I'll Tell Her about the Lilacs

"The lilacs were blooming when you were born," I'll tell her when she's older.

Maybe I'll tell her that every year...

...every year in the springtime when we walk behind our house to the lilac bushes...

...sharp scissors in hand to cut the woody stems and bring the purple beauty inside.

We always use the same small pitcher as our vase when we gather a lilac bouquet.  My mother did, I do -- will Moriah use it when she's old enough to cut lilacs and make a bouquet by herself?

When she's old enough to understand--and even before--I'll tell my daughter how lilacs are one of my favorite flowers of springtime, how every year I look forward to them blooming, how I lament their short flowering stage but try to appreciate it fully while it lasts.

I'll tell her that, four days after she was born, I held her as I sat at the kitchen table one lovely afternoon.  As my hands brought nourishment to my lips, her lips sought nourishment from my body; and while we both ate, I gazed out the window at the lilacs.  I thought to myself, "For all their beauty, they pale in comparison to my Moriah," and tears of gratitude and joy flowed from my eyes as I rejoiced and was exceedingly glad that God had given her to me.

I'll tell her that I had never seen anything so beautiful as her.

I'll tell her that she's still the prettiest thing I ever saw.

I'll tell her about the lilacs...