Being a Mother at Easter

This subject matter is one that I visit every year as we celebrate life everlasting ensured by the gift of a father and the sacrifice of a son. I cannot imagine nor fathom the depth of overwhelming, heart-wrenching pain Mary endured at witnessing her son hanging on that cross. Her sorrow had to have absolutely consumed her. Here was that young woman who had been visited by an angel who told her she had been chosen by God to bear His son. A joyous, miraculous event! And now thirty-three years later she stood literally under his feet with tears streaming down her face watching his pain as he died before her eyes. Even though she knew who he was. Had listened to him preach. Teach. Had heard what he promised if people committed their lives to his Father.

Yet as she followed him to Calvary while he half-shouldered, half-dragged that massively heavy burden, she herself bore the excruciating weight of every human mother. We have all been overwhelmed at times with wanting to make things better when we see our children suffer. But to be present and have no control? Feeling absolutely helpless? And know that it must happen.

But she did come, didn't she? Came for her child. Her boy. Just as we all are there for her child. As well as our very own.

It's Peeps Time!!

Easter baskets were a big thing with my family when I was growing up. They were hid inside the house every year so no matter if it was snowing, raining or bright and sunny the hunt was on! We each had multiple baskets -- some small, some large. Each was filled with some candy or a small gift and a sprinkling of jelly beans always topped them off.

I have been a chocolate lover since I left the womb yet I must confess that when I spotted those yellow sugar coated marshmallow birds nestled in the green grass every year I was a very happy girl. More like thrilled. I challenged myself to make those confections stre-ee-ee-tch out for as long as I possibly could. That was really, really hard for me. So I would tell myself the wait was worth it. Why? Because the longer the birds sat out uncovered the chewier they got. And, oh, how I paced myself to allow them to reach that perfect moment, you know, when they were just passed that "instantly dissolve on the tongue" stage but before the "hard enough to bounce off the floor" plateau. Like I said. Perfection.

I'm going to the grocery tonight. Hmmmm. It's hard to control that cart sometimes and it can be quite stubborn. Maybe it will make up its mind to take a little stroll down the candy aisle. I wouldn't be surprised if one of those little boxes of 6 connected-at-the-hip gaggle of birdies will take flight and land right inside that rolling basket as it slows down just a little, tiny bit....

The Bathroom Wall

Yesterday afternoon found my mind revisiting a situation that happened to me two years ago. Totally out of the blue this woman burst back into my mind, wrapped up in all the pent-up, frustration of what I DIDN"T say to her then. Boy, I sure wish I had verbally layed her out standing there in that beautiful, tropical hotel lobby when I had THE perfect chance, with me having every right on the planet to be as furious as I was. (Rats. I hate it when I am mature and act like a lady. )

All of a sudden this incredible dialogue eloquently listing all of her indiscretions came flowing out of my mouth. Literally. Out loud. The phrasing, my voice modulation, the subtle use of emotion. Man, I was so smooooooth. Proud of myself? Absolutely. Eloquent? Better than Lincoln. And my audience? Thoroughly appreciative. Awestruck would be an even more descriptive term.

My performance was ever so persuasive with just the right touch of emotion quietly punctuating my masterful presentation.....especially when heard by the best friend a girl could have. The perfect listener and critic. The bathroom wall.

The same confidante that has been there for me through thick and thin, good and bad. Always sympathetic, forever on my side. Never has it betrayed me. Never has it let on to all of the secrets it has heard. Oh, the stories it could repeat, the juicy blackmail material. I am ever so grateful that it cannot.

I Feel So Empowered!

Three days ago I was taught by my child to burn CD's.

1. Talk about feeling "smarter"!
2. Thrilled to be able to quit asking someone else.
3. Can do it whenever I want -- anytime, anyplace.
4. Woo-Hoo!!!
5. Mama is very cool now!
6. Lookout World -- the CD Queen is on the scene!
7. Knowledge is power. And I am loving it!
8. I'm on to the next project on my list.
9. No, I'm not telling you what it is.
10.You be hearing all about it later.
11. You can count on that!

Thanks for putting up with my smugness. And between you and me? It feels really, really good.

