MollyMadonna.com

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pure (perfect) michigan.

I had to remind myself all day that it was March 21st. This weather has been unbelievable, and I’m fairly certain we’ll all be pinching ourselves again tomorrow when the temps reach 80 degrees effortlessly. How is it possible that we ventured out the beach tonight wearing summer clothes and worrying nothing about coats or blankets at sunset? Even after the punchy, pink globe dipped down below the horizon, we were hardly chilly in shorts and sandals. I don’t understand our good fortune, but I am embracing this amazing foretaste of Summer while it lasts. As we know, I’m not the biggest fan of the winter months, and this has been the most perfect “Molly” Winter in Michigan that I can remember. It’s the first day of Spring, and there was nary an umbrella or rain coat (or snow pile!) in sight.

Not only did we enjoy the sand between our toes and a gorgeous artistic display in the sky, but we ran into dear friends and laughed /played/snapped photos until the beach was all but dark. It was the perfect cap on the day–God’s handwriting all over every bit!

Today was absolutely, 100% pure Michigan. It was fancy and sunny and warm-breezey and I LOVED it!

A few (ok, my favorite) snapshots from the evening:

Nothing could make me happier: Henry discovering the delight of sand, the sun settling down over the lake, and running into people we love on an impromptu beach night. DELIGHTFUL!

blissfully sandy,

mm

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this is the day…

…that the Lord has made! We will rejoice and be glad in it!

It was a surreal, out of doors kind of day for this time of year, and we were so thankful to be able to enjoy it. Henry was a bit small last year to take advantage of swings and slides and things, but if mom and dad have anything to say about it this time around, he’s not going to miss a one:) We ventured out for an afternoon walk with the stroller and Kruger in tow, and Hank made his park playground debut. From the pictures, it’s clear that the grown-ups in the fam appreciated the experience more than HD, but we trust he’ll warm up to the idea before long. With all of the spring, summer and fall stretched ahead of us, there’s no doubt we’ll have a jungle gym junkie on our hands before the year is out!

After our (brief) trip to the park, we stopped by to visit with a few friends in the neighborhood, met an oh-so-sweet brand new baby, checked out a few “for sale” signs here and there (inquiring minds. nope, we wouldn’t think of abandoning the little blue house), and rounded out the walk with a pink lemonade purchase from a few budding entrepreneurs (they even gave Kruger a complimentary dog treat:). Arriving home, we hopped in the car for a trip to our favorite local ice cream establishment (how we’ve missed it over the winter!) and headed out to the beach for a little gazing. Who knew March would bring so much in the way of warm, wonderful days spent doing the things we love most?!

It was such a treat to catch a glimpse of the months ahead, and such a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon. A little Spring in my life does this chica one whole heck of a lot of good!

A few of my favorite (and our silly) moments from the day:

What a blessing!

headed to bed all the better for fresh air and sunshine,

mm

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ten (plus ten).

Hanker Tanker,

Well, little mister, you are officially ten months old. Ten months and ten days actually, but things were a little offbeat last week when you turned double digits. Will you forgive your well-intentioned mama? As the calendar rolled over to your ten month mark, you were busy spending precious time with family and  loving your mommy well when the days were hard. You never cease to amaze me, mini-gentleman of mine. With less than a year under your belt, you teach me plenty about grace most days–always serving as a reminder for me to be my best self, always cuddling or smiling or needing me in a way that says, “I forgive you,” when I don’t quite get it right.

At ten months old, HD, you have proven yourself a most patient and accommodating child on more occasions than we could expect. You have your moments of course (when the days get long and you’ve been away from your own bed too many nights in a row), but in all fairness, I do the same and I’m almost 29 years your senior. I’m not sure that changes much with age, darlin’, and I’m thankful that you’re at least honest with us about your needs. Truly, there are times when I wonder whether I could inherit a smattering of your miniature wisdom; you seem to have a keen sense of what everyone else around you is feeling, and you act accordingly. I don’t know how it’s possible for someone your age to have such sensitivity or awareness, but remarkably, you do. You continue to be a most incredible and undeserved gift to us.

I have never been more grateful for–nor more proud of you, than I have been these past few weeks. I keep thinking that my love for you couldn’t possibly grow any more, and just when I’m convinced of it, my heart stretches even a bit further. You are a light to the people around you–just ask anyone who spent time with us in Gramma’s hospital room. God shines through you into our lives in a tangible and holy way, and as your mama, I’m just humbled over and over to have the privilege of caring for you in this season of your life. I hope I can somehow do you justice.

