I’m sorry. What? These were my middle/high school and college years.. This was not the “oldies” to me. This was my dance, get down, know-every-word-to-every-song era. These songs are practically embedded in my DNA.

And now, somehow, they have made their way into Tatum’s.

She created a playlist for our drives to and from school called “8th grade morning.” And here’s the best part: she did this entirely on her own. I had nothing to do with it. No Mom influence.

Duran Duran. The Police. Tears for Fears. Queen. David Bowie. Wham! Peter Gabriel. Men Without Hats.

So now we’re driving and she’ll say, “Mom, guess this song.”

Pleeeeaaaaaaaazzzzzzz.

Within approximately one note:

“UNDER PRESSURE. Queen. (oh, And David Bowie).”

Or:

“SAFETY DANCE. Men Without Hats.”

I know these songs in a way that is probably concerning… Every note. Every little change in the singer’s voice. The guitar riff …the beat….that weird little background sound nobody else notices. I still have it in me. HOW is the real question!?

And Tatum LOVES testing me.

Honestly, it’s kind of mind-blowing that music I listened to when I was her age is no playing on our way to school.

Can we please discuss Duran Duran?

I dare admit publicly that I may have kissed their poster goodnight. NIGHTLY. Yes, I was a wee bit  O.B.S.E.S.S.E.D.

So when Duran Duran comes blasting through the car speakers now, there is a part of teenage Steph who is VERY much alive and well.

Tatum now gleefully announces: I LOVE 80’S MUSIC!

And your mother has been waiting approximately 40 years for this moment.

They remind me of school dances, posters on bedroom walls, friends, driving around, college, and an entirely different version of myself. Oh, I miss that me.

For her, they’ll remind her of eighth grade mornings which we need when we are both struggling to feel good.

I am very grateful.

Sunday started out not so great. Tatum wasn’t feeling so hot, so Doug headed out to Five Below and came home armed with goodies. Soon the kitchen counter was completely taken over and the two of them were SLIMING. FOR HOURS.

It was such a hit. He knows his girl.

The first full week of school is now officially happening, and I think we are all learning that middle school at Veritas is A LOT.

Not bad. Not wrong. Just…a lot.

Tatum is up at 4:50 in the morning. We are out the door by 7:00. She gets home around 3:45, and then there are usually at least two hours of homework waiting for her. Math is more challenging this year. There is so much reading. So much note-taking. So much sitting and listening and moving from one thing to the next. It is completely different from what she is used to.

She is handling it. But many nights she has to break down. I’m so grateful I can be her person. Dad even pitched in and saved Monday with….

Yes..truly brilliant. He is so good to us.

What she wants more than anything right now is simply time to make friends. And at Veritas, there isn’t much of that built into the day. Classes are classes. The hallways are packed with around 1,000 students from sixth through twelfth grade. Lunch is twenty minutes. Then you are moving again. For a kid entering a brand-new school, that is quite an adjustment.

So our mornings are quite hectic (Oh, and I’m barely hanging on). Before we head out, she curls up in the chair with Coopy beside her and does her Latin on Duolingo. That makes my day.

But…then there was Friday. The shoe situation.

Veritas requires black shoes, and Tatum decided hers needed washing. (on Thursday after school).

As we left on Friday am, she forgot that they were STILL in the washing machine.

They were absolutely sopping wet.

We put them on the dashboard on the drive to school with great hopes that the Arizona sun would perform some kind of miracle.

Nope.

So she eventually had to put those soaking-wet shoes on her feet, which immediately turned into soaking-wet socks, and off she went into school. (after a few tears)

Ugh…this Friday. With tests too.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to understand his role perfectly. Give the people emotional support stuffed animals. Give Coopy a bone. Then everybody find a couch, watch something together and recover.

Just where we are right now. Dad has his own work stuff. I am in the middle of some tough tough health days….

and WE ARE ALL learning completely new school/ways/routines. Every day, Tatum gets in the car and says she missed me and hugs me. That makes it all kinda worth it (at least for me).

We are all learning how to make the best of all of it.

BUT I see her doing it….getting up. Powering through her homework. Trying hard to keep up. No, it’s NOT perfect and NOT easy. But we have our Jesus. and EACH other.

Tomorrow, my girl starts 8th grade. I’m not quite sure how we got here so fast.

