Let’s talk hair.  Just for today.  Then we’ll make donuts tomorrow.

Promise.

It’s been over two months since I last flat-ironed my hair.  Who am I?

Though I’ve definitely had my share of bad hair days over the last few weeks, I don’t miss it a bit.

Because I’ve gotten so many emails and questions, I want to share a little behind why I hung up the flat iron and how I’ve learned to embrace my curls.  Maybe you’ll be empowered to embrace yourself a bit more too.  Because life is too short and too sweet to spend trying to fight nature.

Why go natural?

Hair has always been a big deal to me.  Literally, a BIG deal.  I think I must have about twice as much hair as the average person.  Growing up, I’d watch my mom put hot rollers in her hair to smooth it out every day.  I felt so grown up when I’d gotten old enough to set my own hair every morning before school.  This was in the days before flat irons and if I blew my hair dry and then set it in rollers, I could get a smooth finish for about, oh, a half an hour.

After reverse perms, chemical straighteners, crimping irons and sponge rollers, I thought my miracle had come when the flat iron was invented.  Really though, I just became a slave to it.

I avoided swimming.

I avoided rainstorms.

I avoided Florida.

And even when I told Gigi everyday how beautiful her curls were, I still would spend a good chunk of my morning trying to eliminate any trace of mine.  Hypocrite.

One evening I was trying to get a comb through Gigi’s tangled, wet hair when frustrated she said, “I hate my hair.  I wish it were straight like Lulu’s.”

So that was it.  The next day I put my flat iron away, and I haven’t touched it since.  Well, except to iron my shirt.

The Curly Girl Method:

After I put Gigi to bed that night, I started researching about curly hair.  I found the site naturallycurly.com and quickly learned of a method that many curly-haired women use to rejuvenate their curls, return their hair to its natural state and bring out the best of their God-given texture.

The method is outlined in the book Curly Girl, by Lorraine Massey.

Though you can learn more about the method in the book and also here, the basics are this:

• Stop blowdrying and flat ironing your hair.
• Stop using hair styling products with silicone in them.  These weigh down your curls.
• Stop using hair cleaning products with sulfate in them.  These dry out your curls.  You need the sulfates to remove silicone, so after a final wash with sulfate shampoo, stop using silicones and sulfates.
• If your hair is wavy or curly, you probably do not need to be shampooing it, or at least not shampooing it very often.
• A light, natural, sulfate/silicone free conditioner is enough to wash your hair with.  Yes, wash your hair with hair with conditioner.  (I feel guilty for teasing Pea Daddy for unknowingly doing this for several months when we were first married.  But then again, he doesn’t have curly hair.)
• Do not dry your hair with terry cloth towels.  Use a microfiber towel or a t-shirt.
• Put a good amount of styling product (silicone free, of course) and allow it to air dry or diffuse it, if you must.  But keep your hands off.
• Do not comb or brush your hair.
• Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize.  Use conditioner, leave-in conditioner, essential oils and whatever means necessary to keep your curls hydrated.

What We Use:

We’ve been washing our hair every second or third day with a light conditioner.  I’ve been using the very cheap Suave Naturals in Tropical Coconut.  It costs 99 cents.

I’ll rinse it out after rubbing it into our scalps and then I’ll “condition” our hair with a heavier conditioner.  We’ve been using Tresemme Naturals, which is also really cheap and can be found at most drugstores.

Every other week, we’ve been using a “low-poo,” basically a sulfate-free shampoo that will get rid of any styling product build up that the conditioner might not eliminate, but that won’t dry out our hair.  Our favorite is the Nourish brand from Trader Joe’s.

For a full list of sulfate and silicone free products that can be found at drugstores, see here.

For control, we use both a silicone-free gel and a finishing spray.

The Herbal Essences gels are also very reasonably priced and can be found at most drug stores, but I found them to have less hold than I like.

