tutu farm
I believe that life is worth celebrating.

Part of this could be attributed to growing up as an only child, the only grandchild on my mom's side, and the youngest and only girl of 3 grandchildren on my dad's side. It is safe to say that most holidays revolved around me. With a small family, I was the child that got most of the attention during any sort of celebrations. So I suppose, why wouldn't I believe celebrations are important?

I remember when I was in elementary school and my grandparents would watch me while my parents worked. One time I walked into their home after school on an average day and waiting for me on the counter was a shiny silver Nordstrom box. Inside was an adorable shorts and tank onesie with jungle animals on it and buttons up the front. Yes, I did just call it adorable.

For Halloween in 2nd grade I dressed up as a girl from the 50's complete with a poodle skirt handmade by my mom, my grandma's scarf tied in my hair, and my grandpa picking me up from school in his baby blue, 1957, immaculately restored Thunderbird convertible to wow my friends and to make me feel like a real deal sock-hop gal. (This same car was featured in a photo shoot with Drew Barrymore in Vogue magazine and had its very own agent. You can get autographs at Carsland.)

My parents have always found the smallest ways to make each moment special. Eating a homemade breakfast as a family each morning and spending time connecting before the busyness of the day. Fresh cut flowers from my mom's garden appearing on my dresser just because it was Monday. Themed birthday parties. Writing notes to say, "I love you." Making the most dreadful of chores into a game, tricking me into doing them, and actually having fun in the process. Well, kind of having fun. I still don't look forward to cleaning my room. Ever.

I know people that don't make a very big deal about things in life. A birthday is just another wrinkle on the forehead. Work is just a means of survival. People come and go, plus deep relationships are a lot of work. Having expectations leads to disappoinment, so better to not care.

How sad.

There is enough pain in the world. There is enough reason to remain in the shadows of life without creating even more excuses to hide away. Complacency is the death of life.

Believe me when I say I know that it is easier to not care. It is easier to sit back and let things happen as a bystander, watching numbly as minutes, hours, days, years pass. It feels safe.

But safety is never guaranteed.

So then, why not engage? Why not celebrate? What is there to lose?

I have a terrible memory, you can ask anyone close to me. It's not that I don't want to remember things, I just can't. I really hate it. But you know what is interesting? I do remember the moments growing up where we were celebrating someone, something, some special occasion. They have been imprinted on my mind and heart because I learned from a young age that the moments that were important enough to celebrate must be important enough to remember.

Life is happening all around us. I have to tell myself this daily. Blink and we will miss it. Celebrate and we will engage it.

It is in the small things. Wearing tutus at 5:30am while doing chores on the farm. Smiling at strangers just because. Little surpises to brigthen someone's day. Taking a walk. Calling an old friend. Stopping to smell the roses. Seriously, stop next time.

I believe that life is worth celebrating.
I believe that life is asking us to celebrate it.

So, go. Close your computer. Turn off your tv. Leave your phone at home. Celebrate. I don't know how many days you have, but you do have today. What're you going to do with it?