Life Keeps on Moving

The sofa forts are in constant rotation - up and down and up again.  Nap time is from 1 to 3 followed by a walk.  Some days we paint and some days we just read but outside of simple variation the days look and act very much the same.  

Sometimes my progress feels slow.  The push to see more correctly, act more responsibly, mature more quickly.  The constancy of each day is comforting in these times.  Tomorrow will bring the same challenges...each one familiar but still a fresh chance to try again from a different angle.

So I remind myself that there is aways movement beneath the surface.  The complex buried in the simplicity of routine.

I, like many others, tend to romanticize dramatic changes: the new job, the move across the globe, marriage, childbirth.  Those result in complete personal upheavals, clear and concise before and after pictures.  Or so I seem to think.

This season, though, has shown me depth of value in slow, steady growth.  A softer response to the same whining request.  A greater commitment to the work I've been given.  Less weariness when, at the end of the day I walk over to take down the fort and put the cushions back on the sofa.  The cushions that will find their way back up in the morning.

Every day that I see a little more love, patience, kindness, faith, obedience, respect, dedication, industriousness...those days are victories.

First Baseball Game

A few weeks back now, my sister Leslie was in town with Jeff and we all decided to head down to catch a baseball game in DC. It was Owen's first professional game and, most likely, his first game ever, but he was excited nonetheless.

Here we are walking into Nationals Park.  It was hot and I'm not even sure I remember who the Nats were playing (I think the Brewers?).  

We were up in the nosebleed section but it really didn't matter.  We had some shade from the sun and a great view of the park.  We couldn't see much that was going on and definitely couldn't see the ball, but O seemed to remember best how the pitcher would kick his leg up in the air before throwing the ball.

Actually, I may have just lied a little bit.  I think what he remembered most what the gallon of soda that dad shared with him... and maybe the hot dog and ice cream (courtesy of auntie Leslie). 

We surprisingly made it to the 5th inning when Owen looked at me and said, "Daddy, can we go home now?"

I'm proud of that boy!!