I splurged and bought some Deva Care Arc AnGEL at Ulta.  Deva Care is the line of products started by Lorraine Massey in conjunction with the Curly Girl book, and I really prefer the hold of this gel.  For me, it’s worth the extra expense (especially with all the money I’m saving on shampoos, haircuts and coloring), but if you are wanting to save money, the drug store products will suffice.

The lavender flax seed gel I make is also great for hold.

I finish with the Aussie Sprunch spray for extra control.

Styling is pretty simple.

After co-washing our hair, I scrunch it up with a microfiber towel or t-shirt.  Then I put in our gel and pile our hair on top of our heads with the towel or t-shirt (also known as “plopping”).

I’ll usually leave my hair up in the towel while I finish the rest of my grooming.  Then I’ll take it down and wrap the curls around my fingers to give them a bit more definition.  I’ll spray it with the sprunch spray for extra hold.

Then I just go about my day and let it dry naturally while I carpool, bake and write.

If I have to be somewhere, I’ll diffuse my hair so that I don’t go out with a wet head.  I use the alligator clips to lift my roots and then I use a method called the Pixie Curl method to dry my hair.  Essentially I leave the dryer off, scrunch my hair up with the fingers of the diffuser and then turn my dryer on.  I leave the dryer in the same spot for a couple of minutes (using the cool setting if it gets too hot) and then turn the dryer off before removing the diffuser fingers and moving to the next section.  I then finish the look with sprunch spray.

Gigi and I have both been using these methods for the last several months and have noticed a big difference in the condition of our curls.

I can’t tell you the hours I’ve saved on fighting with my blow dryer and flat iron.

What I can tell you is how much I’ve enjoyed swimming and walking in the rain.

And how much I’ve enjoyed just feeling like me.

And helping Gigi continue to love herself.

Self-acceptance is a hard lesson, especially as women, especially in our society.  But I feel proud of the progress we are making, learning to accept ourselves more, just as we are, every day.

It’s having an impact even beyond the two of us, though.  My mom showed up at our house this weekend with her own head of curly hair.  I can’t help but think we had a little something to do with it.

And she looked beautiful.

I’ve been talking to myself lately.

There is a beauty in having one or more children with you at all times because if you are in public, people assume you are having a conversation with those children and not singing a little ditty about toilet paper, glass cleaner, orange juice and razor blades.  In the Everglades.  I am a crafty songstress.

But when I’m not singing grocery lists to myself, I’m saying affirmations.

Like pickup lines I use on myself, they are cheesy, but effective.

Today’s was, “You don’t have to do anything.”

Oh sure, I have responsibilities.  But not every thing has to be an obligation.

I didn’t have to pluck all the grey hairs I discovered in the mirror this morning.  So I didn’t.

I didn’t have to take the car into the auto shop even though the check engine light came on.  So I didn’t.  (Shhh…don’t tell Pea Daddy.)

I didn’t have to wear two earrings.  I returned home after many interactions with many people to discover I was sporting one large cubic zirconia stud quite obviously with my slicked back ponytail.

Arrr, matey.

None of these things matter truly.

As long as do the best I can today to love my children, my husband, God and myself, I am accomplished.

I am nourished.

I am enough.

And so are you.

Coconut Collard Greens with Roasted Kabocha Squash

Makes 2 main dish servings or 4 side servings

Print this recipe!

• 1 1/2 c. kabocha squash*, peeled and cubed
• 1-2 T. coconut oil, melted and divided
• coarse ground sea salt and pepper
• 1/2 c. sweet onion, chopped
• 1 bunch collard greens, cleaned, trimmed from stem and chopped
• 1 can coconut milk (full or reduced fat)
• 1 T. tamari or soy sauce
• 1-2 t. brown sugar or maple syrup (optional)
• 1/2 t. freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 T. unsweetened coconut, toasted

*Kabocha squash is a sweet, tender winter squash also known as Japanese pumpkin.  You can find it at some natural food stores or Asian markets.  I encourage you to try it, but if you can’t find it, you could substitute butternut squash or even sweet potatoes for this part of the recipe.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Toss peeled and cubed squash with a pat of coconut oil and place on a baking sheet.

