I find myself traveling a lot in this season of my life and although I love being in new places and experiencing new things, it always comes down to this….
There’s no place like home.
After living out of a suitcase, and being in a car or in airplanes for hours on end, there’s no place I’d rather be.
Home is where my center is.
Although none of them has ever lived at this particular address and two of my three sons and their families have yet to see the house in person, this is where I’ve gathered all their photos.
Spring Break at South Padre Island in Texas. The pictures tell the story!
What a wonderful thing it is, to know someone in one context and then see them in a totally different role.
Last week I spent time with a man who I know as a priest, a military officer and a friend but I’ve never seen him with his family.
For fifteen days these amazing and resilient kids waited out Hurricane Harvey with us while their parents stayed in Houston, enduring the storm and then cleaning up afterwards.
But finally, the waiting was over.
I’m not sure the odds were against it but I can’t help but feel like luck was on my side when my sons met and then married these three amazing women. Each one of them is completely different and each of them is perfect for the son they married.
Against the odds or not, I love all of them and I’m thankful they’re a part of our family.
As I was scrolling through photos on my computer for this post a few minutes ago I also came across this picture of me with my siblings. It made me wonder what the odds are of the same two people having four children, with just one of them being so darn tall?
I’m headed down to New Orleans for some Mardi Gras revelry this weekend, hoping to come home with one of the coveted decorated high heels thrown at the Muses Parade. Something tells me the odds are NOT in my favor for that particular wish but I’m willing to bet fun will be had anyway and I’m also willing to bet the photo ops will be abundant.
May all the odds be in your favor this coming week.
My youngest son got married last month and his wife took our family name as her own. All three of our daughters-in-law have chosen to change their names.
That certainly isn’t a given and I would have been totally fine with it had they chosen to keep their maiden names. I get that and I understand it, but my old-fashioned self wanted them to have the same last name as their husbands, for them to take that familial leap of faith.
I’ve never stopped identifying myself as a Crosby even though I’ve been a Kowalski twice as long as I was a Crosby. When I graduated from college and they announced my name as I crossed the stage I was sad for my parents that the Crosby name wasn’t announced or on my diploma. That day I found myself wishing I had changed my middle name from Mary to Crosby when I legally changed my last name, thus retaining on paper, in addition to in heart, that early sense of self.
When I had married several years earlier, at 18, I was totally delighted that by taking the Kowalski name my new husband and I had the exact same initials….JMK. I envisioned many sets of monogramed bath towels in my future. Changing my middle name to Crosby would have negated that.
There’s sunset the night before……
Sunset the night of July 27th, the night of Ken’s death. Photo credit to Jeanne Garman.
and then there’s the stark reality of the morning after.
On the morning after, you wake up and for the first ten seconds your sleepy subconscious tells you this is just an ordinary day like all others.
Until you remember.