The (endless) season of planning is (finally) coming to a close, so let's get the real season started already, shall we?
Anyone else excited about college football? Go on, be grateful!
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
this moment in rome i can't forget
It was early on this day in Rome.
We'd caught the Metro around 7:00 that morning in order to arrive at the San Pietro station by 7:30, hopeful to secure a chair in St. Peter's Square for the papal blessing at 10:30.
The crowd was a given; 80-some-odd thousand people were expected to be battling for a spot. As we emerged above ground from the Metro station, that very crowd practically carried us to the square, as if we were a raft in their waters.
Hidden in the mass of tourists were the locals, navigating their morning routines. Men in suits, holding a briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other. Shop owners switching their door signs from Closed to Open. Moms walking their uniformed children to school.
Homeless nomads, tucked under blankets on door stoops and sleeping soundly amongst the morning bustle.
We walked briskly and with purpose, but then this.
An older gentleman walked toward us, just as briskly and with just as much purpose, apparently heading to work for the day. One of those locals, doing what I suspected was his everyday normal.
Seemingly by second nature, that man leaned down mid-stride toward another still peacefully sleeping on one of those door stoops, and laid at his head a paper bag filled with breakfast.
In a matter of seconds, I hoped it was a fresh-baked pastry, topped with some of the most delightfully sweet sugar. Or a buttery, flaky croissant that was still hot with steam.
In another second, I wondered what that man lying on the ground would think when he finally awoke.
And in the next second, because this servant expressed goodwill so naturally, I believed this was his ordinary. I believed this was as much a part of his routine as grabbing his briefcase on the way out the door.
It was one of the most beautiful acts of service I've ever seen, because it was executed in front of thousands of people, yet without fanfare or attention. That man never made eye contact with a soul, because he cared nothing for honor or glory.
I think my breath caught in my throat I was so touched.
This man. This kindness. This ordinary.
These are the red-letter moments, people. Make them happen.
Hidden in the mass of tourists were the locals, navigating their morning routines. Men in suits, holding a briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other. Shop owners switching their door signs from Closed to Open. Moms walking their uniformed children to school.
Homeless nomads, tucked under blankets on door stoops and sleeping soundly amongst the morning bustle.
We walked briskly and with purpose, but then this.
An older gentleman walked toward us, just as briskly and with just as much purpose, apparently heading to work for the day. One of those locals, doing what I suspected was his everyday normal.
Seemingly by second nature, that man leaned down mid-stride toward another still peacefully sleeping on one of those door stoops, and laid at his head a paper bag filled with breakfast.
In a matter of seconds, I hoped it was a fresh-baked pastry, topped with some of the most delightfully sweet sugar. Or a buttery, flaky croissant that was still hot with steam.
In another second, I wondered what that man lying on the ground would think when he finally awoke.
And in the next second, because this servant expressed goodwill so naturally, I believed this was his ordinary. I believed this was as much a part of his routine as grabbing his briefcase on the way out the door.
It was one of the most beautiful acts of service I've ever seen, because it was executed in front of thousands of people, yet without fanfare or attention. That man never made eye contact with a soul, because he cared nothing for honor or glory.
I think my breath caught in my throat I was so touched.
This man. This kindness. This ordinary.
These are the red-letter moments, people. Make them happen.
Monday, August 25, 2014
baron fig
Of late, I've been on a mad hunt for the perfect to-do-list-holder and note-taker. I was hankering for a "planner" that gives me some flexibility, but that has plenty of pages for meeting notes, random ideas, and sporadic jots.
No pre-made calendar pages or ruled paper inserts would do.
Here were the preferred criteria:
... but frankly, I didn't want to be like everyone else. And that guy's kinda stuffy, I think.
And then my research yielded something else that intrigued me, something different and classy: the Baron Fig Confidant.
Here's how he stacked up to my wish list:
Dimensions are 7.5" x 5.25". I quite like that it's a little wider than the 5"-wide Moleskine.
It comes with blank, lined, or dotted paper. And that blank paper, oh, it is fine. Smooth and ivory.
It only comes in one color, and if it were black, I'd not have tolerated it. But it's this very chic silverish-grayish-pewterish linen, which I believe whispers, "I'm unique."