Roast for 20-25 minutes, stirring at least once halfway through.

Place a deep skillet or pot over medium high heat and add remaining coconut oil.  Sauté onion until starting to soften and brown, about 4-5 minutes.  Add collard greens that have been trimmed from the stem and cut into 1×2 inch strips.  Toss to coat with coconut oil, adding slightly more if necessary.

Pour in coconut milk, tamari or soy sauce, brown sugar or maple syrup, if using and nutmeg.

Bring to a low boil, then lower heat and simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until greens have softened but are still vibrant.

Add roasted squash to greens and place in a serving dish.

Top with toasted coconut.

If you think you don’t like greens, this recipe is for you.

Combined with sweet, tender squash, rich, creamy coconut milk and a toasty, crunchy finish, who knew collards could be so heavenly?

Oh yeah.  Me.

You could serve this over brown rice or quinoa, if you like, or add in some tofu or tempeh to make it heartier.

Today, though, you don’t really have to do anything.

But you do have to eat.

And drink orange juice on a caboose.

See you at the Grammys.

The most precious gifts come from unimaginable sacrifice.

Like waking up at 3:30 a.m.

Driving nearly straight up the side of a mountain.

Freezing your peas off while huddling tightly in a hotel blanket that just a few hours earlier you were picking off the bed with salad tongs.

Haleakala Crater is the highest point on the island of Maui, reaching almost two miles up in the sky.  When we booked our first trip back to the Islands without kids, Pea Daddy had his heart set on surf lessons.

I had my heart set on watching the sunrise from the top of the world.

On Sunday morning, our car snaked up and down the mountain in the dark for what seemed like hours.

We sipped coffee and talked about our lives over the last eight years.  The dreams we chased and those we let die.  The triumphs and the tragedies.  The ways we’ve changed and the ways we still hope to grow.

A single road sign lightened the mood as we reached the top, the bold words saying “NO LEFT TURN” and pointing directly right off the side of the mountain we’d just climbed.

We turned right, parked the car, and made our way to the edge of the crater.

Just in time.

Shivering in thin air.

Waiting.

Shuffling my feet in the gravel, not really going anywhere, just trying to stay warm.

Waiting.

Edging around other people, huddled in their own blankets, trying to find what would be my place.

Waiting.

And then it happened.

Warmth.

Grace.

Forgiveness.

Peace.

Acceptance.

Healing.

My heart was set on fire.

I felt so very small, but filled with Something so big.

Everyone who has ever felt broken–and we all have–deserves that kind of peace.  To know that the climb, the shivering, the gravel shuffling and the search for your place will all be worth what is waiting on the other side of it.

The most precious gifts come from unimaginable sacrifice.

Somehow, even after returning home to dark, rainy skies, knowing this makes everything seems so much brighter.

Happy New Year!

I know we’re all done with gifts for the season.  But one of the greatest gifts I think you can give for the new year, be it to your kids, your spouse or your significant other, is the empowerment to make healthy food choices for themselves.  This is a gift you can even give yourself.  Like new jeans.  Totally the same thing.

I think it was about a midway through Christmas break that I decided we needed a new technique for empowerment in our house.

Yes, we could do worse.  We still sit down to a healthy, family meal at the dinner table almost every night of the week.  Hearty, nutritious favorites we all like, like Sloppy Josephines, Tempeh Chili or Chickpeas and Dumplings.  Dinner I’ve got a handle on.

It’s breakfast, lunches and snacks where we’ve gotten a little lazy.

A piece of toast on the way out the door.

PB &J in the lunchbox.  Again.

Pickles morning, noon and night.

I want us to step up our game, but I don’t want to become the food police.  One thing I’ve learned as a parent, and really just a human being is that people, little or not, like choices.  People also like control.  It’s amazing what your kids will willingly do when you combine the two.

So, I came up with a way to give the power of choice to my family and consequently get them to make healthier eating choices for themselves.

You know how your mom would always say to you growing up, “This isn’t a restaurant!”?

Well, this kind of is.  I made the girls charts for the options they always have available to them for breakfast, lunch and snacks.

