three favorite moments.

I had three favorite moments last week.

They left my heart full.

Early in the week I was stressed. Really stressed. The move is here, so quickly I can't believe it. My heart hurts from goodbyes and my brain is buzzing from a never-ending to-do list. One morning I was rushing about while my kids played together so nicely. It was a blessing. They play so good together, the three of them. They got dressed up for a ball, but John wanted to go to a "train show" instead. It was all very cute. Before I knew it, it was lunch time. I threw together sandwiches, crackers, and fruit. I plopped the kids in their chairs and rushed out, planning to use these few extra minutes to get something done.

I was almost to the stairs when I heard Carly's voice: "Ok, babies, lets say a prayer." It stopped me dead in my tracks. We always pray over ever meal. I had forgotten, but she hadn't. "Fold your arms, babies," she said. There was the quiet shuffling of little arms folding. Then she prayed. She spoke gratitude for the food and asked that it could be a sunny day. She said amen, and two little voices echoed, "Amen!" And they began to eat. I sat on the stairs and tears sprung to my eyes. I was so grateful for her goodness. I went in and told her how proud of her I was, and sat at the table and ate with my kids. And my heart was full.

Carly had her last t-ball game. I'm not going to lie, I was pretty thrilled it was coming to an end. The final few weeks were like pulling teeth to get her to go. For whatever reason, she was no longer comfortable and confident with the situation. Big tantrums and endless pep talks. I realize she is four, but we felt the principles of sticking with your commitments and doing something hard even when it isn't your favorite were important. So we pushed through. The night of her final game came. She cried that she didn't want to go. I told her it was her last game. "Then I'm never playing baseball again!" she said. It was a deal.

I don't know what happened, but she looked light during that game. Like she had let go of her worries and was just playing again, the way she had at the beginning of the season. She had a smile on her face and laughed with her teammates. She chased absent-mindedly after balls. She had some great hits. At one point John ran out on to the field and I chased after him. "Mom!" Carly called excitedly. "I'm having fun!" After the game she got a cupcake and a trophy and she looked so happy, so proud of herself for being brave. And my heart was full.

On Thursday, Chris defended his dissertation. Can you believe that? I sit here typing the words and I still don't believe it. I still can't grasp the fact that after years of work and waiting and worrying and tears and sleepless night and stress and prayers . . . Chris defended his dissertation.

The day of the defense we got up early and headed to campus. Chris's wife made him late, so I ended up dropping him off and parking so he'd have the extra prep time. I readied the food while Chris set up. He couldn't get the projector to work. Over and over he tried and it wouldn't work. Tension hung in the air. His adviser came in and gave it a go. One push of the button and it decided to work. Thank heavens. It was slightly symbolic of Jim's hand in Chris's PhD, I dare say. Chris gave a great presentation and got a lot of good questions from his peers. Then everyone had to leave while his committee grilled him. I sat outside that closed door with Linda. We had a great chat while my heart raced. An hour and 15 minutes passed. A member of his committee came out and gave us a smile and a thumbs up. He passed. He has revisions to make, as everyone does, but he passed. He made it. We made it. He came out and we hugged and I felt so incredibly proud of the journey we had made together. And my heart was full.