The Groundhog saw his shadow this morning (at least in Utah, I hear Punxsutawney Phil did NOT!). Six more weeks of Winter (at the very least). Sorry about that.
I’ve always had a ridiculous sort of pride in my birthdate--02/02, Groundhog’s Day. Such a clean, simple date and easily remembered by the annual rodent weather predictor. Well, easy for me to remember, at least.
But people remember. Thanks to the age of the Internet where Facebook announces our birthdates and a kind word is only a text or email away, sweet messages trickled in all day long. And for a girl like me who thrives on appreciation and praise, it’s the perfect sort of day.
Last fall I wrote about getting older, getting better, and you know what? I AM. I feel happier, healthier, more myself than ever (some of this is due to an excellent doctor). I know what I believe, I know my priorities and my passions and I’m secure about my own set of faults and strengths. More than ever, I feel free to let my wildly creative mind just GO!
The setting sun tonight found me balancing on a ladder in my front yard filming Mary twirling in the snow, sparkling confetti flying and a giant heart outlined in pink and red lights. And I’m not embarrassed; I don’t care who stares as they drive by.
My friend Shelah recently quoted Peggy O'Mara, “Be careful how you speak to your children. One day it will become their inner voice." And I realized, the voice in my head has changed. My wonderful but overburdened mother was extremely critical of me. I think, the popular wisdom of the time was to correct, correct, correct. Before her death my mother apologized and I have more than forgiven her. I still hear her voice in my head, but it’s different now-- full of love and delight and encouragement. She doesn’t think I need to lose ten pounds or keep the pantry perfectly clean, she simply wants me to nurture and enjoy my children, to recognize the beauty all around me. And I do.