Beads

My daughter requested a bead kit for Christmas. I was slightly hesitant at first because these bead kits get pricey! Not only the cost, but I was not mentally ready to deal with having loose beads all over the house if she spilled it. We'd already dealt with Legos, scraps of cut paper, paper stars, play money coins, puzzle pieces, foam letter stickers, colored pencils, crayons, magnatiles, mini figures, toy cars, play gemstones, Cheerios, and probably more categories of tiny toys and food I've failed to mention. I did not want to add beads to that list.

Well, I ended up taking her to the store and she looked at a bunch and told me which ones she didn't want and which ones she wanted. I took some pictures, went home, and looked online again to find one to closely match her pre-approved selections from the store. In the end, the one I purchased was not "pre-approved" but I think she was going to enjoy it. 

The package arrived, and it was much smaller than I anticipated. I was very tempted to open it up and look, but I had to save it for Christmas. So I wrapped it up, put it under the tree, and was glad I had an extra long return window with the holiday season. 

She opened it early because we let the kids open some presents before Christmas. She loved it! I know my daughter after all. And she's aligned her heart with the things the child inside of me loves (not intentionally!), so it's pretty easy to shop for her. 😝

She wanted to make bracelets immediately, but I told her to wait a few days. She didn't even try to object and waited patiently for the day she could make bracelets, another cue that I've been blessed with very special children. 

When we sat down to make bracelets together, she had so much fun. She wanted to make one for all her friends at school, family members, and even one for her piano teacher! As I watched her make these bracelets, the little girl inside of me really wanted to make one myself.

So I did!

M💗MMY

It was so much fun making bracelets with my daughter. I was even able to repair a bracelet I bought in high school which had broken in the last five years because the elastic was too old. 

These loose beads were hanging out on the bathroom
counter at my dad's house for the last few years.

Slowly restringing them.

Good as new!

I spent $3.50 on this bracelet in high school and it's not worth much at all, but being able to fix it instead of throw it away was very satisfying. What started out as a one bead kit actually turned into three, but I have been able to partake in the joy and enjoyment of her gift as well. Perhaps I should oblige her wishes more often. 😁 and I've only dealt with a "couple" beads on the floor. 

Pivotal

So I have not been blogging as much as I want to because life has been crazy this summer. My kids have started school (I know, they're old enough. Can you believe it? I both can and can't at the same time.) And life has felt like it's gone into turbo mode with them in school. We are doing a hybrid-type program with school and parent-guided homework so I feel like I just got dumped extra work even though I have some time away from both my kids now. But life is busy and I can't complain about where we're at, but wow, it's picked up a pace I wasn't quite expecting to be honest. 

I've always liked to be an intentional person, but the older I get, the more I feel the need to be intentional. One of the things I like is to be able to tell people from my past about where I am now and how I appreciate them for being in that phase of my life. No, I'm not going around messaging every person I went to high school with. But there are specific people who stand out for one reason or another. 

I actually started doing this with poignant books I read, too. I write to the author. In the last year, I've written to two. I heard back from the manager of one author. I don't take it personally when I don't hear back because there's numerous reasons why they don't respond. But on my behalf, I wrote to them, and that's the most I can expect of myself to do. I have yet to write to an author that I've been wanting to write to since I was a child. Her book has meant a lot to me, and yes, I've written about it on the blog. If you know what book/which author I'm talking about without me linking the post, then you really know me well and keep up with the blog. 😊 The main reason I haven't gotten around to writing her is because she does not have an online contact form. I've got to write or type out a letter to her, stick it in an envelope and use a stamp to mail it to her. Can I do all this? Absolutely. But unfortunately, it's so much easier for me to do something on a computer, phone, or iPad, so anything that can't be done from these three technologies is usually put off or forgotten. 

