overheard 2.0

when the kids say something funny or cute, i try to write it down immediately on my phone and/or when I post it on Facebook, then dump them all here. It’s been more than a year since I last unloaded the hilarity onto these pages, and a lot of funny things have come out of kid’s mouths since then.

Taylor keeps us on our toes, and is always talking, so there is ample opportunity for something hilarious to pop out. So the following are things she’s said in the past year:

  • I told Taylor to please go to her room to find a happy heart and to quit whining. Moments later I heard a mournful cry from her room, “I can’t FIND ONE! It’s LOST…forever.” Oh the drama with this one.
  • “You have to be so so so quiet, ’cause you don’t want to unsurprise it!”
  • “I got a letter cut!” (a paper cut.)
  • Said to her brother, Jack, when he wasn’t sharing with her: “YOU’RE SINNING!”
  • As I tucked Taylor into bed one night, and was getting ready to walk out,she grabbed me and declared, “I’m never letting you go…I’m PHAROAH!” We both laughed!
  • While taking care of her bathroom business: “I’m gonna stink this place up!” (And boy, does she!)
  • One night she asked if God would please give us another girl so we could have three girls in our family to play princesses. So sweet.
  • She heard sirens while driving somewhere with her Grandm Meri. Grandma tried to explain why the sirens were on: to go help someone who is hurt. Taylor retorted, “Yeah, Grandma is called an EMERGENCY.”
  • Water leaked out of her sippy cup on to her dress: “Water! It’s so, so, so…wet.”
  • After eating Grandma’s birthday cake (probably mostly frosting): “My tummy hurts because I LOVE cake!”
  • Talking to her daddy one evening: “Daddy, can I kiss you? Because I love you. I miss you so much when you’re at work, and when you go places by yourself. But when you’re here, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. So I kiss you.”
  • We let Taylor participate in the communion service around Thanksgiving. Taylor leaned over and stage-whispered to me, “Is this the blood? Because Jesus had blood in him. I need to drink more blood.”
  • After hearing me tell Grant, “I love you, fat baby!” Taylor said to me, “I love you, mama fat!” Later she came by and said, “I love you, but I won’t say chubby mama, ’cause that’s RUDE.”
  • One warm summer day, she was convinced she was sick. “I’m so dehydrated and I think I have a beaver.” (Fever. And no, she didn’t.) LOL.
  • Taylor was out with her aunties at a softball game and was getting tired. Auntie Anna held her and Taylor got incredulous. “Where’s GRANDMA. This is NOT how Grandma holds me.” well!
  • She was very pleased with her outfit one day: “This is soooo FAB-LEE-US! Isn’t it, mom?”
  • At a lake: “Don’t step on the allergy!” (Algae.)
  • When her throat hurts, “I have a throw neck.” (that’s a combo word: sore and throat = throw.)
  • She thought something she heard was funny: “That’s HILARIOUS. Is hilarious a bad word, mom?”
  • Telling me a story: “Yeah, I LUsually do it too.”



  • Oh-KAI. (How he says okay.)
  • In November 2015, after seeing his dad and big brother play lots of football, he wanted to play too and would say, ” SET. HIKE. CHUCHDOOOOOWWWWWNNNNNN!”
  • Singing Twinkle, Twinkle: “Winkle winkle yillll taaaaar.”

four years, sixteen kids

Today Facebook reminded me that four years ago we were first licensed to provide foster care in our county. It was several more months before a child was placed in our home – siblings, actually. I’ve kept each name written in a little notebook, and I have a picture of most of the sweet kiddos who have stayed with us. Some only stayed hours. Others days. Two teeny tiny babies stayed months.

We’ve had great experiences, and terrible, total breakdown moments. Our hearts have been broken over the pain and suffering these little ones have endured. I have been desperate to know how to help more than one screaming baby find comfort, since their mommy couldn’t help.

We have worked with social workers and birth families. We’ve seen kids who have stayed with us join forever families that loved them fiercely. It’s been a joy to see children return to their families who are more ready and equipped to properly care for and parent their kids. We have known that kids were going back into a situation where they could quite probably be hurt again.

