Hi. I’m at my secret writing hideaway. My laptop is open to a blank page. My pomegranate green tea is cooling to my left. My fingers are reacquainting themselves with my keyboard.

It’s been three weeks since I’ve been here, Somehow it feels like I’ve been away on vacation, but I’ve actually been very much at home.

Ava’s preschool had a three-week spring break. We resumed our pre-preschool posture of being attached at the hip and at the book and at the paintbrush. We have read our way through two bookshelves and three trips to the library. Her art pile has tripled and my kitchen floor is gilded with glitter and sequins.

Her reliable afternoon naps now consist of multiple bathroom breaks, rescuing animals that have fallen out of bed, calling “Mama, I just want to be with you,” and anything else that doesn’t resemble sleep.

The child does not tire. She can wake up at 7:30 in the morning, dance through her nap time, and still be singing away at 10:30 in the evening. Can anyone explain this to me?

And Hungryman has had a steady appetite for company. Apparently, spending eight hours of one-on-one time with a computer doesn’t satisfy his social needs. Amazing. Quiet nights at home have transitioned into a steady stream of evening visitors.

And somewhere squeezed in the middle of all this excitement was my thirty-first birthday. I may need to type that again–I am thirty-one. Thirty-one. Sounds lovely, but it doesn’t sound like me. This year did not bring about the usual big birthday bash that my good husband is known to throw me, but a quiet succession of personalized celebrations. I am blessed with sweet friends and family that take me out for tea, dessert, dinner, and even plays.

Halfway through these happy birthdays, Ava put her little foot down. “Mama, you can’t have any more Birthdays. You have had too many Birthdays,” she cried as her daddy was pulling on her jammies and I was zipping up my evening boots. “We’ve already sang, “Happy Birthday” to you four times. You can’t have any more Birthdays!” Lucky for me, she doesn’t make the rules.

Oh, and I lost my cell phone. It’s true. Ava and I were playing a rousing game of “Go! Stop!” on our way home from the park last week. My phone made a stop and didn’t go home with me.

All this adds up to one lady, who has been closely connected to everyone in her physical presence and cut off from everyone relying on modern technology. If it wasn’t for my rather urban address, you would think I had been to the Boundary Waters these past three weeks.

As like all good friends, I have brought you a souvenir from my travels. Yes, it’s another quote. Oh, but it’s a good one. The wondrous (and humbling) thing about reading is that you discover that others have far greater things to say that you do, and they even write it better too.

This little gem comes from George MacDonald and I hope this will be the banner under which I live out my thirty-first year. I pray that these words will shine like the bright spring sun that awakens the daffodils and calls them to lift their golden heads.

“I would rather be what God chose to make me than the most glorious creature that I could think of; for to have been thought about, born in God’s thought, and then made by God is the dearest, grandest, and most precious thing in all thinking.”

If you doubt it, read the poet king’s thoughts on the subject.

Here’s what you will do with this priceless knick-knack. Copy and paste this into Word. Change it to your favorite fond and color. Print it. Trim it. Carry it to your bathroom and tape it on the mirror.

Well look at that, my tea is cold. And I just noticed that I’m still wearing my kelly green coat, which is a good thing because it’s already time to pick up Ava. Here’s hoping she’s ready for a nap. See you soon.