“How did the deer get in your backyard?” We were on a week-long camping trip when my husband Dan received this text message from our neighbor.
Back at home, while unloading the trailer, two mama deer and three speckled fawns ambled through our gate to help themselves to our garden.
Seriously?! You don’t see us standing right here?
A brother-in-law texted with family news. I didn’t see his message until several hours later. “We’ve been camping/fishing/kayaking all week,” I explained.
BIL: “Are you sure that having that much fun isn’t a sin??!” (Smile.)
Dan and I knew we’d be exhausted by the end of the week. But we asked for our ‘tween granddaughters anyway—ages 11 and 12. Maybe because we also knew we’d make some epic memories.
Together, Dan and I have nine grandchildren. Two older teenagers. A toddler. And six kids in the middle.
My new daughter-in-law, Azla, sent a photo of The Middles taken at our wedding. They’re sitting at a picnic table wearing beautiful smiles that range from impish to goofy. They had only met the day before.
Dan and I planned a honeymoon that would allow us plenty of time outdoors: camping, hiking, paddling, eating meals at picnic tables.
Oh, and zip lining.
No other soul is outdoors on this early morning near the Columbia River. I’m planted at a sturdy picnic table, journaling and sipping cinnamon tea made by my husband—yes, I have a husband!
My new name is Marlys Lawry.
While my fiancé Dan and I were out on Hosmer Lake, eleven ducklings swam toward our kayaks.
I have a new best friend. Dan.
We’ve ridden mountain roads on a motorcycle and let our hair fly loose in a Jeep Wrangler. We’ve shared meals and Sudoku puzzles and volunteer experiences. We’ve planted flowers and veggies together. We’ve hiked and kayaked.
You think your kids are destructive, wait until you meet these boys—my two teenaged grandsons, dismantling and kicking things down.
C.S. Lewis wrote:
Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny.
My friend Jackie has the extraordinary destiny of understanding the hurting heart of a mom who has lost a child, of the woman who can’t carry a baby to full term.
Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
