When I was four I had a Big Wheel I rode absolutely everywhere.  I remember Daddy got me this thing that sounded like a motorcycle revver for one of the handles.  I thought I was so cool.  Leap from 1974 to 2016; my girl fearlessly gets on her cute karate instructor’s bike without a moment’s hesitation.  I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified.  I got to sit on a real motorcycle or two in my day and I was always afraid the kickstand would collapse and it would fall over.  However I have fond memories of my cousin Michael taking me through the mountains in California on the back of his bike when I was seven.  It was the ’70’s so there were no helmets and I loved feeling the wind in my long, straight blonde hair and inhaling the scent of the pine trees as we blew by.  He went fast and I hung on for dear life.  I remember when he’d turn it felt like we were going to scrape the ground.  I was a good girl growning up and I didn’t do anything wrong riding that bike with my grown cousin.  But I know if Mama and Daddy had been there they would have had a lot of gray hairs from it.  Of course I realize motorcycles can be dangerous, particularly in the city.  But wow the joy of riding free through those hills and trees was something that has always stuck with me.  It was exhilarating and I was able to simply enjoy the ride.  Shortly after my husband and I got married we went around Christmas for our close friends’ wedding in New Mexico.  We decided to go snowmobiling the next day in Durango and I was so paralyzed with fear (I don’t like to ski for the same reasons:  heights and ice) he had to drive for us.  Burk was so confident and assured and I remember being so grateful he got us through.  I suppose we become more cautious as we get older.  American actor Johnny Depp said, “I think the thing to do is enjoy the ride while you’re on it.”  My little one did not really go anywhere, but I believe she did just that.

German-born American developmental psychologist Erik Erikson said, “Every adult, whether he is a follower or a leader, a member of a mass or of an elite, was once a child.  He was once small.  A sense of smallness forms a substratum in his mind, ineradicably.  His triumphs will be measured against this smallness; his defeats will substantiate it.”  When I was a little girl I always hated dresses and I particularly despised bows.  My mother and I finally made a deal after kindergarten:  I would wear a dress to make her happy for the first day of school and then I got to wear jeans and pants the rest of the year, except for church of course.  We shopped at Sears and they had this brand called Toughskins jeans.  If your kid could manage to put a hole in them you’d get a free pair.  My mother got about three a year on average.  I was recently dismayed to learn my much-more-femine-than-I daughter has been called a boy by other boys at school.  She always wears dresses but does, for the most part, eschew bows.  I adore anything French and I truly think she has a Rembrandt quality to her with her dark, French eyes when she wears them.  However this picture is the very largest bow we ever wear; I cannot STAND “bow heads”.  The poor little girls look like something out of Dr. Seuss — all bows, no faces, and (seemingly) no substance; just a big giant bow.  To learn they called my beautiful girl a boy hurt me and reopened old childhood wounds of my own.  I was a Tomboy and most girls were mean to me.  I do not want that for my little one.  I notice, like I was in school, she seems very popular but doesn’t really have any close friends.  My husband and I are both lone wolves (as were my parents) and I wonder if she’ll be the same.  She is fierce, independent, funny, kind, creative and brave.  I think she is drawn to the boys much like I was — not because she is boy crazy; rather she is just more adventurous.  However some of the boys are pushing her and hitting her.  My mother was the sweetest woman in the world but very passive.  My husband is also the sweetest man (next to Daddy) I have ever known but he is passive as well.  I worry she does not have my aggression, and I lament the fact that the word itself is considered to be negative.  Aggression to me is strength and assertiveness.  She is always kind and gentle and will never hit back.  I never hit anyone as a child either but my father made sure I stood up for myself.  Tonight she earned her sixth belt in karate and it is my hope she will be quick enough to avoid their aggression in the future.  If not, I hope she takes them down at the knees.