It’s been so good, and so hard. Fostering is full of these strange marriages of bitter and sweet, good and bad, hard and easy. It’s good to provide a place for a child who needs a safe home. It’s bad that any child can’t stay with their first family. It’s hard to say good-bye, but it’s easy to hold a tiny infant.

It’s bitter sometimes to put aside what I want to do and what I want my life to look like to care for another child, to lose sleep because a toddler can’t rest in a strange bed…but it’s so very, very sweet to earn the trust and love of a small person who has been hurt so often by the people they should be able to count on always. It’s sweet to see them smile shyly and lean in for a hug. It’s sweet to hear them tell a silly story and laugh together. It’s sweet to see the way God provides for us, physically and emotionally as we soldier through this hard and good thing to which He has called us.

We’re taking a break from (as I’ve called it) “the fosterhood” for awhile. Back to back placements from July-January and very unique circumstances around both of them were taxing. A recharge and regroup was in order. It’s been a crazy adventure, this foster parent thing. But I can definitely say I’m glad we’ve done it and I’m glad we can do it again. Kids need love and people who will care for their souls and bodies. I can do that! We can do that. I’m so glad we can do that.

2015 Year in Review

The Year that Was – 2015

1. What did you do in 2015 that you’d never done before? went to Haiti, vacationed with girlfriends in Denver, started learning a new language (Creole), and became a (foster) mommy to preemie girls.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I made goals again, (not resolutions) and only accomplished a few. It was kind of a depressing year for unmet goals, but i also have to take into account that I had surprise foster babies twice in the past six months.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? yes! Several good friends. No new nieces or nephews this year, though.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Not this year.

5. What countries did you visit? HAITI! and I also visited Colorado for the first time beyond the Denver airport. And we did our epic road trip to FL and back over New Years 2015.

6. What would you like to have in 2016 that you lacked in 2015? I repeat from last year: our yet unknown, but very loved already, child home from Haiti. More patience and time (use what I have more wisely).

7. What date from 2015 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? helping to raise two tiny preemie girl babies that came to our home through foster care. Most of the second half of 2015 was consumed by caring for their precious, tiny selves. That I survived this year and didn’t completely self-destruct is a miracle from heaven above.

9. What was your biggest failure? not losing these stubborn pounds, in spite of my not-small efforts. I guess being the ripe old age of 33 and stress worked against me like a dynamic duo. 😛

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? 

11. What was the best thing you bought? 

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? This one goes again to KYLE. He encourages me, plays with and loves our kids, is a kick-butt deputy/sergeant, loves Jesus and His people well, serves others, makes the important things a priority and is just a really awesome guy. I love him.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Donald Trump. The Republican party that spoke out against accepting refugees from Syria.

14. Where did most of your money go? housing, food, church/missions and gasoline.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Going to HAITI! it was so amazing and I cannot wait to go back.

16. What song will always remind you of 2015? Rend Collective’s whole “As Family We Go” album,

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: happier or sadder? about the same –

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Praying. Reading. Writing. Playing with my kids.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Stressing out. Being short with my kids.

20. How did you spend Christmas? we opened gifts at our house on Christmas morning, then went to my parent’s to open gifts with the whole family, then on to Kyle’s parent’s to open gifts with his family! It was a full, full day.

21. How will you spend New Years? With my people, maybe at a church party, then at home. I probably will go to bed early and welcome 2016 the following morning.

22. What was your favorite TV program? Sherlock and Parenthood. 

23. What was the best book you read? 

24. What was your greatest musical discovery? New music by Rend Collective

25. What did you want and got? A trip to Haiti.

27. What was your favorite film of this year? 

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 33 and had a really nice getaway with Kyle overnight. We went for a run by the Mississippi, drank coffee on the deck at my parent’s house,  ate lunch outdoors at Sea Salt, and then went back to our crazy kids. So kind of my parent’s to watch them so we could enjoy a little break.

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? the adoption process being over and a child home in our arms.

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2015? Basic and colorful.

31. What kept you sane? my husband, my friends, coffee, and the Word.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? 