Recently, I messaged an old friend on her website. Her name has popped into my head multiple times throughout the years. I don't expect a response from her because if I did, chances are, I would be disappointed. We went to middle school together for one year. We met through communication applications class, or better known as "speech class." Now this isn't speech class for those needing extra help in pronunciation and speaking English. This was the communications class on presenting speeches, poise, gestures, and everything public speaking. Why in the world did I choose this class? 

Because it's my weakness. And for some reason, 12-year-old me thought, why not pick an elective to work on something I'm not good at? How mature of me, right? Instead of choosing an art class or home economics to craft and cook, I chose to suffer through a semester of writing and giving speeches to a class full of people I don't remember except this one friend. 

At the end of the school year, she found out she was moving. Again. She was used to it, but it didn't make the move any easier. At the end of the school year, my mom died. Life would never look the same for me ever again. She wrote me a note for the last day of school, and put it into a pouch she made along with a friendship bracelet and her school picture. I kept them all these years in a little box at my dad's house. 

How many 8th graders know how to sew/put together a knit pouch like this today?

Yes, I'm sentimental. I'm actually less sentimental than I used to be, but still sentimental nonetheless. But it's these little building blocks of memories which have led me to where I am today. 

In a year neither of us knew would be so pivotal to our lives, we had each other. 

Bye Bye, BBB

I’ve seen many stores go out of business over the years. I remember when Foley’s closed. My parents purchased many of my piano competition dresses from Foley’s back in the day. My in-laws bought two sets of dining tables and chairs during their closing sale. They gave us one table when we got married and it’s the table we eat off daily. I remember watching Super 1 Foods close as a child. It became Rainbow Foods for a while and then disappeared altogether. I remember when Service Merchandise disappeared. 

The red trim.

In the last 10 years, I remember watching Sears close. My daughter has actually been to a Sears before although she will never remember. I remember going to their store closing sale, pushing her in her stroller when she was less than a year old. We made the mistake of leaving the house without a diaper or wipes - it was one or both. And she happened to have a blow out. We laid a blanket under her bottom in the car seat and then strapped her in to go home and change. I’ve even commemorated this event in one of her baby photo albums. 

Another store is closing now. I’ve loved Bed Bath and Beyond since I was a child. My aunt was the person who introduced this store to me and she knew it was one of my favorites. When I was in high school, we visited my aunt and she took my cousins and my brother and me out shopping. She was going to Bed Bath and Beyond and the boys were going to Target next door to look at electronics and video games. She asked me if I wanted to go with her or the boys. Guess where I chose to go? 

Target. 

Now as an adult and a female, Target sounds very appealing to go wander for any amount of time. However, I didn’t have that appeal as a teenager. Target felt like a grocery store to me. (Yes, I distinguish the difference now, but this was nearly two decades ago.) So why didn’t I go with my aunt? 

I wanted to call a boy and I couldn’t do that next to my aunt. I could easily run away from my cousins and brother, and the truth was, they didn’t care. Alas, it ended up being a terrible decision because I had neither a pleasant phone conversation nor an enjoyable time with the boys. I recounted this whole experience in my first book, and as much as I cringe at my own memories, I am thankful some of them have been written down or else they would be lost in the abyss of history that is my past. 

When we got married, we registered at Bed Bath and Beyond. They were the quintessential wedding registry. We went in store and used the little scanner guns going around the store scanning items. We received a number of gift cards from friends and family which we’ve had no problems using in the last nine years. I hoarded the coupons every time they came in the mail. For the longest time, they let you use expired coupons. The most valuable ones were $5 off a $15 purchase or $10 off a $30 purchase. In my email, I even received coupons that were $20 off $75. There were coupons for all types of purchases, big or small. It was just playing the game of which coupon I had for which purchase I wanted to make. 

Buy Buy Baby was their sister company. I never stepped foot in one until I was pregnant with my first child. Did you guess it? I was hooked. It became my favorite store to walk in as a new parent to buy the random miscellaneous things I thought I needed to survive this new stage of life I was in. They also accepted Bed Bath and Beyond coupons for a while so I could save both and use them interchangeably at the stores. I’ll never forget the giant blown up pictures of babies they put up in their store foyer which were visible from the parking lot. My daughter aptly knew that store as the “baby store” because of those images. 

