Isn’t this a lovely Easter basket ?  With tiny little silk flowers and dried moss around the outside,  the curved wooden handle gracefully arching across, and the pink, dainty butterfly adorning the handle, this is the sweetest basket I’ve ever seen.  I just filled the center with new, soft reindeer moss-the perfect bed for pretty, painted eggs.  

 Believe it or not, this was my childhood basket, and it is 26 years old.   My mother bought it for me when I was about 9.  Now, I couldn’t use it,  mind you.  That wasn’t the point.  Mother bought it because it was beautiful.  You may say “That’s silly. Why buy a child a basket so fragile it can’t be played with?”  The answer is simple.  My mother loved beautiful things.  The gift of a beautiful thing, to her, was a higher gift.  It was not just a gift from parent to child, but from artist to artist, from soul to soul.  My mother gave me my appreciation for “beauty for beauty’s sake” and I am exactly like her today. 

   I smile when I look at it because it reminds me so much of her.   Next week will mark the sixth year since her passing, and I miss her so much.  She could make anything, sew anything, do anything.  My mother shot 12 point bucks and won blue ribbons with her cross-stitch pieces at the State Fair.  She rode a Harley-Davidson and made original stained glass windows.   She rocked and mortared her own custom flower beds and crocheted the softest baby sweaters.  Her hands knew no idleness.

As I head to the cemetery this weekend to put new flowers at my parent’s gravesites, I will probably cry just as much as I always do.  The premature deaths of my mom and dad are an ever present reminder of the transcience of life. I’m so grateful to have my Easter basket and many other beautiful things to remind me of them both.  Even more, I praise God for the hope of my resurrection in Christ.  It’s not far off, and I am ready to see them again.