Daybook

Giving Thanks

This morning feels like a gift.

The past few weeks have not been easy. There have been health concerns, anxiety, financial worries, unanswered questions, and all the ordinary burdens that come with living in a broken world. Yet through it all, I keep coming back to the same truth: God has always been faithful.

Our family Bible study continues, even if it is a little clunky. Truthfully, it may always be a little clunky. We are a collection of imperfect people trying to respond to God's invitation in our own ways. There is no polished production, no grand spiritual achievement. There is simply a family saying yes to Jesus.

I believe the enemy hates that.

I also believe God is stronger.

So we'll keep gathering, keep studying, keep praying, and keep showing up.

I'm thankful for the peace God gives all of us as we walk through uncertainty. 

Most of all, I'm thankful that God is already present in whatever comes next.

Outside My Window

It is 6:24 in the morning, and I am sitting on the deck wearing my favorite black pajamas, my favorite black cardigan, and a pair of Crocs that have seen better days.

The morning is cool and crisp. The sun is climbing over the eastern horizon, the birds are carrying on their daily conversations, and although I can hear the distant hum of traffic, it fades into the background against the beauty surrounding me.

The trees, the garden, the open field beyond our backyard, the comfortable chairs on the deck, even the pots of lemongrass that help keep the mosquitoes at bay—all of it feels like a gift.

People say Walt Disney World is the happiest place on earth.

I think my backyard might be the happiest place on earth.

There are moments when gratitude is so deep that words seem inadequate. This morning feels like one of those moments.

Reading

Not much at the moment.

I feel a little guilty admitting that because reading has always been such a big part of my life. I suspect I'll find my way back to it soon enough, but lately I've been spending more time thinking than reading.

Watching

We've watched a little bit of everything lately.

I recently rewatched parts of Virgin River to fill in a few gaps I missed.

We also watched Project Hail Mary, which I enjoyed quite a bit.

But the surprise favorite has been Remarkably Bright Creatures. We've watched it twice now, and I think it has officially earned a place on my list of comfort movies. There is something gentle and hopeful about it that I love.

Writing

Ironically, these Daybook entries are often dictated into my phone while I sit on this deck and then cleaned up with a little help from AI.

Part of me feels like I should be doing more of the writing myself.

But when I stop and think about the purpose of these posts, the guilt fades.

I'm not writing them to impress anyone.

I'm writing them to remember.

I love looking back a year or two and seeing where we were, what we worried about, what we celebrated, and how God carried us through things when we couldn't yet see the outcome.

If technology helps preserve those memories, then perhaps that's enough.

In the Kitchen

I've been trying to regain my love of cooking.

The challenge is that our tastes have changed. We're more health-conscious than we used to be. My energy is lower by dinnertime. Too much food goes to waste in the refrigerator and pantry.

I'm trying to simplify things without giving up the joy of feeding people.

I haven't figured it out yet. But I haven't given up either.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about ingredients rather than products. About keeping the basics on hand and learning to make what we need instead of filling the refrigerator with half-used bottles, specialty condiments, and things we bought with good intentions.

I've even been considering a complete refrigerator reset—emptying everything, evaluating what we actually use and love, and rebuilding it from the ground up.

Not because I need a prettier refrigerator.

Because I want a more useful one.

If I have olive oil, vinegar, mustard, herbs, garlic, and a few basics, I can make dozens of dressings instead of storing half a dozen bottles.

If I have ingredients, I have options.

And lately I've been wondering if that principle applies to more than food.

In the Yard

Yesterday I mowed the yard but intentionally left some trimming undone.

Lucas will be here this weekend, and I think he might enjoy helping in the backyard. Sometimes it's worth leaving a little work unfinished if it creates an opportunity to do something together.

Also, a little peak at the current situation. 

Pondering

The house will be full of grandchildren between now and Sunday. It will be busy and loud and probably a little chaotic, but I'm looking forward to it.

Last week I found myself complaining about the basement again. It always feels overwhelming when toys and blankets and evidence of childhood seem to spread across every available surface. Sarah gently challenged me. She pointed out that what I see as a mess, she sees as evidence of people being here.

Children playing together. Cousins building memories. Adult siblings sitting together talking and laughing. Friendships growing. Relationships deepening.

The truth is, it only takes twenty or thirty minutes to straighten the basement when everyone leaves. The relationships being built there are worth far more than the inconvenience of cleaning up afterward.

I've been carrying that perspective with me ever since.

It has also made me think about stewardship in a broader sense.

Lately I've been thinking about preparedness. Not survivalism or fear, but stewardship. We don't live on a homestead. We live in a neighborhood with an HOA. Yet I believe there is wisdom in becoming a little more resilient and a little less dependent on convenience.

Rising grocery prices, supply chain disruptions, storms, and inflation are nothing new. Every generation has faced its own challenges. Good stewardship simply means paying attention. It means learning skills, reducing waste, keeping a reasonable pantry, growing what we can, and preparing thoughtfully while still trusting God with the things we cannot control.

I don't want to live in fear, and I certainly don't want to spend my days obsessing over worst-case scenarios. But I do think there is peace that comes from being prepared. Not because we believe we can control the future, but because we are doing our best to be faithful with what we have today.

Perhaps that's why I've been thinking so much about simplifying the refrigerator and pantry. The more I look around my kitchen, the more I realize that I don't need twenty different products. What I really need are good ingredients and the knowledge to use them well. If I have olive oil, vinegar, mustard, herbs, garlic, and a few basics, I can make dozens of things without relying on a refrigerator full of half-used bottles.

Camp

Later this month, God willing, we'll head to camp. We still have questions about the kitchen shed, permits, and plans that remain unfinished. For now, we're preparing as best we can while holding everything loosely.

We're making plans, gathering supplies, and doing what we can do today. The rest will unfold when it's time.

I find myself thinking about that in other areas of life too. There are things we're hoping for, things we're waiting on, and things we simply don't know yet. All we can really do is take the next step in front of us and trust God with the rest.

Closing Thought

Whatever comes, God will already be there.

That thought has brought me a great deal of comfort lately.

We can prepare for rain and hope for sunshine. We can pray for good news while acknowledging that hard news sometimes comes. We can make plans, hold them loosely, and trust that God's presence is not dependent upon the outcome.

For today, that is enough.

And for now, the birds are still singing.