Goodbyes, Broken Trucks, and One Very Dramatic Son

Dear Sam (and my Edmonton girls, too),

Here's a rundown on our week as I experienced it.

Monday: We launched Jessica toward her Edmonton life with a celebratory dinner at Vimy’s in Waterton. Grayson and Brooke joined us, which made it feel extra special. Nate gave a speech (AI may or may not have been involved—sorry, Abby, you’d have disapproved). Tears were shed. I’ll let you decide whether they came from Nate or me. Either way, it was a beautiful evening celebrating the 18 years we’ve enjoyed Jess at home. 

Wednesday: As soon as Dad and I clocked out from work, we embarked on an epic vehicle relay. We rendezvoused with Abby at Cross Iron Mills, feasted in the food court (fine dining, mall edition), and then split: Abby and Jess zoomed north in the red car, while Dad, Nate, and I juggled the truck and the GREY car back to Cardston. Two cars, three drivers, and at least one prayer. 

Friday: Speaking of our truck, it joined the realm of the mechanically unfaithful this week, because... apparently, three weeks is the absolute limit before something in our fleet has to head to the shop. 

Weekend: Dad and I have been organizing like maniacs—the yard, our classrooms, and our now half-empty house. HALF. EMPTY. When did half my children get the nerve to live somewhere else? 

Comic relief of the week: Nate. He has taken up the role of “abandoned child,” and is milking that to the max. I mean, he pretends he's got it hard. Sometimes, when he and I are driving somewhere, he rolls down the window, sticks his head out, and yells “HELP!”  Just out of the blue. Of course, he has to do this when we are passing by some dog walkers or people on their front lawns. It’s our bit. Our thing. It gets him every time. Don’t be fooled, though—between the dramatics, he’s prepping for a very academic school year. 

On the grown-up side of things: The Alberta government and teachers are circling the possibility of a strike in the next few weeks. Tensions are high, and negotiations have reached "an impasse." The last time Dad and I were both unemployed was 2003, right when Abby was born. We survived then (with diapers, no less), and I know we’ll survive this. But do pray for the leaders, for teachers, and maybe a little extra for us, too. If there has to be a strike, I need it to be very, very short-lived. 

And finally—Radar. He has sworn his undying loyalty and has promised never to leave me. I’ve decided to lean hard into that. (Canine co-dependence.) 

I pray for each of you every day. Little pieces of me are scattered wherever you are, but I trust God to hold you safely in His care. Be well, you three, and know that we are beyond proud of each of you. 

All my love,
Mom 

Preparing the Humble Abode

Round two: the truck was loaded (again) with boxes, bins, and miscellaneous “essentials” for Jessica’s big move. This trip, though, carried extra weight—John was finally going to lay eyes on the humble abode. 

We rolled up our sleeves and spent the next 24 hours transforming that little place into something Jessica could actually call “home.” Shower heads were swapped, window screens installed, cupboards repaired and painted, and even the front lawn got a much-needed haircut. If HGTV had been filming, it would have looked less like a polished home makeover and more like two parents in survival mode, fueled by sheer willpower and takeout pizza.

Speaking of pizza, we were lucky enough to see Abby that first night. She came over, stayed long enough to laugh, eat a slice, and receive a Father’s blessing from John—one of those moments that quietly makes all the chaos worth it.

Meanwhile, Jess had her own kind of “home makeover” happening: she and some colleagues were tackling Waterton’s Triple Crown hikes—Carthew, Crypt, and Akimina—all in the same 24 hours. Would I have rather been in her shoes? Nope. Not one bit. She can keep her blisters, mountain switchbacks, and energy-gel lunches. I’ll take my paintbrush and rusty screwdriver, thank you very much.

By the time we packed up to head home, the “humble abode” had been polished, patched, and prepped for Jessica to enjoy for the next nine months. Without us. Sob.

It was eventful, exhausting, and a little bittersweet. We drove away knowing we had done our part—making space, fixing what we could, and leaving behind love in the form of fresh paint and tightened cupboard hinges.

Because that’s what parents do: we prepare the place, and then we let them live the adventure.

YM Camp Adventures: Into the Gargantuan Caves

When John and Nate packed up for YM camp, they weren’t signing up for the cushy, marshmallow-roasting version of camping. Nope. This was the roughing it variety: backpacks stuffed with their own food, gear slung over their shoulders, and a trek that promised to test both their stamina and their nerves.

The highlight? Exploring the Gargantuan caves. Now, “Gargantuan” might conjure up images of a wide, welcoming cavern with echoing ceilings. But don’t be fooled. These caves were less “cathedral of stone” and more “hope you’re comfortable crawling through holes the size of a raccoon tunnel.” The boys wriggled, squeezed, and shimmied their way through the dark, tight places (one narrow called the "birth canal"), with only headlamps and adrenaline to guide them.

Back at home, however, things were less adventurous and more… anxious. By 11:00 p.m., there was still no word from the cave explorers. No text. No call. Just silence. You can imagine how that sat with the parents. Did I consider calling 911? Did the words “search and rescue” start dancing in my mind? Maybe. (Okay, yes.)

Fortunately, just as I was mentally preparing to alert the authorities, word finally came: the boys had made it out. Safe, exhausted, and probably caked in enough mud to start their own pottery studio.

Turns out, YM camp was not only about survival skills in the wilderness, but also about teaching parents back home how to breathe deeply, stay calm, and maybe not jump straight to emergency protocols.

In the end, the caves were conquered, memories were made, and no actual search and rescue units were deployed. (This time.)

