drenched in grace // spring session at annmarie gardens

Their gentleness defies those redheaded stereotypes. It drips from their soft, melodic voices, a mother and daughter I spent sitting poolside with last summer, as Sarah wore her youngest and her oldest splashed in the baby pool, her own mother, Sue, nearby to help.

Gentleness is often misunderstood, mistaken for weakness. But there is something about this family of women that speaks to a strength wrapped in compassion. Sue and Sarah are drenched in kindness. They radiate grace. And in turn, the next generation seems just as thoughtful. Two little girls who I am not so naive to believe are always as well-mannered and joyful as they have always appeared before me, but who I know are shown so much love that they can't help but reflect it back.

In short, I treasure this family which, when they were still not much more than strangers, encouraged me and supported me. They are the sorts of people it makes you feel lighter and brighter to have been around. I so look forward to another summer spent with them, three generations of beautiful women living in love.

what remains

These are the days of arms full of squirming kids.

Of lollipops and sandy feet.

The days of sniffing grass instead of flowers. 

Of pants revealing little baby butts.

And these days, they are fleeting.

Because with people this small everything changes on a dime.

Her curls will pull down with the weight of new hair.

And his little body will lose its baby bulk.

And it will be almost impossible to remember exactly what it was like at any given moment. The memories of who she was, who he was, who you were, they will all blend and stir together.

But this at least will remain.