Every early spring, I eagerly anticipated my traditional outing with my mom. Although, as a little girl I was never far from my mom's sight and spent many a day doing laundry at the laundromat or grabbing groceries at the market or stopping by the bakery, there was a particular event with my mom that I looked forward to more than any all year. It was the start to my favorite season- spring. And so, to usher in the new season into our little home, I would go with my mom to pick my absolute favorite flower in the whole wide of the universe...the daffodil. I love colors and pretty things and beautiful smells. To the average person, a daffodil may not embody all those things but to me, it did. Each year, it was a special time when I would get to be a big girl with my mom and we would pick this beautiful flower that to me represented happiness, beauty, and the beginning of something wonderful. Much of what I love about my favorite flower (and I am quite passionate about daffodils) I love about my mom. As children, we were always amazed at our mom's creativity, storytelling and childlike laughter. Her imagination and fun spirit encouraged us to explore our own adventures in our mind's eye. So, I loved my outings with my mom because I loved these beautiful flowers that were so different and whimsical and so much like my own mom. My other favorite outing with mom was our weekly ice cream cones. Ice cream has always been my greatest tasty treat and the walks to get a delicious ice cream cone that was all my own were always a treat, but like most other memories it wasn't so much the treat itself but the experience. And for me, it was another outing with mom that made it so special. Mom created adventures and experiences in our daily routines that made us feel important and loved. Whether it was board games, a day all curled up on her bed while she read to us all day from a chapter book while the world outside went on its merry way, listening to records together and singing along...Mom took the time to be present...to be with us in such fun imaginative ways. That is so much of who she was as a mom and who she is as a whole person...imaginative, creative, artistic, loving, humorous and kindhearted, giving and adventurous. Today, I have my own little one who loves her Gramsy for all the same wonderful things I see in her. I am so thankful that she knows my mom for the beautiful person she is. And in the spring each year, I am not always with my mom, but I am in a sense, as Graceanna and I go pick the first daffodils of spring and as our adventure nears its end and we arrive back home I see in my daughter's eyes that same spark of excitement that another little girl had when coming home from a special day with her mom.

Mom, today, you are 60 years young and I don't want to miss this chance to honor not just your birthday but who you are and who you are to me. I love you for all the stories, laughter, painting, songs, dances, records, icecream cones and daffodils, but most of all, I love you for who you are... a beautiful lady...inside and out.

I love you and a very happy birthday!

Ice Cream Cones & Daffodils,
Marca

A Cool 77 Degrees!

Thankful for the rain that has brought a respite from the sweltering heat.
I am thankful that finally our AC is fixed in our car so that we don't have to sweat on our way to church. Graciebug and I are both grateful that we have a pool we can cool off in when it isn't raining and we aren't enjoying the AC in our car. Oh the hot island days!

You can see a theme developing here. There is so much to be grateful for but on this cool Grenada evening I can't help but think of the relief from the heat!

This is an abnormally short post for me, but my eyes are getting heavy and I am looking forward to actually snuggling under the covers this evening since it is a brisk 77 degrees.

Worldless Wednesday

One year ago, we were in England enjoying the fall weather.

Ice Cream Cones

I was five. I loved coming to my dad's bakery with him. I would climb up on a stool in the corner and watch the dough being kneaded and cut into loaves ready for the giant ovens. While I breathed deeply the smells of baking bread that wafted from the ovens and filled the whole bakery I would eagerly anticipate the moment that my dad would offer me a slice of the warm bread with a dab of butter. The smells, tastes, and sounds of the bakery are still clear in my mind 30 years later, but they are not what made the bakery a special place to me. I loved watching my dad at work, but most of all, I loved the little stories and lessons he took time to share with me throughout my bakery visit.

This week, I was reminded of a particular day at the bakery those many years ago. My daughter has been having trouble with her numbers. She loves letters and words and the books that hold them, but numbers are currently not a favorite. Ice cream, however, is always a favorite and so I reached back to a day long ago when another 5 year old took special interest in numbers only because of her love for ice cream. I too was (and sadly am) fond of ice cream. I remember one particular day at the bakery I sat in the big window and stared off in space across the street and beyond to where children were surely enjoying the park that held the wading pool that I longed to splash through on that hot summer day and the ice cream man with his coveted cones filled with that cold soft ice cream. Amidst the smells of warming breads and pastries I was discouraged. I wanted that cone so badly I could taste it, but 20 was unfathomable to me. If I could count to 20 by the end of the day, my dad promised me whatever flavor and cone I chose- all for myself. I sat there discouraged while my dad worked quietly in the background waiting for me to begin to count again. I remember getting to 12 was easy, but after that they all sounded alike and I thought I would never get them right. How was I ever going to remember the correct order. I would goof up and dad would patiently repeat them to me once more.

I sat there feeling bewildered at the task, much like a certain 5 year old did just the other day. Twelve, 14, 17, 18, 19, 20...Sigh...No, she knew that wasn't it. Gracie looked at me with a flustered discouraged look. I picked up the flash cards again and we went through it once more. Just a few numbers at a time. I sat there half in the present and half in the past.

Twenty in one day? This seems a little tough, I know, but Dad never came across to us in a tough manner. He was sure we could do it. He knew we could. Nathaniel had to learn to swim in a day and I would learn to count to twenty that day. So, I kept at it all day. It was a long long day for a 5 year old who didn't have the same confidence in her abilities as her dad. What I did have was a stubbornness to succeed (much like another little girl I know). So, I sat there. I did it over and over and over again, goofing up each time. The day was nearing to a close and I still hadn't achieved the goal. I can remember the moment it finally happened. My dad was cleaning and I tried once again while looking out the window across the street. Then, it just clicked in my mind. It made sense and I counted all the way to twenty. I was so excited that I had finally done it. Surprised. Dad wasn't as surprised. He knew I could do it and he had patiently helped me all day until I realized it as well. He said he thought it was time for that ice cream cone. So, off we went walking through the park to get our ice cream cones. It never tasted so cold and delicious and perfect, but like every time in my childhood, my dad helped me finish it off licking the "drips" and evening out the sides.

My mind returned to the little 5 year old struggling to comprehend the difference between 13 and 14. I smiled and said, "let's make an icecream cone with 20 scoops of icecream!" Her little eyes lit up. She was interested in that kind of 20. I made a deal. With every number she knew we would add a scoop to our icecream cones that we made out of paper. And, as soon as she had 20 scoops on her cone we would go on our own ice cream cone date. She was almost sold, but had one question, "can my ice cream be pistachio?"

And then, "Can I have it all to myself? No help?" I guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.

Blog Makeover

Hello Everyone!

I am working on redesigning my blog! Sorry for its messy appearance! I am really enjoying figuring all this out. What fun!