Finding joy in the creatures God made, celebrating progress that doesn’t always look big, and learning to recognize His kindness in the middle of ordinary family life.
There are some family trips where you come home rested.
This was not one of those trips. 😂
This past weekend, our family headed down to Newport for two full days at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. By the time we came home, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and according to how my legs felt, we had walked approximately 100,000 steps.
Okay, maybe that number is slightly dramatic.
But my feet would like it entered into the official record anyway.
And if you know Jackson, you already know exactly why we went:
Sea creatures. Allllll the sea creatures.
Sharks. Rays. Fish. Tide pools. Anything swimming, crawling, floating, or lurking beneath the surface—Jackson wants to see it, learn about it, and probably tell you something about it that you didn’t know.
Seeing It Through His Eyes
One of my favorite things about being Jackson’s mom is getting to experience the world through the lens of whatever has captured his attention.
And sea creatures have certainly captured his… for the last 7 years.
There is something special about watching your child stand completely captivated by an animal God created—studying how it moves, noticing tiny details the rest of us might walk right past, and wanting to soak in every bit of it.
As we walked through the aquarium, I found myself thinking about just how wildly creative our God is.
The strange ones.
The beautiful ones.
The tiny ones we almost miss.
And the ones with enough teeth that we are perfectly content admiring them through very thick glass. 😂
Every single one displays something of the creativity, wisdom, and imagination of its Creator.
“O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” — Psalm 104:24
What a gift that God did not simply create a functional world.
He created one overflowing with wonder.
And what a gift to experience some of that wonder through the eyes of our son.
But This Trip, We Noticed Something Else: Growth
We visited the aquarium last fall, so Zac and I had a pretty recent trip to compare this one to.
And this time, we could see it.
Jackson has grown.
Not just physically—although somehow these children insist on doing that no matter how many times we tell them to stop.
We saw growth in things that might seem incredibly ordinary to another family but felt huge to ours.
Jackson ate really well throughout the entire trip.
He was able to sit down and take breaks.
He handled two very full days of walking, stimulation, excitement, transitions, and activity in ways he simply could not have before.
Were there still meltdowns?
Yep.
Were there still struggles?
Absolutely.
Did all three of us have moments when we were tired, overstimulated, frustrated, or just plain done?
Oh yes.
This wasn’t one of those magical family vacations where everyone smiled peacefully at one another for 48 consecutive hours while inspirational music played softly in the background.
We are still us. 😂
There were hard moments tucked between the smiles in these pictures.
But this weekend reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:
The presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.
Sometimes growth doesn’t mean the hard things disappear.
Sometimes growth means something that was impossible six months ago is now possible for ten minutes.
Then twenty.
Sometimes it looks like sitting down long enough to eat a good meal.
Sometimes it’s being able to take a break in the middle of an exciting day.
Sometimes it’s recovering from a hard moment just a little faster.
Sometimes it’s tolerating one more transition.
And sometimes, it’s watching your child’s world get a little bigger.
A Little Detour That Was Actually a Really Big Deal
One of my favorite examples of that happened when we decided to fit in an extra stop at Ripley’s Believe It or Not.
On paper, it wasn’t anything extraordinary.
It was just a little one-hour excursion squeezed into an already very full weekend before heading back to the aquarium.
But for our family?
It was a really big deal.
Jackson was nervous and hesitant at first.
He wasn’t particularly excited about going in. This wasn’t what he had come to Newport for. The aquarium and his beloved sea creatures were familiar territory; this was something different, unexpected, and full of unknowns.
There was a time when that alone would have made an extra stop like this impossible.
But he went in.
And little by little, we watched something change.
There were so many hands-on and sensory experiences inside that his hesitation began to give way to curiosity.
He started exploring.
He engaged.
He let go.
He had fun.
He was nervous—and he was brave enough to push through that nervousness and discover something new on the other side of it.
And then came something equally significant:
When our little adventure was finished, we transitioned back to the aquarium and continued our day.
An unfamiliar place.
An unexpected addition to the plan.
A completely different sensory environment.
Walking into it despite being unsure.
Enjoying it.
Leaving it.
And then transitioning back to the original plan.
To someone looking from the outside, it might simply look like:
We went somewhere for an hour.
But we knew.
This little one-hour excursion would have been impossible before.
Not difficult.
Not inconvenient.
