A cup of coffee and a bagel.

Scrolling through my news feed at 5 pm trying to keep my exhausted eyes from closing, it was a picture of a desk with a coffee mug and a bagel that did me in. A desk, a coffee mug, and a bagel.


It was the end of day that went something like this:
"Mrs. Remark, Mrs. Remark!". The words shatter my ear for the 20th time today. I hear the same statement exit my mouth that has exited at least a dozen other times in the same hour, calm, cool, collected- like this is the first time I have said it in my whole life. The noise level in the room rises, I  ask for it to lower. I circle the room, helping each student one by one, wishing I had 8 more arms, yet knowing that wouldn't be enough. As I converse with another student, I feel a poke on my arm. Ignore it. Poke again. Ignore. Poke, poke, poke. Calmly I turn around "excuse me, I'm speaking with another friend, you are going to have to wait." Conversation finished, I see 14 hands in the air, each with his or her own dire need. I attend to the poker who needed me so desperately she got out of her chair to get my attention, the same one that gets out of her chair on a five minute increment schedule. The volume in the room progressively gets louder. I mutter said statement for the 15th time this hour. Volume decreases, but not for long. I hear crying. A student frustrated by the task has resorted to tears. Over to his desk to solve the problem, I bend down to his level and speak with him about what is wrong. Poke. Poke. Poke. I spin around, "please go to your desk and raise your hand if you would like my help." Back to the conversation at hand. As I attempt to talk through this student's feelings, I hear a loud thunk. A student has fallen out of his chair. The same student I have asked on several occasions to keep all 4 feet on the ground. I turn around and ask him if he is okay, he nods yes, crisis diverted. Back to conversation. The tears are stopped, I walk away from the student's desk to attend to the 13 other hands, most which have been patiently waiting for me. I praise the students for waiting so patiently for my assistance. The volume in the room increases, and I take note of the 12 or so students who have worked quietly the whole time, praising their efforts to follow my directions. The room quiets. I attend to a few other student's questions before glancing at the clock and realizing it is time for recess. I ask students to quietly put their materials away. A few students choose to continue working. I circle around to their desks to ask each of them to put their materials away. A loud sigh. An eye roll. A slamming of the desk. I'll have to deal with that later, we are currently 4 minutes late for our 15 minute recess. One by one I call the students to line up at the door. Off they go, except for the few stragglers who are still working on putting their materials away. I circle to their desks to assist them in putting away their materials. 10 minutes of lunch have passed. Another student sits at her desk working on an incomplete math assignment, she asks if I can help her. Heading over to her desk I walk her through the worksheet step by step, giving the same directions I had given earlier in math. 10 minutes pass of this one-on-one working, we finish. I send her off to lunch.  I pick up the remaining scraps of paper that are scattered around the room, finally enough time to think. "I sent something to the printer this morning that I forgot to pick up, if I don't get it now I will certainly forget it..." so off I go across the school. Practically running, I pick up my printed material, swing by the copier to send a few copies through the machine, it jams. I take the machine apart trying to fix the jam so I don't leave it for the next pour soul who flies through the copy room at 100 miles per hour. I fumble with the machine, taking it apart in several places, and finally discover the minuscule piece of paper it is calling a "jam".  I grab the half-stack of copies and head back to my classroom, I'll have to finish the other copy job later. I check the clock as I enter the room. 12 minutes until I have to pick up the kids from lunch. 12 minutes seems like an eternity in my world. I have learned to be efficient, or I won't get anything done. I check my e-mail, 2 parent e-mails that need responding. I send a response to each. I remind myself, yes remind myself that I have needed to go to the bathroom since 8:00 this morning, but realize those two e-mails put me over the allotted time it would take to get to the bathroom, wash my hands and get back to pick up my kids- so I tell myself it will have to wait. I'm no stranger to complete school days without a bathroom break, a seat in a chair, or a moment to think... 

I know I don't have the hardest job known to man kind. I know I am incredibly blessed to get to be an integral part of so many kids' lives. I know that many jobs are fast-paced, high-stress, over-stimulating. I get it. I'm not throwing a pitty-party, or looking for sympathy- I love my job, I love my kids, I love being a part of their lives- I just wish, some days, I could sit at my desk in a quiet, calm environment where I can hear myself think and enjoy a cup of coffee and a bagel.

