Parked

Hello everyone,

I am going to be parking this blog for awhile.  I'm specifically NOT shutting down, just putting it in the parking garage for awhile.  I may take it out for a Sunday drive once a month or so (for family updates and pictures,) but mostly it is going to simply sit and rest.  :)  I'm sure I'll be back at some point.

As for the series of posts on Raising Confident Sons, I know....I know.  You should know by now that if I say I will do twenty posts, I will do six.  :)  If it is a thing essential to daily life, it will get done.  If it is an extra thing, it will take twice as long and may never be fully accomplished.  It's sorta like home-remodeling.


Our family is doing very well.  We're just busy.  This is my son Nick's last semester of high school before graduation and before he leaves for college in the fall.  I am teaching my daughter Emily to drive a vehicle in anticipation that she will have her license by summer.  I continue to homeschool six children, the four year old is very active, and the baby is learning to climb and get into things.  The things that make for great blog fodder also make for a busy mom.  :)

I'll see you around....

Holly

A good life.

(Trying for a little "first year birthday shoot with Gabe while good weather held.  He was unimpressed.  Eventually, we got some good ones....I'll post those next time.  

These are just mama and Gabe.)

A little story from life to go along with the photos.  Totally unrelated, except to the concept of a "good life, rather, life well-lived."

One day last year Jeff was re-entering the hospital.  I don't know which time, or which procedure.  They all blur together.  I do remember what we were saying to each other.

I was very fearful.  Afraid that he would go in, and under a knife, and not come back out.

I knew there were no guarantees, that he could promise me nothing.  It was completely out of his hands.  We were people used to shaping our futures, or at least doing the best we could.  This place where illness had brought us - with no control over any area of life (health, finances, time) - was frightening.

I choked back tears, trying to be logical.  I'd done plenty of crying already.  How does that help a guy approaching surgery?

I said, "But what if you don't make it?  What then?"

He was quiet for a moment.

He swallowed, then said, "Well...then,  we've had a good life."

I looked into the most familiar eyes in my world, got quiet too, and nodded my agreement around the lump in my throat.

I saw his peace, and realized the truth in what he said.

(Of course, I still made him promise to fight this illness with everything that was in him.)

I said everything that I felt I needed to say to him at that time, I thanked him for all of the years and all of our children and for loving me and them so well.  

His calm acceptance and summation of our years brought me a measure of peace as well; 

and he lent me his courage.

He was right.

We've had a good life.