Soul Yoga (?)

Today is stretching me.

• The kids have colds. It's especially sad for Lily. Poor little doll was fitfully beside herself at naptime just now. Couldn't settle down for anything. But when she settled, the sweetness was magnificent. I rocked her all the way to sleep, which reward was worth the endurance of wales and writhes.

• I have something chronically wrong with my nursing parts, mostly my left one. (Medication doesn't seem to be helping. The clogged ducts don't help either.) And I cannot wait to wean. I'm hopelessly soft for my little girl, unwilling to impose much hardship upon her (and am unsure how to go about it at this point,) or I might be in the weaning process already. Or I might have been in the process four months ago.
  

• And the bread rose right up into the damp cloth that was covering it and oh, what a mess we had on our hands! Baked up okay. Ugly, but edible. Works for this crowd.
  

We had a lovely Easter. Peter Cottontail left a "scabenger hunt" of egg-shaped clues, (one requiring a trip out to the mailbox in the morning rain,) that finally led Henry to a cowboy hat and a chocolate bunny hidden cleverly in the (cold) oven. (Of all the places, Peter!) We dyed eggs, talked about Jesus, rejoiced in the eternality of life and families. I made my first batch of rolls from scratch (slowly conquering my fear of yeast) - thought about you, Anne, as I used your recipe. We dined with friends, glutted ourselves on traditional Easter fare, hunted for hidden goodies, and fell into bed exhausted and thankful.

And when we woke up on Monday morning, Henry said, "Mom, is this like a season or a special day?"
"Well, it's spring," I told him.
"Oh, well I hope the Spring Man brings me a scabenger hunt with a surprise at the end! I think he will! But wait! Mom, is it still Easter?"
"No, Easter was yesterday, now it's over."
Crestfallen and very concerned, "Oh no." Head in hands, "Oh no!"
"What sweetie?"
"If it's not Easter, does that mean Jesus is dead again?"
Once more, I explained the unimaginable concept of rising again, living forever. And we took a little moment to feel the wonder of that gift. Again. Together. At the breakfast table.

I have never loved Easter so much as I loved it this year. One of the most poignant promptings I felt from conference was that I needed to teach my children why we celebrate Easter. While I listened to Elder Holland's words, it came to my heart like bricks, "my children have to understand this." I thought of the cross and the garden and all the associated suffering, and couldn't abide the thought of my children thinking Easter is just about candy and bunnies and chicks. Ultimately, I understand that those conference feelings had to do with Easter - yes, but there was more. It was the weight of making sure that no matter where else my children learn about the Savior, they are also (mostly, I hope,) learning about Him from their mother. Knowing that she belives Him. And loves Him. Even though she will never be able to explain to them the miracles of His grace in her life, the mysterious way that His easy yoke and burden of light helped her bear her own until she almost couldn't feel it anymore.

The hard part, of course, is the implementation. Letting this understanding of duty inform speech, thought, deed. Like today. Trying to push back impatience (which is fighting mightily for the spotlight), and frustration; trying to make more room for love and gentleness. Trying to make it 'til bedtime without a meltdown. Trying.