You Are.

We plan, and plan and plan some more. We prepare. We show up and pour our heart into the lessons hoping and praying that the students will grasp the concepts. We re-word and re-explain, draw picture and diagrams, probe and prompt until those little ones show us that they can independently do the work we are trying to get them to do. And then we cheer them on as they show us they can do it. We celebrate with their successes. Our hearts are heavy with their failures. And we try and try and try again knowing that each of those littles have it in them to succeed. We welcome them into our classrooms, but more than that we welcome them into our hearts. We love them. When they walk out of the door at the end of the day, we stare at the scraps on the floor, the chairs haphazardly stacked, the books strewn about and we take a deep breath. We are exhausted, yet fulfilled. Our desk are filled with papers to correct, notes to write, grades to enter- tell tale signs of the baby steps we have accomplished that day in our quest to help each child succeed.

They come to us loved. tattered. well fed. broken. confused. weary. lost. cared for. tired. well rested. joyful. hungry. upset- day after day they come. And we come. exhausted. excited. worn out. rejuvenated.  disheartened. uplifted. hopeful- day after day we come. Together, through the trying days, the trials, the tears, the success stories, the triumphs, the celebrations- we become a family.

We are teachers. This is not our duty. This is not our obligation. This is not our job. This is our passion. To fill them with knowledge, skills, strategies, accomplishments, successes, but most importantly to fill them with hope. Because they- in all their tattered, broken, beautiful states of being are our future. They depend on us, but we depend on them.


There are many messages I wish to convey as a teacher. Of course, my desire is that students carry each and every message and lesson with them as they go, but I know that is just not a realistic expectation. However, if only one message in the world sticks, my desire would be that they would know how much they mean and matter to this world. That they know they are unique, loved, special, cared for. That they know that their lives are changing the world, even today at eight years old.

That message is so critically important to me that I want the students to hear it, to see it, to take it in every single day. This bulletin board has been a long time in the making, and it finally made its debut this week in our classroom. And at the end of the day, I think I may need it just as much as the students need it.

As we walk through this tainted, broken world, it tells us that these things are not true. It whispers in our ear every contradictory message. It screams in our faces "YOU ARE NOT..." I want my students to know the truth. I want to know the truth. Every. Single. Day...

"YOU ARE"

Missing

Life is funny... You can just be roaming around, enjoying your day-to-day living out your routines, and out of nowhere it will surprise you. This week has been one of those moments for me.

Coming off of a fabulous 4 day weekend and a wonderful trip to a place we love dearly, it's been a hard week for me. I've been trying to play tough. I've been trying to pretend there is no way I could be homesick, but the reality is...

I miss home. I miss home in such a way that I can't simply take a trip back and get my fix and feel better. I miss the everyday idiosyncrasies of home.

I miss my Oak Grove Family. I miss the school, the kids, the families, the staff. I miss the lightness of the environment, the love felt in the building, the culture that was The Grovers.

I miss dinner on random weeknights with our parents. I miss getting a call from Mom or Dad on any given night to see if we'd like to join them for dinner. Pizza Sundays.

I miss hanging out with my kiddos. Knowing they'd swing by for trick-or-treating, or spending a Saturday evening with them, or making the most epic sledding hill in history.

I miss my best friends. I miss being blessed enough to work in the same building as one of my best friends. I miss random Thursday night Tutti Frutti dates and card games. I miss laughing incredibly hard about  silly things like "I can't have a baby shower, my stairs are too steep."

And I miss their babies. All three of them. Even the one I haven't met. And I grieve for all the moments I'm going to miss with them.

I miss Missional Community. And what a supportive, encouraging, loving group of people we had there.

I miss Vetter dates. All the random things we did. All the amazing conversations we had. All the dreams we shared.

The list could go on an on forever.

Yet when I look to the future I know we will build memories and friendships and moments in this new place that will make me long for them someday like I have for every past home. We are creating a new home.  And as we embark on this journey I remind myself to enjoy the present because it never sticks around for long.

