It is March 26. It is my mother's birthday. It is also the anniversary of her death.

Strange how we tie things into all those anniversaries of our lives, isn't it?

As I go through all the motions my day requires in order to achieve the goals and deadlines the calendar requires, I must pause to consider what my heart requires.

Maybe the heart ache would diminish a bit if I called a halt to all the day's scheduled activities and made chicken and dumplings. Then the house would at least smell like she was still around. Or maybe I could try to make one of her chocolate cakes. I've never tried in the past. Why make the effort if I know in advance it could never taste like hers did?

Better yet, with Easter just around the corner, I could go buy every colorful bunny and chicken I could find at the Dollar Store and set them up all around my house and yard. Of course the dining room table would have to be covered with them as well. In the center of the table would be a big cake made in the shape of an empty cross and every plastic creature would be turned to look toward that cross. And wherever there was a bunny or chicken in any other part of the house or yard there would be something there to symbolize an empty cross as well.

My mother knew what Easter was all about and any yellow, green, pink or blue anything that made its way on the premises had to compete with that empty cross. The cross may have been made of twigs, framed needlework, embroidered pillows or whatever she fancied any given year, but always it was the center of the Easter celebration. It all began weeks before Easter Sunday. The colorful plastic stuff was for the children. The children who would some day ask about that empty cross.

But the adults could not get away from the message she sought to convey either. Her strategy was perfect. She clipped every poem she ever read about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and if you went to the toilet in her house you had to see them. Of course, she could not force anyone to read, but if you ever sat down on a john on the premises they were there right in your line of vision. So well posted. And that wasn't just at Easter. That went on year round.

My mother never had a problem mixing a celebration of the Resurrection with an Easter egg hunt. It was all part of celebrating new life. All the bright colors and spring blooms and new clothes... You would be amazed how she tied it all together.

No holiday ever meant more to my mom than Easter. Even Christmas couldn't hold a candle to Easter Sunday. "Without Easter, Christmas would mean nothing," she always said.

As a young child I never could quite grasp that "born to die" concept that connected Christmas to Easter. To further complicate things my mom would always point out, "Not just born to die, but born to die and live again, forever," she'd say.

I've told you before how I used to have trouble with Jesus... I just could not quite grasp the fact that He was God's only begotten son, born to live and die for all creation, then arise from the grave to ascend into the heavens and live for all eternity. And he did it all, my mother said, for me. I think that may have been the part that I had the most trouble with.

For me. It was easier to think He lived and died and lived again for the whole world than to imagine that He did it all for me. But I learned over time that it didn't matter one iota if I believed He did it for all the world, if I did not believe He did it for me.

Yes, I miss my mother. But I have Jesus, and because of Him and all He did for me, I know I will see my mother again one day. I can't really erase my calendar. I have work to do and I will do it. And I really don't want to go buy a lot of plastic stuff to set around my house either. But that toilet, that's another thing. I have lots of poems and devotional books and... I believe I feel a decorating urge coming on.