When I first learned about Feast Days, I could not fathom why it marked the day of the person’s death.  I found myself wondering instead why it wasn’t on their birthday.  Now, as I struggle with the first anniversary of my beautiful Mama’s death, I finally understand.  She is at home with the Lord and at peace.  I want to honor her and celebrate her life.  She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and also the kindest.  She instilled in me a love of the written word, classical music, and flowers.  She was so quiet and so gentle but had a wit and humor that was unmatched.  I learned this poem reading it to her almost every day last year.  It was her favorite flower, one of her favorite poems, and by one of her favorite poets.  How I love you Mama.  This is for you:

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:  A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company:  I gazed – and gazed – but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. ~ William Wordsworth

When I was a little girl I never could understand why my mother lit up every time I came home with something I’d made her.  I have never been able to draw but I do think I have at least always put colors together well.  As I got older I remember being particularly proud of a macaroni shelled jewelry box I’d made.  She lovingly kept my clay ash trays (it was the ’70’s) even though she never smoked a day in her life.  I always wished I could have bought her something “real” and “nice” in my eyes.  Now that I am a mother I cherish the surprise presents I am being presented with proudly.  I bought this cool frame that opens so displayed works of art can be rotated but kept safely under glass.  Today as I was at the farrier’s getting my hooves smoothed (AKA the nail salon) I was greeted triumphantly by one beaming little four year old after she ran in looking for me saying, “Mommy!  Mommy!”  Holding her piece of paper up as far as her little arms would reach, she grinned back at me as I saw a slightly blurred image of her, given I was overcome with joy.  Such a simple thing — crayon scribbles.  And yet they are priceless to me; one of a kind masterpieces each and every one.  Novelist Margaret Wolfe Hungerford is generally credited with the saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”  I am collecting a house full of beautiful originals and I could not be more blessed or more proud.  I hope she thinks I’m beautiful, too.

We were all set to go to an upscale bowling/restaurant for a fun family night out.  I made the mistake of not making reservations on a Saturday night and we could not get in.  As I watched our four year old struggling not to cry, one of the hostesses suggested the playground across the street.  And so in the cold and the dark we reluctantly trudged over to play.  This is something Burk and I never would have done before having a child obviously.  Instead we were out in the crisp night air all alone listening to our daughter’s giggles surround us as she ran around with delight.  She had her light up tennis shoes on which were not only a comfort to me as a mother; I confess I wish I had a pair of my own!  They’re super cool.  So Daddy climbed to the top and pretended to guard his castle as Maris stormed his defenses.  We didn’t want to eat back at the place since we could not bowl so we wound up walking to a German restaurant.  My maiden name is German and I know next to nothing about Germanic cuisine.  There I sat for the first time in my life having something called spatzle with mushrooms.  It was a little weird but very good.  John Lennon famously said life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.  A spunky little girl didn’t let a major disappointment slow her down and we were all the better off for it.  Every single day I thank God for her.  Now we have a night to cherish that we will all remember.  It was an ordinary night full of magic; totally unplanned.

Some days I feel I do better than others.  It seems if the house looks great I look horrible from having cleaned it.  Or if I look great for some special occasion then the house has gone to pot.  If I was a great mother and painted with our daughter and read a lot to her the animals may have gotten a little shortchanged.  If I cooked a great meal for my husband I let our daughter watch TV so I could get it done.  But today was one of those rare days when I was on a roll.  To start with, I wasn’t simply sanitary; my hair was curled and I wasn’t wearing my customary uniform of sweat pants and the hub’s undershirt.  I was actually dressed … and somewhat coiffed.  I got up at my usual 6 AM, made coffee, fed the wolfies and the turtles, then waited for Maris to come down and help feed the gatos.  I didn’t get in my walk but I got our little one dressed for Chapel and to pre-school a hair early.  Her nap mat was clean, lunch neatly packed, and I could feel a sense of accomplishment already.  I didn’t have any rounds (I have owned and operated a pet sitting business for fifteen years) so I set to work on the house.  I got the beds changed, laundry (mostly) done, grooming appointment booked for Cheyenne, Dakota and Chin Chin (our one-eyed Shih Tzu), checks written (which I rarely have to do anymore,) dishes cleaned, fencing guy scheduled, organic fertilization of the lawn on the calendar, mail sorted, and — best of all — a trunk load of items purged to donate to Operation Kindness.  After checking the time I realized I needed to pick up my daughter.  I was running out of steam and Starbucks is a newly discovered guilty pleasure.  So I grabbed my reusable cup and headed out to get a little jolt of java.  “I’m sorry, I cannot remember your name,” the girl said as she scribbled hieroglyphs on a little tab.  “It’s Laura.  But you know what?  You can just call me ‘Sexy.'”  “Right on” she said as she scanned my Apple Watch for payment.  Imagine my surprise when my frappuchino came up under that moniker.  There was another girl who served it and she was playful enough to say it with feeling.  Everyone turned to look and we all grinned.  Such a silly, trivial thing but it made my day.  I got Maris shuttled to karate early and sipped my frothy concoction, having left my “Sexy” label on for pure enjoyment.  Singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega said, “I think people are sexy when they have a sense of humor, when they are smart, when they have some sense of style, when they are kind, when they express their own opinions, when they are creative, when they have character.”  I’ve still got it.  😉

When I was a little girl, some of my happiest memories were going to the mall with my parents.  There was a huge, lit fountain I would watch for seemingly hours.  Mama and Daddy held hands as we walked around.  We couldn’t often buy but it was fun just to go.  In college I worked at that mall for Lord & Taylor, which is now gone.  I would save my money to eat at La Madeline and speak French with the cashier Jacqueline who was from Paris.  Now I walk that mall holding hands with my husband while our little girl gazes up in wonder at the same huge, lit fountain.  They have added restaurants, a movie theater and a park but it has still retained the same feel.  It IS great to be able to buy more things like new clothes or cookies as a treat.  But I want our daughter to know there is joy in simply walking around and spending time with each other.  We don’t ALWAYS need to buy something.  Happiness is what you make of it.  Growing up I always knew we were poor but very rich because the three of us had each other.  A Pastor named Charles Spurgeon once said it is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness.  Now God has graciously allowed me to have a husband and a child of my own — and there is no price that can possibly be put on that.