This bunny is where it all began. Yup, right here in his great-grandmother’s home where we were living at the time. I still remember the angle his father had to bend beneath the table just to make sure the weight of his body didn’t burst out of the basket onto the hardwood floor.
Jesus may have risen that day, but so did the expectation of “topping” what I captured the year before.
I guess you could say the basket, eggs and ears kind of started a mild obsession. From here, we did the whole Easter Bunny thing; hoping our child wouldn’t be one of the sane ones that understandably screamed as a white tailed, fuzzy monster beckoned him to his lap. While Isaiah didn’t scream, yell or protest the creepy lap, he did exactly as we expected. He pondered on the thought and took awhile to decide if the white-tailed, fuzzy monster was really worth all the hype.
While he wasn’t too amused that year, his tolerance soon transformed into admiration and dare I say, excitement?
I have an admission to make. While I’d spend weeks planning, hours detailing and mornings anxious about how to “make it all happen,” I found myself relying on the lens of my camera to capture what the anxiety inside of me couldn’t be present for. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I believe that is what happens to most of us parents.
We work so hard at the details that sometimes we forget to be present as the details we work tirelessly at executing unfold right before our eyes.
Then, soon another bunny joined us.
She didn’t just bring new meaning, but she brought companionship. Suddenly her brother had his very own muse to take his place. Autumn willingly went along for the ride and guess what? She still does.
And so it began again.
Reliving the joy.
Being a part of what Autumn sees as she insists on bringing me along for the ride.
Then there is this moment that happens between siblings. Where you can tell that the joy they once insisted was reserved for you becomes secondary to the experience they prefer with each other.
That is the joy of any holiday or occasion for me. Watching them.
Observing what they see in each other.
Receiving affirmation that love is brewing in these sacred moments.
I can tell you Autumn is less fond of the Easter Bunny.
Unless it’s one she made herself.
But I’ll forever share the stories of how she confiscated the eggs better than the rest of ’em.
You see, these two are what make the holidays worth it for me as a mother.
They’re my invitation to see the blessings through the exhausting, challenging, sacrificial and thankless moments.
They’re the invitation to get out from the background and join them in the present.
They’re my invitation to see new life through their eyes, excitement and joy when I can’t always recognize it.
They’re my invitation to see that every year brings new growth (and even height).
Just when I thought these two couldn’t possibly bring more life, renewal and revival…
Our third bunny joined us. Benjamin would be the last one to take on the infamous basket, eggs and bunny ears that I never knew God intended to occupy another time.
Something tells me they did.
That’s the funny thing about motherhood. Some days you think you’ve got it all figured out.
…and other days you’re convinced they are helping you to figure it out.
Some day I hope they will look back and know that the crazed, anxious, organized, exhausted and manic mama did it all because she never wanted to miss this a single detail, even if imperfectly at times ( a lot of times).
And even if at times it seemed I wasn’t present, I worked hard to capture it even if they weren’t looking. When I look back at the photos, it helps me to realize what the chaos of life, marriage and motherhood don’t always permit us to see. It’s raw. It takes pieces of yourself and puts them on reserve when you least expect it. But, you know what?
It’s full too. My lap, my hands, my arms and my heart?
In Love & Truth,