I made my nephew a turkey sandwich (notice bulging left cheek) and in return he gave me some very serious, soulful facial expressions. A kid sitting still in the sunlit kitchen makes this auntie run for her camera.

My friend Sommer, rocking her baby back and forth in early December. I love this shot. These precious baby days move by quickly, which is why capturing them is always worthwhile.

There’s no nice way to follow a super serious post. So I found myself digging through my 2012 DPP folders for something random. And random was exactly what I found. I’ve never snapped a shot of the inside of my kitchen cupboards (at least I don’t think I have, feel free to prove me wrong) and I’m slightly pleased that the glasses don’t look as haphazard as I thought they did. There’s actually a little balance and interesting composition going on here. Nice.

I’ve been in a moody, navel-gazing funk the last several days and it’s shaking off slowly. I am incredibly appreciative of your affirming and helpful words. I’ve gotten texts and emails that show that I truly know the best people in the world.

Local friends know that I have more going on than foster care. I’m gearing up to do this again quite soon—on the left elbow this time—and the stress has been a bit much. In bright moments I can acknowledge that someday as soon as three months down the road my left arm will be strong again and I can recognize the goodness of foster parenting, even for a short period of time. But to be honest, I identify more with Pollyanna on her sickbed, all frowns and pouts, than I do with her in the majority of the movie. (I love me some Hayley Mills.)

The past three months I’ve collaborated with gifted writer, speaker and all-around awesome friend Maralee Bradley on articles over at Her View From Home.

This month’s post—Church of the Plastic Bags—is particularly poignant for me as I’ve literally received plastic bags (and paper ones and boxes and furniture deliveries) from friends as we’ve welcomed a foster child into our household. Our church community longs to help. They love to help. They give and give of themselves and never ask anything in return. It’s remarkable, this evidence of Christ-like love for one another, this giving and not expecting anything back. And you know what else? It’s incredibly humbling to be on the receiving end. It’s humbling and something in me desperately wants to give something back so I feel like we’re even. But that’s not the point! Give, give and give some more. Without expectation. With a lot of grace. With joy. Thank God for these women in my life. They are the hands and feet of Jesus to me and my family.

November collaboration: A Musing Maralee
December collaboration: Our Christmas Miracle

You can find Maralee blogging multiple times a week over at A Musing Maralee and, from what I gather, her voice also graces the radio waves of My Bridge Radio.

Rosa Parks Way & Highway 77 in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Triple layer chocolate cake? Someone must love me very much indeed. That someone would be my mom and dad who created this gorgeous piece of baked goodness for my 35th birthday last month. Yes, I did eat it for breakfast the following week. Yum yum.

I’m going to keep the creative juices flowing on View from the Prairie Box by posting photos. Many will be leftovers from the 2012 DPP. I may or may not add words to go along with the images.

We usually go to San Francisco sans Liv. ThoughtMatrix throws a holiday party each year, which gives us an excellent excuse to get out of town together minus the kiddo. Holiday party – babysitter = obvious decision to leave Livia behind. Does this make Livia particularly happy? No, and we’ve wanted to show her the city for years, so a quick trip west found her at our sides this year.

She’s been glued to me for five days straight now. All day, every day. Lots of family togetherness. (God bless my home with its individual bedrooms and doors that shut and the television that sits far away in the basement. My extroversion has its limits apparently.)

Enjoy the following images from our trip. The first few are snapped in Jeremy’s office and the rest are taken near the Ferry Building and Fisherman’s Wharf. Are those gorillas doing yoga on the street? Why yes, of course. And why is Livia feeding pigeons in multiple shots? You know Liv, she’s a miniature Dr. Dolittle. I stopped her from actually touching the birds and I managed to put the kibosh on the loud seagull noises she was making, so really, that’s a win in my book. Please note that neither Alcatraz nor rain will distract her from feeding the “poor pigeons.”

Taking care of a child in an incredibly diverse city was an interesting experience. San Francisco became simultaneously more gentle and more graphic. More on that later perhaps.

Candlelight always feels a bit magical, but candlelight glowing orange from the inside of a pumpkin is something else entirely. Livia placed the tea lights, wisely allowed her mom to light them with short matchsticks, and got real close to watch the flames lick and dance in the carved faces.

I’ve been scrolling through my archives to find Clara’s infant portrait session and I can’t find them. Argh, did I forget to post them? And Joel’s pics, where are those? Oh dear. Apparently I got forgetful last winter and didn’t post some of my favorite baby images. I’ll make attempts to remedy that.

This baby girl, my friends, belongs to Renae and Jason Morehead. She took her first ever girls’ trip with her mommy, me, and our friend Lauren a few days ago. She truly traveled like a champ even though she was dealing with the tail end of a virus.

Clara, I will always love you. And I’ll always remember how cute you were upon waking up in the Kahler Grand Hotel. Don’t worry about the throw up or the coughing or the incessant gas. Your cuteness covers a multitude of sins.