This blog is akin to the journal that sits on my kitchen counter, open and ready for scribbled thanksgivings. It is a reminder of all the beauty around me, the moments that might otherwise pass unheeded.
Like the moment when the kids found the sprayer and hose after daddy finished washing his car and no, I didn't interrupt the fun even though I was well aware that they were splashing in what was dirty dish-soapy water. It's better to grab the camera.
Or the moment when the sun, bright on the horizon, lit the undersides of all the thunderheads, and the pale rainbow arched above the apple trees. And as I walked back to the house from the glistening rose bushes, Rosie peeked out her window from her crib and danced with joy.
And that time when Hope fluttered on the breeze. And the fringe sailed through the air in dance and song. And when that girl, long prayed over, ran behind me and threw her arms around my neck, so happy to be at Kid's Club at the start of summer, the only "church" some children have ever yet known. And when the sprinklers came roaring on in the middle of Kids Club and children and adults alike hollered and shrieked and ran for dry safety, except the game of kickball, which went on much the same as before, only wetter.