Month: April 2025

Big dreams with a cherry on top

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One of our granddaughters announced she is going to an ice cream parlor on her honeymoon. I thought it would be good to get that on record in case she changes her mind and starts talking about a Caribbean cruise or backpacking through Europe.

She is not engaged.

She doesn’t date.

She is six.

To the best of everyone’s knowledge, she has never even had a crush, let alone a boyfriend. Frankly, some boys are afraid of her. I’m not saying they’re wrong to be afraid. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. As a matter of fact, I hope she still has that quality when she does start dating.

We don’t think she has her eye on anyone just yet, she is simply dreaming far into the future when one day she may leave her first loves: Ranger, the big black lab with a tail that can knock you across the room, Annie, the red lab that licks your face, Dusty, the hefty cat with an attitude to match, Jellybean, the lop-eared rabbit that chews clothes, bedding and romaine, and the chickens and ducks, and all the cute little mice.

Oh, and the family. She loves the family.

It would take a special power to pull her from those many loves, and apparently ice cream will be part of that pull.

Perhaps she’s been inspired by the old-fashioned ice cream parlor in town. It has magnificent vintage woodwork, big mirrors, ice cream chairs with black iron scrolls and sundaes that come in parfait tulip glasses with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

It’s good to dream at any age. Imagination is fuel for the future.

The child is what some might call a visionary, especially when it comes to wardrobe. She often pairs red cowgirl boots with a fluffy pink tutu, leggings and a unicorn pajama top. Is that Versace we hear calling?

Red cowgirl boots are a staple in her world. They’re for all seasons and all occasions. In the summer, she wears them with her swimsuit. It’s a head-turner at the neighborhood pool in the city ‘burbs where her cousins live.

Her hair is usually styled messy mode with curls swirling this way and that, sweeping across her eyes and straddling her nose. Nothing wrong with messy hair. You work with what God gives you.

Maybe one day she will find a fellow who will love and respect her, and she will love and respect him back and they’ll live happily ever after with dogs and cats and ducks and chickens and eat ice cream every day that ends in y.

Dream big.

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The intersection of bunnies, Christmas and Easter

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On a cold spring day years ago, young neighbor children found a small, dead bunny in their yard. They ran inside to tell their mother about the discovery. She went outside with the children to view the pitiful sight.

When the woman’s husband came home that evening, unbeknown to the children, he disposed of the bunny. The next day, the children went outside and discovered the dead bunny was gone. They rushed inside to ask their mother what could have happened.

She told them the bunny had been resurrected.

My friend saw the circumstances as a teachable moment for Easter.

For the record, the children all grew up to be healthy well-adjusted adults who are productive members of society.

For several hundred years following the life of Christ, the major holiday on the Christian calendar was Easter. In our times, that is flipped.

Last year, Christmas netted 972 billion in sales. Easter netted 22 billion, which is paltry in comparison but enough to generate tons of chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps.

Christmas is buoyed not only by commercialism, but by the tender story of a baby born in a manger to a humble peasant couple. Easter is a harder and more gruesome story to teach, let alone market.

Though intense and frightening, the lessons of Easter are relevant for all ages. Suffering and sorrow touch every one of us. Even children. Who doesn’t remember tears shed over the death of a beloved pet? Grief and sorrow over the death of a family member or friend can feel unbearable.

In the biblical account, when Jesus was crucified, dead and buried, his friends and followers were crushed to the brink of despair. When Jesus died, their hope died as well.

After they laid his body in the tomb and the stone was rolled in front of it, they all sheltered together. Together in times of sorrow helps. As hopeless as things seemed, the darkness did not swallow them whole, though they may have wished it would.

On the Sunday after Jesus died, Mary Magdalene, a friend and follower who witnessed the crucifixion, went to the tomb in the early morning. The rock had been rolled away and the tomb was empty. As she stood bewildered and sobbing, Jesus appeared to her. She ran to tell the others the good news that Christ had risen from the dead and was alive. This is the origin of “good news.”

When the ever-lengthening Christmas season is over, all the gift-giving and merry-making drawn to a close, how do people often feel? Many experience sadness and melancholy. The clinical name for that is post-Christmas blues.

When Easter is over, people most often feel refreshed and joyful, imbued with the hope of new life and rebirth. When Holy Week appears darkest, light pierces the clouds. Christmas may net the most attention and money, but Christmas and Easter are integral parts of the same narrative. Christmas sets the stage—Easter is “the rest of the story.”

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Egg’scuse me, may I borrow an egg?

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Our youngest daughter called the other day sounding harried. “I’m in the middle of cooking and I’m short an egg. Is it still OK to borrow an egg from a neighbor?”

I didn’t know what to say. Miss Manners never covered this one. Then again, Miss Manners probably never paid more than 75 cents for a dozen eggs.

It used to be fine to borrow an egg. An egg wasn’t a big deal. Eggs were so cheap that some people threw them at other people’s houses.

Today, if someone threw eggs at a house anyone who lived inside would run outside and try to catch them. (The eggs, not the people.)

Splat! Another one scrambled.

Eggs are so expensive I heard the Easter bunny was going all plastic this year.

“Has your neighbor ever borrowed an egg from you?” I asked our daughter.

“No,” she said.

“Hmmm. How well do you know her?”

“They moved in last fall and had their first baby a few weeks ago.”

“Get your car keys; I think you’re headed to the store. You can’t borrow an egg from a woman you haven’t known for long and who just had a baby. These days, you can only borrow eggs from close friends, family members, or people who owe you large sums of money.”

“I took her a couple of meals when the baby came.”

“Did the meals contain eggs?”

“No.”

“What if you bartered? Offer a pound of ground beef in exchange for an egg.”

The cost of eggs is so high that when you buy eggs at the store, if someone else is also standing there checking to see if any are cracked, there’s an unwritten rule that you both grumble about the cost. At the very least, you exchange looks and shake your heads. Hating on the cost of eggs is the new way to meet people and build community.

Before long, groceries won’t even keep eggs in cartons anymore. They’ll have a maître’ d come out with an egg in a velvet-lined box and ask, “Can I interest you in a down payment?”

After a brief silence, our daughter says, “I’m going to run to the store, Mom. Borrowing an egg is too big a risk—what if she or the baby is sleeping?”

Now that is truly a price too high to pay.
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