Nostalgia is a funny thing. Sometimes it hits you so hard that you stay down for quite some time remembering so many good times and dear friends, and sometimes it passes ever so quickly as you wait for the red arrow to turn green. The moment that arrow changes, the memory fades away just like the car in the blind spot.
I'm stuck like gum on the pavement right now. I've been bitten by a hard case of nostalgia. I'm choosing to blame it on that onion bagel.
I just finished filling tiny plastic eggs with packaged candy for Mya's class party tomorrow. I love parenting stuff like that because I know the moment Mya gets one of those eggs (or an egg from any other parent), she is going to grin from ear to ear with excitement, and well, that pretty much makes my life complete. I'd do anything to see my girls smile.
As I performed the somewhat tedious task of filling the eggs, I thought back to last Easter when life was so different. We attended several little kid Easter parties/egg hunts and one very nice dinner on Easter. With the exception of the small hunt my parents put on in Arizona, my girls haven't been to one Easter-themed party. And it's not like they know they're missing out on things, I'm just missing the moms who kept me company while the kids sipped on bunny juice and snacked on too much sugar.
It's been a year, and I still ache for my friends in Wisconsin. All of them. This nomad life we've chosen to live has been an adventure--a beautiful and wild ride. We have made friends with people I never would've known without the opportunity CAT has given us. We have also learned to deal with the loss of friends as we've moved year after year. I'm not sure I've learned to deal with those losses, and because of that, I am doing my best to keep in touch with friends through a variety of methods. It's working, and that continues to heal my fragile heart.
Easter is my second favorite holiday, and it has nothing to do with the Easter Bunny. In fact, I'm not sure how to keep my kids believing in the Easter Bunny. He's just a little too ridiculous for me, and that's saying something because I believed in Santa far too long.
Year after year, I grow in my understanding of this special holiday. My knowledge of the final week of Jesus Christ's life has expanded immensely this year as I've studied the New Testament, and yet I feel I have barely scratched the surface of all that Christ has done for me and for you. Here is what I know. I know Jesus Christ lives. I believe that completely. I know He is the master healer. I know because I have lived with a broken heart for years, and slowly I am beginning to see parts of it returning to its once whole state. I know He died for me. I don't understand the depth of that statement, but I am so grateful He allows me to live again and with my family after death.
Because of Him, we all can live again. Because of Him.