Tonight, I was helping Scott finish packing our bedroom, and I spotted a tube of Chapstick that must have fallen behind my night stand. Not a flavored stick, but the classic original kind. When I would spend a Saturday night at my Granny and Papaw’s house, I’d wake early Sunday morning to my Papaw’s biscuits and to the sound of my Granny singing, “It’s time for Sunday school.”

We’d (usually my cousin Ashley stayed with me) eat at the kitchen bar, and then we’d dress for church. As my papaw would grab his car keys, he’d also pick up his wallet, a pack of Wrigley’s Doublemint gum, and a tube of original  Chapstick. I don’t know if he even realized that I saw this, and it is just one small precious memory I have of my childhood nights and mornings spent with my grandparents. I wonder tonight if Ashley saw this, too. I wonder if the other grands -Mer, Jamie, Blake, Sarah, Shea, Luke, and Hannah-hold this same sweet memory the way I do- close to the heart. 

My amazing papaw is being put on hospice care, and I know that his earthly days are few. I was able to hold his hands and tell him how much I love him. I am grateful that he already knew this, and I was just reiterating what we have spoken a thousand times before.  He is going to be with Jesus. He is going to be in the arms of His savior. He is going to leave his broken body, for a soul that is healed and perfected by God. And, while I know these truths in my head, my heart is aching for one more perfect Sunday morning with him. I am searching for God’s peace right now, and I am praying that I never forget the words to Froggy Went A Courtin,” or the way his hands looked patting out biscuits as he whistled, the sound of his voice, the touch of his embrace, and the light only his laughter could shine. 

The saying that death is hardest for the living is so very true. Tonight, living hurts. 

Grandkids back when and more recently

Granny holding me, Mer, Papaw holding Blake and Jamie

Papaw and MaggiePapaw and Sam



When I was a teenager, I had no desire to have my driver’s license. So, while most of my fellow high schoolers were taking their cars or their parents’ cars to school each day, I was perfectly content riding with friends, my boyfriend, or occasionally catching the bus that ran through our neighborhood. I didn’t actually get my license until well into the summer after high school graduation.  And, if there ever was an awful driver, I was it. My mom made me practice backing down the driveway over and over. I couldn’t make it down without scraping the underbelly of her car. I was just terrible. 

One balmy day, my mama sent me in her car down Fendler Pkwy, to the store on the corner. Less than a mile to travel, and I couldn’t even make it a hundred feet down the driveway. As I was backing up, I ran into a tree that sat to the left of our house. I pulled forward and got out to inspect the damage. It was scraped.  It was scuffed. And, it was definitely noticeable, especially since my mama was watching the entire situation unfold through the kitchen window. She was fit to be tied. My grand journey to the store was not happening any time soon. 

My mama told me to pull the car back into the garage. She told me that my Dad would be home soon and that I’d have to tell him about my “incident.” She was never the kind of mom who would say, “Just wait until your father gets home.” But, she did hold us accountable to tell our own truths. 

I went to my bedroom and fretted and cried, not wanting to tell him. I didn’t want to disappoint him, and I was upset that I had injured my mama’s car. The afternoon lasted forever, it seemed. I heard him come through the screen door into the living room. I heard muffled talks. I listened for footsteps down the hall to my room. I listened harder. Nothing. 

Then, I heard my dad’s booming radio announcer voice, “Jannan Lynn, get out here right now!”  Oh, Lord have mercy on my teenage soul! 

I crept down the hallway, praying that it would never end. But, alas, it did, and I was facing my father in all his fury. He said, “Come out to the backyard.”  I obeyed. I pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped outside. I was completely astonished at what was before me.  Not a lecture or a punishment, but instead, a giant pile of branches in flames. He touched my shoulder and compassionately said, “Baby, that tree won’t bother you any more.” 

I stood there with tears on my cheeks and so much relief in my heart.  This man bestowed mercy when I needed it. This man saw my fears and worry as much larger than the dents on my mother’s car. This man loved me so much, that he chopped down a tree to hopefully improve my driving! 

He is the daddy that I think about this Father’s Day. He is still that daddy. He will always be the best daddy to me, even after all these years. Thank you for loving me enough to teach me that my feelings are more important than my mistakes. I love you, sweet Daddy. 

Happy Father’s Day

We made it! We are tired, but because my husband is He-man, we made it out of Superior today and headed on our unconventional route back home to Texas. The one place I have wanted to visit in Colorado is Glenwood Springs. It has a 405 ft. long and 100 ft. wide all natural mineral hot spring. So, Scott surprised me and included it as leg one of our journey home. I am super excited! We’ll swim tomorrow morning, and if all goes well, we’ll have everlasting youth like the people in Cocoon! Lol 

http://www.hotspringspool.com/swim
We also drove through Vail. I have never been, and its beauty did not disappoint. Just gorgeous. Maggie was amazed at how the river flowed west once we passed over the Continental Divide. There is still a good bit of snow, and the scenery is still stunning. 

Our last night in Colorado is upon us! I cannot believe that 9 months have come and gone. And, while the first few weeks here seemed interminable, the time began to fly by more quickly than we could have imagined. So, here we are. We leave tomorrow for Katy. 

My sweet Colorado Margaret is melancholy over leaving her new friends and school. Colorado agreed with her more than I can say. She has loved, loved, loved living here. She has grown into a funny, silly, social, beautiful preteen, and I am praying for her to transition easily and happily into middle school. She is still in love with the cello, and she is looking forward to 6th grade orchestra. But, tonight, she is hurting deep within her soul, and as I said a prayer over her, her pain became my own. I love this girl so much more than I can say. 

Samuel has progressed immensely in his receptive language and social skills, since starting therapy here. The women and men who are his therapists come to work each day with such devotion and unconditional love. I wish that I could pack them all into our suitcases, and keep them with us forever. I am trying not to dwell on the worry I have about new insurance, new therapy, and the transitions my boy will have to face. Proverbs 16:9 says that A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.  I am trying so hard to trust God with all of our steps. 

Scott and I thought many times during our time here that God was opening a door for us to stay permanently. Every time Samuel would progress, and every time Maggie would exclaim how much she loved it here, we would pray for His guidance. So, knowing that He didn’t close our pathway to Texas in exchange for a new life in Colorado helps us to have a certain type of peace that can only come from following Him.   

I am thankful for the experiences we have had as a family. The golden aspens in fall, the magnificient billows of perfectly fallen snow in winter, and the windy, green days of spring. And, oh, the mountains! They filled my eyes each morning, and the sun set against them each night.  I will be forever grateful for our time here and for the friends we have made. 

Goodnight, beautiful Colorado. It has been a pleasure.