The Best of Times

Every now and then, if you're lucky, you have one of those moments where time seems to stop, just for a second or two. On those rare occasions, you pause and take a mental snapshot, realizing with a real sense of clarity that twenty or thirty years later, you're going to remember that moment. You're going to remember what you were doing, what you saw, and more importantly, how you felt.

I had one of those moments this morning, after I returned from a run in the neighborhood. I had finished my run at Bongo Java on Belmont Boulevard, so I could grab a cup of coffee for me and a muffin for Jude. I walked across Belmont's campus, listening to an episode of "This American Life" on my Ipod and enjoying a beautiful spring morning. I'm always in a good mood after an early morning run, so I was smiling as I walked up the steps on our front porch and let myself in the front door.

I heard Jude and John Patrick upstairs, talking and laughing. I walked up the stairs, still sweating from my run and saw them sitting together in his play area in the hall, outside his room. John Patrick was facing his bookcase, playing quietly with a couple of toys while Jude two or three feet away, watching him. Every couple of minutes, he would look back at her, then play some more. The lighting was perfect. John Patrick had pulled one of his teddy bears off the bookcase and it was laying beside him, playing music.

As I sat in a chair and took in the whole scene, it hit me. This is one of those moments I'm going to remember, clearly, for the rest of my life. I'll think of it when John Patrick is walking across the stage to receive his high school diploma, when he leaves for college and when he stands at the front of a church and watches his bride walk down the aisle toward him. I'll think of it many other times, too.

God has truly blessed me more than I deserve.

Milk Mustache

"I'm number one. I mean it, I am."

"Boy, this grass really tastes good. Seriously."

Groovin' on a Sunday Afternoon

Along Came Jones

Here's a shot of future baseball star John Patrick "Chipper Jones" Newman.

Springtime in Music City

One of my favorite things about our house is the giant maple tree in our front yard. Like a sentry standing guard over us, it marks the change of the seasons every year. In the fall, its leaves are beautiful and when they drop, we host our annual Leaf Party. In the winter, it looks naked and forlorn in the cold. In the spring, its leaves burst forth in a wave of bright green. In the summer, its leaves start to turn brown in the heat, but it provides shade for our front yard and front porch.

This afternoon, after John Patrick woke up from his nap, I took him for a walk in the neighborhood. It was unseasonably warm, so when we returned to the house, I spread a blanket under the tree. In the last week, the leaves on the tree have sprung to life, so John Patrick and I had plenty of shade from the late afternoon sun. Jude woke up from her nap and came outside with us to enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Stairs