33. What political issue stirred you the most? The refugee crisis.

34. Who did you miss? my best friends that live far away. and my Grandma Alice.

35. Who was the best new person you met? 

36. Tell us some valuable life lessons you learned in 2014:
Life with three kids is insanity. I developed a deep love for SILENCE this year. 🙂
The journey of adoption rarely goes the way you anticipate. And the road is long…
I love throwing parties and I’m good at it.
My heart language is music and drama and performance. If I don’t sing, I die.

And here comes 2016!  Welcome to a new year – I am excited to see what miracles and beauty you hold and what challenges you bring our way, all under the mighty hand of God.

fostering in real life

If Kyle’s post about “not having it all figured out” didn’t come across plain as day, here’s some more “real life” from me about fostering. Warning: I’m about to get reeaaaaaallly vulnerable/honest here.

You guys, I NEVER, in a million years would have imagined, planned, or dreamed that I would become a foster parent. When I was a kid, I never said, “When I grow up, I want to be a foster mom and adopt all the kids in the world and have a huge family.” You wouldn’t have even heard me say, “I think maybe I’ll be a foster parent someday,” when Kyle and I got married.

When Kyle brought up the idea of becoming foster parents, I didn’t think twice about it before I said yes, but not because I LOVE kids and imagined a houseful of them. Not because I am super nurturing and really affectionate and want to cuddle every neglected baby either. But because I knew it had to be done.

If not us, then who? There was a need, and we could meet it. There were kids who needed parents who wouldn’t hurt them, and we would be safe and loving. There were kids who needed a place to sleep, and we had beds.

Let me tell you a secret (okay, it’s not really a secret): I don’t LOVE being a foster mom. It’s freaking hard to be a parent, and it’s even harder to parent a little person you’ve never met and have to figure out and sometimes don’t understand at all. It’s exhausting to figure out each baby and wake up with them every night. I turn into a monster version of myself with little sleep. I go into survival mode and it’s really hard for me to deal with the new “normal”. The past two months with our latest tiny have been some of the hardest of my life.

But I do LOVE obeying Jesus and I feel strongly that He made it plain how we should live – for others. For the glory of God. And the fact that He DID call us to this, means that He also makes me able to do it. I’m still not necessarily GOOD at it, by my standards anyway, but I am able. I can love this baby. I can feed this kid and read them books. I can take this baby to dozens of doctor’s appointments and meetings and therapy sessions. I can do this while we are asked to do it. But I’m just not amazing. I’m doing it, and I’m trying to keep my head above water.

That’s not to say I’m not INCREDIBLY proud of what the little babies that have been in our care have accomplished. Or how they’ve changed from when they joined our family to when they’ve gone to be with family. Our latest little peanut has gained three and a half pounds! and is cooing and smiling and doing all the things she should. We packed the pounds on the previous kiddo too and saw her happy personality emerge and crack the shell of insecurity she had when she came to us.

I have to also give so much thanks and tons of credit to the many, many people that come along side us and make it possible for us to DO this, as imperfectly as we do. We have been overwhelmed with support – gifts and babysitting and friends who come to fold our laundry and pizza delivered and clothes and diapers and most of all, prayers. Many times when I’ve been at the end of myself, someone messages and reminds me they have my back in prayer, and oh go get yourself a latte with this coffee gift card. (Amen and thank you, Jesus.)

And yes, it’s hard to say goodbye. In some ways, there’s a sigh of relief, if we know the child is going to a place where they will continue to be loved and cared for. It’s always amazing how “easy” it is to go back to just our belly babies (bio kids) after a long time with a bonus baby. But I grieve. I hold my kids tight and we talk about the babies and the kids that were in our home most recently. I peek at her daddy’s Facebook profile and see if there’s a new picture of her. When our current sweetie goes with her family in a few weeks, I hope and I think that we’ll have the privilege of staying in touch with her family and seeing her sometimes

I just had to make it clear, again, that I am human and not a saint. I have my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days as a parent. And as a foster parent. This is hard and I’m not good at it, but God’s grace, some high nutrition, and snuggles make up for my shortcomings most of the time.



Don’t You Want to Thank Someone For This?

Life has been more than a little intense/crazy/full lately. We’ve had a teeny, tiny foster baby in our home for just over a month, and somehow late September and October’s calendar got cram-jam packed with events and hosting people for meals and going places and and and.