Good. So Good.

"Okay God, I hear you, and I priase you because YOU ARE SO GOOD."

Lately these have been the words of my heart. As I have struggled through the days of learning new curriculums, attempting to assist 25 students of extremely varying academic levels, and forging the grounds of living in a new city I have found myself repeatedly praying "God, you are so faithful, you provide and you comfort and you lead and you are just. so. good." 

Today was one of those days. 

I am becoming more and more convinced that God rips us out of our comfort zones and plants us somewhere freightening because He wants to grow us, He wants to use us, and he wants to change our perspective drastically reminding us that we are not on this earth for our glory, but for His glory.

And tonight, as I sit at my computer exhausted from a long, emotional day "on the job" I can pray and rejoice and preach fervently with thanksgiving that God is so good.

Because I know that it was not by my own doing that I just so happened upon a fellowship of believers who would challenge me and grow me and strengthen me in my faith. And I am certain that it was not any action that I took that I was entrusted 25 little lives to touch, and 20 amazing adults to come alongside me. And I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the "should we move", "we are moving", "why did we do this" tears and struggles are part of a great, big, grander plan that I have yet to see.

So tonight, weary, worn, and tired I pray a Thank you Jesus that your plan is so much bigger and better than ours could ever be. Thank you that you are carefully orchestrating events in our lives for Your glory. Thank you that where we cannot see hope and purpose, you show it to us in amazing ways. Thank you for community, and friends and fellowship, for Your hand in all things- big and small. Help me to continue to focus on Your grander plan realizing that it is so much better than my day-to-day priorities.

Love from Dickinson.

Sewing Project... Check.

I'm super proud of my latest sewing project. It's certainly not perfect, but it is complete. Which, these days, is a huge accomplishment in-and-of itself.

Background Story: After leaving my colorfully painted classroom at Oak Grove, I was bummed to enter a classroom that wasn't splashed with color in every which direction. I was certain that I needed to do something to spice up the room, and I knew it would have to be with accents. Enter the curtains. So  I went to JoAnn's and bought yards upon yards of fabric- this was in June.

Then... Packing. And weddings. And more packing. And soaking up our last days in Fargo/Moorhead. And packing and moving.

The fabric sat. Nothing happened and they did not turn into curtains.

We arrived in Dickinson and immediately I went into go mode getting my classroom ready for little kiddos. All of a sudden it was the end of August and I still hadn't gotten to that sewing project that I had bought fabric for way back in June. So I wrote it off and decided that curtains would have to wait until next year.

Until the Friday before school started when I decided that my room was too bare and that I needed to do this project. So I sat down for a 12 hour work session and...

I really love what they add to my room!

On Purpose.

     The more we get settled in our new house and I get used to calling this place home, the more and more I am convinced that God put us here on purpose. It's not that it wasn't as plain as day that we were being called to uproot our lives and move, as doors continually swung wide open before our move. Somebody could have been practically autibally yelling "GO!" in my face, and I'm not certain I would have been as sure and confident as I am now. But being here, and feeling a sense of purpose and peace has made it clear to me that we are exactly where we are supposed to be right now.
     Over the past few weeks Rob and I have been abundantly blessed with answers to prayer after prayer. Amazing people have litearlly walked into our lives and we've felt like we are right where we are meant to be.
     Somebody once told me "If you aren't out of your comfort zone, you aren't growing." Oh how true that is. For some people that is stepping into a church, for some people that is taking a mission trip to another country, for some people that is placing their trust in God, and for me it was moving to a new place where I knew nobody, to a new school I wasn't used to teaching at and to a community I was certain was speckled with scary people and nothing for me. Oh how wrong I was.
    Although there are days I still brutally miss the comfort of home, the closeness of family and the ears and hugs of good friends, every single day brings me a feeling of purpose and reassurance that we are here on purpose.

 We took an amazing trip back to our old stomping grounds. It was so great to be back! Bozeman, we love youl

 We enjoyed some local talent in downtown Dickinson... Kat Perkins (you may remember her from The Voice)!