In as many ways as you bless us, Henry David, you keep us on our toes just as much:) You are crawling, cruising, scaling, standing, reaching, tip-top-toeing your way to everything you can get your hands on. We agreed just tonight, in fact, that caring for you throughout the day has grown exponentially more challenging in the past week and a half. You’re doing absolutely nothing wrong, mind you. You’re doing everything exactly as you should be. It’s every corner, edge, stair, wall, object, and turn that are the problem, really. Effectively, we could blame the house–or perhaps it’s lack of true baby-proofness (That is not a word, by the way, but I’m your mother, so I’m using it. In time, you’ll learn all about my penchant for making up words;). Needless to say, we are doing our best to save you from the major falls and scrapes and bruises that would cause unnecessary pain and/or tears on our watch. And we’re making note of every angle requiring immediate or near-immediate attention, planning a thorough and vigilant elimination of said culprits in the days to come. You did try to scale your dresser yesterday, Oh Adventurous One, and while it’s tempting to remove all furniture from your sphere of influence until you truly get your sea legs, we will not be stacking soft piles of clothing on the floor in its stead. The thing is heavy and not going anywhere–it’s you I’m worried about. What do you say we don’t fall off the front of the dresser anytime soon?

On a last, but certainly no less significant note, you are pronouncing WORDS, my dear. Real, certifiable, recognizable words. When did you learn to say things like, “Clock!” ??? Clock. Really. Of all things. I’m not knocking the probability of your being our punctual child, I’m just saying. Duck and dog and car and dada and mama were all so much more predictable when they happened. You’re still missing a few K’s and R’s here and there, but I truly appreciate the way you say “Kruger” in your own, special vernacular. It is certainly helpful to know what you want, who you’re looking for, and what’s on your mind. Someday we’ll have entire conversations, and I look forward to those. Still, I’ll take all of the “clocks” and “Krugers” and “cars” I can get while they’re blooming. (I’ve learned so much more about human development raising you thus far than I ever did in biology, psychology and all of the other classrooms combined.)

Thank you for being a bright spot even on the dimmest days, precious bug. Ten months and ten days with you, and we’ve needed sunglasses on every one of them! Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently, sweet boy. YOU are a marvelous creation!

all the love in the world,

your mama

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don’t forget.

Today I came across a list I’d written a few weeks back–things I wanted to make sure to do and not forget in the busyness of the daily. On it, a line that read, “Call Gramma.” If I needed a reminder to live a life without regret, this moment was it. I stopped in my tracks for just a second, realizing how fresh things still feel and thinking how much I wish I could just pick up the phone. But the ache was fleeting, replaced immediately with gratitude for so many words and glances exchanged between Gramma and me in those last few weeks. No phone call would have done them justice.

I could have thrown the list away right then and there, I know. But I didn’t. I tucked it back into the pile. And maybe that’s a strange thing to do when I know I’ll find it again and be reminded once more, or maybe not. Right now, I’m savoring how recently we sat hand in hand, how relevant that note was only weeks ago, how beautiful a thing that I always wanted to “call Gramma.”

Two simple words stood out on an everyday page today and made me think. No regrets. I pray to always be so lucky with the people I love.

embracing intention,

mm

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her children rise up…

…and call her blessed. proverbs 31.28

Seven days ago, as I left Gramma Donna’s hospital room, I said goodbye to one of the most beautiful, influential people I’ve ever had the privilege to love. I knew as I walked away that night that I’d never see her sweet spirit again this side of Heaven. I had to go, but I hated to leave–to close the door on hours and days spent in that room with her, on so many “conversations” written on the white board over laughter and tears. A week earlier, Gramma had been placed in hospice care in the hospital, and our family had been given every indication that her days were few. I’m so thankful that nothing stopped me from packing up the car and making the drive with Henry back to Gramma’s “room with a view,” where we’d visited only days earlier. Then, Gramma and I had exchanged a beautiful conversation–one I will not soon forget and will always strive to remember…

From Monday until Sunday, Henry and I made our way to the hospital daily to be with “Gramma Gramma.” Not Great Grandma Donna (although she certainly was great), but “Gramma,” just the way she always spelled it, times two because it made Henry smile and I liked the ring to it. Whenever we gathered there, we did so in the company of all of Gramma’s children–my mom, aunts and uncle, their spouses, my cousins, and my dear sister, who flew in to be with Gramma, too. By Friday, Jason had joined us, and as the room swelled with people in and out, day by day, the memories and sorrow and grace and peace swelled there as well.

There are so many remarkable moments in the mix of our time together with Gramma that I know I’ll unpack for days to come. I am still processing so much and missing her so deeply…despite having 29+ years to celebrate with Gramma, the fact that our time together on earth is now over has me grappling in a way I’ve never felt before.

Gramma was a remarkable lady. An ideal role model for me and the definitive matriarch of our family. We are all far better off for being raised in her care, and now at a loss for losing her magnificent presence in our daily lives. Over time, I look forward to sharing the beauty that God crafted in our last days with Gramma. We are marked by her goodness–our family, a testament to who she was and all that she poured her life into.

Thank you for understanding the quiet that has characterized this space as of late. This experience has left me beyond having words to share. I hope to do it justice in some way as we move forward, but in the meantime, I’ll simply acknowledge how very blessed this has all been. God’s hand has been in every aspect, and we are all so thankful.

remembering,

mm