Yesterday was orientation at Veritas, and let me tell you… it was pure chaos. People everywhere. Parents trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. Kids trying to take it all in.

And probably not the ideal day for me to tackle all of that because the day before had been my colonoscopy/endoscopy adventure.

And by adventure, I mean… the prep was HORRIFIC.

There are before pictures and after pictures, and I’m pretty sure they tell the entire story. Ha. But my Jesus shirt definitely helped.

But my Tot and my wonderful HHH were absolutely amazing through all of it. They took care of me, checked on me, loved on me, and helped me get through another not-so-fun medical day.

So by orientation, I was definitely not operating at 100%.

And Tatum? Well, Tatum was overstimulated. New school. New people. Lots of noise. Lots of instructions. Lots of bodies moving everywhere. So many things to process at once.

All things were a little tough. But you know what? We powered through. She got her schedule and her locker…..and found out her house. She’s in Newton House because Veritas divides the students into different “houses,” which I think is such a fun part of the school.

And BEST OF ALL?

She has classes with a dear friend.

Thank you, Jesus.

Then she blinged her pencil because an ordinary pencil would not do.

After all the chaos, we came home, Coopy got a bath, and oh did he love it!

The birds hung out with us.

Coopy resumed his normal position of needing to be wherever his people are, and we just got to BEEEEEEE.

Sometimes home is exactly what you need after a day when your nervous system has had ENOUGH.

I got her a little goody for her first day. I heart is surrounded by wings. God is watching her and protecting her.

And now tomorrow morning, she walks into a brand-new school year.

She’s ready. And we are all trusting God with what comes next.

I am so incredibly proud of you.

Tatum decided she wanted her hair framed around her face, and we absolutely loved how it turned out. It was soft and pretty and somehow made her look even more grown up!

Afterward, she practiced her posing in the car. Filter needed according to her.

Then we came home and had even more fun just being us in our matching Paul Frank shirts. We added a ridiculous filter, took entirely too many pictures, and laughed at ourselves.

Those are some of my favorite moments with her. Nothing elaborate. Nothing planned. Just my girl and me being goofy together.

The next morning, she sent me two videos.

One said, “I will never love anyone the way I love my mum.”

The other said, “I was raised by a woman who deserved a lot more than she ever got in life.”

Oh, my heart.

There are times when I wonder what Tatum sees when she looks at me. I know she sees the days when I am tired. The days when my body will not cooperate. The days when I wish I could do more, be more and give her more.

But then she sends me something like that, and I realize she also sees the love. She sees that I am here and how deeply I love her. And I am so grateful.

This week, both of us had been sick and spent most of the day in bed. It was not exactly the kind of mother-daughter day anyone would choose, but even those days become part of our story. My wonderful HHH went out and bought Tatum some new stuffies because he always knows how to cheer her up.

Yep, That is Doug.

He pays attention. He listens to me, and he always steps in and brings comfort wherever he can, whether that means showing up with something soft and cuddly, taking care of what needs to be done or simply listening when I need him.

And then there is Coopy.

The loyal dog who is always close by, watching us with those enormous eyes and making sure no one experiences a single emotion without him.

These days are not always easy. Some of them are full of sickness, exhaustion and plans that never happen. They are also full of love. My hubby, my daughter, and my wonderful furry pup.

The birds, the dog, the girl…and the ordinary moments I never want to take for granted.

We are soaking in the birds and Coopy lately.

Tatum carries the birds back to her room and just hangs out with them.

Bluebell and Rio perch nearby, Ollie settles right onto her chest, and somehow they all become part of whatever she is doing. She watched a movie (on her ceiling) with them tucked around her like this is the most normal thing in the world.

And honestly, in our house, it is.

Coopy couldn’t understand why he couldn’t come in?

I love watching how comfortable they are with her. They trust her. They want to be near her. She is their person.

Then there is Coopy.

We try to hang with him on the couch, but he likes to be sneaky. Tatum disappears beneath a giant cushion, and there sits Coopy…trying to peek.

And Rio…

Rio cannot wait to eat.

He doesn’t politely perch beside the food. He practically dives into it. His entire little body says, MINE!!! (Poor Bluebell would have to wait).

These aren’t big, exciting days. We aren’t going anywhere spectacular or doing anything impressive.