The idea is to fill each list with:

1) foods your family will eat;

2) meals you are willing to make; and

3) foods you are able to keep stocked in your pantry and fridge at all times.

Whether you are wanting to eat healthier or go vegetarian or vegan (or semi-vegan, as Mark Bittman of the New York TImes suggests),  I think the lists of options are great because instead of focusing on what you “can’t” eat, you’re putting the spotlight on what you can.

Take the things out of your pantry and fridge that aren’t on the lists as options, or at least stick them away for special treats.  Then restock your cupboards and refrigerator with the foods that are offered on your lists.

While you may have time for other options for breakfasts, lunches and snacks on some days (you can find plenty on our recipe page and cookbook), for us, much of the time we have to be able to quickly put things together from the basics.

Here’s a quick list of veg-friendly pantry and fridge staples.  Obviously you’ll want to adapt the list based on your own dietary needs, choices and tastes.

(click on image to print)

The girls were a little skeptical at first, but within a day or two, they were excited to choose their meals.

I was able to pick up some new divided plates for under a dollar each, which also made meal time feel a little more special and allowed them to “display” their choices.

Gigi’s whole wheat bagel & vegan cream cheese, carrot sticks and fruit leather

Lulu’s hummus, pickle and tomato sandwich on whole wheat, cheese stick and fruit leather

You can even have snack stations prepared in your fridge, as with this convenient idea I saw on Pinterest, originally found here.

The lists of meal-builders are also helpful for Pea Daddy, as he now has ideas for things he can choose for his own breakfasts and he knows what’s available for his packed lunches and snacks.

There will always be added variety, when I’ve baked healthy cookies or muffins or when we have dinner leftovers to use for lunches beyond the lists, and you can keep adding to the lists as you discover more healthy foods and options your family likes.  But the beauty is, we’ll always have these staples to work off of, and they are all choices we all feel good about.

Plus, everyone thinks it’s their idea, as they fill their plates and their bodies with nutritious food, starting out a new year on the right foot.

Now who wants a pickle?

*************

Other Meal Planning resources:

Pealightful Plans

Spectacular School Lunches

Make Ahead Veg Meals

It’d be very easy for me to just sign off for the holiday now and wish you the very best of Christmases with your loved ones.  And I will.

But I wanted to share something else too.

It’s far from the perfect Christmas here.

Despite Gigi making up her own, very creative Spanish lyrics to “Feliz Navidad” today and Lulu donning her skunk costume for no apparent reason, I’m not quite in the Christmas spirit.

I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I keep saying sarcastically, “Merry Christmas, right?”

Well, actually…yes.

Things were far from perfect the night our Savior came into the world.

I’m sure Mary and Joseph weren’t in the best of spirits that Christmas Eve.  They were tired, cold and hungry.  Mary wasn’t exactly self-administering an epidural either.  She was riding, rather uncomfortably, I’m sure, on the back of a mule.  But I’d bet she didn’t turn to Joseph as another door was shut in their face, and say sarcastically, “Merry Christmas, right?”

Things were far from perfect the night our Savior came into the world.

We were undeserving, and yet He still came.

And so will Christmas this year.

Regardless of all the things that aren’t right, I can still make wonderful memories with my children, my husband and my family.  I can appreciate the beautiful gift that I’ve been given in Christ.  I can be grateful that we have Him to lead us down the paths of our lives.

Even if a few of the bulbs are burnt out this year, that won’t take away from the beauty of all the light in my life.  Of His light.

I wish you the very, very best of Christmases with the ones you love.

May your holiday be full of light and love.

1.  I’m still addicted to Pinterest, and it’s not doing me any favors.  Since joining, I’ve been wearing a sloppy smoky eye to Target for laundry detergent, I’ve stopped washing my hair with shampoo and I’ve cut off the sleeves from my cardigans to make boot socks.  In other words, I’m a hot mess.  Thank you, Pin-interest.

2.  The candy on our gingerbread house is “accidentally” falling off faster than it was put on.  We must have gotten defective icing.