There is no elastic closure, which was a definite con, and a criterion I wasn't sure I could compromise.
But this sealed the deal for me:
It opens flat. FLAT. No flipping.
So at a very reasonable $16, I decided he was worth a shot, and so far, I'm glad I did.
If you're in the market for a journal of any sort, give Baron Fig a chance.
If nothing else, you'll feel very hip for trying it out.
No pre-made calendar pages or ruled paper inserts would do.
Here were the preferred criteria:
- Dimensions around 8" x 5"
- An elastic strap closure
- Blank paper (i.e., no lines, no dots, no grids)
- Smooth and stately paper
- Visually beautiful
And then my research yielded something else that intrigued me, something different and classy: the Baron Fig Confidant.
Dimensions are 7.5" x 5.25". I quite like that it's a little wider than the 5"-wide Moleskine.
It comes with blank, lined, or dotted paper. And that blank paper, oh, it is fine. Smooth and ivory.
It only comes in one color, and if it were black, I'd not have tolerated it. But it's this very chic silverish-grayish-pewterish linen, which I believe whispers, "I'm unique."
There is no elastic closure, which was a definite con, and a criterion I wasn't sure I could compromise.
But this sealed the deal for me:
It opens flat. FLAT. No flipping.
So at a very reasonable $16, I decided he was worth a shot, and so far, I'm glad I did.
If you're in the market for a journal of any sort, give Baron Fig a chance.
If nothing else, you'll feel very hip for trying it out.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
thankful thursday #194
These two weeks have been peppered with more work travel than I prefer.
But for tonight, my last night on the road (at least for a week, ugh), I'm grateful to be climbing into this bed.
Doesn't he look cozy?
Thankful to be in my own bed tomorrow, but he'll do for now.
Wishing you a restful weekend, friends, and one of appreciation. Go on, be grateful!
But for tonight, my last night on the road (at least for a week, ugh), I'm grateful to be climbing into this bed.
Doesn't he look cozy?
Thankful to be in my own bed tomorrow, but he'll do for now.
Wishing you a restful weekend, friends, and one of appreciation. Go on, be grateful!
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
to carter, on the occasion of your third
"Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work."
-- C.S. Lewis
Dear Carter Christopher,
Goodness gracious, you are a lovable mess of a three-year-old.
You started school this year. Your vocabulary exploded there, and your teachers marveled at your affinity for the alphabet and counting. You appear to have a very advanced memory, too, which I imagine means you'll beat all your friends down in future games of Memory.
One morning when your mom asked you what you'd do at school that day, you replied, Go to the Thinking Pond. The Thinking Pond is your classroom time-out, so there's that happening at school, too. Fingers are crossed you don't fall totally in love with that special place of serenity and reflection.
A favorite highlight at school was your debut in the performing arts. At your Thanksgiving school program, you were vastly underwhelmed and unimpressed with the construction paper headdresses, singing, and general Pilgrim shenanigans.
I did not stop laughing at that picture for days.
You've had me in stitches over commentary like It's wonderful! or That's so cool! about who-knows-what, and over exuberant renditions of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." You live so big in those moments.
Speaking of stitches, you barely avoided real ones when you split your eyebrow on the concrete running full throttle down the driveway. Your dad and uncle have some doozy scars from their days as wild boys; I imagine this will be the first of many for you, too.
Here's what your mom and dad have to say in reflecting on your past year:
I'd describe Carter's personality with these few words:
mom: All boy, or as they say in North Carolina, "wide open."
dad: Happy with a side of stubborn.
Carter is happiest when he ...
mom: Is outside playing, climbing, or exploring.
dad: Is able to run around outside, or in a big open space.
Carter is not-so-charming when he (all together now!) ...
mom: Doesn't get his way.
dad: Doesn't get his way.
My proudest moment as a parent this past year was ...
mom: When he started to speak in complete sentences, some of which included "please" and "thank you" without prompting.
dad: When he said his prayer on his own before bed one night.
Carter's best qualities are ...
mom: He is friendly. He is kind and gentle with small kids and pets. He also still likes to sit on his mom's lap (thank goodness).
dad: He is very personable.
