Miss Leah turns 3!

Just a quick snapshot of the birthday girl on the actual day. More to follow after this weekend when we have her Hip-Hip-Hippo birthday party!

Rolling pins and tears

(My grandma is shown below. She's the one with the bow.)














Isn't it interesting how some things are contagious: yawns, giggles coming from girls in sleeping bags, and sometimes grumpy, gritchy attitudes. I had a taste of that today. And it's pretty much all my fault. It began with a rolling pin...

Maya needed a rolling pin at school. In art class they were going to be working with clay. Each student needed to bring a rolling pin on Tuesday. As I pulled my rolling pin out of the pantry to hand to her, I questioned myself. My rolling pin was a bridal shower gift from my grandma. My grandma was so special to me. She lived literally "up the road" from our farmhouse. She was an ever-present member at holidays, harvest, birthdays, etc. She passed away six years ago and I miss her terribly. I miss her strong, quiet Christian presence, her no-nonsense Depression Era frugality, and her amazing apple pies made from apples she picked in her backyard. Both my mother and grandmother bake (or baked) pies. I remember watching my grandma rolling out the crust on her 1950's-era kitchen table; the way she put pats of butter atop the apples before laying on the top crust. So when I see a rolling pin, my mind goes straight to her. And as I grabbed my rolling pin, that I have treasured since my bridal shower, I thought to myself "nothing better happen to this today."

In Maya form (such a sharp cookie, such an absent-minded little rememberer), she used it on Tuesday, then forgot to bring it home that day. I'm sad to report, it was the first thing I asked her as she got into the car, falling even before "How was your day?" So I anxiously awaited her walking to the car with it today. And her face as she walked to the car told me the story. As she handed me the clay-caked rolling pin, my eyes went immediately to the scrapes, scratches and large dents that covered it.

Those tears you so very much want to hold back--the hot ones that start stinging your eyes and make your throat burn, started trickling down my face. The explanation she gave, "Mom, I just let one of the boys in class borrow it. He rolled it over the walls and things as we walked out" didn't seem to assuage the sadness, disappointment, and I will admit, anger, that I felt welling. As a mom, I don't have all that much "stuff." And I'm not really a "stuff" person to begin with. But items that contain memories are important to me. So I went down the path that I ought not to have gone. Before we even arrived home, Maya was in tears, Tess was wide-eyed and silent, and Leah was offering up kisses to anyone that would "make it better." The contagiousness of my ugly continued at home, and soon one child is crying in her room, the other two are arguing and engaged in an all-out brawl over a play tea set and I can't manage to keep myself from crying.

After a moment or two (and a quick prayer) I think I got it. My grandma isn't wrapped up in that rolling pin. My memories are. And no dent or scrape to the wood will take that away. The moral lessons I have gained from her and the memories of my childhood that she is woven into will not and cannot be lost, altered or ruined by a fourth grade boy bouncing this piece of baking equipment down the halls of school. The more I thought about it, Grandma would be thrilled that not only have I used the rolling pin she gave me, but Maya has as well. And that she had shared it with someone else in class.

There's something very humbling, but renewing, about apologizing to your child. As I cuddled up next to Maya as she laid sniffling on her bed, I explained to her that my tears were sadness for my Grandma being gone, not a rolling pin. But the memories I will keep. I asked her to forgive me for my rather emotional reaction and told her that I absolutely forgive her for the rolling pin coming home a bit altered. God models it so much better than I.

So this one is to Frieda. I'm lucky to be her grand-daughter. And to my daughter, Maya. I hope you bake pies. I hope you pass your rolling pin on to a daughter to dent up in school.

(This is Grandma, Grandpa, my aunt on the left, and my mom on the right...let me tell you about her pecan pies...)