he-said-she-said

"We change, whether we like it or not" ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

he said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

i said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

she said it looks like this

he said it looks like this...

i said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

the ides of march

(this picture of jil and cameron was shamelessly stolen from jil's blog. it was too cute to pass up.)

today marks six years since my brother cameron passed away. i had the privilege today to reflect on how grateful i am for a merciful heavenly father that has given us the gift of eternal families.

in honor of today, i have decided to do my first repost of an entry i did two years ago.

It's March 15 Again

It's hard to believe that it's been four years since Cameron's been gone. I won't say that it seems like yesterday that I gathered in my parents' bedroom with a host of loved ones around as my dad told us all over the phone that he had been killed. It doesn't. I'm a different person now than I was then. That day changed our family entirely.

However, I suppose it's easier to say that Cameron doesn't feel distant. I like it that way. He's missed the births of five new Davis grandchildren. He missed my wedding. I suppose you could say that's missed a lot--I know that we have certainly missed him. But his sense of humor, his little boy charm, and his huge heart have always been a part of us.

I think that these pictures of Cameron best depict what I admire most about him. They were taken about ten years apart, but they both depict exactly who he is.

These pictures show how over time, despite all of the challenges in his life, Cameron never lost his sense of who he was, and is: a goofy kid who loved a good baby, a good laugh, and a good family.

For those of you who knew and loved Cameron, my heart goes out to you today. It's hard every year.

And to Cameron: we all love and miss you every day. especially today.

i miss you

dear friend (you know who you are),

hope ya know that i think of you often.

remember when we met? you weren't really sure about me at first -- i was a little awkward, a little insecure, a little ... much -- but you gave me a chance. i like to think that the risk paid off. you found me when i really needed you.

a list of thanks:

thanks for seeing my good qualities and loving them
thanks for seeing my bad qualities and loving me anyway
thanks for giving me that ridiculous nickname
thanks for our inside jokes
thanks for understanding that i am always trying
thanks for making me laugh so hard i cried
thanks for making me laugh when i can't stop crying
thanks for the long lunch dates
thanks for remembering the little things that mean everything to me
thanks for forgiving me when i am late (again) at remembering yours
thanks for reading this list even though it's totally cliche
thanks for understanding how sincerely i mean it all

i know i don't get to see you as often as i would like. and sometimes i don't get to see you at all. but i carry you with me. these days i find myself feeling like i need a friend more than ever, but then i remember i have you. can't you sense how happy make me?


like when you visited me in a city where i knew no one...

and taught me that i deserve to be really loved...

and shared a once in a lifetime trip with me (and then let me steal the photos off of your blog...)

and spent so much of your time cracking me up...

and stole my heart everytime you smiled...

and made me wish that i were as dedicated as you are (even though you might not be a real person...)

and know that this letter is addressed to you even if i didn't have a picture of you on my computer...

frankly, you make me ME. and i like me. thanks.

so even though i wrote for nine straight hours today at work, i owe it to you to drop a line. just to let you know that one of god's greatest graces is that he lets us have friends. and you may not believe it, but i didn't get that from a hallmark card.

with love...

public enemy number one

this guy:


here's how it all works. in 1784 he writes a satirical essay recommending that the frenchies wake up before noon. pretty sure there was something about using less candles in there too.

next thing you know, the british take off with this idea.

now, i have to wake up an hour earlier for work and endure a painful headache all afternoon.

so, benny boy, you may have had your heyday -- you know, helping establish liberty in america and all -- but today, sir, i take issue with you.

tomorrow we might be friends again. stay tuned.