I’ve barely had a moment to myself, and haven’t been doing a good job of staying in the Word in this time when I so very desperately need Jesus to help me carry on. In this place of my own slackness, God has used music, mostly from Andrew Peterson, to speak to my heart and bring His truth to my fraying at the edges heart/mind.

About three weeks ago, I was particularly weary of soul. As I walked down the stairs to move the laundry over, with a tiny dirty diaper in my hand, I saw my husband reading to our younger two on our bed. It was a sweet moment, and something touched my heart – a deep gratitude welled up and I had lyrics from “Don’t You Want to Thank Someone” dance through my head. I sank to the step, tears falling, and just thanked the Lord Jesus for all the things. All the hard, all the good, all the sweet, all the bitter that is makes up this season in my life.

There’s so much that’s broken here – I wouldn’t be a foster mom if it wasn’t broken. Babies are supposed to live with the mamas that gave birth to them. We wouldn’t be adopting from a hurting country like Haiti where so many parents can’t even afford to feed their kids, if the world was as it should be. As it will be someday.

But then there are moments that just take my breath away with beauty and love and light. When the baby smiles in her sleep, or when the chubby cub of an almost two year-old leans in for a hug and a slobbery kiss. Or when the sassy little four year old girl in my house tells me, “Mom, I just want to be with you.” And the time my big, almost-grown-up boy climbs up onto the couch and snuggles in as close as he can for the few short minutes before breakfast must be eaten and lunches made for school and clothes put on and the van loaded with all the small people in our house and he’s dropped off for another day of school.

I want to thank someone. And I know Who to thank. Jesus, thank you. Heavenly Father, thank you. Thank you for your redemptive work that is taking place. Thank you for making all things new again someday when you return. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Come soon. Hallelujah.

Can’t you feel it in your bones
Something isn’t right here
Something that you’ve always known
But you don’t know why

‘Cause every time the sun goes down
We face another night here
Waiting for the world to spin around
Just to survive

But when you see the morning sun
Burning through a silver mist
Don’t you want to thank someone?
Don’t you want to thank someone for this?

Don’t you ever wonder why
In spite of all that’s wrong here
There’s still so much that goes so right
And beauty abounds?

‘Cause sometimes when you walk outside
The air is full of song here
The thunder rolls and the baby sighs
And the rain comes down

And when you see the spring has come
And it warms you like a mother’s kiss
Don’t you want to thank someone?
Don’t you want to thank someone for this?

I used to be a little boy
As golden as a sunrise
Breaking over Illinois
When the corn was tall

Yeah, but every little boy grows up
And he’s haunted by the heart that died
Longing for the world that was
Before the Fall

Oh, but then forgiveness comes
A grace that I cannot resist
And I just want to thank someone
I just want to thank someone for this

Now I can see the world is charged
It’s glimmering with promises
Written in a script of stars
Dripping from prophets’ lips

But still, my thirst is never slaked
I am hounded by a restlessness
Eaten by this endless ache
But still I will give thanks for this

‘Cause I can see it in the seas of wheat
I can feel it when the horses run
It’s howling in the snowy peaks
It’s blazing in the midnight sun

Just behind a veil of wind
A million angels waiting in the wings
A swirling storm of cherubim
Making ready for the Reckoning

Oh, how long, how long?
Oh, sing on, sing on

And when the world is new again
And the children of the King
Are ancient in their youth again
Maybe it’s a better thing
A better thing

To be more than merely innocent
But to be broken then redeemed by love
Maybe this old world is bent
But it’s waking up
And I’m waking up

‘Cause I can hear the voice of one
He’s crying in the wilderness
“Make ready for the Kingdom Come”
Don’t you want to thank someone for this?

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallalujah! Hallelujah!
Come back soon
Come back soon

One Step Closer!

Today we learned that our dossier has made it safely to Haiti and we are officially entered into IBESR. We thought his wouldn’t happen until next summer, so we are overjoyed and happily surprised!!


It will still be months or more than a year before we are matched. The committee to suggest and approve matches for new law families hasn’t even been formed yet, so we really have no idea when to expect a referral.

