When I was little my mother would line me up in front of just about anything and take my picture.  I feel certain that somewhere in an album there is a picture of me looking all 1970’s taken at this very spot.  Only instead of a dark-eyed, curly-haired little girl I was a green/blue eyed, and strawberry-blonde little girl with straight hair and crooked bangs because my mother cut them herself.  I became resigned to her beginning most of our outings by taking a picture.  I have come to see she was really an archivist; preserving my childhood for me thanks to her love of taking pictures.  I remember thinking the place in this picture was so swanky as a kid.  I could not believe my little one when she remarked it was “fancy.”  Funny how somethings retain their stature while others fade with the passing of time.  It’s also funny how big things seem when you’re little and how small they seem once you’re an adult.  Time seems to move so slowly as a kid (waiting for a birthday or a holiday takes FOREVER) and yet when you’re grown they all seem to speed by.  How I cherish all the pictures my mother took.  They are a moment in time captured forever.  It’s quite amazing when you stop and think about it.  The American photographer Aaron Siskind once said:

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving.  What you have caught on film is captured forever … it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”

I am thankful for photographs; they are snapshots of the past.

One of the many things I like about cats is their nonchalance.  They just blithely take over things and don’t care.  Clean laundry?  Perfect!  Your favorite spot to sit?  Occupied.  Right in the middle of the stairs where you nearly trip and tumble down the last half?  Meh.  Almost the entirety of the bed?  Why not.  They have an uncanny way of either sprawling themselves out or shrinking themselves down, depending upon where they choose to be at the time.  I have discovered ours snoozing in sinks, watching the birds somehow IN the skylights of our ceiling and once, peeking out of our empty crock pot.  I remember I had a girlfriend watch my cats one time when I was on a trip with my mother and she kept freaking out because every time she came in the house was different.  Little things had been moved (whatever the cats decided to carry off and/or bat around) and she would find varying cabinets open almost every day.  I tried to explain to her that was simply the nature of the cat.  The English author Terry Pratchett once said, “In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.”  My husband, who did not grow up with cats, has been fascinated with studying them in the ten years we have been married.  One of the things he has graciously come to accept … from his socks to his newspaper to his water — is cat appropriation.

I can always remember my husband’s birthday, as it is just ten days after our wedding anniversary.  We have two big family months — June and October.  June is our wedding anniversary, Burk’s birthday, and Father’s Day.  October is my birthday and my daughter’s (who was born on the same date as my daddy) plus there is Halloween.  My husband doesn’t like a lot of fuss but I know he enjoys being celebrated by his family.  His grandmother even got a gluten free cake so our little one could dig in.  I love that my husband is easy to please.  He is truly one of the kindest men I know and tries not to be difficult.  If I could have a birthday wish for him it would be to stop worrying so much about everything.  In the Holy Bible it says:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?  And why do you worry about clothes?  See how the flowers of the field grow.  They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”  (New International Version, Matthew 6: 25-33)

Happy birthday to my wonderful husband; let your heart be light.

Every parent thinks their child or children are beautiful; as it should be.  I know mine certainly did.  In this picture I simply captured my little one coming into the kitchen to ask a question while I was cooking dinner.  Admittedly biased, I was stuck by her natural beauty.  I have often joked it is like my mother and my husband had a baby.  I could see Burk’s dark eyes looking back at me.  She has the full checks, cupid’s bow lips, and pert nose that belonged to my beloved mother, her namesake.  Sometimes her hair looks more red than others.  The incredible thickness of it originates from her paternal great-grandmother, who at 91 rocks a full head of thick hair that is enviable at any age.  It is a joy and a privilege to be her mother, watch her grow, and teach her about anything and everything.  The English actress and singer Denise Van Outen said, “My daughter is my biggest achievement.  She is a little star and my life has changed so much for the better since she came along.”  Those are my sentiments exactly.  I wake up every morning to sunshine.  Sometimes I still cannot believe I carried her inside my body — what a miracle.  She is my best supporter and I most certainly am her biggest fan.

From an early age, I was heavily involved in the theater.  I loved to sing and I love to act.  I have tried very hard not to project my unfinished goals and latent desires onto my little one.  But when a friend invited us to a children’s play I jumped at the chance to see if she might be interested.  Saying absolutely nothing, we took our seats.  Even before the the end my little one was asking if she could be a part of the acting workshop next summer.  No words can describe my elation as I tried to play it cool and say, “sure.”  Our little one was so engrossed in the show she was actually yelling at the characters!  Rather than this being a bad thing, I felt her heartfelt love of the performances given by the other children were embraced and even welcomed.  I would not have even known this play was was going on if it weren’t for my friend.  And the children were beyond gracious — encouraging her for the next year and being so generous with their time.  Our little one proclaimed she wanted to do it next year!  And the mothers, the children, and the directors had nothing but praise for her, given how immersed she found herself — shouting at the bad characters and cheering for the good.  I was frankly overwhelmed by their generosity.  The American professional road bicycle racer and three-time Olympic gold medalist Kristin Armstrong said:

“I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing.  I write about generosity because I battle selfishness.  I write about joy because I know sorrow.  I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption.  I write about gratitude because I am thankful – for all of it.”

These talented, sweet young girls took the time to show not only show kindness towards my worshipful daughter, but they encouraged her as well, without even knowing her talent.  I have never experienced such kindness by a cast.  All I can say is bravo!