A different kind of Easter

Somehow this Easter was different. There was the usual last minute scramble to locate wayward stockings, a missing shoe..a lost bow. The uproarious and giggly Easter egg hunt and haggling over splitting the spoils.. The inevitable fights over a toy..tears..pleas..an ensuing chase..a finally out of commission flat iron and the resignation to yet another chignon. A dress I hadn't worn since last summer and planned would work perfectly this Easter ended up being a few inches too short to be proper. A quick iron of a shirt that stubbornly held onto its wrinkles..a quick batch of bread dough to stir up while toting a whiny little man on my hip...And at last that at once exhausting and exhilarating final exhale at the end of it all..we're finally ready.

But through it all there was a new sense of joy in this day..celebration for the big moment..the big God that had triumphed over it all. As we scrunched on the couch for a few last minute pictures I found I was able to breathe easy. Relax. Who cares if a few hairs were out of place or we didn't have matching Easter garb or tiny people decided to wrestle in the church pew?Nothing could shake the beauty of the sun shining through the stained glass windows, the hush of quiet prayers before song..the smiles of wonder on small faces as they glimpsed the cross in front of them, pointing excitedly...I could do no more than just sit back and revel in it all. All of it...everything sweet and poignant and so full of glee came because of this one special day...the day the Rescue was complete...

Bread

I baked bread today. Rolls really. Honey wheat to be exact. And they were absolutely divine. Scrumptious. I couldn't help gobbling one over my dinner preparations, smeared with smooth butter. Does it get much better? The moment it reached my mouth I felt that same sweet comfort that baked goods always deliver. Why is that?

How can a mixture of flour and butter and honey and yeast feel like a homecoming? Like nothing has changed. You haven't grown bigger and stronger and wiser yet...haven't faced mounds of bills or empty wallets...overflowing laundry baskets and unruly stubborn tempered little folks who send you for a loop...haven't wondered if you've made the right choices with your moments..given enough to those tender little hearts who always seem to need so much...before you've lost touch with someone you once loved..treasured..counted on...before everything had to have an exact and acceptable purpose..you couldn't just do something because you felt like it..because it looked good..because it made you smile...

Just sitting at a sunlit kitchen table smearing butter on simple bread and enjoying it for what it is. And I thought of love. Of what it means to find something so grand..so special..so worthwhile that everything else stops and you sit and savor it.. Long afternoons seem all too short..the darkness and sleep and silence come too soon..Love so real that you taste it on your tongue..feel it warming your face..its light bouncing in your eyes and giving everything meaning..Like bread.

And I thought of the God..my God who came near to me. Close enough to touch. And he sat and broke bread..simple, humble, ordinary bread with folks like me and he made it..holy. Why he chose something so commonplace to represent himself and us (the ones he loves) never captured me in quite this way before. Something to fill up a hungry belly...warm a cold soul...accent a delicious repast. Something that can keep on being broken and shared many times over. Like his love...like our love...like us..Simple bread.

And on this rapturous day of celebration I can't think of anything I'm more thankful for than the simple and divine gift of bread.

Where There's Smoke...

If anyone happens to see billowing clouds of grey smoke rising from our house-rest assured, I am not trying to signal anyone, neither am I preparing an unusual type of main course for dinner. It all started innocently enough really. In the midst of my mid-afternoon repose, which includes but is not limited to: supervising 2-3 potty breaks..cleaning up a broken dish..unloading and loading the dishwasher at least once..whipping up banana bread while holding a small boy with a face covered in marker streaks..cleaning up aforementioned marker streaks from television screen,carpet and in between tiny white teeth..attempting to decide between Amazing Action Superman and Marvelous Might Superman for a birthday gift order..figuring out how breadcrumbs, several leftover boxes of pasta and a few eggs can constitute a decent supper...and changing a ridiculously messy diaper..I attempted to make old fashioned popcorn.

Instead of creating kernels the blessed machine began to construct an elaborate, black and sticky mass which grew menacingly out of its middle, spilled over the sides and billowed smoke thick enough to coat the neighborhood. All of our smoke alarms are in working order as they sounded the charge for what felt like hours whilst I put my efforts into calming distraught children and cleaning up the goop. That done it's on to rinsing sand out of Will's throat, answering Adam's questions about a lost random toy that I don't even remember and helping Natalie find an unusually small and well hidden beetle...Ah sweet rest..