We continue to rest in God’s perfect timing and trust in His unfailing love for all of us – the Puelstons here in America and the future Puelston in Haiti. A ten month fast-forward feels like a golden ticket right now, and we rejoice in His kindness. He can move the mountain. He is mighty. And we’re so grateful to our wonderful agency for helping us and making every effort to unite children with their forever families.

As I flew back to the USA from Haiti last month, I wrote this letter to our future child.

Today I left Haiti, and a piece of my heart will be there forever. I keep thinking of the song “Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton.

“If I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? ’cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles if I could just see you…if I could just hold you…if I could just be with you tonight.”

“Somewhere Out There” was playing too: “Somewhere out there, beneath the clear blue sky, someone’s thinking of me and loving me tonight”.

I’m thinking of you, baby. I’m wondering where you are tonight. If you have been born yet, and if you have – if you have a place to sleep that is clean and dry.

My sweet baby, I want to hold you so badly. I want to give you kisses and tell you how much your first mama loved you and how your new daddy and mommy will care for you. I want to show you the place you were born and tell you how much I love Ayiti. I will whisper “manman renmen ou, my sweet child” in your ear and trace your beautiful face with my fingertips.

Your country is beautiful. It has a piece of my heart that will never return – it will always be planted in the cement grey dust of Ayiti.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much hope I have that Haiti will rise and become stronger and more beautiful in the years to come.

I hope it is not very long before I once again step on Haitian soil and see those mountains and the beautiful bay. Not long until I meet you.

And until then, my love, I will pray. Pray for you. Pray for Haiti. Pray for the people who know you. Pray that you will be safe and protected from the evil that lurks for parentless babies. I pray that someone tells you how very much you are loved. I ask Jesus to write your name on His hands and send his angels to guard you. May your tummy have enough food to keep the hunger from being too deep. May you be able to drink clean water. May you have friends to play with and a place to lay your precious head.

And when we do finally make the journey to bring you home to our family, I promise I will hold you. I promise I will cry with you as you grieve for what you’ve lost and try to make sense of what you’ve gained. You are a treasure and we will be a family that always loves and honors Haiti. Always thanks God for your first manman and papa.

This letter to you is sealed with the many tears I cried as I flew home from your beautiful Ayiti. When you are ready, we will go back and visit. We will see your home and see your people. You will always be free to know where you came from and who loved you before us. And if we don’t know, I hope your heart will rest in what is true now: I love you. Your daddy loves you. Your brothers and sister love you.

Whatever happens, however you feel, whatever you do – you will always be loved.

Forever, Mama

Haiti – Cite Soleil

I woke up after that weird first night in a new place sleep…and gathered my thoughts. “Where am I again? Oh yeah, Haiti. I wonder what this day will be like. Will I handle the heat okay? How much bug spray do I need to bring? Am I going to lose it when we pull into the slum today?” I smelled breakfast cooking and coffee brewing.

It was 8am and already the air was toasty warm in the guesthouse. I met two of the women who supported our team with their delicious cooking when I walked into the dining room – Berlande and Kisnel. Both of them sweet as sugar cane, Berlande was quieter and Kisnel had a wide, infectious smile that shone like the sun.

We enjoyed our breakfast, then prepared for a day delivering water to several neighborhoods within Cite Soleil, one of the poorest places in the western Hemisphere. (You can talk about what it might be like, you can imagine what it will be like, but you are never going to be able to understand it fully until you walk across the garbage and see the depth of the poverty in front of your very eyes.)

We boarded the tap-tap and drove through the streets of Port au Prince to the water station where the HH truck fills up it’s tank. As we waited for the truck, I tried to take it all in again – the heat wasn’t unbearable because there was a pleasant breeze…there was a cloud of smog over the city, shrouding the mountains in it’s haze…I noticed the cement-grey dirt and the man napping in a giant truck tire.

Then with a honk of the water truck’s horn, we were off, bumping our way to Cite Soleil. Our first stop of the day was near the construction site of Hope Church, a church Healing Haiti is building in the worst part of the city. The kids of the neighborhood all started yelling, “HEY YOU, HEY YOU!” (it’s a long story, but they chant that at every Healing Haiti group that comes by) and mobbed the back of the tap-tap as we stepped out.

