Uncles are just the best.

(303/365)

Aunties are just the best.

(302/365)

Didn't you know that this is what barbed wire fences are really for?

(301/365)

The silence of the forest. Bliss.

(300/365)

Two days away with my man.

(299/365)

We're busy cleaning/packing/travelling today, so I'm throwin' it back to a week ago when we went and visited friends, and our cat wanted to jump on the trampoline, too. 

(298/365)

(297/365)

Pretty soon they'll be diggin' in snow...

(296/365)

(295/365)

Howling like the little wolf pups they are.

(294/365)

Tucked in a corner, babbling endlessly and happily as she plays.

(293/365)

I try not to wish these precious little days away, but I can't help but long for the day when they all know how to read and are able to do it together. 

(292/365)

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(290/365)

The "After Nap".

(289/365)

Judah was moved to tears today when we visited the farm that took in our kitty, Cosby, and found that he is as happy as could be. He would not let us out of his sight, and even demonstrated how much fun he's having climbing trees and playing with his new cat family. Sometimes we have to make hard decisions for the good of those we love!

(288/365)

We have a new pet friend: Moses, the beta. 

(287/365)

Free-running in the back yard before the snow flies. I'm in denial of the fact that we'll be clad in parkas and snow pants and appropriate arctic paraphernalia in a month's time.

(286/365)

(285/365)

My Grandma and Grandpa celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Grandma is finding it difficult to remember many people or things lately, including me. But my sweet little girl? Oh, she had her great grandma wrapped around her little finger. I thank the Lord for how he used Lydia to make her light up!

(284/365)

I still don't know how hotel rooms can be quite as much fun as they are.

(283/365)

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(281/365)

(280/365)

This crazy is of my making.

on cancer

The cares of this world have felt like they've been suffocating me. I'm pretty sure that's normal, though, when one's mother is diagnosed with cancer. My silence about it on this blog has not been borne of an apathetic attitude towards it. It's just so. hard. to. think. when it feels like your world has been shaken so that nothing is where it used to be. 

Harder than the diagnosis, however, is seeing my mom go through chemo. One of her nurses described it simply and effectively: "What we're putting into your veins will either kill you, or cure you!" 

No wonder it's so hard to wrap my mind around it.

Even so, God is good. No, seriously. I mean that with all of my being. 

He's good because he never promised a life devoid of hardship; He isn't breaking His vow concerning my mother. At all. His refining fire has come to her in the form of cancer. And He will be her strength, just as He always has been in the past.

He is good because He has been preparing her for this for many months. She's met with people battling the same cancer before she was even sure she had it. He enabled her to meet it with acceptance and praise. Surely that is not something her human heart could conceive without divine intervention.

And, He is good because He, Jesus Christ, has already suffered in her stead for the true Cancer leading to death: Sin. 

I pray that God would give me the same strength and certainty so that I, too, will be able to praise Him in this storm.

(279/365)

(278/365)

(277/365)

Drizzly, grey days.

(276/365)

Weekend pancake chef.

(275/365)

Letting the changing seasons seep into our bones.

(274/365)

Doorstep reading and fall reflections.