My mother was born on Good Friday and Easter was always her favorite time.  She studied piano for many years and often spoke of the lavish Easter egg hunts her teacher threw for her pupils.  In those days there were live chicks and bunnies given away (thank heaven society realizes that is wrong now, as people do not commit to the little animals for their lives and they wind up abandoned or worse).  I have always loved Easter more than Christmas.  And hunting for Easter eggs is the ONLY type of hunting I adore!  Well, that and scavenger hunts.  I grew up in an apartment and we really did not have anywhere to go so each year I would wake up and Mama had hidden eggs all over the living room.  As I got older it became more difficult to find them all.  She had a baby grand piano and I could always count on an egg placed carefully inside the wood before the strings.  I think it was the nicest thing she ever did for me and I looked forward to it more and more with each passing year.  Now they just dump eggs on the lawn and kids scramble for them; where is the fun in that?  I am thrilled that my little girl gets to go to an elegant country club where they have the Easter Bunny, a lovely buffet, face painting, baby animals to pet, a pony to ride, and a colorful train in addition to the egg collection.  But this is the year I am going to start my mother’s tradition of a real hunt inside our home.  It will require time, patience, and thought.  I have often wished my husband would do some type of treasure hunt for me.  But of course the greatest gift any of us could ever hope to receive has already been given:  through the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ who gave His life so that we all might live.  The British Cardinal Basil Hume said:

“The great gift of Easter is hope – Christian hope which makes us have that confidence in God, in his ultimate triumph, and in his goodness and love, which nothing can shake.”

My little one will awaken tomorrow to an Easter basket full of goodies.  But it is my hope that she will discover the joy of eternal hope through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  His treasures abound; we have only to see them.

When I was a little girl, I insisted upon taking my beloved stuffed animals with me wherever we went.  I always started out carrying them proudly but eventually got tired of keeping up with them.  I still hold loving images in my mind’s eye of my big, strong daddy clutching an armful of stuffed animals in public without an ounce of shame.  As I got older I had to keep up with them myself or leave them at home.  Our little one is very good about remembering her things.  In this case she had her hands full carrying her new shoes and just couldn’t manage her dog, too.  Looking at my husband standing there holding my four year old’s purse took me back to cherished times and precious memories with my sweet Daddy.  I am so glad my girl will have the same experiences I had with a strong man who loves her and isn’t afraid to nuture that in whatever form it may take.  So last night her Daddy took Sparkles the husky to the car without a trace of embarrassment and my heart was full.  American author Kent Nerburn (writer of one of my favorite books, “Neither Wolf Nor Dog”) said, “It is much easier to become a father than to be one.”  God graciously allowed my husband and me to have a child together, and that child is making him into a better man.

I really don’t think it’s my age; I am just not a fan of taking pictures of myself.  I never have been.  Do I want to be in some pictures?  Certainly!  I mostly want to be in vacation photos or with my family.  But today I got the best pair of sunglasses I’ve ever bought in my life.  They fit perfect, the lenses are polarized, and you can still see my eyes through them.  I like that because I don’t like speaking with people when you cannot see their eyes.  Best of all they are my favorite colors — dark blue and silver!  I love that they’re mirrored and frankly I will not care when they are no longer trendy; I will still love them.  They do not slip, pinch, or sit whompy-jawed on my face.  They alter the color when I see out but not so as to be depressing by being too dark.  And they are titanium so they’re super light.  They don’t have a big hunk of weird plastic or huge “accents” on the side.  They’re just great sunglasses I wish I’d had for the vacation we just took on spring break.  But everything happens for a reason as well as in its own time and I am just thrilled I was able to get them.  So thrilled I snapped this selfie at a stop sign after I’d put them on.  I didn’t pose, wasn’t made up, or take 2,000 pics.  I just wanted to capture the moment and remember how incredibly happy a pair of sunglasses made me.  German-born writer Eckhart Tolle said, “The outward man is the swinging door; the inner man is the still hinge.”  My new shades have me covered inside and out; pretty cool. 😎