I laugh out loud when Carter ...
mom: Laughs. His laugh is contagious!
dad: Sings in the car, and when he tells everyone individually "goodbye!" at school.
After his third birthday, I'm most looking forward to ...
mom: Seeing what he becomes interested in during the next year.
dad: Being completely potty trained, and having a conversation with him.
Mercy, it's been a fun year. But my instinct is that it's been the year, too, where the proverbial rubber met the road.
Your parents are watching you grow rapidly into who you were made to be, celebrating your major milestones and proudest moments (first haircut without tears!), but keenly aware of your inherent imperfections (you can throw a mean tantrum) and undeserved brokenness.
They're learning quickly that they can't protect you from everything bad -- from falls, or stitches, or other kids, or the thinking pond -- and it's in those moments that they're reminded that this world is not as it should be.
It is unfair, and difficult, and sometimes straight-up scary. That is a debilitating realization for some, but not your mom and dad.
Because then your laugh makes them giggle, or you climb up in your mom's lap, or you say something funny, and they are motivated to keep pressing on, fighting hard on your behalf, knowing deep in their bones that this work of raising you is the most important, and most rewarding, they'll ever do.
My goodness, you are loved.
I hope that you will always know the love of your mom and dad, whether they are doting or disciplining, and I pray fervently that you will one day come to accept the love of the heavenly Father who loves you even more fully and purely. Especially your imperfections.
You're one-of-a-kind, Little Man. Never forget that.
Happy Third. We are (still) wild for you.
-- C.S. Lewis
Dear Carter Christopher,
Goodness gracious, you are a lovable mess of a three-year-old.
You started school this year. Your vocabulary exploded there, and your teachers marveled at your affinity for the alphabet and counting. You appear to have a very advanced memory, too, which I imagine means you'll beat all your friends down in future games of Memory.
One morning when your mom asked you what you'd do at school that day, you replied, Go to the Thinking Pond. The Thinking Pond is your classroom time-out, so there's that happening at school, too. Fingers are crossed you don't fall totally in love with that special place of serenity and reflection.
A favorite highlight at school was your debut in the performing arts. At your Thanksgiving school program, you were vastly underwhelmed and unimpressed with the construction paper headdresses, singing, and general Pilgrim shenanigans.
You've had me in stitches over commentary like It's wonderful! or That's so cool! about who-knows-what, and over exuberant renditions of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." You live so big in those moments.
Speaking of stitches, you barely avoided real ones when you split your eyebrow on the concrete running full throttle down the driveway. Your dad and uncle have some doozy scars from their days as wild boys; I imagine this will be the first of many for you, too.
Here's what your mom and dad have to say in reflecting on your past year:
I'd describe Carter's personality with these few words:
mom: All boy, or as they say in North Carolina, "wide open."
dad: Happy with a side of stubborn.
Carter is happiest when he ...
mom: Is outside playing, climbing, or exploring.
dad: Is able to run around outside, or in a big open space.
Carter is not-so-charming when he (all together now!) ...
mom: Doesn't get his way.
dad: Doesn't get his way.
My proudest moment as a parent this past year was ...
mom: When he started to speak in complete sentences, some of which included "please" and "thank you" without prompting.
dad: When he said his prayer on his own before bed one night.
Carter's best qualities are ...
mom: He is friendly. He is kind and gentle with small kids and pets. He also still likes to sit on his mom's lap (thank goodness).
dad: He is very personable.
I laugh out loud when Carter ...
mom: Laughs. His laugh is contagious!
dad: Sings in the car, and when he tells everyone individually "goodbye!" at school.
After his third birthday, I'm most looking forward to ...
mom: Seeing what he becomes interested in during the next year.
dad: Being completely potty trained, and having a conversation with him.
Mercy, it's been a fun year. But my instinct is that it's been the year, too, where the proverbial rubber met the road.
Your parents are watching you grow rapidly into who you were made to be, celebrating your major milestones and proudest moments (first haircut without tears!), but keenly aware of your inherent imperfections (you can throw a mean tantrum) and undeserved brokenness.
They're learning quickly that they can't protect you from everything bad -- from falls, or stitches, or other kids, or the thinking pond -- and it's in those moments that they're reminded that this world is not as it should be.
