Wednesday, March 11, 2026
Monday, March 9, 2026
To my mom, March 9
Monday, March 9, 1981
I wish I could say everything is going just fine, but it isn't. Well, physically I'm OK, but we're finding it difficult to get the rest of your room ready for you. There are still lots of things to get and not much time.
Why doesn't the world just stop spinning and say, "Hey, Cyndi is having a baby"!? Having you is truly awe-inspiring ... from the first time I felt your heartbeat, since those first little kicks—God what a miracle. This is amazing. I love you, beautiful baby.
Monday, March 9, 2026
It's something more than poetic how your words from decades ago line up with our own goings and doings today. Is this how God is choosing to speak to me in this season of my life? Physically, I guess I'm OK too (cholesterol higher than needed), but I'm finding it difficult—or I should say, challenging—to get the rest of our house ready for all that seems to loom closer day-by-day. There are still lots of wants and needs, and trying to separate out between them which should be considered next and how to muster the time, enthusiasm, and resources for them is more than enough. Add a thing or two more and it slides into overwhelming. It's a battle to stave off self-pity (or self-loathing) and sloth. Staying productive is truly my only choice, even if I have to drag others along with me.
I wish I could say everything is going just fine, but it isn't. Well, physically I'm OK, but we're finding it difficult to get the rest of your room ready for you. There are still lots of things to get and not much time.
Why doesn't the world just stop spinning and say, "Hey, Cyndi is having a baby"!? Having you is truly awe-inspiring ... from the first time I felt your heartbeat, since those first little kicks—God what a miracle. This is amazing. I love you, beautiful baby.
Monday, March 9, 2026
It's something more than poetic how your words from decades ago line up with our own goings and doings today. Is this how God is choosing to speak to me in this season of my life? Physically, I guess I'm OK too (cholesterol higher than needed), but I'm finding it difficult—or I should say, challenging—to get the rest of our house ready for all that seems to loom closer day-by-day. There are still lots of wants and needs, and trying to separate out between them which should be considered next and how to muster the time, enthusiasm, and resources for them is more than enough. Add a thing or two more and it slides into overwhelming. It's a battle to stave off self-pity (or self-loathing) and sloth. Staying productive is truly my only choice, even if I have to drag others along with me.
Why doesn't the world just stop swirling and say, "Hey Lance, here's your joy today"!? Having all this hurricane of emotions and activity swirl with me seeming at the center is anxiety-inducing ... from the moment your heart beat last, since those final bouts and fits on your hospital bed—God what a trial. Still it's amazing. I have hope, Mom.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
Wednesday, March 4, 2026
To my mom, March 4
Wednesday, March 4, 1981
…had a lot on my mind lately … of course, I have a lot of time to think, with Larry gone so much. I pray for you little baby, sometimes I think I haven't taken as good of care of myself as I should—to ensure your health & wellbeing.
The countdown is on: 27 more days!!
Wednesday, March 4, 2026
You too, huh? With Yume's and my own health, the kids' growth and constant need for engagement, and Dad living here these past few months (to say nothing of work and home labors), it's been what a lot of others have said when I relate a brief story about all this: "Oh wow. That's a lot." No kidding. And where you seem to have had Dad rarely around at that time to share these thoughts with, I can't help but be confronted with his situation daily. How's that for some striking symmetry!
27, err, 17 days to go. I arrived 10 days early in '81. And in 17 more days I'll arrive at the exact midpoint of my life. 45 years. 90 feels earned without overstaying. Maybe I'm shortchanging myself, but I know it takes a near daily effort to stay fit enough in mind, body, and spirit to get there. I have your memory to remind me of what it will and won't take.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
…had a lot on my mind lately … of course, I have a lot of time to think, with Larry gone so much. I pray for you little baby, sometimes I think I haven't taken as good of care of myself as I should—to ensure your health & wellbeing.
The countdown is on: 27 more days!!
Wednesday, March 4, 2026
You too, huh? With Yume's and my own health, the kids' growth and constant need for engagement, and Dad living here these past few months (to say nothing of work and home labors), it's been what a lot of others have said when I relate a brief story about all this: "Oh wow. That's a lot." No kidding. And where you seem to have had Dad rarely around at that time to share these thoughts with, I can't help but be confronted with his situation daily. How's that for some striking symmetry!
27, err, 17 days to go. I arrived 10 days early in '81. And in 17 more days I'll arrive at the exact midpoint of my life. 45 years. 90 feels earned without overstaying. Maybe I'm shortchanging myself, but I know it takes a near daily effort to stay fit enough in mind, body, and spirit to get there. I have your memory to remind me of what it will and won't take.
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
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