My first Medora Musical experience, at it sure was a great one. The Badlands are beautiful, I can't wait to explore more of them!

Keep your eyes out for the latest project I completed! I'm excited about it and excited to share it!

What a beautiful life.

T'was the Night Before School

A new year. New beginnings. A fresh start. These words ring so true every year at this time. Brand new pencils. Fully stocked notebooks. Fresh, undamaged folders. Children that are eager to learn. It's hard to not feel the buzz in the air at this time of year from all the anticipation that comes with back-to-school. One of my favorite annual memories of growing up was the day that my parents would take off a day of work (both of them, I love that in an of itself, but that's a whole nother conversation) and we would go get all our yearly check ups. We'd hit up the eye doctor, the doctor, the dentist...

I know what you're thinking, "That sounds like a nightmare!"  But it wasn't. Because after all those scary and lousy and not fun appointments we got to spend the rest of the day as a family back-to-school shopping. We'd have a family lunch together, hit up Target for all the year's supplies, and then we'd get equipped with brand new clothes and brand new shoes and we'd feel like new people ready to take on the year. I did at least. And this memory is so prevalent to me because that day was so important in my life to help me prepare for the upcoming school year. To help get me into "go" mode. And for the next few weeks I could barely contain the excitement that came with back to school and this time of year.

But then the night before school hit. And all that excitement was filled with pure fear. I got nervous. So nervous, in fact, that I remember not sleeping. And then I would head to school the next day and Mom and Dad would drop me off, and I would put on a smiling face... Until I walked in the building and the butterflies filled my stomach. And the anxiety was so strong every year that I can still remember it to this day.

Fast forward 15 years... Here I sit the night before school. I just met my little ones. I just saw all their nervous and excited and smiling faces... And I'm nervous. And I'm scared. And I'm terrified. And I wonder why in the world I chose a career where I have to experience those same feelings that I hated so much back then, year after year.

But I'm so glad I did. Because along with all the same nervous, anxious feelings I felt so long ago I feel so excited and so blessed to begin this year with all these new kiddos! It's going to be a whirlwind, and a crazy year but I know it will be a great one.

{I also feel so grateful that I can relate to those little ones who are coming into my classroom who may be experiencing the same feelings}

So my clothes are laid out and ready, my nerves are high, and I probably won't sleep much tonight, but I'm still convinced teaching is one of the greatest jobs.

Here's to another {great} year.

Also received this adorable card from my principal. Such a thoughtful woman. Such a nice card.

Buildings?

This is what our entry way is looking like these days... Life has changed. 

My favorite conversation thus far happened last night. Rob and I walked by a small barber shop with a large sign in the window that said "$8 haircuts". Rob, with a mop on his head, thought he had stumbled upon a gold mine- so we stepped inside. There was a little old man sitting on a chair with his feet up reading the paper. As we walked in he slowly turned to look at us, smiled very wide and said "hello folks". After talking for a while about if the haircuts were actually only $8 and finding out that they were in fact $8 and- 'had we come in last week' would have been $5- Rob sat down in this little old man's chair for a cut. It was the three of us in a tiny barber shop with a 74 year old man and a very curious husband. The conversation that followed was one for the books.

Barber: So, what are you here for, the money?

Rob: No, actually I work for JLG Architects and we are starting an office downtown.

Barber: For who?

Rob: JLG Architects.

Barber: What's that?

Rob: We're an architecture firm that just moved to town. We have offices all over the state of North Dakota.

Barber (with a very perplexed look on his face): You mean... like... buildings?

It was all I could do to keep from laughing at this adorable old man who apparently was completely clueless about what an architecture firm is.

Remade

Moving into a new house is a really cool feeling. It's a blank slate. An empty place filled with possibilities. The DIY home improvement projects don't exist (until you want to finish that unfinished basement), little things aren't falling apart, or breaking. It's refreshing. It feels sophisticated. Grown up. Real life. Scary.

As we moved our furniture into our home, some of it felt just a bit out of place. It was 1980's in a 2014 house. The stain didn't match, it was old mixed with new. We knew our budget wouldn't allow for the purchase of any new furniture for quite some time- so we had to get creative.

