April 20, 2026

Last night, we jumped in the car around 10 PM for science. Leo wanted to go right down the road to Rainbow Ranch, because you can see everywhere from there, but it is spooky. We ended up on a dirt road near the recycling center instead. Last night was peak comet viewing. Unfortunately, we did not see anything, because most of the fam has astigmatism—something we realized—when Josh said, "Look for a fuzzy light under the moon," to which Lily replied, "Really? They're all fuzzy." 

We drove towards Primus to turn around, and this sudden wave of sadness hit me square in my chest as Jackson Brown played over the radio. I had this memory of sitting on my dad's back porch, the kids in the pool, his Jackson Brown album on the record player. Daddy would sit and smoke and we would talk. The last time we were there, I remember thinking in that moment how these chats were not always going to be. 

These 10 PM jaunts for science with the whole crew in tow are not going to always be either. 

I put my phone down and sat in silence thinking about everything happening in this season and realized quickly why I spend so much time pouring over useless, needless, social-media information. When I sit in my own thoughts, fear creeps in, then worry, then this complete sadness that always just sits. It never goes away. My dad's death was the lynch pin to the rest of my story. His death was the beginning of realizing the end—my end—is coming one day. That these lived moments—these happy, lived-in experiences with my sweet children—will one day fade into memory. 

The phone is another escape into self-deceiving, into thinking that there is enough time to waste—when in fact—there is not. Today’s things are for today and for the ones who fill it. Every nook and cranny of our lives must be lived to the all-out fullest. No stone left unturned or unplaced. Last week's ongoing ordeal with the funeral home was old business. Dad's been in the ground for three years and I am ready to move on. 

Things happen in the time it happens, and we are meant to keep those things there and embrace the present. We are not meant to dwell in the past. (or the future) The fact is, you will miss what mercies God wants you to have today, if you are living somewhere else. 

A friend of mine shared a reel last week about daily bread, the gist of which said that when we pray, we ask God for our daily bread. (Matthew 6:11) Bread is what we need and only God knows that. If we are hellbent on staying in the past (or the uncertainty of the future), we will miss today's bread. 

The Bible also says, "His mercies are new every morning," (Lamentations 3:22-23). His mercies are not recycled from yesterday but renewed daily. They never end and provide a fresh start every single day. 

You cannot pour new wine into old wine skins. The fermenting wine releases gases that expand the leather, causing the old skin to burst. Today is today’s day. We were not meant to carry it all into tomorrow. Some things are best left, behind.