Thankful.

This is the Mr. Craft. He's the love of my life. Last month he took me on a little weekend away for my birthday. Our first time away without the children or friends in years. It was absolutely perfect.

I jotted this down while relaxing in the cabin:

"On the huge, snuggly sofa in a tiny, imperfect (and yet SO PERFECT) cabin along Hackett Creek across the road from Sandy River a few miles up the base of Mt. Hood, I sit humbled and thankful.

In the twelve hours we've been away from Portland and nestled into our lodgings under the giant conifers I've already had the pleasure of contemplating the joys of parenting and teaching my children, the love of my marriage, the amazing warmth and safety of my friendships, the nurturing of my creativity and all while snuggled on a sofa, feeding cheese to baby Salmon in the stream, exploring the wooden path to the ridge, gazing out the window at the woodlands, sitting in the lodge-style grill up the road or listening to the squirrels throw nuts at the roof in the early morning hours.

I could not name that many thoughts or sights in the past blur of a normal month at home.

I've thought not just of the smooth, amazing moments in those things, but of the struggles and the defeats and the visceral joy of the accomplishments. If we didn't fall, we'd never know what it feels like to get up and stand on our own two feet, accomplished. If I never crashed and burned, I'd not know healing. If my months weren't blurs, I'd not know the feeling of quiet reflection.

I am but an infinitely small piece of an infinitely huge space. But I feel like a giant. And I am thankful. "