3.  I’ve cried about six times in the last two days.

We finished The Best Christmas Pageant Ever last night.  Tears.

Taylor Swift’s “Never Grow Up” came on my iPod this morning.  Sniveling on the treadmill.

I spilled an entire container of baking powder all over my kitchen this morning.  Quiet sobs.

I watched a movie where The Rock plays an NFL quarterback who learns he is the father of a precocious little girl and in doing so discovers what life is truly all about.  Bawling.

I’d think I was pregnant if it were for that whole not washing my hair/wearing sweater sleeves on my legs thing.  Instant birth control.

4.  Gigi begged me to kill a spider this morning.  She said it was a tarantula.  I attacked the truly huge spider with a wooden spoon.  Gigi thanked me and settled in to start her newest library book.

5.  I am renting The Pacifier and The Tooth Fairy over Christmas break and you can’t stop me.  In case you didn’t know, they both star The Rock.  I hope I get Kleenex in my stocking.

6.  I got a couple pieces of lousy news today, started to tear up again and then remembered a picture on my phone.

Such smug indifference to being a mouse.  Instant pick-me-up.

7.  Gigi added a second page to her Christmas list today.  She’s up to thirty items.  I then talked to my girlfriend who said her daughter had made a list.  It had three items.  One of them was a cat.  I can make that happen.

8.  Lulu’s lunch.  I think she needs to add bento box to her Christmas list.

Then again, I can’t bake muffins anyway because I’m suddenly out of baking powder.

9.  Even with the tears, tarantulas and terrible news, it still was a pretty good day.  It got even better when I sat on the couch and Lulu took my hand.

Then she asked if I could please put her dinner in a doggy dish.

Never grow up, Lu.  Just stay this little.

Say what you will about Gigi, but that girl wears her heart on her sleeve.  She gets it from me.  If I get a paper cut, you’ll know about it, the thickness of paper that instigated the wound and the eight naturopathic remedies I’ve applied to ensure rapid healing.  Aloe vera for the win.

Pea Daddy, on the other hand, internalizes things a bit more.  I’m sure it has nothing to do with me or my listening and empathy skills.  Nope.

Gigi came home last week with a scowl on her face, threw off her pink Chuck Taylor’s like they were on fire and sighed, long and loudly, as she threw herself on the couch.

“I am not wearing those shoes tomorrow!” she announced.

“Okay, how come?” I asked.

“I just don’t like them.”

“Did something happen at school today?”  I knew full well something did and the shoes were probably getting framed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

SIGGGGGGGGGGH.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind…”  My voice trailed off as I headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

In no more than twenty seconds, Gigi stomped into the kitchen.

“They made us climb this big stupid rope in P.E. class today!” She spat out the words like they disgusted her.

I immediately burst into laughter, apologized for laughing, and then laughed some more.

And then I told her how I too had to climb the big stupid rope in P.E. class and never, not even once, made it off the ground far enough to slip a dollar bill underneath me.  And when we had to do the stiff arm hang, I’d intentionally wear dresses so that I could sit out.  The one time I was forced to scale the rungs up to that blasted bar, I think I got three seconds before I dropped to the cushy blue mat like those were the hardest three seconds of my life.

“I’m still terrible at that kind of thing, Gigi.  I can’t even do a pull up, which is why I kind of hang on the mantle ever few days and try to pull myself up.  Does that make me any less funny, any less nice, any less of a person?”

She shook her head no, but her face said, “No, that makes you weird.”  She’s right.

“Mom,” she choked up, “I couldn’t even get to the black tape, and all the kids that did,” she gulped, “they got…certificates!”

She said “certificates” like they were fully loaded iPods in engraved cases rather than just silly pieces of paper.

Dinner had to wait.

I rummaged through the kitchen junk drawer, throwing aside expired coupons, old receipts, Allen wrenches and Chapstick and found a marker and a blank piece of paper.

I made a certificate.

As Gigi watched me scrawl across the paper, using a Dry-Erase pen I’d told her a dozen times not to use on regular paper, she beamed proudly.

