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.
In addition to playing outdoors, my fiancé Dan and I have spent these past several weeks getting some things done around his place. Thank you, COVID-19.
One of the tasks checked off our to-do list was mending a pole fence. Fifty new poles. And that’s just the front yard.
“It’s only about eight miles around,” Dan said.
“Lets do it,” I responded with enthusiasm, fully trusting my fiancé.
There’s an article posted to a sales strategy website titled “Burn Your Ships: A History Lesson About How to Be a Great Leader.”
The piece drew flack from its readers.
Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
