A few months ago, I cleaned out a corner of the attic.

One box contained an assortment of knick-knacks, including a dusty journal. At first I didn’t recognize it, but when I opened the cover, the memories came rushing back. 

During a two-week trip to London with a church youth group, I had written in this little notebook. The food, the sights, the sounds… all preserved on those pages. I hadn’t seen it since 1997, and reading those entries transported me instantly to that time.

There’s something magical about reconnecting with pieces of the past, especially when they’re pulled into the light after years in the shadows.

Today, Jake organized cabinets in his childhood bedroom. He unearthed his posters, games, swimming ribbons, even old love notes. Treasures from a bygone season.

Among them, he found a license plate and a sports banner, which he liked so much that he hung them proudly on our garage wall. Items once forgotten, now given new life.

Maybe that’s part of the beauty of clearing out neglected spaces: the chance to remember why we saved certain objects.

In rediscovering them, we rediscover a bit of ourselves, too.

My first novel came to life over a decade ago.

I loved the process, but without an author community, I had to teach myself the ins and outs of craft and publishing. It was often a lonely road.

Then, I led a workshop at the local library. To my surprise, twenty strangers showed up. At the end, several suggested we meet again. So, after grabbing their emails, I asked the library if we could make it a regular thing.

Over two years have passed. We’ve met each month since, and now the group has nearly 150 on the list. Every session is a full house.

Most importantly, I finally found my writing people.

Today was our monthly gathering, and we talked about AI. Another great discussion and more connections made.

Proof that “we should meet again” can be the start of something special.

Today we celebrated Jess’s birthday.

Her motto was simple: “Let the day come to me.” No big plans, no fuss. Just letting things unfold naturally. 

And here’s what happened:

• Last night, the party started with our daughter McKenzie and her husband Will staying through midnight to welcome in the day.

• Mid-morning, we drove to Richmond and cheered at our niece’s soccer game while catching up with family.

• Grabbed lunch at a favorite taco spot, enjoying amazing patio weather.

• Explored a popular walking trail and took in the fresh air.

• While there, some friends invited us to a local brewery in our hometown.

• Back home, Jess got a surprise flower delivery from Luke, our son.

• Met our friends, hung out, and listened to live music.

• Swung by Starbucks, and Jess scored her free birthday drink with 10 minutes to spare before closing.

• Finally, we wrapped it all up with a late-night celebration: gifts and key lime pie with three of our kids.

“Let the day come to me” turned into the most perfectly unplanned itinerary I’ve ever seen.

And somehow, Jess got everything she loves the most.

Over the years, people have shown me incredible generosity.

How? By lending me just the right thing at just the right time.

A few stand out:

• A moped for my paper route

• A Hawaiian shirt for a pool party

• An ice cream truck for a community project

• A chainsaw for yard work

• A video projector for a Super Bowl party

• Earplugs for international travel

• A beach house for a vacation getaway

• A crate for a new puppy

• Apparel for a ski trip

• A foam #1 finger for a big game

• A wig and dress for a Halloween costume

• A Slinky for a presentation

And today… a wheelchair for a family member.

Grateful for those who step up and share when it matters most. Still waiting on someone to loan me a winning lottery ticket.

Over Christmas, we walked through an amusement park after it was closed for the season.

Busch Gardens hosted a private business party that night, and the place stood empty except for our small section. But they let us wander around a bit.

A strange experience.

Where laughter and joyful screams usually filled the air, only silence remained. Lonely pathways. Quiet rollercoasters. Shuttered shops. Like walking through a ghost town. A body without a soul.

But, of course, when warm weather rolls in and the gates open, everything comes alive. Music, food, life.

We’ve had our own off-season with the kids away. Two have graduated and moved on, and three are still in college. We’ve savored the time to recharge and enjoy the calm. 

But today, spring break hit in full force. All the college kiddos are home. And just like that, our house is bursting with energy again.

Music, food, life.

All we’re missing is a FastPass for the bathroom.