I handed her the certificate, gave her a hug and told her that I loved her.

I went into make dinner, but glanced in the living room a few minutes later.  She was huddled over the coffee table, writing with a responsibly chosen pen, right on her certificate.

She put down her pen and chasséd into the entryway, humming “The Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairies” as she went.

The suspense was killing me so I went in for a look.

Clearly I wasn’t specific enough.

Funny, because she hasn’t mentioned the rope or the “real” certificates since.

But there is another certificate hanging on her wall.  And I cried proud tears of my own when I watched her on stage this weekend.

She was awesome.

Certifiably awesome.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant with Gigi to this very instant right now (and now….and now…), I’ve experienced overwhelming love for my children.

Coupled with overwhelming guilt.

Mommy guilt.

This guilt stems from:

Riding every ride in Disneyland including the Tower of Terror 13 times before I officially knew I was with child.  Poor fetus Gigi.

Forgetting to put a note in Gigi’s lunchbox this morning.

Getting, no, begging for, an epidural.  And then pushing that self-administering button like Lucy at a chocolate factory.

Throwing away the gumdrop and toothpick “igloo” that Lulu made at preschool today.

Asking the nurse to take Gigi to the birthing center nursery for a few hours that night she was born so we could sleep.  And then when the nurse brought her back asking, “So soon?”

Turning on Disney Junior and shutting the bathroom door so I could pluck/shave/use a baby wipe to “shower” without an audience.  That was this morning.

Using a paper towel that I licked to wipe my children’s faces because we ran out of baby wipes from all my “showers.”  Also this morning.

Making Mimi and Poppy take the girls to The Chipmunks movie, The Squeakuel and every subsequent movie with Alvin, Simon and Theodore in it.  Please, I’m begging you, Mimi and Poppy.  Chipwrecked comes out in ten days.

Eating all the good Halloween candy and then burying the wrappers in the trash.

Being on a business trip when Lulu got the stomach flu (aka when Pea Daddy let her have donuts, cupcakes and pizza in a two-hour span).

Hiding the makeup kit that Aunt Shari gave them for Christmas last year in the garage, only to bust into it for some Tinkerbell blush when I left my makeup kit in a hotel room.

Working so hard on our next book and then making my kids eat blueberry cream donuts, cheddar bacon scones, home fries and lemon chia pancakes for dinner all week.

Okay, that guilt is a little misplaced.

But I do feel guilt for not being 100% fulfilled solely being a stay-at-home-mom.

Guilt for needing an outlet.

Guilt for absolutely loving my job.

And though I tell myself things like “a happy mom raises happy kids” and “no one’s perfect, we just all do the best we can,” that guilt still creeps in.

I don’t know the cure.

Well, that certainly helps.

And now I must go write a note for a lunchbox.  I know just what I’ll say.

“Dear Gigi,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Love, Mom

P.S.  Call Mimi and tell her Chipwrecked comes out in ten days.”

I had a thought in church today.

“We need bread.  We need almond milk.  We need more Brussels sprouts.”

Oh yeah, that’s not a thought.  That’s just a grocery list.

I made a grocery list in church today.

And then I started thinking about Thanksgiving dinner.

You are probably expecting I’ll do a rundown of my favorite Peas and Thank You Thanksgiving-themed recipes so you can fill out any holes in your menu.  If that’s the case, I’m about to seriously disappoint you.  It’s probably not the first time (remember those pita pizzas half of you told me sounded awful?), and it definitely won’t be the last.

I have another proposition for you, though.  How about if we try to fill some different holes?

(I will not make an inappropriate joke, I will not make an inappropriate joke, I will not make an inappropriate joke.  See, I told you I’d disappoint you.)

You probably are heading out in the next day or two to do your shopping for Thanksgiving dinner.  Maybe you are buying a turkey this year.  Maybe, like me, you’re not.

You could get a big turkey for $30.

Or you could get two bags of groceries.  To give to someone else.