It is unfair, and difficult, and sometimes straight-up scary. That is a debilitating realization for some, but not your mom and dad.
Because then your laugh makes them giggle, or you climb up in your mom's lap, or you say something funny, and they are motivated to keep pressing on, fighting hard on your behalf, knowing deep in their bones that this work of raising you is the most important, and most rewarding, they'll ever do.
My goodness, you are loved.
I hope that you will always know the love of your mom and dad, whether they are doting or disciplining, and I pray fervently that you will one day come to accept the love of the heavenly Father who loves you even more fully and purely. Especially your imperfections.
You're one-of-a-kind, Little Man. Never forget that.
Happy Third. We are (still) wild for you.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
i forgot to post some beach vacation photos
The photos on the nice camera. They don't get to shine as quickly as the ones on the iPhone.
But these from our family beach trip made me so happy.
Little Man had some quality time with Audie and Kaki.
The adult kiddos had some time to play, too.
And Hurricane Arthur rumbled in the background.
So maybe that grip needs a little more work.
And while we waited out the hurricane, the wild one loved a crash pile. Pat was happy to oblige. A good running start ...
Happily, the hurricane did not steal our joy!
But these from our family beach trip made me so happy.
Little Man had some quality time with Audie and Kaki.
The adult kiddos had some time to play, too.
Pat mentored Little Man in frisbee skillz.
Every outstanding disc golfer has to start somewhere.
So maybe that grip needs a little more work.
And while we waited out the hurricane, the wild one loved a crash pile. Pat was happy to oblige. A good running start ...
... and a crash landing.
There was no sweeter sound than his glee in this moment.
Monday, August 18, 2014
italy story time recap
Golly, it is good to travel with people you love, and with people that make you laugh.
This past weekend we reconvened to reminisce, tell stories to the poor souls who were willing to listen, and eat like we were starving children. It was crazy town.
Some worked hard.
Others did not.
All I can say for myself is that I set a fun table.
Each one of those little guys had a phrase tucked inside to prompt a story. We each took turns sharing our memories that way, rather than droning on for hours and hours with no end in sight.
I hope our guests felt the mercy.
It was good times, all around. Looking forward to the next adventure ...
... in a decade, when the checkbook recovers.
This past weekend we reconvened to reminisce, tell stories to the poor souls who were willing to listen, and eat like we were starving children. It was crazy town.
Some worked hard.
Others did not.
These gals accepted the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Because why not.
These ones made slideshow gold.
And this girl and her daddy pulled off a masterpiece of a meal.
All I can say for myself is that I set a fun table.
Each one of those little guys had a phrase tucked inside to prompt a story. We each took turns sharing our memories that way, rather than droning on for hours and hours with no end in sight.
I hope our guests felt the mercy.
It was good times, all around. Looking forward to the next adventure ...
... in a decade, when the checkbook recovers.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
thankful thursday #193
This weekend my Italy travel buddies are coming into town for a little reunion. I'm so thrilled.
We are pulling out our cheeses, our pesto, our olive oil, our wine, our photos and our stories to relive some of our favorite memories.
And for an audience, of course. Some of our biggest fans -- our parents -- are coming to humor us in our reminiscing. It will be fun. (For us, anyway.)
In preparing for our time together, I pulled out my journal from the trip, to jog my own memory on the tastes and sounds and characters we encountered there.
There was a running joke for those fifteen days, that while I was feverishly working to keep a current documentation of our travels, the rest of the girls were napping.
On trains, in museum lines, late at night, waiting on the Pope. I was always journaling.
All the time.
A few days into the trip, my friends all surrendered to the truth that their journals would never be as awesome as mine, and I promised to carry the torch the rest of the way.
I'm so grateful I did.
I'm looking forward to flipping through and remembering the details that would be long forgotten had my pen and paper not recorded such rich, sweet times.
Here's wishing you a weekend of great memories, friends and a heart of thankfulness. Go on, be grateful!
We are pulling out our cheeses, our pesto, our olive oil, our wine, our photos and our stories to relive some of our favorite memories.
And for an audience, of course. Some of our biggest fans -- our parents -- are coming to humor us in our reminiscing. It will be fun. (For us, anyway.)