Que DIY furniture. In total homesteader mode, I was motivated to take on any new project. So for the first time in my life, I whipped out a sander, some tools, fresh stain, fresh paint, lacquer, and the painting clothes and I took to redoing our table. I loved every second of it. Seeing the transformation take place was so fulfilling, fun and motivating. And I'm encouraged by how easy it actually was.

The wood clashed with the cabinets and the floor, the red clashed with our yellow stools. It was a mess.

And the finished product. Matching the dark wood of the floor and cabinets, and working with the yellow stools in our kitchen.

Here is a side by side comparison.

I sense a lot of furniture remaking in my future!

Hot Glue Guns and Poster Frames

Before moving west, I had heard several fabrications, exaggerations and crazy things about it. Every little thing that happened was fabricated and plastered on the news as if this was the worst place on Earth you could live. I heard about the insane ratio of women to men, the extremely high prices on everything, the overcrowded schools, the housing market that was beyond inflated, the long lines at any store, the emptiness of shelves when you needed just about anything, the violence due to the influx of people from all over the county, the large number of trucks, and the list went on and on. I heard. I saw people's faces when I told them "I'm moving to Dickinson" and I received several comments such as "why would you do that" and "are you crazy".

Although I have only been here for a little over a week, I can already say that all that you hear fits into two very distinct categories: absolutely, positively untrue and hit the nail right on the head. The dangerous town and violence and crazy people that are depicted on the media are certainly not anywhere near what they make it out to be. I went for a run this morning (equipped with my cell phone and a husband at the other end who was waiting to come rescue me if anything went awry) and it was beautiful. It was peaceful, it was an awesome route, I didn't get yelled at or hassled once (that's more than I can say about Fargo/Moorhead), and I felt like I was in a beautiful small town North Dakota. It's not all that bad people, it's really not that bad.

In a little over a week I have met some amazingly friendly, welcoming people. People who are opening up their city to outsiders, welcoming them in, and treating them as if they've always been a part of this place. It's pretty neat to witness. And don't get me wrong, I have not had any heart-stopping, dangerous feeling experience where I felt out of my comfort zone, and for that I am so incredibly happy.

However... When you hear people say that you can't buy anything you need- believe it. Just believe it. I have gone to Walmart (yes, it is my only choice) several times over the course of this week trying to set up my classroom and our house. I've run for several items, and I've gone for more specific items, and every time I have found empty shelves. It's the weirdest feeling in the world. Extra sheets for the guest bedroom, none. Duct tape, none. Certain brands of toothpaste, none. A frame for a poster, not a chance. So today when I realized I needed a hot glue gun to assemble some banners I had made for my classroom, I headed to where else but Walmart. "They won't be out of hot glue guns" I thought "who buys hot glue guns anyways? There aren't thousands of oil workers running around with hot glue guns". After parking my hot wheels car amongst a sea of very large trucks at Walmart, I made my way into the store, and to the craft isle where I was certain I would grab my hot glue gun and some sticks and be on my way. Instead, this is what I found:

See all those empty hanging spots. Yep, every single one of them was marked with "hot glue gun".

I guess there are many, many men driving their big trucks around town with poster frames and hot glue guns, so I should be on the lookout for that.

The adventure continues.

New Adventures

In early April Rob and I were faced with a decision. A major, life-altering decision. Rob was offered a job opportunity in Dickinson, North Dakota. So began our journey of decision making, praying and ultimately moving to a whole new place.

I turned in my keys at Oak Grove. We packed up the first house we ever lived in together. We bought our 2nd house in a year and we were off.

So on August 1st, we pointed a very large Uhaul west, and we began a new adventure. Rob + Amber in Dickinson, North Dakota.

I knew it would be hard to leave Oak Grove. I knew it would be very hard to leave our family and many, many great friends. I knew it would be a challenge to leave the life we had build in Moorhead, but leaving our first home was a bit harder than I anticipated. The house we put hours upon hours of work into, making it a home. The house we came home to after our honeymoon, and celebrated many firsts in. Our first house, which will forever hold many memories of a great first year of marriage. 

