Gone Gaga

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It’s Spring! Yay! I’m typing this right beside my bedroom window, opened wide to let the warm friendly breeze in. It’s playing havoc with my concentration, though. “This morning’s walk was too short,” it tempts me, “remember how the sun felt so good on your skin?”

 

If you know anything about me, you’ll know that this time of the year makes me want to hop, skip and run around like crazy, much like those old Disney cartoons of elves and birds and bunnies. I understand some friends think I’ve lost my marbles, but it is what it is.

There is nothing like those first few weeks after Old Man Winter has finally left. It’s that joy-in-the-morning feeling, nothing quite like it.

 

As I was saying, walking is double the pleasure now, with crocuses and daffodils to talk with along the way. The trees are budding, and some early achievers are blooming pale pink and golden yellow, much to my grateful delight. My camera is out and ready, the clicking shutter testament to the rapturous excitement nature’s beauty brings.

“It’s like you’ve never experienced Spring before, Mommy,” a comment from an observant son. And he is right—it is never quite the same, the intensity varying, depending on the kind of Winter I just had.

 

 

 

So we’ve sprung forward, and now it’s still bright outside at 7:30 pm. The bikes are out of storage and the video games have taken a backseat. It’s another thing I’m grateful for—when the warmer months hit, the boys eagerly answer an itch to be outdoors.

The neighborhood kids have taken to knocking on doors. The expected refrain {to be answered only after my sons are done with homework} rings through the front door: “Can you come out?” At my nod, both of them rush outside for some football. Polo gets lavished with attention from the girls who aren’t interested in playing with the boys.

 

 

It’s like Spring is for exploring the neighborhood, as if Winter has done some hidden work that lie in wait just for their discovery. It isn’t fair, I think to myself, that the extra weight my youngest son gained during the bitter months should roll away just like that as his legs pump fast to keep in length with his dad and older brother.

 

Yes, the brisk, timed walks around our court have been replaced by long, rambling ones around the neighborhood. There is much to see, and when the headphones are unplugged, much to talk about. There are many questions to answer, most of them silly, a few serious. But profound answers are hard to come by during this time, and it is enough that we are in conversation.

There is also so much room for imagination, and when I do put on my headphones, the hubby stays in tune by asking, “Are you in Mordor right now, or in the Shire?” The Lord of the Rings soundtrack is exhilarating, and even the most boring sidewalk crack has possibilities.

 

 

The coming of hope after the bitter cold. That is what Spring is to me. This most glorious of seasons—with every flower hue and every chirping sound—is a very real picture of my Father’s faithfulness. Yes, weeping may endure for the night, but joy always comes in the morning. So whatever kind of weeping it was—caused by personal loss, some festering pain, or an unexpected betrayal, or whether simply the stubborn tears born of a refusal to give up—joy is promised and will be given. He is faithful.

And lo! Easter comes, that time of most joyful hopes, of the shattering of fear, and of the coming of life eternal. He lives! How fitting that Easter morning happens in the Spring.

 

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Josiah and Elijah, and some of their latest laugh-out-loud moments:

Take 1:

It was raining and the hubby brought out the big umbrella he bought at Costco recently. As soon as it spread open, Elijah blurted out, “It’s as big as a honeymoon suite!” Then the boy turned to his Kuya (big brother), “What’s a honeymoon suite anyway?”

Josiah, “I don’t know for sure. But I do know I’ll be doing it when I get married.”

Take 2:

Josiah, during one of our daily talks while he snacks after school, “Mommy, behind every great man is a Big Momma and a Little Woman.”

Take 3:

Josiah and Elijah were in the living room talking. The conversation changes, they start talking about girls. All of a sudden I hear my eight-year-old yell out, “Mommmyy! Kuya’s pituitary gland is acting up!”

 

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