grandpa raised a good man in ian’s dad. his minnesota upbringing taught him to work hard and to be faithful to God, his local church, his wife and his family.

grandpa and steve taught ian how to be a man that knows the necessity of grace.

grandpa and steve knew that because of Jesus there was no fear in death.

on the six year anniversary of when steve died, his dad went too. the same day. the same season of red and orange leaves, cold air moving in, and darkness in early evening.

“ian, this anniversary makes me so sad and now your garndpa is gone too.”

“Jesus didn’t focus on anniversaries. there won’t be anniversaries in heaven to be sad about.”

steve taught ian to long for heaven, and his death buried that longing more deeply in us than any of his words could have.

grandpa and steve loved Jesus, a love that erased the fear of death, a love and confidence that is rooted deeply in ian. confidence that Jesus is real, His death defeated sin, and there is nothing left to fear.

/ mert and steve murphy /

10.8.15  /   10.8.09

  Filed under: "family", "God Himself"
  Comments: 1

“my happiness level is a 10,” he said, as we spread comfortably atop the snow, just looking at the blue sky.

my heart grew at his words. they were unprompted and were discovered while he was zippered into his father in law’s snowmobile suit from 1970. he wore them out to the property where we got married, the snow blanketing the field where our tent stood and our dance floor lay.

we were laying at the bottom of the hill that i walked down to get to the aisle. snowsuits hiding our skin from the wfet snow, i looked over at him as he said those six words that meant we were doing something that i would want to remember forever.

he was happy because we had just come down from the top, riding together on a little plastic sled that had no idea how much it was helping to make happiness.

the little plastic sled didn’t realize that a year ago, it couldn’t have held ian, because ian wasn’t healthy enough to get on and off a four wheeler, or get down on a sled, or sit in the sled.

“laris are you sure you guys can do this?” my mom asked. she was there with all of her kids, unexpectedly, because we had surprised her for her birthday.

“the worst that will happen is we fall into snow.”

i needed us to do this because we need to be willing to take risks in order for ian to feel that he’s alive.

and he spoke it as he lay at the bottom, listening to his nieces and nephews scream their way down.

again, he found those little big things, that mean the world to someone who’s world has become small. he found one of those things that make us feel little again, seeing excitement in the ride down the white trail.

he found a reminder of all that God has done.

tonight we’re grateful.

  Filed under: "a disabled life", "family"
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mondays can be hard, leaving ian to go back into the corporate world and not being in our cozy little home that makes me happy. but this is a new week that amazing things can happen.

im praying this week that ian is given the strength and patience he needs to do well at therapy. I’m praying that I love him better this week than the last, and that he can feel that love.

this week will end with five little ones coming to the bungalow for an early thanksgiving with their mommies and daddies and gammy and grandpa doo. they will fill up the house as full as our hearts that may just burst open because a house filled means there is so much love.

this week will start, and end, exactly as God has planned.

– L

  Filed under: "family", "work/life"
  Comments: 3

last night our room and home were filled with tiny little hearts that had their first sleepover at uncle ian and aunt rara/lala’s house.

the refinished wood floors in our room were covered with little beds made of sleeping bags and blankies and the stuffed pig and bunny, and the youngest slept in his crib.

we fed them sugar and disney movies and didn’t say no to any requests.

“e, did you have more fun at uncle ian’s the night we slept there with you or the night we were at the hotel,” his mom asked.

“the night you were at the hotel.”

two littles from my side and two littles from the murphy side, a murphy little sister and her friend, and a dear friend of the aunt and uncle all sat around a small dining room table for breakfast, wearing pjs and happiness.

our home was packed tight and it was good. because loving hard makes us so full.

  Filed under: "family", "God Himself"
  Comments: 2

  Filed under: "family", "marriage", gratefulness
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  Filed under: "family", "the dross", gratefulness
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last week we welcomed our newest nephew into the world and were again reminded of just how intricately God works.

life has been full with showers and weddings and that little thing called a manuscript that’s due terrifyingly soon.

with that and our vacation coming up next week, the blog will be silent for awhile. we’re hoping to plow through the remaining work on our book with a goal of august being for relaxing, so you may not hear from us until then.

we’re not taking the ramp on vacation this year to get into the house – a huge step for us. pray that God would keep ian healthy on vacation and that he would have lots of strength especially with walking up and down the stairs.

thank you, always.
i&l

  Filed under: "family", "our writing"
  Comments: 10

three little babies that we’ve watched grow and have loved. three little babies that love their uncle ian without expectation. three little babies that ask why uncle ian isn’t with aunt rara when she stops by after work. three little babies that don’t see a tbi but see an uncle who tells them stories about a boy named paladin who drives a green chevy on route 66.

three little babies that teach me how to love.

  Filed under: "family", gratefulness
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  Filed under: "family", "work/life"
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book writing

a foggy drive home

a nephew

a christmas cookie

thinkin

  Filed under: "family", "our writing", "work/life"
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