And we arrived at our new house. A house that holds several future memories. A house that is slowly becoming a home in a town that I am certain holds many adventures for the Remarks.

We've made the move. And though I am uncertain of so many things, terrified of all the unknowns and very slowly adjusting to life in a town where we don't know a soul I cannot wait to see where this journey takes us! And I am so excited that we are writing yet another interesting chapter in our life together.

Stayed tuned for all the Remark adventures brought to you courtesy of our newest home.

Sigh...

The teacher in me anal-ness has struck again! I'm not sure how many times in my life I have spent hours upon hours redoing something simply over the fact that I didn't like how it looked. In my classroom I redo everything if it doesn't look uniform and flow well. I can't copy and past items into worksheets, because I have to re-create them to make sure they look nice and neat. It's just a part of who I am, and I have come to realize over the years that, no matter how much time it takes to redo something, it will always make me feel better in the end. And although there are times where I wish I wasn't like this, I know that there are definitely good things that come out of it!

With that being said, today that quality got the best of me. Amongst the boxes that need to be packed, the grad school work that is waiting to be touched, the laundry that could be folded, and so many other things I decided I hated my Tumblr blog because you couldn't customize the look. And who wants to be stuck with the 5 provided, ugly themes they give you for the rest of your life. Apparently not this girl. So... I thought about it, I tried to talk myself out of it, I told myself it didn't matter and it isn't important, and nobody reads it anyways... but none of those reasons seemed to be reason enough for me not to switch blog platforms to one where I could control the look of my blog.

So I did. And in doing that, I wanted to take all the blog posts I have written since Rob and I got married since this blog is, after-all, a compilation of our married-life experiences. And that's what I did. I copied and pasted. And copied and pasted. And re-uploaded photos. And copied and pasted. And 3 hours later, all my Tumblr blog posts were successfully transferred to Blogger and to our new, and (in my humble opinion) very improved blog.

{sigh} I know there are so many better ways I could have used my time today, but I finally have a blog I am excited about the look and potential of, so that counts for something, right?

A Whole Lot Of Love.

As we prepare for yet another weekend full of wedding festivities, I began thinking this morning about all the wedding experiences that Rob and I have had the opportunity to share. Being the girl who loves all things romantic, I couldn’t be happier that our life has been packed with vows and promises of couples in love. 

A look back over the years:

1. Nick and Alexa- 2009

2. Greg and Katie- 2009

3. Catherine and Bobby- 2009

4. Matt and Cassie- 2010

5. Rachael and Tyler- 2010

6. Katie and Alex- 2010

7. Erik and Hayley- 2011

8. Mallory and Brady- 2011

9. Amanda and Steve- 2011

10. Kristin and Derrick- 2012

11. Amber and Rob- 2013

12. Michael and Alison- 2013

13. Alex and Shelly- 2013

14. Lisa and Dustin- 2013

15. Eda and Chad- 2013

16. Ben and Alexa- 2013

17. Brian and Susan- 2013

18. Brady and Jen- 2014

19. Ryan and Christie- 2014

20. Morgan and Erik- 2014

21. Nate and Naomi- 2014

That’s a whole lot of love. 

I must say we’ve had a pretty great beginning.

Trudging Through a Season

We’ve been walking through a weird, rough season of our life here at the Remark household. So many huge changes and transitions are taking place as we prepare to leave this place we have called home for the first year of our marriage, our first purchase together, our first remodel projects, design projects, the place we came home to first as husband and wife. We’re preparing to leave our families and our friends and the places and people we know and love to open another chapter of our lives. It’s exciting, and it’s downright hard. 

Amidst the decision making and processing of this move, life threw us another curve ball (isn’t that how it usually goes?). My Grandpa, who I grew up with, was diagnosed with cancer. The kind that doesn’t give you much time to get your life in order, the time that doesn’t allow you to experience your lasts to the fullest, the kind that strangles the life right out of you until the very end. And I thought it was downright hard to move. That was until I sat holding the hand of a man whose life was slipping away from him. Maybe there isn’t even a word that describes that emotion.

And as I spent the last few weeks of Grandpa’s life by his side, so many things entered my mind about what made him such a different, special man. Out of that thinking came this desire to write down what I hold so near and dear about the man I was lucky to call my grandpa.