We are simply home.

These are the moments I want to soak in…the ordinary ones that become some of the very best ones.

For now, I’m just grateful I get to watch it.

When a good health day presents itself….even just a small window, I have learned not to take it for granted.

Saturday gave us one of those windows.

Tatum and I headed out for a little girl time at the salon. Pretty toes, time together, and a chance to slow down. We decided to bring books instead of spending the whole appointment on our phones. There is already so much screen time in life, and it felt good to sit beside each other, turn real pages, and just be present.

We of course take the necessary silly selfies afterward. Face masks, dog filters, flowers…all the things. Because being silly together will always be one of my favorite ways to spend time with my girl.

Then the rest of the day was about being home and spending time with Doug. Nothing elaborate. Nothing that would look especially important from the outside. Just being together.

And honestly, that is what feels important to me now.

We make the most of the days that we can.

Cooper is always part of those days, naturally. He is never far from the action or the attention. Whether he is staring at us with those enormous eyes or positioning himself directly on top of me…literally… he makes sure he is included.

I love my family.

I love the girl time, the pretty toes, the books, the ridiculous filters, the warm moments with Doug, and the dog who believes personal space is completely unnecessary.

Most of all, I love a good day.

We take our time for granted. We assume there will always be another Saturday, another outing, another afternoon together. But life has taught me that the ordinary days are not ordinary at all.

So when the opportunity comes, we go….we do. We be together.

Amen.

Faith Still Gives Us a Place to Look

I haven’t written in weeks. Not because I ran out of words. Because hope has been harder to find.

There is an unexplainable silence that takes over a person when the next doctor’s appointment doesn’t feel like an answer but just another date on the calendar. You begin to wonder if you’re crazy, even though what you’re living is undeniably real.

You look around and realize you have everything you could have prayed for. A husband who loves you. A daughter who lights up your world. A church family. Meaningful work. Faithful friends. Little pets that somehow make every day brighter.

And somehow…that makes the grief even heavier.

Not because you’re ungrateful. Quite the opposite.

You have everything you ever wanted, yet your body won’t let you fully enjoy it. You can’t show up the way you long to. You can’t give back the way your heart wants to. That kind of grief is difficult to explain because it isn’t rooted in loss of blessings; it’s rooted in the inability to participate in them.

Sometimes I find myself wondering, Is this it?

We are taught to believe that if something is wrong, there will be a test that finds it, a diagnosis that names it, and a doctor who knows what to do next. But sometimes the people and places we turn to for answers do not have an answer key. A test may reveal one piece of the story without explaining the whole of what you are living. A diagnosis may give something a name without offering a way forward. And sometimes there is no label that fully captures what has changed inside your body.

That uncertainty can be its own kind of suffering. You know what you feel. You know your body is no longer functioning the way it once did. But there is no single result you can point to that explains it all.

Then, almost without warning, you wake up one morning and feel like yourself again. You laugh. You write. You spend time with your daughter. You enjoy talking and laughing with your husband again; you connect with friends. You dance around the kitchen. For a few precious hours, life feels wonderfully ordinary.

Then the next day…it’s all gone again.

That is the part that tears me up.

Not just the physical struggle but not knowing why. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word hope. We use that word so casually. I hope tomorrow is better. I hope they find an answer. I hope this season ends soon.

But hope isn’t always a feeling.

Sometimes it is. Sometimes it feels alive and so real. Other times it feels completely out of reach.

That’s when hope becomes something different.

I don’t believe we can manufacture hope. If we could, none of us would ever lose it. We’d simply decide to feel hopeful again. But that hasn’t been my experience. 

I think that’s why Scripture points us to a hope that comes from outside ourselves. A hope rooted in Christ instead of circumstances. Because there are days when I have nothing inside of me to give. No inspiration. No certainty. No emotional reserve to pull from.

Love reminds me of this.

When you first fall in love, it feels effortless, and it feels so amazing. Everything comes naturally. But every lasting marriage eventually reaches moments when love becomes less about emotion and more about decision. You choose to stay. You choose to forgive. You choose to serve. You choose to love, even when the feeling isn’t present. 

Maybe hope works the same way. It isn’t pretending everything will be okay. 

On the days when my own hope feels gone, I want to keep looking to the One who never changes. Not because I feel strong enough, but because He is.