Let me tell you about the {lines} on my face.

Oh man. When you get your boys in the woods, watch them {bloom}. Sit back, smile and see the joy rise up out of their souls. I love that the first thing Ryan does when he gets in the woods is breathe down deep, the pine cone-y freshness that is {boy} and {joy} all rolled up together. Gage is starting to notice the smell of it all too.


Watch as they learn to skate on thin ice; a metaphorical taste of what is to come with {life}. Ironic how fun it is now.

We journeyed into the woods on this day, soul-searching. JD had just gotten home after working all night. All {3} were in the tub. I looked up at my weary husband and said, "Let's go sledding in the mountains today". You should have seen that night-shift blue shade fade from his face and bright lights take the place within him. Talk about the colors of a flame! He was packed, four wheelers and all, before I had the kids dried, dressed, and ready to go.

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I've been reading "Wild at Heart" and am realizing how important this man stuff is. These adventures. These woods.

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On this day, we were in search of a good time. A good {family} time in God's country.

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JD remembered seeing a "really cool bee hive" in the woods so we spent a good portion of him pulling the boys and I on two connected sleds through the woods, searching for the elusive hive. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a cool bee hive.

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We found it. Unfortunately someone else had as well, so we got to see what was left of it. JD was right - it would have been cool. Instead though, I found THEE perfect Christmas tree. I propped my camera up and even got a timed family picture. Ahhh, the fragrance of adventure. It's good stuff.

The boys 'harvested' the tree and we fashioned a system for getting it back to the trailer in one piece. It all worked out marvelously. What a {perfect} day.

Now, admittedly, this isn't the best picture of me but it tells the story.

See that tip trailer? Yeah, it spells disaster. As darkness was approaching and the McElroys were loading, adventure turned...sour. JD {accidentally} drove his four-wheeler through the back of our car. GASP. Pause for affect.

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More pausing. More affecting. More GASPS.

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Can you hear the echoing screams of "I told you that would happen...WHY didn't you listen to me?" That would be the role I played. I know. I'm not the supportive, compassionate wife I would like to be.

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It was a quiet ride home narrated by JD with one sentence, "If you had stood where you wanted, we would be driving to an ER right now and you'd probably look a lot like Ryan" (who has no front teeth at the moment). Nu-ugh. I probably would have lifted that four-wheeler like She-ruh and none of this would have happened. Phshaw.

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I end the story here for one reason. It's a line on my face like the song humming along to this story suggests. It's what makes us, us. It's the lesson {learned} because sweet friends, there's ALWAYS a lesson.

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I can choose to forget the scene with my babies in the tub.

I can forget the light in {12} eyes when their souls hear, "woods".

I can forget about the two sleds and one beehive in a pine tree.

I can forget all about skating on thin ice and the echos of laughter ringing through The Blues.

I can forget about our family's picture, everyone looking (finally).

I can forget about thee most perfect Christmas tree EVER and the joint effort it took to get it {home}.

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You see, I can forget all about that and remember the {dent}. (IF I choose to).

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This year, this year absent from blogging, I've spent remembering more dents than all the rest. It's easy to do because they are everywhere. But believe you me, the light in these eyes of mine is returning, looking up, watching, and waiting for the Lord to ignite. The dents are fading and the Lord's fire is refining.