Abi mentioned a few weeks back that she's not a morning person.
But I'm not sure that's entirely true. This is how I picture things.
Some of our girl's best moments come before she emerges from her room, but long after the sun has already snuck into her window, gently licked her nose, and whispered little kindnesses into her ears.
For our girl, these are moments that begin with reflection, quiet, and delicious solitude - and ever-so-slowly transition into open acceptance of the sun's warmth (or sometimes the music of the rain or wind, or the birds that have a nest in the tree across the creek). I picture this as the time that our girl reviews her thankful list - and maybe even adds new entries.
At some point, she begins to let others into her day. She reaches for her phone. She looks at Caring Bridge to see what kindness Tanya or somebody else may have left for her overnight, or how many prayer warriors Judy has enlisted. She scans Facebook to see what is happening with those she loves. She opens whatever Snaps Kylie may have sent. She reviews her sisters' Instagram posts. She might read email and text messages.
(Important Safety Tip: This is not the time to expect our girl to respond. At best, she may hit the "like" button on her phone, but often not. If you speak to her, she'll hear you, but probably won't reply in a very satisfying way. This is "Taking In" time. "Giving Out" time comes later.)
And this is where the #processpirate comes in.
It's a love note to our precious lady, received at precisely the time she is ready to receive it. It's a reminder to our girl that she is fully and deeply loved. It's a small way of helping to fill our girl's tank, so that she's ready to face the day with confidence, determination, and joy.
So whether you know it or not, if you're reading this, you, too, are a #processpirate.
It's been a great week in Virginia.
Our girl continues to feel well, and there have been very few medical appointments to attend to. There have been boat rides, a John and Abi dating anniversary celebration (seven years!), picnics, CIRS time, a visit with Mr. Abicht at the Christmas Store (complete with melting unicorns), Smithfield Station crab dip snacks, mailboxes full of love and encouragement, and Bindi Beach excursions.
Please keep Abi and John in your prayers. It matters, and we're so grateful.