Impossible.
And this weekend, it was possible.
Not necessarily easy.
But possible.
And there is something incredibly beautiful about realizing that something that once felt impossible has quietly become possible.
When His World Gets a Little Bigger
I think this may be one of the ways I want to remember Jackson’s growth:
His world is getting a little bigger.
We aren’t measuring progress by whether everything suddenly becomes easy.
We aren’t measuring it by whether meltdowns disappear.
They haven’t.
We aren’t pretending that autism somehow becomes less real simply because we had a wonderful weekend.
There are still hard moments.
There are still accommodations.
There are still things we navigate differently than other families might.
But those realities do not cancel out progress.
Instead, we are learning to notice when Jackson’s capacity to experience the world expands just a little more.
When something that once felt impossible becomes possible.
When uncertainty doesn’t completely prevent curiosity.
When he can experience nervousness and still be brave.
When he can try something unfamiliar and discover that he actually enjoys it.
When we can add one more experience to the day.
When we can transition away—and then transition back.
These things may look small from the outside.
But when you remember when they weren’t possible?
They don’t feel small at all.
Sometimes you don’t realize just how far your child has come until you suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of something you once couldn’t do.
And you think:
Wait.
We’re doing it.
Don’t Let Today’s Hard Moment Make You Forget How Far You’ve Come
There were still difficult moments this weekend.
And when you are in one of those moments, it can be easy to feel as though nothing has changed.
A meltdown can feel very big while you’re standing in the middle of it.
A difficult transition can temporarily overshadow everything that went beautifully before it.
But then I remembered last fall.
And suddenly, I could see it.
Progress.
Growth.
Maturity.
Capacity.
Grace.
Not perfection.
Growth.
And isn’t that so often how God works in all of us?
We tend to want transformation to happen in giant, unmistakable leaps.
We want to wake up one morning and discover that the difficult things are no longer difficult.
But so often, the Lord faithfully works through thousands of tiny moments that don’t seem remarkable while we’re living them.
A little more endurance.
A little more courage.
A little more patience.
One more thing that becomes possible.
And then one day, we look backward and realize:
We aren’t where we used to be.
Sometimes we have to look back to see just how faithfully God has carried us forward.
Sea Creatures, Small Victories & a Very Full Two Days
So we explored.
We walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
We watched sharks glide through the water.
We admired creatures from the deep.
We learned.
We laughed.
We ate.
We rested when we needed to.
We tried something new.
We navigated meltdowns.
We regrouped.
And then we kept going.
By the end of our two days, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and I think we had collectively seen enough fish to qualify for honorary marine biology degrees.
But our hearts were full.
Because tucked inside an ordinary family weekend at the aquarium were a hundred little reminders of God’s kindness.
The kindness of watching our son experience something he genuinely loves.
The kindness of seeing his face light up over creatures God made.
The kindness of noticing growth that can be difficult to recognize when you are living life one day at a time.
The kindness of realizing his world is getting a little bigger.
The kindness of getting another adventure together—even when adventures with our family don’t always look effortless.
And the kindness of a Creator who filled His world with creatures so strange, beautiful, intricate, and fascinating that we could spend a lifetime discovering them and still have more to see.
Praise the Lord for Progress—and for Really Cool Sharks
I’m learning not to wait until everything is easy before calling something good.
This weekend was good.
It was also tiring.
There were meltdowns.
There were struggles.
There were probably moments when all three of us needed a timeout.
And there was so much joy.
Those things can exist together.
The hard does not erase the good.
And the presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.
So today, I’m thanking God for two days in Newport.
For a little boy who loves all things sea creatures.
For a daddy who explores alongside him.
For sharks swimming overhead.
For meals eaten well and breaks successfully taken.
For an unexpected one-hour adventure.
For the courage to walk into something unfamiliar.
For transitions that once would have been impossible.
For tired feet.
For small victories that really aren’t so small.
And for growth that sometimes can only be seen when we turn around and look at how far we’ve come.
Most of all, I’m thankful for the beautiful, bizarre, magnificent creatures our God dreamed up and spoke into existence for His glory—and that He graciously allows us to enjoy.
Praise the Lord for making such a wonderfully wild world.
And praise Him that, little by little, Jackson’s world is getting bigger—and we get the privilege of watching him discover it.
The Meek Momma 
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