Month: April 2025

Built with Love

If I can still count correctly, then yesterday was the 18th birthday that I have celebrated with my husband. I was in my early 30s when I met him, and now I’ve broken into my 50s. Time flies!

After nearly two decades of birthdays together, you would think it would be difficult to surprise me or leave me speechless. This man, however, managed to do just that.

Ever since we moved into our house, I have talked about wanting an arbor at the end of our brick walkway in the backyard. I’ve looked up ideas, measured the walkway, but for some reason, never pulled the trigger to actually getting one. It became one of those “maybe someday” kind of things.

Until the night before my birthday, that is, when I came home from work, and the posts for the sides of my new arbor were set in concrete at the end of the walkway. My husband was apologizing, telling me how he had wanted it to be finished before I got home, but he got interrupted with customers and didn’t get to take the entire day off like he had planned.

He hadn’t just purchased an arbor, which would have still been a wonderful present, but he took it a million steps beyond that. The backyard was scattered with his sawhorses, wood boards, cases for his saws. He was building the arbor for me from scratch, with his own two hands, from a design in his head.

I stood in the yard with him as he actually apologized for not being finished, and I couldn’t stop looking at the beautiful beginning of my new arbor, thinking how much work he was putting into this, and I was stunned that he wanted to do this for me. His job is a lot of exhausting manual labor, and being willing to take on this project instead of rest was simply amazing to me.

Yesterday, we went to lunch together, then he finished building the arbor. He called me when it was finished, and I ran outside. It’s gorgeous, with decorative curved edges on the boards, and far more beautiful than any of the pre-built ones I had ever seen.

I was still standing in front of it, admiring it, when he asked, “Do you like it?”

What a silly question! I hugged him and told him, “I love it.” And I do. I already bought seed packets for vines with all different colors of flowers to grow on it, and I can’t wait to see it drenched in blooms.

I already loved our yard, and now I adore it even more. I know the arbor was a lot of work, and he built it because he loves me, which is a gift that could never have a price placed upon it. It means everything to me, because he means everything to me. It is, beyond a doubt, the most wonderful birthday gift I have ever received, and just looking at it makes me so happy.

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Resurrection

This quote stood out to me and felt so relevant right now, both because of Easter Sunday, of course, and because of positive changes in my own life lately. This is a happy Easter for so many reasons, and I am looking forward to celebrating the day with my husband.

Happy Easter Sunday!

“Let every man and woman count himself immortal. Let him catch the revelation of Jesus in his resurrection. Let him say not merely, ‘Christ is risen’, but ‘I shall rise.’ “– Phillips Brooks

This Easter

I was raised Catholic, and my mom was deeply religious, so this week has me thinking of her even more than ever. I remember coloring Easter eggs at the dining room table with my brothers, that food coloring mixed with vinegar, so that to this day, the smell of vinegar reminds me of coloring eggs. She showed me how to use a white crayon to draw a design on the egg shell before dipping it, and I marveled at my artwork appearing like magic on the colored egg (usually purple, my favorite color).

I remember her hiding our Easter baskets in the house so that we had to hunt for them, laughing and searching behind the couch, in cabinets, everywhere we suspected a basket full of chocolate bunnies and jelly beans might be stashed out of sight, while she watched and offered hints as needed.

And, of course, I remember going to church, wearing my best dress for Easter Sunday, my typically rowdy hair brushed into submission and my legs peppered with mosquito bites, scrapes, and Band-Aids. I can still perfectly picture that tiny church, sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, the waxy smell of candles in the air, the smooth, dark wood of the pews. On Easter Sunday, those pews would be filled with pastel pinks and blues and yellows, colors of spring and hope and new growth.

I drifted away from attending church as I got older, and I know that disappointed my mom. But her influence never completely left me, and much more of it stayed with me than she ever suspected. Most people might be surprised to know that I begin each morning with a prayer for all of my loved ones: my husband, the kids, my brothers. I say thanks for all that we have and for us finding each other. My husband is, beyond a doubt, the greatest blessing of my life, and I do believe that something beyond fate led us to each other.

This Easter Sunday, I won’t be sitting down on the footstool in the living room for my father to brush the knots out of my hair, and I won’t be grumbling under my breath as I tug a lacy, frilly dress over my head. I won’t load up in the car with my brothers, and I won’t sit next to my mom at church, listening to her sing, resting my head against her shoulder and smelling her light perfume.

But I will still celebrate Easter, in my own way. I will still think of my mom, my dad, and that tiny church. I will reach out to my brothers, try to connect over so many miles in between us. I will reflect on Easter and its significance and its meaning in my life. And I will say my silent prayers, say thank you for my husband, and be grateful that I will spend the day with someone I love so dearly.

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