It definitely feels like the end of an era for me. I had an entire envelope of coupons saved up which I tossed out recently when they stopped accepting coupons. There will never be any more blue and white flyers arriving in my mailbox with a giant 20% on one side. My email inbox will be slightly cleaner due to less subscription emails coming through. Although the store hasn’t officially closed yet, I won’t be stepping foot in one anymore. I went last week for the last time when they bumped up their sale to 60-80% off everything. Most of the store was already cleared out. Only very miscellaneous type items are left in the sizes/styles that are least preferable. 

Bye Bye, BBB.

The Scars We Carry

My friend gave my daughter a pair of glittery shoes her daughters had outgrown when we were over for a playdate a while back. My daughter instantly loved them and wanted to wear them everywhere. When we got home, she wore them inside the house for the longest time. Then she started wearing them out and she'd wear them with pants, with dresses, with socks on her feet, barefoot. She wore them a lot.

The shoes have since lost their velcro stickiness and the little embellishments are coming off the toes, but she wore them a lot and she loved them a lot. 

After my friend gave my daughter the shoes and the kids were playing, I told my friend about my own shoe story because I had once wanted a similar pair. When I was younger, my dad took me shoe shopping. I was looking for a pair of dress shoes to wear to piano competitions and performances. Although not as fast as most, my feet were still growing and I needed new shoes periodically with my 1-2 piano competitions every year and seasonal recitals. At the store, I found a pair of shoes I liked but they didn't have my size in stock. I ended up purchasing a different pair of shoes.

Another time when all of us went shopping, I somehow ended up back in the shoe section to browse. They had the shoe I wanted and in my size. My dad said I could have them since they weren't here last time we came. He put them in the cart and we met up with my mom and my brother. When she saw the shoes in the cart, she started asking questions and getting angry. Why were we buying those shoes? Why did I need them? 

My dad responded by telling her they were the ones I wanted last time but they didn't have my size. Now they had my size, he was going to buy them. Then, they started arguing in the middle of an aisle at the store. My mom would take the shoes and put them on the shelf to the side. My dad took the shoes and put them back in the cart. My brother and I stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing what to do. 

I'm sure other people in the store were hearing and seeing what was happening. In my memory of the event, I vaguely see a person or two behind them as they notice the commotion in the aisle and walk away. Whether or not that is my memory being changed or if it actually happened, I will never know. 

In my head, I remember just removing the box of shoes from the cart myself and setting them aside on a nearby shelf. I remember saying to them I didn't want the shoes anymore just so they'd stop fighting in the middle of the store. I did not get the shoes. I had many pairs of beautiful shoes as I grew up, but none were the pink glittery flats I had eyed as a child and wanted at one point in my life. 

Not the exact ones, but something very similar. 

As parents, we will always shape our children to some degree to become versions of ourselves. Our children have the freedom to take what they want and leave the rest as they grow up and become individuals themselves, but the influence is undoubtedly there. Since then, I've found my own truth in the situation; my mother didn't like the shoes. She didn't like the way they looked, and she didn't want to buy them for me. 

Being a parent myself, I've had to remind myself of both spectrums. I do not buy my children everything they want. But I do think about their requests and sometimes, they get a random surprise or toy just because for absolutely no reason. I hope my children do not have the same scars I do when they grow up. 

I need to write this story into my daughter's journal. I want her to remember the auntie who gave her the glitter shoes she loved as a child. And I want her to remember fondly the joy she had when she wore those shoes. And maybe, someday, she will tell her stories to her own children. 

I got to watch my daughter’s face light up the way mine would have. It’s a different kind of joy. 