In preparing for our time together, I pulled out my journal from the trip, to jog my own memory on the tastes and sounds and characters we encountered there.
There was a running joke for those fifteen days, that while I was feverishly working to keep a current documentation of our travels, the rest of the girls were napping.
On trains, in museum lines, late at night, waiting on the Pope. I was always journaling.
All the time.
A few days into the trip, my friends all surrendered to the truth that their journals would never be as awesome as mine, and I promised to carry the torch the rest of the way.
I'm so grateful I did.
I'm looking forward to flipping through and remembering the details that would be long forgotten had my pen and paper not recorded such rich, sweet times.
Here's wishing you a weekend of great memories, friends and a heart of thankfulness. Go on, be grateful!
Thursday, August 7, 2014
thankful thursday #192
I have two more birthday gifts to report.
One made me laugh hysterically (maybe I'll tell the story soon):
One made me want to cry I was so touched:
Gracious, I have the most generous and thoughtful people in my life. Grateful tonight for two more unexpected reminders of that.
Wishing you a surprise moment of thankfulness this weekend. Go on, be grateful!
Friday, August 1, 2014
marinate on it
I need to let that marinate.
I say that a lot. Before I'm ready to take a stance, or make a decision, or form an opinion, or what have you.
It's a slow processor's way of saying, I'm not ready. I need more time.
It's a way for clarity and discernment take root, and for time and space to work their magic.
I love to marinate a good piece of meat, too, and I've tried a slew of techniques. I'm recently obsessed with this one, because it's so darn easy. The chicken turns the most picturesque golden brown, it's tender and juicy, and has the perfect balance of sweet and savory.
Easiest Grilled Chicken Marinade
Serves 6-8
1 c. brown sugar
1 c. vegetable oil
1/2 c. soy sauce (reduced sodium)
1/2 c. white vinegar
salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Whisk together brown sugar, oil, soy sauce and vinegar (or use your blender, if you want to clean it, blah), and season with salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste. Pour mixture over chicken placed in either a covered dish or a Ziplock bag, and allow to marinate for 6-8 hours, turning at least once.
Heat grill on high heat for 5 minutes. Place chicken breasts on grill, then reduce heat to medium. Grill for about 6-7 minutes on each side, or until chicken is cooked through (I usually go rogue and just cut into it to check for doneness).
Let the chicken rest for about ten minutes before serving or slicing. I usually eat one for my dinner, and then chop up the rest to eat on sandwiches and salads for the rest of the week. (Pour the juices into your leftover container, so the chicken stays nice and juicy. So good.)
Whether you marinate mentally, or just in the kitchen, try this one. You won't regret it.
I say that a lot. Before I'm ready to take a stance, or make a decision, or form an opinion, or what have you.
It's a slow processor's way of saying, I'm not ready. I need more time.
It's a way for clarity and discernment take root, and for time and space to work their magic.
I love to marinate a good piece of meat, too, and I've tried a slew of techniques. I'm recently obsessed with this one, because it's so darn easy. The chicken turns the most picturesque golden brown, it's tender and juicy, and has the perfect balance of sweet and savory.
Easiest Grilled Chicken Marinade
Serves 6-8
1 c. brown sugar
1 c. vegetable oil
1/2 c. soy sauce (reduced sodium)
1/2 c. white vinegar
salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Whisk together brown sugar, oil, soy sauce and vinegar (or use your blender, if you want to clean it, blah), and season with salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste. Pour mixture over chicken placed in either a covered dish or a Ziplock bag, and allow to marinate for 6-8 hours, turning at least once.
Heat grill on high heat for 5 minutes. Place chicken breasts on grill, then reduce heat to medium. Grill for about 6-7 minutes on each side, or until chicken is cooked through (I usually go rogue and just cut into it to check for doneness).
Let the chicken rest for about ten minutes before serving or slicing. I usually eat one for my dinner, and then chop up the rest to eat on sandwiches and salads for the rest of the week. (Pour the juices into your leftover container, so the chicken stays nice and juicy. So good.)
Whether you marinate mentally, or just in the kitchen, try this one. You won't regret it.
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