I’m not going to tell you the most wanted items on my Thanksgiving menu today.  I’m going to tell you the most wanted items at your local food bank.  And if you feel compelled, when you do your Thanksgiving shopping this week, you could fill an additional cart or basket to donate.

Only God Himself could make me voluntarily get these carts.  Thanks a lot, Dude.

Isn’t this how you push your cart?  Because standing upright with both hands on the handle is so exhausting.

With our “not buying a turkey” money, we were able to get some of the most needed items.

• canned and boxed meals (i.e., soup, chili, stew, pasta sauce)
• peanut butter and other nut butters
• canned or dried beans
• pasta and rice
• canned fruits and vegetables
• 100% fruit or vegetable juice (canned, plastic or boxed)
• cooking oil
• shelf-stable milk

Someone could produce quite a few meals for $30.  And it was something small we could do to truly give thanks this Thanksgiving.

During church, between my making my mental grocery list and trying not to make it seem totally obvious that I had no idea what the hymn I was singing was, I did hear our pastor say this:

“Sometimes God is tapping you on the shoulder.  You can shrug Him off because it is inconvenient for you and what you have planned, which may not even be all that bad.  Or you can respond to that tap, listen and do what He has planned instead.”

Consider this your tap.

*************

*You can find the location of your nearest local food bank here.

*One more Thanksgiving recipe coming tomorrow.  To fill that hole of yours.

Matthew 25:40  “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

Gigi got her first report card today.

She was so excited to hand it to me, she didn’t even want me to wait to drive home to open it.  Lulu snatched it and offered to rip it open while I drove.  Always a helper that one.

I came in and sat my purse, our grocery bag, lunch boxes and backpacks on the counter and Gigi jumped around like a bean, shouting, “Open it, Mom!  Open it, Mom!”

And then a little more quietly, “I hope I get all good marks,” and she looked down at her tennis shoes, hiding her face behind a wall of curls.

I took a moment to put away the refrigerated foods and to get the girls a snack, mostly to show Gigi that while I too was excited for her, it wasn’t the be all and end all of the day what “marks” she got.

Finally, I’d made her wait long enough and I ripped at the yellow manila that seemed far thicker than I remembered.  I should have taken Lulu up on her offer while I had the chance.

I opened up the white, almost transparent paper that had a grid of letters and numbers on it, spelling out exactly how Gigi’s teacher felt she measured up in these first few weeks of school.

I looked down the page, praising her marks in reading, her marks in math, in writing and even PE.  But Gigi’s little finger traced down the page, as if she was searching for something.

And then her finger stopped on her one and only grade that was merely ‘S,’ Satisfactory, right next to “Completes work neatly.”

She gulped and looked down at her shoes.  Her lip began to quiver.

“Gigi,” I said, feeling anxious for her,”what is it?  This is a wonderful report card!  You did fantastic and we are so proud of you!”

“I just wish I hadn’t gotten that ‘S’,” she said silently, her eyes filling with tears.  “I’m going to go look at this now,” she quickly said, picking up the paper and settling into a chair in the living room to study what she saw as the measuring stick from which she should determine her value.

I wasn’t having it.

I walked into the living room and snatched the paper from her hands, put it back in its torn envelope and stuck it in the junk drawer in the kitchen.  Then I got down at her eye level and gave her a hug and told her the words I want to tell her every day for the rest of her life.

The words we all need to hear.

A piece of paper, a number, a letter says nothing about who you are.

You are loved more than you could ever know for so much more than that.

You are loved for being the one to remember to say grace at dinner every night.

You are loved for always letting your sister use the purple crayon even if you had it first.

You are loved for asking if we can all huddle on the couch under a blanket and read pickle stories together since it is National Pickle Day.

You are loved for your off-key voice singing creative lyrics, for jump roping down the hallway—without a jump rope, for the way you admire yourself in the bathroom mirror, smiling toothlessly at your reflection when you think no one is looking.

You are loved because you have a light that you share with every person that comes in contact with you.

And really, no piece of paper, no number, no letter could ever say that.

But I promise to tell you every chance I get.

You are loved.