*sidenote: my daughter watched me cry as I wrote this blog. she didn't say anything. but part of me is so curious if/what she will remember from this moment*

A Cinderella Story

When I was little, I was obsessed with Cinderella's glass slipper. I remember my childhood Cinderella book and I'd stare at the pictures of her blue gown and glass slippers. I vividly remember the scene from the movie where the slipper sits atop a pillow and they animate a sparkle gleaming from the shoe. Really, all those tiny details Disney added in went straight to my soul. 

As a child, I really wanted my own glass slipper. Swarovski makes a glass slipper as part of their crystal collection, but at $100+, I said no thank you. I was also intelligent enough to know I didn't actually want something breakable, because chances were, I was going to break it. So instead, I wanted a "glass" slipper ornament made out of some other material that wasn't breakable. Over the years I saw many renditions of Christmas ornament heels. Most were glittery and sparkly, some were acrylic, but none were mine.

You can find Christmas ornaments which look similar to this for a few dollars.
Pretty depending on the perspective you're taking, but not what I wanted.

As I grew up, I fell in love with a miniatures collection called Just the Right Shoe. I'd see the collectibles pop up in magazines here and there. The closest I ever got was cutting out the pictures and saving them in notebooks.

An example set of Just the Right Shoe on a display shoe.

I eventually gave up on my dream of ever owning my own Cinderella slippers. The years went on and I got married. We started a tradition of buying a meaningful ornament every year to add to our Christmas tree. Since then we've purchased eight ourselves and been gifted many with the births of our children. I even turned some old souvenirs into ornaments by hanging them up with string. 

My kids love checking out the tree.

While casually discussing Christmas gifts, my husband asked me what I wanted, and I randomly told him I wanted a glass slipper ornament. I told him it had to be a certain kind with a certain appearance. I wasn't the young child who was fascinated by all things shiny with glitter anymore. So I did a quick search online and actually found one which didn't break the bank and actually looked the way I wanted it to. And he ordered it, no questions asked. 

The perfect balance of elegance and charm and within budget!

I didn't grow up hungry or poor or lacking in any physical sense. All my needs were met sufficiently, but like Cinderella, I did not grow up with a lot of joy or fun. Christmas wasn't a big deal at our house. Our gifts sometimes consisted of rewrapped existing toys so we could simply open an actual gift. My husband has helped bring back the joy and fun I missed out on growing up, and for the first time, I have my own Cinderella "slipper."

(Technically, this is my second slipper..if you want to read about my first "slipper" check out a post from three years ago here.)

A Themed Birthday

I had two birthday parties growing up, and neither of them had themes. My first themed birthday was actually this year! It was unintentional but just conveniently worked.

Unfortunately, my youngest got sick the weekend before my birthday so on my actual birthday, we didn't do very much. We did get takeout from bbq chicken, a new chain of Korean fried chicken which opened sometime last year. The first time we ordered from them, I wasn't impressed. So we reverted back to our old kfc favorite restaurant for a few orders. Then, recently, we decided to give bbq chicken another try, and I was much more impressed. I don't know if it's because it's the second time we had it, my tastes have changed, or if it was actually better. But I enjoyed it much more the second time.

Then there was my card. My husband and I have been DIYing birthday cards for many years now. Occasionally we've purchased cards if we were short on time, or like the time I was pregnant and puking during my husband's birthday so he received his birthday card about a month later. True story. Well this year, my husband made me a card and put a specific penguin on the front of the card. It's a penguin from a scene of a k-drama we watched together.

Well, we found the specific penguin online. The only retailers who sold it were Asian companies and potential scam websites. After doing some research and scouting, we decided to take a chance from this one website which looked the least sketchy. It wasn't a cheap stuffed animal, but it wasn't unreasonably expensive for being a "famous" plush. We still weren't completely sure if it was going to be a scam or not, but to mitigate the consequences of a potential scam, we used our fanciest credit card so if we were going to have to report a scam, the credit card customer service would have been a little nicer. That was the hope, anyway. 