Can You Smell It Yet?

On the days that belong to the winter-turning-to-spring cusp, I have a secret passion. I crack open one or two the house windows and, slowly, fill my lungs with the anticpated, treasured promises that are beginning to arrive. Inhaling all of those wonderfully rich fragrances dancing just outside the glass pane, I am renewed.

Like the sweet scent of the quietly unfurling daffodils, curling back their tender green coats to bare the fragile buds within. (breathe deeply...ahhh. Heaven) . Or catch a whiff of newly mown grass as flows through the neighborhood, weaving an invisible path between the cluster of houses. To close my eyes and sense the light breeze as its tendrils slip through the screen to tease my skin. And maybe, just maybe, I catch a tangy hint of a sea breeze swirling in this recipe of richness that nature alone can provide.

To hear the silently whispered message heralding the anticipated change of seasons that has once again begun. To greet with a faint smile these blessings which I embrace gratefully. To find soulful pleasure in gifts so freely given. To me? That is the core essence of luxury. The true definition of priceless.

Plays Well With Others

aka: Annual Job Review. I have to admit these are NOT my favorite boss-to-employee meetings. How politically incorrect of me. In other words let me be perfectly clear: I hated them. I especially dreaded the ones at an establishment where I was employed earlier in my career. Never any fun. Always began on the "you do this very well.....blah blah blah...". Then WHAM!!?@##* you got your feet knocked right out from under you with this unending list of stuff that not only erased all the good stuff they said about you but made you want to grab your jacket and head home to eat comfort food and read a good book. For about a month. No kidding. I felt like I was back in the third grade reading my report card where the teacher made her comments like "very bright" and "her grades are at the top of the class" followed by "has lots of creativity--perhaps she needs to have an outlet where she could express her artistic ability away from the classroom" or "is just a little bit bossy"or "likes to talk during quiet periods". UGH.

During the above mentioned employment period a sweatshirt I found in a catalog. It was black with white lettering that summed it all up better than I ever could verbally express my true opinion blending my fond remembrances of my elementary days plus the belittling I felt exposed to yearly. PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS When I spied that on the glossy pages of their offerings I pounced right on that baby. Whatever I had written down as my number one gift idea just had become my number two choice. Talk about perfect!!

And guess what?? I got my wish! One of the boxes I unwrapped under the tree that year was the real deal and I wore that piece of clothing with pride. Because you know what?? I did play well with others then and I still do now. There was also another sweatshirt shown on the same page that read Runs With Scissors and I felt a bond with that sentiment as well. Heavens!! Who ever would do that??! ( a sharp collective intake of breath could be heard in the silent conference room reflecting the review board's shock at such outlandish behavior ).

Who? Perhaps "Guess Who?" would be more appropriate....hmmmm?

THINK and SHOULD are Four-Letter words

In the last year my husband has pointed out that I use these two words often. Too often. His point is that I do alot of mulling over different topics important to our lives that I keep to myself. Then when pressed I will say, "I was thinking...." or "I think about it...." or "I should have done that..." or "we should be thinking about this...".

One personality trait that I so much admire in him is that he is always verbally communicating, constantly seeking change to make a situation or the future better. He is a fantastic problem solver and manages workplace and home challenges with logic and foresight.

I am really trying to become more pro-active and talkative about not only everyday-like stuff decisions but those which will potentially change the course of our life experience together. I have always been quietly independent and more emotional than he. Not crazy emotional with crying and moodiness and demands. Just more choices made from my heart, not necessarily my head. These years of marriage have become a special gift waiting to be opened. And I am finally getting around to removing the ribbon, ripping the paper off , with the tingling- of-butterflies-anticipation which comes from knowing the gift held inside the box. I treasure his partnership, his advice. Learning and absorbing what I can learn from his temperment and life balance.

What advice can I give you? Share. Talk. Use specific examples. Voice your fears. Your joys. Question whatever you think you should. Listen. Learn. Ask for opinions. Offer choice. Seek change. Decide for yourself. For your family. And, above all, let your love be heard in your words, your actions. Be true to yourself. Never sell what you have to say short. You count.