the hardgrave family

Well, I’m afraid facebook has really destroyed me for doing family blogging, but I am resolved to do better and this is my first new effort toward that end.

That said, even though I have lived in Alabama most of my life, I have to admit that Christmas in Alabama almost always bring me one specific disappointment; no snow.  As a rational adult, I know better than to even hope for snow in Alabama in December, but like most Americans, I’ve seen so many Christmas movies that somehow, deep down, I really seem to feel that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day ought to be celebrated (everywhere) draped in about 3-6 inches of beautiful white fresh fallen snow.

This is completely irrational and I know it.  Aside from that, as  a Christian, it is doubly irrational because the celebration of the incarnation has NOTHING to do with weather.  Still, I want snow, and oft complain about the lack thereof while wearing my shorts on Christmas morning.  Crazy.

All that said . . , one of the recurring jokes around the Hardgrave home during the holidays when talk of snow arises is something like “Well, there’s always March” (because of the winter storm in 93)   Now that may not sound strange to many, but given the fact that we have actually broken ground on gardens in March before, it always tickles me a bit.

Well, today “There’s always March” finally yielded forth it’s promise.  Today, March first brought a whole load of big flaky snow and as I write this, I am sitting by the fire full of hot chocolate.  Kathryn and I listened to Christmas music on the way to Church this morning, and when we all got home, our girls had their first real snow ball fight.  God is good.  :-)

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” ~ James 1:17

I (David writing) really like to update the blog (even just adding pictures) when I feel that I’ve got something to say that is somehow profound, sublime, challenging, or at least minimally witty. These days, however, moments (and/or thoughts) of any of the above are almost unheard of (yes, I did end the sentence with a preposition, but my 8th grade English teacher assured me that that makes it an adverb). It could be that I’m actually becoming a better judge of what I might say and hence am realizing that I may never have actually had anything to say that truly fell into one of the above categories, or it could be that parenthood is just melting my brain. At this point, I’m really at peace with either option.

At any rate, having no material of late that falls into the afore mentioned categories, today I am motivated by something much more powerful.

Guilt.

So for all of you, our dear friends, who have said so many times, “you’ve got to update your blog,”
I yield.

This one’s for you.

Every year, I try to do some sort of garden with the girls (that is, the little ones who have to do what I tell them). It’s often hard to justify the time, but I have such great memories of the gardens that my mom planted every year and the acres of land that my uncles kept cultivated around my Grandmother’s house, that I just can’t imagine my children growing up not knowing the joy of it all. I know that they’ll never sit with any of their grandmothers shelling bushels of “butter beans” and “shucking” wheel-barrel loads of freshly picked corn as I did, but I’m hoping that, in some way, somehow, our small garden plot will help to yield the kind of virtue that Mr. Jefferson seemed to think was so closely connected to agriculture. No, I’m not trying to raise “tomato-huggers,” but I’ve got to say that there’s just something about the sights, smells, and textures of a garden that seem to refresh the soul and be almost “innately” good. It’s really hard to identify exactly, but well articulated or not, I know that I don’t want my girls to miss it.

So every year we do a garden,

and much to their father’s delight, the girls (the children, not my wife) really do seem to love it.

Sure, a garden is not the gospel, but nonetheless, God has revealed His attributes in creation (Psalm 19, Romans 1) and so just as the earth is “filled with the lovingkindess of the LORD” (psalm 33:5), in someway, I really believe that our little garden helps us each year to taste and perceive the goodness of God and the Glory of His handiwork in a very unique and tangible way.

(and I, for one, know, that they ONLY appropriate response to biting into a good, freshly-picked garden tomato is “Thanks be to God!”)

IN OTHER NEWS . . . .

This is me and my dear, sweet, ever-loving wife in Atlanta for the Georgia Marathon on March 25th. I’ve really got to hand it to her because she was the absolute best cheerleader I could have asked for. Over the 26.2 mile course, She and our friend, Beth Tinkham, managed to negotiate the roads and transit system of an unfamiliar town and to see us off at the start, meet us twice during the race, and again at the end to cheer us on as we crossed the finish line. Thanks so much Angela, you’re the best!

Here is a great shot of our friends, Matt and Beth, before the race that morning. Beth was just one week away from delivering their first baby, David Joshua, and yet was was more supportive and energetic that I could have imagined possible. Amazing.

Matt, you definitely married up (as did your running partner!)

AND FINALLY . . .

Here’s a few pictures from Kathryn’s 4th Birthday Party. Given that Angela couldn’t be at Kathryn’s party last year due to the circumstances surrounding her brother Michael’s funeral, it felt like a big deal for our little family to all be together this year for Kathryn’s birthday party. Thanks so much to all of you who came and/or sent Kathryn cards and presents. She had a great birthday and couldn’t have been any happier.