out of the fog & into the light.

There was this week in January where it was nothing but fog.  And I mean nothing.  The air was heavy, the train sounded like it was going to come right through our house several times a day, and it was just flat dull and gray no matter which way you looked.

The first few days weren't bad.  And then the reality of the stagnant air hit & it hovered over our world like a dark, ugly cloud day, after day, after day.

One thing I need to have in huge, bold words on a sign I can roll out when the fog rolls in each winter is this:   {fog doesn't last forever}!!  And even when it feels like it's going to hold on for the rest of your life, it doesn't.

Because up above the fog there is this place where the sun shines & you can almost feel God whispering happiness straight into your soul.

It's a place where smiles are contagious.

And relationships are strengthened.

Where squeals of delight can be heard echoing.

And friends pull you up from the deepest of pits you find yourself in.

There are places just like this where sunlight bounces off eyelashes & gives another freckle.

Where friends get to laugh.  A lot.

And middle-school drama gets left behind.

Where sun-flare is caught & captured.

And you remember that dancing isn't always done on your feet.

Where warmth is found in the comfort of legs wrapped around you and gloved hands holding you tight.

It's a place where you don't have to see to believe.  You just trust.

And a place where just {be}ing is the only option.

It's a place where you remember how to laugh, how to yell, and how to hold on tight to that which could disappear in seconds.

A place where you put one foot in front of the other and just carry on.

We found a place just out of the fog.

A place where it wasn't about gloom or gray.

A place where the thought of bottling up the sunshine was practical.

And shadows & slippery sleds simply meant {love}.

There was this place not far from home that we're still dreaming of returning to ... with a fondness of a day that will be etched in our minds forever.

A place just above the clouds where God whispered {I'm here} and {you're here} ... and together, we're a glimpse of what heaven really is.

Joy - in every single kind of way.

I almost forgot.

Dear January of 2013,

I almost forgot we had snow this year.  In fact, I think I would have forgotten completely if I hadn't come across these few pictures of our one and only snowman this winter.  You were good to us in every sort of way, but especially in your mildness.

Every year is different.  Some years there is a ton of ice & sleet, and freezing rain.  Other years the snow just piles and melts, and then piles again.  This year was almost weird.  Only a few weeks of chains - but that was just to get around in the mud, and very little 4-wheel drive.  Weird.

Thank you for giving us a chance to build a memory with the little snow we did receive.  This snowman represents us well.

A hat to keep our heads covered & warm - with the color green standing out from the rest.  Green = growth, and we grew a lot this year!

A smile that is there if you look hard enough - almost a bit mischievous in a way, but totally {present} despite most circumstances.

Arms wide open  - in awe of the One who gave it all - seeking and searching for all that is within his grasp.

And a scarf loosely tied around his neck - a piece of comfort just to know that when there aren't physical arms to hold us tight, there are scarves of every size, shape, and color to let us know that those who love us most are with us all the time.  Giving us a hug, warming us with their presence, and reminding us that we are wrapped in so much love.

So thank you winter.  Thank you for being mild, but for also being a bit of cold too - because without the cold we wouldn't really appreciate the mild.  This season is nearing its close, but it will not be forgotten.  Not forgotten because bits of every season are what we share with others.  They're in our smile, in a freckle or two, and can even be seen in our twinkling eyes.

Who knows ... maybe it will be a season that is repeated again another year.  One can hope.

a boy named {grace}.

Grace was born last year as a reminder of God's grace and mercy daily.

His life was purposeful for me.

His presence was necessary.

His story is here. I hope you read it again and again.  I know I have.

One year later - and here stands Grace. 

Tall & proud.  

Not a lot different than the rest of the crowd, but oh so different to me.

I couldn't believe my eyes on this cold January morning.  

He was content, happy, and a beacon of light - staring at me as if to say ...

God's grace is sufficient for you Lindsay ... it truly is - and I'm living proof!

a court with a view.

Yep.  I'd say we have the best court in the county.  Hands down.  And one of the cutest little ball players too.  He's a hustler, and if he gets any taller, he'll be able to dunk before we know it.

a birthday.

