Happy Mother's Day . . . or "There's gold in them there boys!"

Today was Mother's Day.
It is nice to be recognized and lauded for a day and showered with handmade gifts from your children.
It is sweet when they look into your eyes and say, "Happy Mother's Day, mom."
It is precious when they give you a kiss and a hug that lasts just a few moments longer than it did the day before.
The excitement and pride in their eyes when you open a custom made treasure, crafted by their child fingers, made with all the love in their child hearts, just for you -- to show you how much they love you -- is enough to undo you for a long time.
And really, all they would have had to do is just to be as sweet and precious and loving as they already are.
All they have to do is be yours.
And they are.
This year, Josiah made me a frame with a picture of himself, holding Bella (Mrs. Harrison's dog). Adorable!
And Isaac hand-painted a candle holder.
Gorgeous!
I also got a whirlpool foot bath and massager. We all took turns using it tonight. All I can say about it is ahhhhhhh . . .
Awesome gifts! Thanks again, boys.

We had a quiet day today. It was our first Mother's day without grandma. That was pretty hard, and I thought about her a lot today. I miss her. There are so many things about her that I miss, really, but today, the thing I miss the most is her hands.
Often, she would reach out and grab my hand, just to hold it.
Or she would touch my arm or my back as she would pass. Just little touches that let me know she knew I was there.
Her hands were smooth, but knuckle-y.
They were working hands.
They were loving hands.
They were strong.
Happy Mother's Day, gram.


The favorite part of my day was this afternoon, when Daniel was napping peacefully and the boys were playing outside, down by the pond.
At one point they came into the house asking for tin pans.
Curious, I grabbed my camera as Aunt Kathy obliged them and found them the pans they were seeking, and I followed them down by the water.
There they stood, sun at their back, up to their knees in rubber boots and water, digging their pans into the murk.
As they pulled up pan-fulls of silt, they would sift through it, searching.
"What are you panning for?" I asked.
"Gold." Isaac said, matter-of-fact-ly.
I didn't answer him; I was trying to get a shot of the mother goose and her two goslings across the pond.
"It's a silly thing to do, isn't it . . ." Isaac trailed off as he sifted through a fresh batch of silt.
"No. It's not silly. It's not silly at all." I said.
"Who knows what treasure you may find!"
He looked up at me and smiled.
I could have said so much more at that moment.
I could have told him that sometimes treasure is in the most unexpected places; that he should always dig for it, look for it, in everything, and to never give up searching for it, that he would surely find it -- find gold.
I could have.
But I didn't.
I just stood there and let the silence fall between us.
I stood, and watched them.
I was admiring my treasures!