Grace, Rain, & Pie

Finding Grace in the Shift

This was the first week with all three kids back in school—and the first week with Phen gone. It wasn’t an immediate adjustment. Monday, after dropping him off, I was wrecked. I cried ugly tears and let myself feel it all.

But here in my forties, I’ve learned to practice grace with myself. I took a walk. I called my mom. I sat in his room for a while. And then I pulled myself together enough to be present when the other two came home. That was my daily practice—falling apart a little, and then finding my way back.

Makers Week

During a long training for work earlier in the week, I found myself reaching for something with my hands. I lit candles—ones we had made here at home.

They’ve become one of my favorite household crafts in the last two years. I dried some old grapefruits from my friend Mel, turned them into little holders, and tucked in dried flowers, star anise, and other tokens. Magic in revived wax.

Working with my hands calms me, reminds me to slow down, and makes even an ordinary weekday feel a little more sacred.

Rain, Finally

Meanwhile, the San Juans finally saw rain. More rain this week than the whole summer combined. The aspens, already tinged yellow from dryness, suddenly looked alive again—glistening, still turning, reminding me that fall doesn’t ask for permission. You can almost feel winter skirting the air in those early mornings, even though September hasn’t yet begun.

Home Weekend

Saturday, we gave ourselves a home weekend. Hawkins had his first cross-country meet—the one and only home race. His only goal was to finish, and he did. The rest of the day was house projects, laundry, bikes, and dog walks. By the afternoon, I needed to make something, so the softening peaches and apples became cast-iron pie. Thank goodness for stashed pie crusts in the deep freeze. Later, with a scoop of ice cream, it was pure fabulousness. I only wish Phen could’ve had a bite.

Care Package Love

I’m putting together a care package for him: frozen banana bread, a Silverton sweatshirt with a dog on it, sunglasses, some treats, and love letters from all of us. Little pieces of home to remind him we’re here, loving him from 9318 feet.

Just Life in the San Juans

Yes, the motorcycle rally was in town, along with plenty of tourists passing through. But we just stayed put, putzing around, riding bikes, hanging with the dog. Just day-to-day life in the San Juans—messy, beautiful, and grounded.