There’s this great scripture passage in the bible that reads “Perhaps you were born for such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14) It’s one of those passages that reminds me that life happens for a purpose and a plan. In the words of another blogger … “it means that God has put you on this earth at this time and has placed you where you are and with the people you are with for a reason.”

It’s not a coincidence that this passage is on my heart. Just a few nights ago, my youngest daughter became a first-time mama as she welcomed a new little bundle of all things boy. While waiting for his sweet arrival, my mama heart experienced moments of anxiousness, excitement, nervousness, and of course, happiness for the new life that would soon be joining our family. In addition to all these normal emotions, I must admit, I also struggled with just a tiny bit of melancholy sadness as one life chapter closed while a new one began.

My melancholy heart flashes back to when she was a baby. Knowing she was going to be my last, I cherished all the “last baby” moments as I held her close. From midnight feedings to first school bus rides and all the moments since then, she has been (and will always be) my baby. While my other daughters grew up and began families of their own, I held on to my youngest with a fierce grip that comes from being a mother. Soaking in all the “last baby” moments I could, I continued to hold her close as sweet moments were cherished.

Watching her become a mother has been by far the most precious of moments. Following the birth of her son, she anxiously listened for that first cry. With tears streaming down her face, she asked, “Is he okay?” And finally, the sweetest answer came in the form of a newborn cry. She reached for him and cradled him to her heart with a mother's grip while whispering words of love. It was at that moment that I witnessed the birth of a new mom.

Her mama journey begins as my journey changes. And the grip that I held so tight slowly loosens as it slips from my grasp to hers. And then I realize, perhaps I was born for such a time as this.

When I was a child, the start of a new year always meant a time to see how much physical changes had been made over the previous year. Before the Rose Bowl Parade could be watched on TV, my sisters and I had to parade around in our pjs while the scale was dusted off and the yardstick was located. It was our annual time to be measured, both in height and weight, in order to see how much we had grown in a year. My mom would pull out her spiral notebook and with pen in hand, readied herself to record the new numbers while my dad lined us up against the wall. Thankfully it was in the privacy of our home with just our parents and each other, but oh how I hated it.

See, I was “blessed” with an overactive metabolism and therefore known as the “skinny girl”. No matter what or how much I ate (and I could eat a lot), weight did not stick to my thin frame. I had no problem growing vertically, however. In fact, it would not be uncommon for me to spurt up a couple of inches or more each year but gain only a pound or two, if that. By this point, my dad had to measure my height because I had outgrown my mom. My dad would jovially announce that it was “time to put a brick on her head” while I would cringe with disappointment in the lack of weight-gain. I dreamt of the year that my weight would catch up with my height and no more would I have to hear jokes and pokes regarding my slender build. I will never forget the moment when I finally topped off at 100 pounds. It was also the year that I was able to fit into a pair of jeans (junior size, nonetheless) without any safety-pin modifications or home-made length extensions. Best.Year.Ever.

Now, I know what you may be thinking … “tough problem to have” … and I know that having a super-power metabolism is not the worse thing in the world. But for a skinny-minny, young teenage girl, I gladly would have given up some of my metabolism for a few extra pounds just to avoid being the target of body-image jokes and comments. (Words hurt, no matter your body size.)

The annual measurement parade now takes place in my doctor’s office and my metabolism has slowed “weigh” down (oh, to have just a little bit of that back). As a new year begins, hopefully the gains and measurements that we record are ones that reflect positiveness and kindness. This year, may our cheers be louder than the jeers. And may we see and celebrate our differences with words of affirmation in order to build up instead of tear down. Let’s make this the Best.Year.Ever. And remember ....
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Some time ago, I had a conversation with a friend who was sharing her frustrations with her soon-to-be high school graduate. I’ll never forget her comment as she said … “This must be God’s way of preparing my heart for when she leaves home for college!” We laughed because we got it. There comes a time for our darling children to leave the nest and it’s easier on our hearts to kick them out when they exhibit less than desirable attitudes and behaviors!

I’ve thought of that phrase over the years and often have wondered about other ways in which God prepares our hearts. Several years ago, my father-in-law was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. His last year was a bittersweet time of life filled with “last” celebrations. Last birthday, last Thanksgiving, last Christmas … again I remembered that phrase and felt like God was preparing our hearts so that when the time arrived, our hearts wouldn’t hurt as much. But they did.