It's the end of February.  We're a little over half way done with calving. I want to be excited about that, but it's only half way ... which means there is still a long way to go.  The weather has been mild this winter, but the catastrophes have made up for that.  Every year there is a different kind of storm to face.  Storms that may bring snow and ice, or clouds that roll exhaustion and even a bit of depression up the sides of the hills, or wind that blows anger and frustration in circles, and maybe even fog that seems to make everything a bit too close for comfort.  Storms don't always have to be on the outside.  In fact, they're usually not.  And the {storms} this year have been a battle - mentally & physically.

Sunshine hasn't been constant, but when it does make its appearance, we've embraced it - soaking in the warmth, the color, and the beauty that has swirled around us.  We've tried really hard to choose sunshine as a word to live by.  A word that means light, star, cheerfulness, happiness, bright, blazing, brilliance, and even a window.  I think I'd like to define our life as a window the most. A window that lets you see into our hearts & souls ... giving you glimpses of what our life is really like. No shades drawn & nothing to hide.

Ian turned 36 yesterday. It was cold & rainy, with gusts of wind swirling everywhere.  Problem after problem seemed to swirl in with the weather as well.  I used to wonder why days that are supposed to be celebrated are often the hardest?  Used to ... but not anymore.  It doesn't mean I don't question the reasons, it just means that my perspective is different.  Different, in that I know it's coming before it even gets here.

Life is a constant cycle.  We wake up early, we do chores, we read, we make beds, we fold clothes, we scrub toilets, we fix fence, we tag calves, we feed hay, we clean stalls, we burn trash, we write down numbers and names, we make phone calls, we give hugs, we kick the dirt, and we rest when we can.  We do what we do because that's who we are.  And then days come when you hope and wish everything would go as planned, but according to who's plans? You pray that this one day could be different, but really, shouldn't every day be different?!

I used to wonder about the days that were hard, but I don't anymore.  I used to try to plan everything the way I thought I wanted it to go, but I don't do that anymore either.  I still write lesson plans, and put sticky notes everywhere.  I plan parties, make menus, and pencil out calendars, but I'm done trying to think that know best.

Best isn't always the most beautiful.

Best isn't always on time.

Best isn't flawless.

Best isn't always about sunshine and blue skies.

Best is what we choose to see from the minute we open our eyes, until they close again - not just on days we want to be special, but every. single. day.

Yes, every day is a day to be celebrated.  Birthday or no birthday, we're alive.  We're making our way around the sun, trying to put one foot in front of the other with grace and humility.  We're trying to keep our heads up - looking for the warmth of His presence in our lives.  We're trying to not be tired, but we are.

36 is just a number.  It's a number that means you're here & growing despite any circumstances you're facing right now.  It's a mark on the timeline of you.  And the best part about it, is that you have the opportunity to trust that what is written about you at age 36 is going to be the best chapter in your book of life yet.

It's going to be the chapter where you left things blank and let God fill them in.  The pages that you're dreaming about and running toward may or may not be filled with what you expect.  But you have to keep running.  You have to keep stacking hay.  You have to keep tagging calves.  You have to keep getting up and facing the weather the best you know how.  You have to keep believing that the Author of your life is doing good things through you.

We are guaranteed to have days that are hard, but we're also guaranteed to see goodness on those very same days.  We have a choice to make with every second of our lives.  And those choices, those decisions, those steps ... they're what our story is made of.

A story with fences that need to be built, as well as fences that need to be torn down.

A story where you run and play when you can, but you also work hard at the same time.

A story where people stop and take notice of what you're doing - and may even want to join you too. Not because of you, but because of Who they see at work in you.

A story where truth is pounded in deep, and stakes are firmly planted.

A story about following the One you know has everything perfectly planned out & perfectly written.

A story about dodging bullets when you can, but also knowing how to take them when they hit hard.

Every day is a birthday.

 Every day is chance to be new.

  So ... step & live well.