The In Betweens

A record amount of tornadoes ripped through our state and several others yesterday. Perfectly astounding as far as I was concerned. Going on about a normal Saturday, clipping coupons, sipping a latte, playing ring a round the rosy and airplane races. On a whim Nat and I decided to go out for a little girl bonding and some shopping. Torrential downpour made it almost impossible for us to see the road, hail the size of golfballs pounded our windshield, streetlights out, cars wrecked on the side of the road, giant trees blocking the highway. Oblivious to everything we were calmly headed for our destination and turning on the radio I soon realized what a dangerous situation we were in.

Thank God we were able to turn around at a blockade, making it back home just as the weather service spotted the tornado 8 miles from us. Gathering little warm bodies, a box of crackers, sippy cups and a battery powered DVD player we hunkered down in our coat closet. Happily they snuggled into a pile of winter coats, singing along with Little Einsteins and passing cheddar crackers all around..giggling..chattering, not even realizing what raged outside us. So close.

As I sat there, legs folded in a pretzel, wedged between two guitars and an old mirror, Will bouncing on my knee I couldn't help but flash to all the normal moments. When nothing big or grand or super exciting is happening. Brushing teeth before bed, laughing at a bubble beard in the bathtub, reading Good Night Moon over and over, pushing a small, wiggling boy on a swing, chasing each other around the backyard, sharing an interesting story over dinner, trying to hear my husband over the clamor of little voices eager to join in, "Who was it?", "Why did they say that?" "What did you say Daddy?", never a private conversation. Singing our dinner prayer, playing dominos, enjoying the crash and clatter, Will earnestly scribbling a picture while cheerfully humming an unintelligible tune..long afternoons reading on the back porch, barely finishing two sentences before needing to rescue someone from an impromptu sprinkler shower, give a push down the slide, catch a wayward beetle or lizard or toad, run a couple of races around the fenceline...

The in betweens. The time when nothing of note (or seemingly so) is taking place, but life is still happening. It's only when the huge, momentous, life changing events happen that you truly realize the sweetness of the simple things. A bear hug..an invitation to read a beloved story...smiles over spoons loaded with cookie batter, more smeared over small faces...a long kiss goodnight...a walk in the early evening, a little girl's hand reaching eagerly for your own...the rush to find you wherever you are because something is so special you must tell mom...the end of the day celebration when daddy comes home...

All of it so poignant, so full, so splendid and yet often I miss it waiting for the big moments..or getting caught up in the irritating details of maintaining life, and I forget to revel in the magic...the in betweens..

"That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." ~Emily Dickinson

Ode to a Lizard

Adam's pet lizard Stumpy (May he rest in peace) took a dive and checked out of the proverbial terrarium this past weekend. One moment he was having a reckless wild ride in a push along fire engine, the next he was breathing his last. Tearfully, carefully he was laid to rest under a pine tree in our side yard..

His life was long and full. Large portions of days were spent crawling around block towers Adam carefully constructed for him, riding on his shoulder around the backyard. He was frequently spotted perching on the edge of the sandbox while roads and rivers were created. Nights were spent hiding out in a pile of leaves, belly full of fresh live crickets and water slurped from an orange juice bottle cap, able to fit inside for a quick dip,his tail having long since been confiscated by a fellow reptile...

He was curious, head often cocked in your direction, little slit eyes sizing you up, mouth opening to hiss or yawn by turns. He was green, he was gray, and sometimes brown, often found hanging upside down. He was quiet and true and loved with a passion, dear Stumpy how sad we are at your passing...

Big Change

My dreams lately focus on a giant, sloppy layer cake chasing me down the street, covering me with great gobs of pink frosting.. Maybe I was a dessert in my past life. Or maybe our recent change in diet has something to do with it...

We have taken the plunge. Organic all the way for us. For the past couple of months I have wavered back and forth over the issue. Never sure if I could truly believe all I was hearing about hormones and GMO's and the affects on our bodies. And I think part of me didn't want to go through the hassle of overhauling our whole way of life. So I dipped a toe in here and there, organic milk, no more beef, a few changes to vegetable and fruit choices. Nothing major.

But after several conversations with neighbors, some exposure to a documentary called Food Inc. and much research on the topic I realized we had to make some changes. We can't afford not to listen to the research and truths raised. We may not see what's going on inside our bodies, what the hormones and steroids are doing to our organs, but that doesn't mean nothing's happening.

