{that} moment

...when you learn that your child has died. {that} moment is tough to describe.

it's shock.
it's a knife through your heart, up your chin, and out your mouth.
it's disbelief.
it's life-ending, earth-shattering, and horrific.

i'll never forget the doctor saying, "i'm sorry...your daughter has passed away". i can feel the lump in my throat; the sting in my eyes. i can still visualize myself on that table, feeling as though if i kicked my legs hard enough, she might come back. i can still see the fog that hung over my face for months...and years after olivia's death. i can remember every detail of {that} moment and sometimes, if i sit quietly for long enough, i'm right there again. i can taste the fall leaves in the air. i smell the hospital and feel the stainless steel beneathe me. i hear silence of the doppler and wonder how i can still be in a world that no longer holds my most precious treasure.

it's funny how your life can be one thing one minute and then completely different the next. how one {second} your child can be alive and then the next {second} they are not.

they say time heals. it doesn't. it changes, but it doesn't heal.

those smells and tastes, thoughts and feelings- they stay buried until something {familiar} triggers a chain reaction. it's then, in {that} moment when you realize you're 8 years in but still one second out.

---

this week, a mother i {know} experienced {that} moment. a tragic farming accident claimed the life of her two year old son. there are no words. there are no quick-fixes or inspiring goals to lay before her. it's hard. it's the hardest thing i've ever had to do....to take one foot and place it in front of the other not knowing what's coming and not wanting the breath i'm taking.

---

breathe. take the step because although time doesn't heal, hope does.

a rant.

Dear dude at Macy's last night,

I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not but the family restroom at Macys is intended for just that - families. It's especially intended for families with {young} children - you know the kind, right? You must have enough empathy to understand that a dancing three year old has T-minus four seconds to be stripped of not only his pants, but also his shoes AND socks before there is a puddle on the floor. You know that, right? You also must know what it's like to nurse a baby while sitting on a toilet in an echo-y room with the said three year old singing, to the top of his lungs, his ABCs...you know what that's like, right?

Well then.

I'm just wondering why you felt it necessary to use the family restroom when you didn't have your family in tow. Is it because it's nice? Or is it because it's closer to the escalator? Either way, I don't mind waiting because I've gotten pretty good at distracting little ones long enough to wait our turn.

My beef, however, is this. Next time you use the family bathroom at Macys, could you be so kind as to flush the toilet? Ode to your pee was almost gagable. What's more, could you take the time to lift the toilet seat too? Someone else's pee on the backside of my jeans is not a great look.

Thankyouverymuch,

disgusted.

a {real} American hero.

A {real} American hero sets a tone. He stands proud and others take notice - maybe even enough to walk in his footsteps some day.

a {real} American hero finds the JOY in a child's smile and gentleness in his flag-gripped fingers.

A {real} American hero looks up and answers to the {real} Commander in Chief.

A {real} American hero has a patient heart and watchful spirit.

A {real} American hero has an army of prayer warriors defending him.

I was blessed to watch 100s of {real} American heroes board a bus today on their way to Afghanistan. I watched as they kissed their wives and gently wiped their tears. I watched as they strolled their newborn children and tossed their toddlers into the air. I watch as they bought candies from vending machines and playfully purchased their final "Oregon" meal.

All I could think about was how heroic they {are}. All these men and women are {real} American heroes. Every.single.one. (but the dude in the middle there...third from the right...that's my brother and he's pretty special!!!)

See that blue, Oregon flag? It's practically pointing at Aaron!

These heroes of {ours} are loved. So very, very loved.

These heroes of {ours} will be missed. So very, very much.

I am so proud to stand next to a {real} American hero.

I am so proud to be on a field with countless others.

Thank you for your sacrifice.

Godspeed.

{only} 363 more days.

Ephesians 6:14

heads {up}

ever feel like you've got your head in the sand?

just wonderin'.

Tales from...the 4th grade

what I've learned about teaching 4th grade so far...

1. If a shoe is unlaced, tie it. It's easier that way. It just is.
2. Band aids need a {home} out in the open.
3. 4th graders LOVE jokes - especially my Pink Panther one ;)
4. "Tales of the 4th Grade Nothing" by Judy Blume is a great way to kick off the year.
5. Don't write in cursive {yet} because it's about as legible as hieroglyphics.
6. There are two times when an administrator will come in your room - when the Internet is down and you're wingin' some math games or the first day you attempt reading 'stations'. sigh.
7. Having a "person of the day" is VERY important.
8. Super sentences are just that - super.
9. A jar of sharpened pencils kicks the pants off 30 kids sharpening all at the same time any.day.of.the.week ;)
10. I really CAN get 30 kids up and moving in an orderly fashion with {lots} and {lots} of practice.

...and most of all, I've learned that kids are kids and I teach kids...
4th grade isn't so scary after all.

It's a {brother} thang!

Papa Bob's Lake

Meet Papa Bob. That's what Ryan 'named' him. He's my dad's dad and he's GREAT. The first time JD met my grandpa, he had a snorkle in his mouth and was chest deep in Pend Oreille H2O fixing his dock. A short time later I thought he was going to pick me up and throw me into the air when I told him I was engaged. Needless to say, he liked the idea of another home-grown Sandpoint boy in the family. :)





In the eyes of my boys, Papa Bob lives at an amusement park. He 'ownes' an entire lake that was named after him, a jet ski or two, boats, a whole garage FULL of make-your-own bikes, endless Butter Brickle Ice Cream, he gets to sleep in a bed WITH his favorite dog, and spends all day long watching little kids kickin' it on his beach. He lives a pretty {great life} that Papa Bob and don't even doubt for a moment that a certain little Ryan hasn't picked up on it! Just ask him what he wants to be when he grows up and it's a toss up between a fighter jet pilot and Papa Bob!





It's no wonder I have to answer this question about a MILLION times per day "When can we go to Papa Bob's?" Especially after we've just spent a week camping in his front yard :)





Luckily for Papa Bob (and us), his pretty great sister lives just right next door. I was 20 when I learned that her name is Ethel, not really Sis. We've always called her Aunt Sis. She and my grandpa grew up on a farm in Sandpoint and I just love hearing about all the 'ol farm stories! Here she is holding Jaxson. She is SOOOO beautiful!!!




She too has experienced a full term pregnancy loss and so we've always been kindred spirits. We also have the same birthday :)



Aunt Sis and Papa Bob are such blessings to our family. They are both such giving people - not giving of 'things' -


They are giving of time. And energy. And ideas. And conversation. And advice. And love. And spirit. And patience. And support. They give, what I like to call, a legacy of love and I only hope I can be just like them.


This is just a lil collection of Papa Bob's Lake pics :)

I hope to one day create for my family a place they will flock to.

...a legacy that lives...