let's start here

I've started this post numerous times over the past few weeks. But it seems I'm lacking motivation to pick up the pieces and figure out which events and pictures to share. Rather than reaching back and digging in what has happened these last few weeks (months!), I think I'll be more successful if I just start in the here and now.

the here

We are still here. In Arkansas. And it's been a winter where it feels like spring. Cool temperatures well above freezing. Today, it's in the 60's, gray and overcast. The dreary sky suits my mood. Stuff with my family continues to unravel in painful ways.

But it's not fair for me to say that it's all doom and gloom over here.

There have been plenty of joyful moments:

• sewing with a new and already dear friend;
• River saying no (and so many other words in his rapidly-expanding vocabulary, though it's still mostly grunts and gestures);
• watching Liam play with his best friend Noah (and seeing his mom take the resulting toy-explosion in stride);
• seeing Linda delight in her baby and he in her;
• Gabriel opening an acceptance letter to the UofA's architecture program.

Yep, it seems that the story shall continue to be Arkansas for a while still. And I think I am okay with that.

the now

But it's the heavy stuff that weighs on me. I am sick again, and so are my boys, which only makes it harder to cope with all the dark and twisty. If I am being honest about my own weakness, I'll admit that I have been finding it all harder and harder to deal with. I am stuck in crisis mode, where you just get through every day. One day at a time. 

But it's not effective parenting. And I feel like these two are whizzing around me. I struggle to keep up. 

pictures from the Tulsa Zoo in a favorite running-in-circles hut

Most days, Liam exasperates me. He knows which buttons to push, and we get stuck in cycles where the entire day is a battle. He can be sweet, and he can be fun, but he can also be a nightmare.

Then, on Sunday, he was nearly ran over by a car while walking home from church with Gabe and River. Gabe saw the car zooming out of the alley, abruptly stopped the jogging stroller, and Liam went flying forward from his perch on the front foot rest he uses as a seat. He landed in the street, face first, just an inch or two from the tires now rolling past. The driver, busy on a cell phone, never noticed the very near miss.  

Liam was still trembling, bundled in blankets on the couch, when I got home from a meeting after church. We hugged each other and cried. Our world was almost turned upside down, and the nearness was terrifying.

It still is.

Apparently, I still have much to learn about gratitude for the present, despite the circumstances.

I'm trying to find beauty in our everyday. It's there, whether or not I grab ahold.