When I hear the word brave I think of a soldier going into battle, or a sky diver, I think of great leaders, like Lincon or Dr. King, who stood up for what they believed in even if it cost them their life. I guess my definition of brave is doing something hard, scarey or dangerous because you know it's the right thing.

I remember when we brought Aaron and Owen home. It was crazy. Totally, completely crazy. On so many levels. It was a super risky placement--we got them on an emergency basis, a "mistake" that a newly assigned caseworker made, said the judge. Aaron and Owen both had many demanding needs. Mike had a long hours job. And Luke, poor Luke. His 3 year old world was just turned completely upside down. Me? I went from 1 boy to 3 boys, 3 years and under. I knew it was crazy and I knew it would be crazy before we brought them home, even before we prayed about our decision. I knew it, and I did it anyway.

I bring this up because I remember talking with Luke's preschool teacher. She had been a preschool teacher with the district for 30+ years. She was praised and loved by so many in the community. She got Luke right in the middle of this crazy time. I felt lucky, yet she kind of annoyed me a few times, thinking she knew my son better than I did. Eventually she learned him and figured him out. I did my best to help her. But the conversation I remember most was one we had about Aaron and Owen. We talked about how the adoption process was going. It was going as I said, crazy--a really bumpy adoption road.

All she could say to me was, "I think you are very brave."

At the time the comment bothered me. Quite a bit. I thought about it over and over. Brave? It didn't seem fitting at the time. I didn't feel brave. I felt tired, very tired. I felt overwhelmed, worried and anxious. I walked around with a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat for months. And I felt as I said, a little crazy.

But as I look back on it, I guess it was kind of brave. It was scarey, but I did it anyway because I knew it was the right thing. It was hard, but it was right.

The best part of those kind of experiences is this: When you do something really, really hard and scarey, but it's something you know is right, Heaven helps you. All the help you need is sent. Angels come. Blessings come. It's all there as you need it. I could type a crazy long post about all the amazing love, support, kindness, tender mercies, blessings, etc. that were poured down on us, but that's not my point.

This post is a pep talk for myself today. Tough choices are ahead for us in the next few months and I need to remember to be brave.

So I'm off, to sort out the choices, figure out was is right, and battle on. And I do it in faith beacuse I know. I know the blessings will come.

Sometimes you need a perfect day. And that is what this post is all about, a perfect day.

Of coarse a perfect day requires planning and some packing.

And you've got to know where just the right spot is.


But other than that, you don't need much to enjoy:

looking

thinking

finding

Enjoying

pulling


sleeping

loving
soaring


flirting

show and telling

boarding

feeding

catching

freestyling

balancing

smiling


and sharing

And until my next perfect day, I have perfect memories.

On our way down the driveway the other day we spotted a full rainbow! Both sides--a full semicircle. I parked and ran for the camera, but when I got back only one side was left and not quite as bright. Still gorgeous though and a great way to end a rainy day.

As I went back into the house there was the most spectacular smell. The wet rain had kissed all my spring blooms and their scents were so amazing. The lavendar bushes were wonderful, but these below were the real winners.

Right outside my bedroom window:

And right outside my front door:

When my sister was in town, we had a chance to stop by the temple and take some pictures. My sister is so good at artistic things, framing up a landscape comes natural to her.

This is my favorite picture that she took.


It kind of reminds me of what we are doing right now. We keep plugging along at Scarlett's adoption, hanging in there for the ultimate goal: becoming her forever family. Not too long from now we will all walk that sidewalk all together, up the steps of the temple, and seal ourselves together forever.

I might need to print this picture out, just to smile at daily. It's going to be a really really good day when we get there.

She's a local girl. So her first french fry ever was from In-N-Out Burger. We eat there usually once a week.

She was really, really eyeing our food and it just didn't seem fair not the share. Plus, she's already eaten potatoes and it's not like she's allergic or anything.

Being a princess is kind of rough. Your brothers worry the fries will make you sick, or that you can't handle them.

Or they think they need to help you eat them or something. Not to mention there's also a very eager clean-up crew with wet noses all ready to help out sub-high chair level. Can't a girl eat in peace?!

Ultimately the expreience was a hit. She loved the fries. I think she'll be another In-N-Out fan like the rest of us.