Shockingly many of the ingredients in our everyday products, from a box of graham crackers to the vanilla extract we flavor with contain ingredients that are causing cancer in rats. Tumors, organ failure and cancer, if there is even a possibility that the things I'm putting in my body could cause any of that then I'm done. It's over. It's not worth it to me.

I was fearful to see how the changes would go over with the little folks here. They're definitely used to raw veggies for lunch and fruit smoothies for breakfast but just about every snack food they love; Sugar Free Fudgesicles, Nilla Wafers, even Animal Crackers got the axe. No more occasional stops at McDonald's or Taco Bell. More beans and veggies, no more Kraft Mac N Cheese. Bye bye hotdogs and french fries, hello homemade bread and quinoa.

The grocery shopping became increasingly difficult the first couple weeks, then as we settled in we were good. It was working. We sleep better, feel better, look better and most importantly of all we know that we're not putting hidden fats and hormones and junk in our bodies. To take it even further we found a study by the American Heart Association and the Mayo Clinic detailing that those who eat a virtually meatless diet are healthier and on average live 40% longer. Who wouldn't want that? So out went the meat (except for the occasional salmon) and in came other sources of lean protein.

Is your body really a temple? You have to treat it that way more than just on Sundays, more than just according to your religious practices. Go big. Go simple. Sounds oxymoronic but so true. Take the big step to purify. Send that cake back where it belongs...

Lately

We are in limbo. Really and truly. Slated to go one direction, then the road changed and now we're sitting at the stoplight way past when we planned. On the surface it has been more than easy for me to keep doing what I'm doing. As Elisabeth Eliot says, "When you feel overwhelmed by circumstances, just do the next thing." And that's what I've done. Quite well I thought.

But the past couple of weeks the suffocating heat of the unknown has taken away my freshness. the Proverbs have it right, "Without a plan, the people perish." I have been wilting by the day. Still able to keep up the tasks, the cheerful brave front when it counts. But deep inside is the wondering, the questions, "What next?" I long to plan for something, straighten out the disorder. Prepare. But how can you prepare without plans? "Can a man build a tower without first constructing a plan?" He cannot, not well.

Enter my husband. The steady oak to my weeping willow. The sunshine to my raincloud. The hug to my crossed arms. The smile to my look of worry. The soft whisper to my raucous shout. The twinkle to my blank stare. The flavor to my lack.

We may not know what comes next, but we can enjoy now. The 30 Rock in house band song, "It's Never too Late for Now" has been playing over and over in my head as I watch him enjoy now. And he has strengthened and encouraged me to set aside the whatifs and focus on the nowwhats. And what's now is our garden.

Carefully he planned and figured out the spacing, the cost, together we poured over seeds and flowers. Our dinner table conversations centered on soil depth and bean pole teepees and mulch. In the evenings while watching television or reading together we discussed garden pests and natural pesticides. He spent hours shopping for lumber, even more time building the garden box and constructing rabbit proof fences and teaching our little folks how to plant seeds.

And now it is finished. Beautifully so. A physical testament to enjoying right now. We don't know how soon we'll be sent elsewhere. Not sure if we will reap all the rewards of our garden, enjoy its bounty. But for now we can find assurance in the peaceful evenings pulling weeds, tucking the mulch around each plant a little snugger, misting it dutifully and waiting eagerly for the tiny buds. And right now, it's enough.

Before Morning Comes

While the sky is still dark and before the bugle call of morning, two little feet trudge down the long hallway, dragging behind a menagerie of stuffed friends and sometimes a blanket.

If I'm not in a deep sleep the ribbon of light from the hallway stripes across our bed and I see the little figure standing in the doorway, regarding us at our rest. Swiftly and silently he clambers over pillows and knees and nestles in between us.

When his head is on the pillow and his breath is even, eyelashes fanning his cheeks I regard him, picturing a day in the not so distant future. He will be tall and strong and accomplished. He will no longer seek us out for nighttime comfort and cuddles. His world, the center of it will have changed. Grown up and out of our house, out of our arms and into new experiences, new relationships, new loves...

So for this little while I will open my arms, share just a little piece of my resting moments with this little boy who is afraid, who needs assurance. Give a little and he will learn to give too I hope..