Thankfully, we didn't have to find out because it wasn't a scam! 11 business day later, it arrived! 

Shipped all the way from Asia in Asian style wrapping
and sewn shut with string like a rice bag! iykyk.

I might be the only one who feels this way, but even after marriage and two children, I feel like I'm aging backwards. At the very least, on the inside. 😜

Happy 18th birthday to me! 😂 just kidding.

Valentine's Day 2020

We don’t do big celebrations for Valentine’s Day normally. In the past, we’ve gotten BOGO Cane’s for dinner, a gift here and there, but mostly just spending time together. We’re not really the couple who “has to get the other something for Valentine’s Day.”

I went grocery shopping this morning with my daughter. As we were checking out in the self check out section, I got some glances at the customer behind me as I loaded our bags one by one from the bagging area to my cart. He had scanned a card, a small box of chocolates, and a small plush toy. They were all sweet gestures and I’m sure his significant other is going to find them adorably cute and be happy to receive them, but that’s not what our Valentine’s look like for the most part.

After five and a half years of marriage and one (nearly two) kids, there’s hardly time to make a dedicated trip to the store to buy a card, chocolate, and a plush. Most of the time, I can’t even leave the store with everything I need anymore unless I write down a full list AND remember to bring it with me. (Yes, you won’t believe how many times I make the list and then fail to bring the list.) Also, between the two of us, we have a giant stash of plush already and really don’t need or have the space for more. Here's a few glimpses of what our plushies do on a day-to-day basis.

They make great sound proofing for door crevices because all parents know how desperate we are for our children to sleep so we can get stuff done, rest, or simply have some coveted silence in the house for a bit. This was my attempt at practicing piano without waking her. 

Back in the day when our little munchkin fit right in with the plushies. 

So instead of focusing on gifts, chocolate, flowers, or stuffed animals, my favorite part of holidays is the card. I don’t remember when it started, but I began making holiday/special occasion cards for my husband by hand probably 2-3 years ago. I’ve always had a creative crafting side beneath the rest of my academia focus, and certain people make fun of me for my (liberal [arts) and crafts] degree. Of course there have been exceptions when I’ve gone out and bought cards because it was the easier and faster choice, but I actually have a lot of fun making them as well. It has gotten exponentially harder to find time to sit and make a card that involves paper, cutting, and gluing without a toddler wanting to touch and be a part of everything.

This Valentine’s Day was the first time where our card making actually coincided with each other. I was putting mine together while hubby put our daughter to sleep. I didn’t hear him leave her room so the next thing I know he’s walking through my studio and I’m frantically hoping he hasn’t seen the design of the card. We both had a good laugh about it and then discussed our plan to continue working in two separate rooms of the house while sharing access to the craft closet to gather supplies as needed. We both finished our cards and then went to sleep for the night.

I’ve made some extravagant cards for him in the past which I am very proud of, but I have to say, he has outdone me this holiday.

I'm glad jokes from our dating days have weaved their way into our marriage.

Dinner was not romantic this year. We ordered takeout pizza (which was delicious!) and ate it listening to our needy toddler and appeasing her needs (translated to English for ease of understanding here)

Pizza! Eat pizza!

No pizza. Don't want pizza.

Bread! *eats a few bites of a bagel*

Don't want bread. Give mommy bread. 

Cheese! Cheese! 

*we give her a cheese stick* *she starts crying*

No cheese. Don't want cheese. *crying profusely until we take the cheese away*

*Crawls up the counter stools to sit between us and crawls into my lap*

Pizza! Pizza! *grabs at plates and knives and cups on the counter* *eats a few bites of pizza*

End dinner. I don't think there was much exchange of any other dialogue.

Now that she's asleep, perhaps hubby and I can get some much needed alone time and sit in bed, eat some chips and salsa/guac, and watch some TV.

