in 17 days…tylerbug will be two.

i. cannot. believe. it.

im thankful for his life.

and for his health, especially his health.

and for the small things like singing to me his ABC’s.


exodus 17

last week i was feeling overwhelmed. overwhelmed with school. overwhelmed with my kids. overwhelmed with certain circumstances in my life. my mind was a fog.

then, i was reminded of Moses and the battle against the Amalekites (Exodus 17). the Israelites won as long Moses kept his hands raised. when he lowered them, the Amalekites began to overtake the Israelites. when Moses couldn’t hold his arms up anymore, Aaron and Hur each held one of them up for him.

i needed that reminder. that all i need when i’m overwhelmed is to raise my hands up, admit that i can’t do it on my own, and trust that whatever path God has for me, is just what i need. my life is totally up in the air for the next few months, and i have to trust that whatever happens is supposed to be.

i also needed the reminder that we have friends and community for a reason. Moses couldn’t do it on his own, he needed Aaron and Hur. I’m really bad about keeping what’s most important to me, to myself. i find such value in sharing in someone else’s burdens (good or bad), so why wouldn’t i allow someone to do that for me?

i’m thankful for reminders like this. God is good like that.

saturday morning

in an empty apartment

at nine o’clock in the morning

i sit and drink my coffee

while listening to my favorite score

and slowly find my rhythm in which to study

for the tests that are quickly approaching.


i cannot complain about this moment.


one of my favorite memories of my grandmother is waking up to the smells of her kitchen. it was always my favorite part about spending the night at their (mema and grandaddy’s) house. some mornings, there would be cinnamon rolls, that she had started the day before, waiting to be iced. other mornings, it was just pancakes and sausage. but it always had a smell. a smell that conjures up sweet, sweet memories that i hold so very dear in my heart.

i could write forever about the wonderful memories i share with my grandmother. memories of her spelling out “shit” to my mother when i was 10-years old and then realizing I was quite old enough to understand what she spelled. my mom and i still laugh about that one. memories of coke floats, mine and my grandaddy’s favorite treat, in the green glasses. this was a staple. coke floats tasted better in those glasses. my grandaddy said so. :) memories of painting flower pots and watching “The Price is Right”. memories of my nine-year old self to my grandmother, “when i get older, can i have your goblets? they are the most beautiful goblets.” and now they sit in my possession because, “no one else would love them as much as you [me].” memories of knitting and sewing, and reorganizing her Southern Living magazine subscription a thousand times. (see, i’ve always been OCD.) and the list goes on and on and on.

my grandmother has alzheimer’s. it is devastating to me, my mom, to anyone affected by this disease.

most days, i am peace with this harsh reality. most days.

but some days i’m not. and i ache for the laughter that these memories bring to me to be reciprocated by her.

it simply will not happen.

the first time my grandmother didn’t know my name, let alone who i was, i wrote this in my journal:

“i don’t know what’s worse, seeing my face and not recognizing it, or, not seeing you at all and relying on my best memories of you. alzheimer’s sucks.”

that’s how i feel today. i want to walk into my grandmother’s kitchen, smell her cooking, sit in the sunroom and flip through cookbooks, or have her read to me. that’s what i want. that’s all that i want.

instead, i will settle for these memories.

things that make me smile.

anatomy & physiology.

text messages that make you laugh out loud. for several minutes.

applesauce spice muffins.

my warm bed. (thank you, heated mattress pad. thank you.)

finishing a book and starting a new one.

good hair days.



free days. (or really “i don’t have to go to school or work” days.)

my doctor’s office.



dirt road path

for miles and miles.

the journey forward continues.


dont dare turn around,

dont look back!

it’s permanent, after all.

change that can only be played back in the mind.


so, take a step forward.

sink your foot into the ground

and press on,

this journey isn’t over.


look as far ahead as you can

and when you can’t,

know that that is where your dreams lie.

always within walking distance.

never completely out of reach.


get going.


who knows what will happen,

but when you get there,

to your destination…

turn around

and take a moment

to see how far you’ve come,

what you’ve been through.

appreciate where you are

as a reflection of the journey past.


but don’t look too long.

there is still more journey left to travel.

more miles to cover,

more paths to cross.


but, please, always remember this,

you are only as far as you let yourself go.