Camilla, and I could identify with some of her struggles.

FAULTS: The second book was less satisfying than the first. I’d hope for more to develop with the colonel or for some final obstacle. Really, it just sort of ended. I was let down a little. I was also confused because the author “quotes” from a Ladies Home Journal article written by the main character. I thought maybe she was writing about a real woman from history. She is a completely fictional character, which also was a little disappointing.

IN A WORD: Fascinating. What I knew about Mormons before reading this book was conjecture, at best. I know this isn’t a history book, but I trust authors to do their research. I like learning new things, and I appreciate when I can do that even with fiction.

Life after death

Today, I felt more dead than alive.

Okay, maybe that’s a little morbid, but you have days like this, right?

When you wake up and everything seems wrong from the minute your feet hit the floor.

When you drift from moment to moment, not really engaging in anything, just surviving till the next thing you have to do.

When the words that come out of your mouth are unlovely and produce no life in others.

When you’re sure if someone physically hurt you, you’d feel no pain.

I don’t know why, but I needed a redo from the first minutes of the day, and for the rest of the waking hours, I felt … off. Like I was steps behind where I needed to be.

I tried to reset by reading the Bible, taking a nap and listening to music. Nothing seemed to help break the funk. Not even coffee.

In many ways, what I was feeling today is reflective of the season of life we’re in. We’re mourning, in a sense, the loss of the familiar and the death of expectations. Sometimes, I think our dreams are dead, too.

But maybe it’s not death, exactly, but dormancy.

Months ago, a large and beautiful tree on our block was cut down, chopped into branches and mulch. I don’t know why. I didn’t ask. Maybe it was dead. Or diseased. Or inconvenient.  This stump remains, and the kids and I pass it almost daily on our walks around the block or down the street to check on the cows. A few weeks ago, I noticed a shoot growing out of the stump.

And leaves.

I don’t know much about trees or botany. Heck, I can hardly keep potted plants alive. (I have a cactus that’s thriving. I think I may have found my niche plant.)

But that stump with its new growth gives me hope. Like maybe the end of something isn’t always the end.

Earlier this month, on a family hike, I saw another such dead-but-not-quite-dead-yet phenomenon.

“That’s a weed, not a tree,” my husband ever-so-gently reminded me.

At the time, it didn’t matter. Something green was growing out of something that appeared to be dead. The second time past the plant, I took a closer look and found more growth.

And something stirred in my soul.

Awakened, really.

I serve a God who specializes in bringing the dead to life, and not in a Zombie Apocalypse sort of way. But in a “I once was lost now I’m found” sort of way.

When He walked the earth, He raised people from death to life physically, and ushered in the end of death with His resurrection.

Not long after these dead trees gave me hope, God spoke again, this time through His word. Sometimes, when Scripture is being read, I’m not as attentive as I’d like to be because I’m trying to quiet a noisy 2-year-old or respond to his questions or keep him from climbing over the back of the pew into someone else’s lap.

These words I heard crystal clear, and not only did my ears perk, my soul perked.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord says: I will take a branch from the top of a tall cedar, and I will plant it on the top of Israel’s highest mountain. It will become a majestic cedar, sending forth its branches and producing seed. Birds of every sort will nest in it, finding shelter in the shade of its branches. And all the trees will know that it is I, the Lord, who cuts the tall tree down and makes the short tree grow tall. It is I who makes the green tree wither and gives the dead tree new life. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will do what I said!” – Ezekiel 17:22-24 (emphasis added)

What might look like death can be transformed in the Lord into new life.

It will certainly hurt, for a time, or forever. It won’t be easy. It might be ugly.

But it will not be without hope. Without possibility. Without a future.

Amen.

Praise the Lord.

Saturday smiles: Life is messy edition

Phil and I like to watch Food Network, especially the competition shows. We’re currently catching up on Next Food Network Star. Last night, I had a dream that Bobby Flay asked us to host a cooking show on the network.

I wish.

Well, not really. Because the two of us don’t really have a culinary point of view, as the network execs like to say. Really, the only thing that defines our cooking is that we’re sure to make a mess of the kitchen. And generally, we turn out something tasty. Maybe even a little unusual. I always say, we’re the messy chefs.

In reality, life is messy. We intend to reflect that in our ministry and in our lives. We aren’t afraid to get our hands dirty with other people’s messes because, let me tell you, we’ve had plenty of our own.

This week, though, we took “messy” literally.

The kids are almost two weeks into their summer reading program, which is all about night-themed stuff. So, for one of their projects, we cut stars out of construction paper and decorated them with glitter. I didn’t even remember that I had glitter until we started planning this project.

I learned one thing about glitter: It doesn’t matter how careful you are not to make a mess, you’re going to walk away covered in the stuff. We’re still finding glitter on our faces, our feet and our arms and legs.

Most importantly, we had fun. And the kids got to work with a new art supply. And their stars (not pictured) are on display at the library for the duration of the summer. Totally worth the path of glitter trailing from our house to the library.

Corban really liked shaking the glitter canister, which accounted for most of the mess. I tried to save as much of the excess as I could, but my efforts had only partial success. We don’t have an art supply budget in our house (or a craft room — sigh) so we’ll make do.

Most of the rest of the week was unbearably hot. With our future uncertain, Phil and I made the decision to not bring the air conditioner down from the attic. (Because it’s heavy and a beast and an electricity guzzler … no offense to the dear friends who have loaned it to us!) We did put the kids’ air conditioner in so they could sleep comfortably. (Underneath layers of blankets. In 90-degree heat. On the first day of summer. Sometimes I wonder if these are really my children.)

So, when we got a short system of rain, Phil and the kids took advantage of the temporary relief.

Like a mama with ducklings. They were in search of a puddle.

I’m not sure anything makes me happier than this picture right here.

Innocence, joy and the trademark tongue all rolled into one. Although this child is often the source of my frustration (because she needs people all the time and I don’t), she is also the source of many giggles. Take this conversation, for instance:

Daughter: “Mom, will my name still be ‘Izzy’ when I grow up?

Mom: “It will be whatever you want it to be. You could go by Isabelle, Izzy, Belle …”

Daughter: “Or Cinderella, or Cindy, or cup.”

Mom bursts out laughing and forgets the rest of the conversation.

Our son, also, has his moments of favor. We are more alike temperamentally, so it takes a lot more from him to cause me frustration. One of my favorite things lately is when he comes into the bedroom just after I’ve gotten dressed for the day and says, “Oh, you look pwetty.” (Is your heart melting? Mine has. Numerous times.)

This time next week, our kids will be out of our hands for almost a week and in the more-than-capable hands of their grandparents. I look forward to the relief but know I’ll be a basket-case the whole way home after we make our exchange.

I mean, really. How could I not miss this:

Life is messy. Parenting is hard. And this moment was one highlight among a lot of lowlights this week. But I’ve decided I’ll endure the lows, though they be frequent, if it means I get to experience the highs, though they be rare.

Happy weekend!

And if you see my dad, wish him a “Happy Birthday!”