Month: March 2026

Shiloh is in love. Her name is Lacey, and she’s the puppy that lives around the corner.

That’s funny, because I’m not a dog person. I’m probably the antithesis of a dog person. An unpredictably noisy, smelly, hairy, slobbery perpetual infant/toddler in need of care for years and years? No thanks. I understand I’m in a minority when it comes to this consideration of “man’s best friend”, and I’m fine with that. I just know they are not Katie’s best friend.

Until recently, Shiloh had been viscerally afraid of dogs, stemming from an incident a few years back when a corgi who was exactly Shi’s size pinned him to the wall with her paws on his shoulders; a clear gesture of friendship on her end, resulting in sheer terror on his.

Sandy’s worked to desensitize him around dogs, which has finally brought us to this point of absolute affection for Lacey. And even I, for all my indifference to canines, have to admit she’s quite a beautiful dog. She lives up to her name – she’s small and delicate, with long soft ears and orange-brown spots on her petite white body.

We passed by her house on a walk, and Shiloh was delighted to see her watching us from the picture window. Then her owners happened by with her last week after supper while Sandy was outside with the boys. Shiloh played with her for several minutes, and when he came inside for bed, it was, “Mama, Lacey gave me besos all over my face. Mama, Lacey played fetch with my sticks. Mama, do you know what Lacey likes to do? She likes watching the birds and squirrels. Mama, I love Lacey. She’s my best dog.”

And finally, “Mama, I want a dog, just like Lacey.”

And like millions of mamas before me, all I want to do is give one to him. A boy and his dog – a tale as old as time, right? I know we can’t have a dog right now or maybe ever, but it’s sweet watching my little boy being such a little boy and catching puppy fever.

Seasonal changes are not linear. Spring is stumbling in uncertainly this year, as it does most years. While the trend is generally toward warmer days, parts of Wisconsin are currently under a blizzard warning, and here in the Milwaukee area, we are expecting several inches of snow tonight, with temperatures plunging into the single digits tomorrow night.

But, oh, last Monday. Last Monday, the temperature soared to 71. The breeze was pleasant. The boys spent 7.5 hours outside. I rummaged in the basement for a pair of shorts. We took off our shoes and ran through the sun-warmed yard in bare feet. We played baseball and catch with Shiloh’s Foxtail toy. And late in the afternoon, the boys rediscovered their squirt guns, whereupon the water battle squeals commenced. The timing of this beautiful day was perfect, coming right after the time change, and giving us that extra hour to enjoy the evening outside. I was so thankful to the Lord for the sun and the warmth.

Do I always enjoy living somewhere with fiercer winters? No, but I remember my Kenya years, where, while there were seasons, the drama was largely missing. Shifting from a warmer dry season to a cooler rainy season just isn’t the same as living in a place that can have 120+ degree temperature swings in a year.

Why is a 70-degree day in early March so amazing? Because it’s often surrounded by freezing days and weeks. It’s a weather respite to be savored.

It’s a good gift from a good God who delights in our delight in his creation. And, my, did we delight in it last week!

I’m so glad I live in a time when live eagle cams are a thing. I’m sure I wrote a post about this 12 years or so ago, but it bears repeated treatment. Watching a bald eagle pair thousands of miles away incubate eggs and raise eaglets is a wonderful experience that was not available to anyone in human history until this century.

You know what else wasn’t available? Access – on a computer in our pockets – to every tragedy and war and general upheaval occurring around the world. I don’t roam the halls of power. I don’t make world-shaking decisions. I don’t need to know all the details of military campaigns or the latest scandal that’s rocking Washington. I’m aware of what’s going on in the world, but I’m also immersed in my current job: teaching Shiloh addition and subtraction, reading Rumplestiltskin, listening to Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 5, and teaching Shadrach how to write his name. I realized recently that knowing everything about everything does not bring peace to my heart. It generally brings frustration and anxiety.

Which is why I’m so glad for the Big Bear Valley eagle cam. I know Jesus wasn’t referring to this particular variety when he said, “Look at the birds of the air” in an admonition to trust God’s care, but I still find the principle comforting. Shadow and Jackie sit high in a tree in the wilds of California, their lives unaffected by the greater world’s problems. Caring for their two eggs, hunting the next fish, warding off pesky ravens – these are their concerns. They are doing exactly what the Creator made them to do, and he is tenderly providing for them.

Just like he’s providing for me. Watching these beautiful birds pulls me back to Jesus and reminds me to keep my focus on him and what’s right in front of me.

After all, he’s got the eagles, Katie, and the whole world in his hands.

I can’t decide if I’m a pessimist or an optimist. I’d like to think I’m the latter, but I tend to catastrophize future events as if it were my job. I imagine the worst about an upcoming situation, certain it will happen. That’s funny, because after a crisis, I often find the silver lining and think, That wasn’t so bad.

The part where I get to the not-so-bad is my favorite. It comes in handy in all sorts of life circumstances, big and small.

It helps when you’re born with a disability, but you see others far more impaired. It’s not so bad. At least one of my hands does what I want it to.

It helps after 36 hours of labor with your first baby. That wasn’t so bad. At least I didn’t have a C-section.

It helps when your leaning tower of drying dishes suddenly collapses, and a Corelle bowl shatters into a zillion pieces on the kitchen floor. That wasn’t so bad. I have a broom and my robot vacuum, and the boys aren’t home.

It helps when your kid throws up in his car seat on a long solo road trip. And then after you clean him up, he does it again 10 miles down the road. That wasn’t so bad. At least both boys weren’t sick, and we were right near an exit.

I suppose when I start out imagining what could have gone really really wrong, and it’s not as bad as all that, silver linings are in abundance. My goal is then to turn in thanks to God, because whatever touches me goes through his hands first.

And that’s better than not-so-bad.