Twenty years ago, around Easter, my daughter was born.

It all started with a picture—two little kids, too young to pose, just being their natural, wiggly selves. Back then, it was easy… or maybe it just felt that way. The years that followed? They were anything but simple.

Over Easter weekend, we made a 523-mile trip to spend time with both of our kids, and during that time, I found myself reflecting. Easter has always held a special place in my heart. Of course, the story of the resurrection is timeless and meaningful in its own right—but for me, the time spent with my children somehow carries just as much weight.

Their birthdays usually fall just before and after Easter, so over the years, we created a tradition: celebrate both birthdays on the Saturday before Easter, then spend Sunday with extended family. It became our rhythm, our way of holding everything together during a busy, meaningful season.  This year, a memory popped up—the Pirate/Princess birthday party. One of my favorites. For so many years, my mom lovingly decorated the cakes, and we turned those weekends into full celebrations. But alongside the cake and candles, there was always the picture.

Every Easter after that first one, the picture became a tradition of its own.  And oh, the struggle.

“Don’t touch me.”
“Stop looking at me.”
“Can you both just sit still?”

Year after year, the same dance. What was meant to capture a perfect moment often came with frustration, eye rolls, and a little bit of chaos. And yet, somehow, we always managed to get it done—even if it took a few tries… or a few deep breaths.  But this year felt different.  As we were driving home, I turned to Stuart and said, “I feel like this was the year.”  Maybe the kids finally get it. Maybe they’ve come to appreciate the color coordination, the family time, the shared meals, and the simple joy of being together. This year, my mama’s heart felt full in a way I can’t quite put into words.

We went to church together.
We sat down and shared a meal.
The kids spent time doing what they love—while I sat back, watched, and smiled.  No stress. No rushing. Just presence.

Memories matter. And yes, I’ve had my share of regrets—moments I wish I had handled differently, times I wish I had slowed down. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this:  Making space for family will always be worth it.  No matter how many miles it takes to get there.