Small brown hands reached for mine, and quickly entwined mine in a firm grasp. Soon I was holding one toddler in front and one on my back, looking into the eyes of each kid nearby and wishing to high heaven that I’d learned Creole before coming. I did learn how to ask their names, and would tell them mine. “Zjo-hah-nah?” “Oui!” I played patty cake with some and arm wrestled others. The kids were astonished when they discovered I was my mother’s daughter! It was so fun to see their eyes widen when I told them, “She’s my mama! I’m her bebe.”


My teammates helped hold the water hose as people queued up to fill their buckets, tins, and bowls. Others helped carry sloshing, heavy buckets back to their homes. Some of us simply held kids. One little girl would not let go – she clung to me like a little sloth baby on it’s mother. She even smacked other kids who tried to come up and get my attention or my hands. It was clear I was her person for the moment and she wasn’t willing to share.


Our translators walked us up to the Hope Church construction site and it was so wonderful to see this beautiful concrete structure rising out of the literal garbage heap. When all is completed, there will be a church and a school in the darkest corner of Cite Soleil. Another place from which God’s love will spread, pouring out into a community that so desperately needs grace, hope, and joy.

My deaf teammates taught the kids to sign “I love you” and as we pulled away and went on to the next stop, one boy who had stuck close to me, Delmon was his name, yelled for me and forced his fingers into the ILY sign. His big smile frozen forever in my heart and mind, we bounced down the street and back to the water station to refill for the next stop.

At the second stop, I was surprised to see the ocean open in front of me at the end of the street. I had forgotten we were so close to the bay. A toddler girl, not much older than my Grant, fussed and vied for my attention as we walked to the back of the water truck. I scooped her up, bare bottom and all, and sang her a little song and asked her name. She didn’t understand or didn’t want to share, but no way did she want to be set down.

DSCF2162  DSCF2175

Later I helped other girls put their water buckets on their heads and watched them walk carefully, back so straight, head so high, returning to their home. I helped several kids and some mothers with their buckets, and had a conversation with a young man who spoke a little English. I wondered about the kids and the people I was standing near. “Would the boys grow up to be good men? Will they take care of their families and be kind to their wives?” “Will the girl next to me be pregnant within the year or will she get to enjoy the innocence of her youth a while longer? When she is pregnant, will she have good prenatal care? How big will her baby be? Will she know how important it is to try and breastfeed him?” “Do they know about Jesus? Who will tell them about His love?”

At the final stop of the day, after our own pit stop at a police station bathroom (the grossest one I used in the whole country), after making sure everyone that needed water got theirs, we took a little walk through the neighborhood. I felt as conspicuous as I was, following Michael, the HH staff photographer, down alley and over drainage ditch. We squeezed through narrow, hallway like walking paths between the corrugated metal homes. I saw one house with a port-a-potty front panel for it’s front door. Ingenuity and recycling at it’s finest!

As we walked, trailing neighborhood children and carrying the barefoot ones, I greeted women on their front stoops with “bonswa!” and always received the same in return. Eventually, the narrow path opened into a wider one, which opened into a clearing on the outskirts of the neighborhood. We were on the edge of the bay, no beach to be seen, only the murky sea water meeting garbage several feet deep and shards of seashells. I could see pigs wading in the shallow water, men fishing a few hundred yards away, and in the far distance, shipping derricks ready to receive containers.



It got quiet. We all were trying to process what we were experiencing…what is “normal” for the kids that were in our arms…how hard it is to scratch out an existence in this tiny, but densely populated place. Then we turned and walked back to the tap-tap, pausing on the way to give a sweet elderly woman a Creole Bible she’d been asking for. Her Bible had been a literal shield not too long ago when she was caught in crossfire during a gang fight. The bullet lodged in it and kept her alive. She received the new Bible with much gratefulness, and we left, quiet and contemplating all we’d seen that day.

Each evening, after a delicious dinner we were always quite ready to devour, we sat and shared a “word of the day”. One word to describe how we felt and what we’d done that day. Tears were often shed, encouragement was given, ideas were shared. It was a wonderful way to connect and debrief the day.

The rest of the evening’s details are fuzzy. I probably took a shower and journaled a bit before hitting my bunk and hoping to sleep well. Tomorrow was another day, and I was a little concerned it might be a difficult one…