The perfect ending to any day

It's just my opinion, but I say homemade butterscotch-banana cream pie and sitting outside on the beach listening to the waves roll into the shoreline is a great way to end any day.

Jake studies around the clock, and I guess I was worried at first that I'd be super lonely. But that really hasn't been the case. OK, OK—I've had my moments, I know. Those closest to me can vouch for that. But somehow I've found the strength to enjoy each day as it comes instead of worrying about what tomorrow will bring. I know without a doubt that I owe this peace and calm resolve to my Heavenly Father and the promise that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

It's so amazing to me how when we truly let go of our life and the anxieties that are intertwined within our desperate resolve to maintain some level of control—that then and only then does true release, inner happiness and joy overwhelm our very being.

I love how each day I'm away from my family God gives me a little reminder of them and all they mean to me. Whether it's a family tradition or a fun memory to help ease the newness of being so far away, it's always present.

A few days ago it was my love for ChapStick that reminded me of my Daddy. Before that, turnip greens with crispy, homemade bacon bits crumbled on top to remind me of my Mom’s yummy recipe.

Last night it was football score updates from MawMaw via text so I would feel like I was a part of little bro's high school football game. Go eagles! They won.

Saturday night—Grandmother’s recipe for butterscotch-banana cream pie (my favorite kind of pie). I must say I had the best time baking it! I made it from scratch just like Grandmother did, and it turned out pretty darn good.

It’s really all in our mental attitude. Happiness that is. At least that’s what I’ve discovered to be true over the past few months. Loving each day as it comes. Life goes on.

XO. ki

In Love With ChapStick.

OK — I admit it. I have a slight obsession with ChapStick. I can't pass by a package of ChapStick on the aisle at Target, or the grocery store without throwing it in the basket. I don't even think about it. I left Target tonight with six packages of ChapStick. This obsession is one thing if it's nothing else — a constant. It just makes me feel good ... and happy, too. I feel secure knowing I have 10 billion tubes of the stuff laying around (desk drawers, my nightstand, bathroom cubbies, bathtub ledge, sink, purse(s), backpack, random pockets ... you get the point). Now don't get me wrong, I am loyal to a certain flavor. Isn't everyone? Strawberry does it for me, hands down.

So, where does this love for a tube of moisturizing lip lotion come from? Well, as I was unwrapping my six new tubes of ChapStick, it hit me. My Daddy. That's where my love for the stuff started. It all makes sense now. The reason I can't get enought of it. Why it makes me feel happy. Why the strange urge to grab all the tubes of it off the shelf on aisle three at Target is alright.

Here's the story. It seems that all my favorite memories go back to the sparkling and moonlit slopes of tiny little ski village nestled in the majestic mountains of New Hampshire called Shawnee Peak.

I can distinctly remember Tuesday and Thursday nights when I was about six years old — Daddy and Kiley nights. What did I want to do? Night ski, baby. No questions asked. So, it was a given ... we'd pack up our gear, grab our wool socks, warm hats and colorful scarves and head out to Shawnee Peak. And what was it that Daddy always kept in his pocket no matter what? ChapStick. But not just any kind of ChapStick. The Classic stuff. You know, with the black wrapper. See, to me, whenever I see that particular tube of ChapStick it screams — Daddy, night skiing, beloved memories and lots of love. I looooved using his tube of ChapStick. I don't know if it was just becuase it was my Daddy's and it smelled like him, or just becuase the ChapStick symbolized cherished memories of "Daddy and little girl time" that I can't ever get back.

I like things that are constant. My Daddy is one of those things. Isn't it funny how when we're young and innocent we like knowing that some things are going to be the same no matter what?  I knew every time I jumped in that silver (complete with a blue and thin red pin stripe) Isuzu trooper and started the drive from our blue salt box house in Bar Mills, Maine to the glistening ski runs in New Hampshire that there would always be this —  a steadfast hand to catch me if I fell, an unwavering voice to encourage me when I got frustrated and someone to cheer me on as I conquered any obstacles that stood in my way. Oh, and there would be ChapStick. The Classic kind with the black wrapper.  And all I had to do was reach my hand into Daddy's ski jacket pocket. Kinda like everyday life. Usually all we need is right there — we just have to reach.

So, problem solved. I guess I'm just a Daddy's girl after all. I like it that way. ChapStick and skiing are one of the many loves we share. And like my Daddy, I suspect ChapStick (the strawberry kind) will always be a constant in my life no matter where I'm at in this world.

XO. ki