A hard lesson

Well, its official. I am definitely NOT getting Mother of the Year this year. This is the only Easter morning picture I got. No festive pics with the basket (we do a family basket around here) no pic of O in her Easter dresses (yep, she did a wardrobe change mid-way through the day to optimize the occasion) no pics of the egg dying. And only this one lone photo of Quinn in his *very springy* outer space jammies. Lovely. But he sure was jazzed about finding that egg.

Its been a real sobering week around here for me. A week ago yesterday, a University of Dayton volleyball player and her dad were killed in a plane crash as they were on their way to pick up her sister in Chicago. The girl was a junior, and although I had never met her, several of the athletes that I work with at UD knew her. Furthermore, the plane crash happened at a small little airport that is right next to the Y that I go to nearly every morning. And when I say right next to it... I mean you can see the runway from my aerobics room. So every morning this week on my way to work out, I passed the burned out patch of grass where the plane rolled, tumbled and then exploded.

I have found my mind wandering to the wife/mom a lot this week. How do you pick up and keep on living when your husband and youngest daughter have been instantly taken away? Half of her family, wiped out. A tragedy like this always serves as a wake up call. Am I complaining too much? Am I taking my family for granted? Do I live to make each day count... as if it may be my last? Do I REALLY believe that if I breathe my last breath today, I'll run into the arms of Jesus? Do I REALLY believe that is a good thing?

I am so prone to get annoyed at the little details of life. I listened to my kids fight, yell and irritate each other for most of the afternoon. Honestly, I'm human. It got on my nerves. I wanted the noise to go away. But oddly enough, my mind wandered back to that mom who is most likely longing for when her daughters were years younger, arguing in the back of a car as her husband drove them down the highway. Perspective. I lose it. I need it. But mostly I need Jesus to remind me that TODAY is a gift. My family (yelling and all) is a gift. I want to relish it. I want to be thankful for it. I want to hug that mom and tell her that Jesus is big enough for her sorrow. And that sorrow is okay.

That is the meaning of Easter. So although I might not win Mother of the Year for all of the traditions of Easter, I'm working toward Mother of the Day for delighting in my Savior and my family. I may not get it today, but I'll try again tomorrow.