da5605f820c211e28159123138178971_6Here it is only one week left until the theoretical routines become reality and I just keep crossing things off the list that grows daily.  Paint the bathroom, hang the pictures, make the freezer meals, can the tomatoes, adjust the courses.

My oldest son goes to university next week.  Today I walked him around campus, pointing out the best places to study and where to best sleep in a chair without anyone noticing.  Of course he stopped to admire the art work on the walls that I had passed by a million times.

The administration took his picture for his student card and used his drivers licence as i.d.  When did he get old enough to have i.d.?71f7add020c311e283e622000a1fb86d_6

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I’ve had a lot on my mind about this blog and my writing.  Wondering about where it’s going and what the point to it is.  When I look back on my posts I see a lot of ‘confessing’ and really I shouldn’t be.  Why do I apologize for what I think? Life is about a working out of thoughts.  Right?

I sit in front of my computer with bits and pieces of fragmented ideas, none of them seeming relevant enough nor important enough to blog about.  Could that be because I’m not writing about what I know I’m called to?

I appreciate anyone who spends time in their day reading my ramblings about parenting and schooling.  Time is precious and so I say THANK YOU for giving my words a bit of your time.  My hope is that they’ve been encouraging and yet funny, authentic and warming.

Writing is a way of personal expression and art for me. I’m being convicted of the power of words and how I use them.  Wes tells me often that I can out-talk him in an argument any day.

That is a gift my friends.   That is a gift.  (Can you see me winking?)

August is winding down.  Summer is like a ball of yarn being unravelled, yet knitted, into a soft scarf to keep us warm when fall descends. Summer is a revealing.

May you finish the last stitches of August with time spent on your pleasure, making fall lists and breathing deep with friends by the lake.

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