So today I sit and contemplate another “last”. The reality of our sweet little mama’s situation is that this will be her last Mother’s Day celebration this side of heaven. My sisters and I have chatted with the medical team who is providing our mom with care. Plans are in place to make sure that her needs are being met accordingly and that her wishes are honored. Comfort care visits with a social worker and hospice staff are being scheduled. She comprehends and is ready and I would guess that she has already been mentally and spiritually preparing for this time.
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I’ve seen her physical and mental health decline over the past few years and as difficult as it is to witness, I believe my heart is being prepared for the inevitable heartache that is soon to come. In the meantime, however, I am at peace knowing that preparations are happening in Heaven for her homecoming. Jesus said, “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” And this comforts my heart. 

Sometimes when I am scrolling through the thousand cable channels in search of something decent to watch, I land on the show called “Hoarders, Buried Alive”. As I watch the show, I find myself shaking my head in disgust and in disbelief that a person could actually live in such horrible conditions. Then my common sense and compassion button turns on and I acknowledge that hoarding is a mental health issue that often stems around a loss of some sort and the hoarder is trying to fill the void with stuff. (Disclaimer ... this is my uneducated hypothesis. I’m sure there’s more to it and therefore I leave it to the professionals.)
 
While I do not consider myself a hoarder, I do like my stuff … particularly when it comes to closet stuff. (I may even have a slight obsession with boots but that’s another story for another blog). The truth is we ALL have stuff that we love and stuff that we want. And we definitely live in a country where stuff is readily available to us at any given moment. Thanks to the internet, obtaining stuff is as easy as it gets. But we are never quite satisfied with our stuff and so we continue with this craziness of buying and obtaining more.
 
You are probably thinking that Kangaroo Jane was written based on my obsession with boots and other stuff. Not so. You see, one of the things I love about children’s books is discovering something you wouldn’t normally expect … something that captures and sparks the imagination of the child. And such was the thought behind the kangaroo illustration as I wrote Hazel the Hippo. I want children to read my books and discover other characters through the illustrations. Adding a kangaroo with fun stuff in her pouch was sure to capture the attention and imagination of little readers.
 
I saw this quote one day while scrolling through social media … “the best things in life are not things to be had.” As soon as I read it, I knew that I had a story for Kangaroo Jane. This sweet kangaroo spends her days filling her pouch with objects but discovers while her pouch is full, her heart is not. I love her story and in some ways we can all relate to Kangaroo Jane’s plight. Stuff is stuff, this much is true. But at the end of the day, it’s just stuff.  It's not what fills our heart.
 
There’s a great scripture passage located in the book of Matthew. It says “Do not gather for yourself riches on earth … instead gather for yourselves riches in heaven…your heart will be where your riches are.” Find what fills your heart and you will never be wanting for more. And that, my friends, is Kangaroo Jane's story.

Thank you for reading Kangaroo Jane to your little people - I hope you love her as much as I do ... and remember ... "the best things in life are not things to be had."

I’m convinced that red shoes make for joyfully, happy feet. Whether it is the person who is wearing the red shoes or the person witnessing the red shoe attire, happiness and joy are sure to follow. Years ago as a preschool teacher, I had the joy of knowing Daniel, a very energetic 3-yr old who often sported a sweet little pair of red KEDS. From the moment he entered the room, his feet were in constant motion with the happiest little feet I have ever seen. He would run, dance, hop, and skip as he explored all things new and exciting. It was pointless to even suggest he walk while in the hallways because one simply cannot just walk when wearing red shoes. So perhaps it’s because of Daniel that I felt the desire to purchase a pair of red boots a few years ago. The moment I slipped them on, my feet began their own little happy dance. They are simply the best at making my feet smile.

My sweet red boots are a ridiculous source of joy for me. I hope that when I wear them, my inner joy radiates through me so that others may experience a bit of joy as well. The world seems a little brighter and lighter when I wear my red boots and honestly, who doesn’t need a little more of that in life? Whether you are dancing while wearing a glitzy pair of red heels, puddle jumping in red shiny rain boots, or sporting some comfy red KEDS, red shoes are simply a source of joy no matter how you wear them. I dare you to kick it up with a little bit of red and experience joy unfold in front of your eyes and between your toes!

I read this quote today … “we’ve postponed joy until we can survive the present.” How sad is that? Joy is not meant to be postponed rather it is to be experienced every.single.day. No matter your joy source, make sure you wear it loud and proud and often. You never know who may be touched and influenced by the joy you wear.

Thank you, sweet Daniel. I hope you are still radiating joy and making people smile with your enthusiasm for life while wearing red KEDS.

“For the JOY of the Lord is my strength!” Nehemiah 8:10