That sounds like a lovely way to end this evening. :)

The Blue Bathrobe

I grew up being told "no" to a lot of the things I wanted. I still remember the fiasco at Walmart over a pair of shoes when I was a child - I didn't get them in the end because I simply just wanted my parents to stop arguing in the store. I remember the numerous Barbie toys I never received because I was told I didn't need them - I really didn't. But the ones I received, I kept very well: no ripped stickers, all pieces intact, and let me tell you, there are some very small pieces to keep track of. They will be passed on to my daughter if she cares to play with them. I'll make sure she takes good care of them as well. But there was one thing I somehow managed to convince my mother to buy me - a blue bathrobe.

I don't remember how we got this catalog mailed to us advertising women's apparel. My mother didn't care to buy clothes at all and I had just entered the double digits. I loved flipping through magazines and advertisements to see the photographs and pictures though. I flipped through this one and a blue bathrobe caught my eye. It was the perfect shade of blue that spoke to me, a luscious, rich shade of baby blue. The robe was placed on a satin hanger of similar hue, which to an emerging teenager, sealed the deal of luxurious. Clearly their advertising was working perfectly on me.

I asked my mother for this bathrobe and showed her the item in the catalog. She didn't nix my request immediately, but she was extremely hesitant to purchase the item. I somehow managed to convince her that the robe would be ideal for me to have in the winter months because of how cold it was, and I could wear it around the house at night and stay warm until I went to sleep. The robe was $20. I'm assuming shipping was free with a minimum purchase. I can't imagine her buying it with added shipping charges.

Once the robe arrived, I was slightly disappointed. The color did not match the one from the catalog. It was more of an aqua or robin's egg blue - still a nice color, but not the one that spoke to me from the magazine image. And there was no satin hanger included. The luxury factor suddenly dropped immensely, and it was simply a bathrobe.

As I told my mother in my original reasoning, I did wear it around the house for a while in the winter during the evenings. It was nice and warm. However, the sleeves got in the way of everything I did because I was a tiny little pre-teen wearing a women's bathrobe. After a short-lived use, it was relegated to my closet on a regular plastic hanger.

When I got married, I moved the blue bathrobe with me to our apartment. I can't remember how many times I actually wore it, but it came with me. And when we moved into our house, it moved with me again as well. Nearly 15 years later, this bathrobe has come full circle again and served the most purpose it has ever in my years of ownership in the last 6 months. As last winter slowly came upon us, I realized none of my bath towels were big enough to dry off quickly during pregnancy to avoid the after-shower-chills. And of course, being bulky meant moving slower and more carefully.

Enter blue bathrobe. It was large enough to cover the majority of my body to stay warm (because I'm still a tiny grown person) and doubled up as a towel to dry off faster. Who knew an impulsive buy with somewhat silly reasoning approximately 15 years ago would be one of the best pregnancy must-haves in my opinion which I didn't even plan for?

I don't think I could have nearly justified those pair of shoes I never received or all the Barbie toys I missed out on growing up. But I'm glad this was one purchase my mother decided to buy for me.

My blue bathrobe. Still on a plastic hanger. 

A Taste of Our Wedding

Our wedding cake was simple, but really good. I went to the bakery with my friend and wedding coordinator that summer to sample cake flavors and choose out a design. Jonathan was working so he didn't go with us. I ended up picking a simple cake flavor combination. Wedding cake flavored cake (which is essentially an almond white cake) with a raspberry cream filling and vanilla buttercream on top. It was a really nice combination.

At our wedding, we ate about one bite a piece - just enough to capture a photo for the memories.

What a great picture, our one bite each of cake.
We've both put on some weight since then....

Our cake.

I had left very detailed instructions regarding every aspect of the wedding I could think about and where each piece was going. The one aspect I forgot to leave detailed instructions for? The cake. For having over 200 people at the reception dinner, we had a lot of cake leftover, which I didn't imagine would happen. And nobody had any idea where the leftover cake went. Oh well.

