Tag Archive | memories



I noticed our tree house was looking a little deserted.  I suppose the newness had worn off sometime last fall.  I climbed up with an old sheet and draped it over a few branches.  Soon, two little girls were aloft.  I brought them a bag full of My Little Pet Shop toys, a bottle of water, and two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and new magic was breathed into those old limbs.  As my husband and I worked below on the greenhouse, a flood of memories drifted down with giggles and happy chatter.  

I remembered carrying an old blanket from my grandma’s up the hillside to the cliff across the stream from her house.  A couple of rocks secured the pink wall and the hours of imagination that followed.  During that afternoon of castles and knights, princesses and dragons, pirates and treasures, and perhaps even a trip to a distant planet, I slipped down the hillside for a bathroom break, and as I looked back up to the bright pink cloth against a backdrop of brown rocks and green leaves, I was tempted to think it ridiculous and out of place.  That’s what society would tell me.  I thought of the “food and furnishings” and all the worlds behind the “misplaced” pink blanket, and shook my head.  I quickly attended to the business at hand and headed back to my pink wonderland that was perfectly where it belonged.

I looked back up to the tree house.  My ten year old had climbed to a higher platform expanding the horizon of their game and the world of their toys.  For a few short moments there was no bickering, or arguing.  There were just castles and dragons, treasures, and perhaps even a distant planet or two.  I looked above to the old tan sheet.  There was just one thing amiss.  I just wished that old sheet were pink against that background of brown and green.



Twelve years ago, my husband I had our first Easter together.  Of course, it was also my first Easter as a mom to my new six children.  No.  I didn’t have sextuplets.  My husband was the single father of six from two previous marriages.  We decided we wanted to teach the kids about the life of Jesus Christ, so we prepared, to the best of our ability, a Passover meal.  It was a wonderful holiday time together.

Our oldest daughter, now married and expecting, called to tell us that this Easter she was going to honor our tradition with her husband on their first Easter together.  All these years, I had no idea that the time their dad and I had put into that meal would have such an impact.  

This year,  I decided to do more research on Passover traditions, symbols and meaning.  I pored over recipes planning the very best Passover meal I could.  I hope my Jewish friends are honored by my efforts rather than offended by my product.  However, I can’t explain the love I felt for Jesus Christ, the Jewish people and their long years of suffering, my family, and all the families who were so carefully preparing their gifts of love for the holidays.

I wish I could have been there for my daughter’s first Easter as a wife and mother.  But I’m sure those she shared it with will have memories etched deep in their minds and hearts, even if she isn’t aware of it.