Girls Weekend - With Grayson

All summer long, we talked about going camping as a family. But summer did what summer does—it filled itself up with projects, trips, and a hundred little things that made “family camping” slip further and further away. By mid-August, Jess and I looked at each other and realized: if we waited for everyone, we’d never go. So, we carpe’d the heck out of that diem, waved goodbye to the boys, and claimed the one lone campsite left in Waterton. (Remember, I’ve committed myself to saying yes to whatever adventures my kids invite me on.) 

We set up camp like pros (honestly, we impressed ourselves), and soon Grayson joined us for a hike up to Bertha Falls. Fresh mountain air + laughter + the sound of rushing water = therapy you can’t buy.

Dinner? A straight-up feast. Corn on the cob roasted over the fire, baked potatoes tucked in the coals, and juicy beef chunks cooked on roasting sticks like the world’s fanciest marshmallows. Pioneer women, but make it gourmet.

And because no day in Waterton is complete without dessert, we strolled down to the lake and polished it all off with Beavertails. Sticky fingers, happy hearts.

The night ended with Jess and I talking long into the dark, our tent lit only by laughter and whispered stories. Eventually, we dozed off—content, grateful, and maybe a little proud that we pulled it off.

Quality time with my girl. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for more.

August: Creek Walks, Cooking Shows & A Fence Mirac

August, in all its hot, hazy, glorious chaos, gave us plenty to remember.

Sam Update: Our Arizona missionary is thriving, and by the end of August he’ll be down to just three months left. How did that happen so fast? I swear he just left last week.

The Summer of Saying “Yes”: I made a vow: if my kids invite me to do something, I will go—no questions asked. So, when Nate suggested golf ball hunting in a murky creek (read: minnows, slime, and possible snakes), I grabbed my shoes and went. Would I normally love this? No. Did I love the time with Nate? Absolutely! I had to pretend to be chill about it and hide my excitement. 

(Oscar-worthy performance, if I do say so.)

Cooking Show Era: Thanks to my garden’s miraculous rebound post-hailstorm, I had enough produce to dive into my “cooking show ERA.” Inspired by Meghan Markle (don’t laugh), I cooked my way through dishes I’d seen her make. Basically, I’m ready for my own Netflix deal now.

Edmonton Adventures: Jessica, Grayson, and I hauled a truckload of her belongings north to her new rental. We cleaned, fixed, and spruced things up until it felt like home. Abby joined us for dinner, a High Level Bridge walk, and some exploring of the Legislature grounds. Yard work was included in the “fun.” (College kids: can’t live with them, can’t stop hauling stuff for them.)

The Fence That Almost Wasn’t: John swore he didn’t want to build a fence. Then—miracle of miracles—he did. And he even let me “help” on one or two days. I’m practically a carpenter now.

Hot Tub Progress: John also extended the patio to make sure our hot tub is up to code. We’re now one step closer to full soak-mode. Only minor details left… like finding the leak and plumbing the whole thing.

One Paddleboard Night: Just one, all summer long. But it was glorious. Jess, Grayson, and Radar came along, which always makes it better.

MRI Day: I had my screening MRI in Lethbridge (pancreatic stuff… still can’t say the “C” word). My nerves were eased by Jessica, who came along and sat through the wait. While in that big noisy tube, I prayed for each of my kids. Loud machine, quiet prayers—it balanced out.

Paisley Sighting: Sam’s former girlfriend, Paisley, happened to be in the same temple session as us. Delightful surprise! She swung by afterward, and—naturally—we trapped her into staying longer and eating pizza. That’s basically the Hardy family brand.

So, August in a nutshell: kids, fences, food, creeks, medical machines, and pizza with surprise guests. Honestly, not bad at all.

Youth Citizen of the Year

Heritage Week brought all kinds of fun, but the biggest surprise of all? Jessica was named Youth Citizen of the Year! Yep, that’s right—our girl went full small-town celebrity status. One day she’s playing ball and sorting out life plans, the next day she’s shaking hands with the mayor and waving from a float like she’s royalty.

But here’s the part that makes the story golden: the nomination came from none other than her softball coach, Rylan Schaffer. Which is sweet enough on its own… except then the town went and named him “Citizen of the Year.” So there they were: coach and player, mentor and mentee, cruising down parade day in back-to-back glory.

Honestly, it couldn’t have been scripted better. Two people who pour so much into their community ended up being honored side by side. Pretty perfect if you ask me.

So, congratulations Jess—you’ve officially peaked before 20. Good luck topping a mayoral handshake and a float wave. 😉

A Sunday Picnic - {August 2025}

Some Sundays just call for something special. A few weeks back, I decided to put in the effort and make a proper feast—smoked ribs, baked beans, and creamy mac n’ cheese. The kind of meal that feels more like a hug than just food. The plan was to pack it all up and head to Waterton, where we could share a Sunday dinner with Jess and Grayson.

By the time we pulled into Waterton, it felt like half the town had the same idea. We circled and circled before finally laying claim to one of the last available picnic tables. Victory!

With our “feast” set up, we tucked into the ribs, beans, and mac n’ cheese. The flavors were smoky, rich, and absolutely worth every minute of prep. There’s something about eating outside—with the mountains all around and the people you love sitting across from you—that makes everything taste even better.

Halfway through, a little rain shower rolled through, just enough to keep us on our toes. But it didn’t stop us. If anything, it added to the memory—the smell of rain mingling with smoke and ribs, laughter rising above the patter of raindrops, and that cozy feeling of sharing a meal with family.

Busy weekend or not, it was exactly the pause we needed. Delicious food, great company, and the beauty of Waterton wrapped it all up into one of those perfect little Sundays that stick with you.