I've often thought about our cake and how nice the flavors complemented each other and how nice it would be to be able to have a taste of our wedding cake again. I decided Valentine's Day would be a nice time to surprise my husband and make this happen.

I called the bakery where our wedding cake was from to see how much they charged for custom cupcakes. Although not terribly priced for custom cupcakes, the minimum order was a dozen and I wasn't interested in spending that much money for so many more than I really needed. I contemplated just buying some nice cupcakes or a cake from another bakery, but that wasn't quite the surprise I wanted. So in the end, I looked up some recipes and made my own.

Now here's where I probably broke an important rule of baking - I didn't make a test batch first. My trial run....was also my final run.

I don't consider myself amateur in the kitchen, but I am definitely not an iron chef who can whip together surprise ingredients and know it will taste marvelous.

After tasting the raspberry frosting I made intended for the filling, I deemed it on the sweet side already and decided not to make extra vanilla frosting for the top and just to decorate the top with the raspberry frosting.

I've also never decorated anything before with piped icing, so this was quite an adventure for me as well. I bought the tip and watched one Youtube video on how to pipe roses. It...isn't gourmet bakery worthy, but I'll say for having zero experience and zero practice, they turned out exceptionally well.

My version of our wedding cake flavored cupcakes. Some of them actually look like roses!

I'm glad we were able to taste a glimpse of our wedding cake today, literally. To be honest neither of us really actually remember what our wedding cake tastes like, so it was just a nice sweet treat with sentimental value. I think I'll make it again. 

But I actually get a taste of our wedding everyday when we laugh at each other's goofiness, when we hold hands, and when we just stare at each other and soak in all the little nuances of freckles and features and remember why we wanted to spend forever together. What we have is more than just a taste of a wedding. It's a taste of joy.

Teddy

This is Teddy.



Today is Teddy's 17th birthday. She's been through a lot with me these last nearly two decades, and she wasn't supposed to be mine to begin with.

Our Sunday school teacher at church motivated us with a point system. We would earn points for memorizing Bible verses, completing worksheets, and participating in class. The points could be used to trade for prizes at the end of the semester. I didn't particularly care about earning points so I didn't make an effort to do anything extra aside from going to class on Sundays because I had to go to church.

On the Sunday when we were trading in our points for prizes, the teacher pulled out an array of toys, games, and trinkets, and displayed them on the table. He called up the students first with the highest points earned that year to choose their prizes. After everyone with points had chosen their prizes, he was still left with a lot of toys and gifts on the table. He piled them all back into his bag but then changed his mind and pulled them back out again and set them on the table. He started calling us up one at a time to go pick something, not because we had earned the points to get a prize, but because he deemed us worthy of choosing one. He called me up to pick a prize and said I paid attention in class and didn't disrupt the class during lessons.

I timidly walked up and picked one of the few remaining teddy bears from the table and brought it back to my seat. From the very beginning, there was something so charming and so cute about this little bear.

Over the years, this bear has seen it all - the good days and the bad. Her wounds and scars are just a sampling of the experiences we've endured together. Her nose is no longer perfectly smooth and shiny, but chipped in small places from years of play and some abuse. There's a furless line running down the front from every time she's been through the washing machine, each time growing a little longer until it reached from her neck seam to the leg. She's missing toes on her left leg because the threads have pulled out. Her stuffing and beads are all mashed up and in the wrong places now. Both of her legs have been torn through years of ransom tug of war with my mother, and of course, I'd always have to let go through tears when I heard the seam rip. And my mother always sewed it up because she knew how I loved the bear.

I actually ran into my old Sunday school teacher at our church about a year ago. I mustered up the courage to walk up to him and say hi. He vaguely remembered that class and some of the other students. I told him about the bear he'd given to me and how I still had it. He met my husband and was a bit surprised at how early we'd gotten married.

Even now, 17 years later, weathered and worn, she possesses this same charm and cuteness. Happy birthday little bear. I've not forgotten that you were given to me through grace.