Easter Baskets

This post is solely for me to lift a weight off my mind. It's just so therapeutic for me to sit down at a blank screen and type away. Typing without any sense or regard as to who might be reading it. Kinda like sending a message in a bottle out to sea, I guess.

Tonight I went to Target to pick up a few things, and since the kiddos were at home with Robbie, I enjoyed some rare time to just wander around the store.

I found my way to the part of the store where all the Valentine's day stuff was already 50% off (sheesh not even 24 hours have passed!), and they were setting up Easter goodies.  My eyes glossed over all the pastel colors, chocolates, jelly beans, and plastic grasses.  There were so many cute baskets, decorations, and fun treats displayed.

And then it hit me, unannounced, like always.  I should have known.  Because it always catches me off guard with the little things.

Admiring all the Easter goodies made me miss my Mom so terribly.  I could literally feel my heart aching.  My mind flashed back to all the Easter mornings when we awoke to beautiful baskets on the kitchen counter.  What made them so beautiful was that my Mom would always pay special attention to what candies and various treats we liked, and tailor made them for each of us.  You could really feel that she put them together with love. 

My favorite part was hunting in the plastic grass for chocolate eggs.  She always buried the chocolate eggs in the grass.  When the basket looked empty, I would forage through that grass like it was my last meal and I always seemed to find at least one last egg. 

Even as we grew older, she would still make Easter baskets for us.  Over the years the contents would change slightly.  Maybe throwing in new makeup for my sister, or a new movie for me.  But always lots of yummy candy and chocolate.  Chocolate was a must! 

As a married woman living in my own house, I knew and greatly looked forward to the Easter basket that would be coming my way that afternoon for the family gathering.  Age, schmage.

For Maverick's first two Easters, his basket was filled with little books and toys.  It was so sweet!  I'm sure she looooooved putting them together.  Of course, I still got my chocolate...Momma never forgets! :)

Standing in the aisle, my mind raced to last Easter.  She gave Mav the most awesome basket ever.  The basket was a baseball (so, so cute!) and all the eggs were baseball shaped.  That was the first Easter that Mav got candy in his basket (and I enjoyed my parental right of snooping through it).  I'm so glad we still have it.  Actually, the other day Mav was playing with the little baseball eggs.

Then my throat filled with a painful lump at the thought of her not being here for this Easter, and all the ones to come.  I know it's somewhat selfish of me to think that way because she is with her Savior, and only knows of perfect love and peace in Heaven.  But at the same time, I want her back so badly.  I want her back to see her grandsons get their Easter baskets.  I want her back so I can call her to talk about any and every thing.  I want her back for so many reasons.  Too many to type.

My eyes locked on to the floor tiles all the way to the check out lane.  I didn't want anyone to see that I was on the brink of heavy tears.  As the doors opened to the parking lot, and the cold, sharp air hit my face; my chest started heaving.  I walked as fast as I could to my car so I could let it all out.

When I pulled into my driveway, my heart broke and I sobbed greatly.  I called out to God, telling him how much I missed my Mom.  Then I sat still, looking through the moonroof at all the stars in the sky.  And I felt God wrapping me up in his arms.  I felt like He was telling me He knows my pain, because He knows searing loss.  His son died too. 

And then He reminded me that His son now lives, and my Mom does too.  In Heaven.  Where there is no pain.  No loss.  No tears.  No cancer.  Just pure, unfiltered love.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I'm not saying my Mom is on the same level as Jesus (at all!).  But I really felt like God was speaking to me as a Dad who had gone through the suffering of losing his Son; so that I would know that He knows my pain as a Daughter who has lost her Mom.

I guess what my point is...is that God will always be there where we are; whatever we are going through.  Because He has been through it.  And He will bring us through it too.