What is a legacy?

A legacy is something you leave on this earth long after your soul leaves your body. A legacy is something the ones near and dear to you hold onto when they can no longer hold onto your hand, when they can no longer hear your laughter, when they can no longer see the proud sparkle in your eyes as they walk into the room.

Leaving a legacy is leaving a little bit of you for us to enjoy when you’ve left this earth and gone to be in the presence of the angels.

It is impossible to walk this earth with such love, dedication and passion as grandpa has and to not leave a legacy so great that it will live on long after his last breath has been breathed.   

Leaving a legacy doesn’t mean leaving money, it doesn’t mean leaving possessions, it doesn’t even mean leaving accolades. No, leaving a legacy is far more than that. Leaving a legacy is leaving your wife of 57 years with fond memories of love. It’s leaving 5 children who will sit by your side until the very end not out of obligation but because they want to squeeze every moment of love out of you. Leaving a legacy means leaving tears in the eyes of loved ones because they know that life on this earth will be just a little duller without your presence.

It’s proudly providing, deeply loving, faithfully serving, generously giving, tirelessly working all in the name of love.

A legacy is something you leave in the hearts of your children, and their children and their children for generations to come. It’s the fond memories and wonderful stories that come only because you did the very best you could to love your family unselfishly, unfailingly, and persistently until the very end.

Talk to his wife, or his kids, or his grandkids, and it won’t take you long to discover this man has left a legacy.

He has left a legacy by choosing to love. By pointing them to Jesus. By carrying burdens. By fixing skinned knees. By healing broken hearts.

As I reflected on Wednesday evening about what made Grandpa so special, about what made him a man that was so iconic and going to be so immensely missed, I thought of many, many things. Stories that could be shared for days. Stories that would make us laugh, and cry, and yes- even cringe. Stories of a man who spent his whole life putting it all out there for those he loved. But amongst those memories I boiled it down to these 5 words. Grandpa did everything in life with passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

Whether it was singing in the church choir, serving on the city council, running his own business, raising his children, or loving his wife he did it with passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love. For as far back as I can remember, I have witnessed, time and time again, a man who showed up every day of his life exuding passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

Bring the smallest task to Grandpa, and you could be certain he would get it done above and beyond what you asked of him because of his passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

Come to him with a heavy heart, a burden, or a problem and he would fix it because of his passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

Come to grandpa and he would share his stories, his chair, his iced tea, his wafer cookies, his juice jugs, his Pink Cow recipe, his wisdom, his advice (sometimes unsought) but most importantly his passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

What is a legacy?

A legacy is when a man lives his life demonstrating these values so greatly that they become a part of each of his family members. A legacy is passing on your passion, pride, commitment, dedication and love.

You’ve done well, grandpa. Thank you for the very best kind of legacy.

So we will continue to walk through this season of life, resting assured that we are exactly where God wants us at this moment and that no matter where life takes us we will walk hand-in-hand looking ahead with anticipation of what is to come!

Check.

I have once again been blessed by the beauty of nature, and lovers and friends all wrapped into an amazing vacation.

Each time I travel I find myself in moments of awe so great that I have to catch my breath and pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming. The most recent trip Rob and I embarked on was no different. We witnessed the beauty of mountains, and oceans and air so fresh it smelled like clean laundry everywhere you walked. I was thrown into culture shock witnessing multiple people literally eating out of garbage cans, and nature shock by seeing an incredibly large mountain peak it’s heads out of the clouds just in time for us to see the fullness of its splendor.

Another vacation that had me snapping the shutter of my camera more times than I could count yet still failing to capture the beauty that lie in front of me- sometimes you must see with your own eye to really appreciate a place.

And that was just the beginning of what made this trip so amazing. It was the late, late night hangouts, and laughing so hard my stomach hurt, and road trips turned snowball fights and spending moments with really really great friends that made it truly the trip of a lifetime.

So we checked another destination, actually two destinations, off our list of travel hopes and dreams and we made memories that will have us smiling for years to come.

What a beautiful and great life we live.