This time of year always brings with it something gentle.
Itās in the scent of rain and soil.
Itās in the budding trees and soft pink blooms.
Itās in the longer days that seem to whisper,
āYou made it through the dark. Let the light in. Breathe.ā
And this week, as Easter approaches, Iāve been thinking a lot about renewalānot the big dramatic kind, but the quiet kind. The kind that tiptoes in through small moments and sweet memories.
š£ The Magic in the Messy š£
I remember one Easter years ago when nothing went according to plan.
The eggs were dyed with hands that were just as colorful as the shells.
The basket bows were crooked, and the chocolate bunny was accidentally sat on (yes, really). And the cat was chasing the eggs all over the place!
But the giggles. The tiny hands proudly showing off ātheir best egg.ā
The family crowded into the kitchen.
The imperfect photo snapped on the front steps.
That was joy. That was renewal. That was Easter.
It wasnāt perfect. But it was real. It might have been louder and messier than I expected, but maybe it was better. And thatās what Iāve come to hold close.
š¼ Flowers, Memories & Finding Meaning in the Garden š¼
Thereās something about spring flowers that feels like a hug from the earth.
The soft purples, buttery yellows, and delicate blooms feel like promises.
āYou made it through.ā
Lately, Iāve been dreaming of refreshening our little memorial garden.
Not something overly formalājust a space filled with color, love, and remembrance.
A way to honor Garet and all the pieces of him that still bloom in my heart.
I nearly cried when I saw pansies at the garden center this year.
Theyāve been gone for so longāsince the chaos of 2020āand their return felt like a quiet celebration.
I missed them. They feel so cheerful to me.
Iāve always loved pansies and snapdragonsātough little flowers that thrive in cooler weather.
Kind of like us.
Fragile and fierce, all at once.
Maybe this is the year the rose will bloom. And I need to trim the Butterfly Bush before it is too late in that little garden.
With blooms that remind me of him.
And hope that reminds me of why I keep going.
š½ āEaster Breakfastā ā Joy, Pain, and Traditions That Stay š½
Thereās this tradition in our family that we call āEaster Breakfast.ā
It started with my mom, and when I became a mom, I carried it onāstarting with Garet.
It became our thing.
Every Easter our crew quickly peeled the eggs for that special breakfast. Lots of giggles from little ones with bedhead and bunny ears.
But this yearālike every year sinceāitās hard.
Becauseāfor meāit started with him.
And nowā¦ heās not here but I am.
Iāll be honestāI donāt want to make it.
I donāt want to put on a smile and peel the eggs. I don’t want to even think about that meal.
But I have four beautiful kids still at home who count on Easter morning magic. Who deserve their traditionsābecause it was theirs just as much as it was his.
And I will give it to them.
Because I am learning how to feel joy in the pain.
And itās better than it used to be. I am learning to adjust.
There will be laughter.
And maybe a few tears.
And Iāll feel him there in every momentāespecially the ones that hurt and heal at the same time.
š± You Donāt Have to āBounce BackāāJust Begin Again š±
If youāre holding your breath waiting to feel like yourself again, this is your reminder:
You donāt have to bounce back. In fact, don’t expect yourself to go back to who you were.
This is a new you. The “you” that can start again. Gently. Slowly.
You can (and will) find new ways to feel joyāeven if youāre carrying pain, too.
You can dye the eggs, or skip it this year.
You can cry and laugh on the same day.
You can be hereājust as you are.
š¬ Iād Love to KnowāWhat Brings You Hope This Season? š¬
Is there a spring flower that makes your heart feel lighter?
A tradition passed down from someone you miss?
A moment where joy snuck in when you werenāt expecting it?
š Tell me what soft starts youāre noticing.
Letās celebrate them together.
Letās grow forward, together.
Light and Love ~Mandy
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