My son Henry makes a grouchy face that is reminiscent of an expression I used to make. (That's Henry on the left, me on the right.)

Sometimes Henry and his brother will be playing in the other room.  Giggles turn to silence. 

"Mom!" Solomon yells, "Henry's got the angry face again."

I'll  come in and find out how Henry's feelings got hurt. Hugs are given and the scowl turns to a smile.

It's both funny and lovely to have your traits reflected back at you on the face of a little one that you love. If anything I think it's God giving us a glimpse of ourselves how He sees us, in the face of a child.

In Solomon's first grade class, they're learning about what makes someone alive. Last night, as we ate dinner, he listed off bones and heartbeat as the criteria that makes something alive.

"Pizza was never alive," he said.

I was thinking about his statement but preoccupied with a completely unrelated challenge.  The herd of deer that trail through our yard have discovered my tulips on the perimeter of our property. And after weeks of watching the beautiful green buds turn color and almost bloom, I awoke to one patch completely chewed down to the ground.

"You have to cover them at night," Mom told me. "Deer love them when they're just about to bloom. They'll eat them blooming, too."

So lately part of my nightly routine includes walking around the yard in my pajamas placing laundry baskets, pails and our recycling containers over my budding tulips.

Yesterday morning, as I was taking off one of the pails, a perfectly blooming tulip head fell right off. Exactly what I'd been trying to avoid perished by my hand.

Bringing the tulip head inside, I placed it in a bud vase by my kitchen sink. Its beautiful red petals opened to show edges of yellow inside.

This morning as I was getting my coffee I noticed my tulip head.  Over night it had pulled its petals closed tightly into a bud. I smiled. "Solomon, come here," I said.

I showed him the tulip's petals. "Even after being picked it still sleeps at night," Solomon said.

From Solomon's expression, I could tell he was scanning the criteria he had learned in science class about what makes something alive. I'm sure his teacher will get an earful today about how things without heartbeats or bones but with petals are alive, too.

No doubt, something that inspires a smile on a tired mom's face before her morning coffee is alive and well,  even more,  a small unexpected answered prayer.

These are our first blooms of spring. I looked out my window this morning, saw these and smiled.

Years ago when we bought our house it was filled to the brim with the previous owners decades of belongings. Since the house had been empty since the 1960s, most of the items had been ruined by broken windows, storms and the many many squirrels that found shelter in the walls.

I remember, in an old shirt box, beneath boxes and boxes of newspaper was a pile of something, leaves? On the bottom was a piece of paper, first blooms of spring, Tivoli House, 1943.

I held the box, not knowing what to do with it. How beautiful that someone had thought to keep them and yet, here it was, over time they'd turned brown and become only recognizable by their label.

I'd learned by reading the many letters and following the photos that had been left behind, that the previous owners had lived in the city and came up to use the house as a summer home to enjoy "country living".

Tinny,  had come here as a little girl, later inherited the house and though she couldn't afford to repair it,  refused to part with it just the same. The house went up for sale, after she left this world at the young age of 103!

I pictured Tinny cutting the blooms, smelling them and boxing them to hold the promise of spring, or at least the memory of it all, never knowing a stranger, like me would find the dried blooms someday, and  imagine their blooms, in the blooms of my own.

I had just moved to Pawling, New York, when I saw the sign Welcome! Please Join Us for Good Friday Day of Prayer.  I was worried about finding a job and was feeling scattered like my many belongings still in boxes.

On a whim, I turned into the Peale Center and parked. I followed the signs to a chapel where I was given a bundle of letters with prayer requests. I looked around at the roomful of strangers. As I read, I became absorbed in prayer—a man addicted to drugs, a woman’s daughter dying of cancer, each request was a window into the heart of another.

For the first time in days, I lost myself in another's needs, and I felt my own spirit lift. Not long after, I got a job at a nearby bakery and then, years later, I ended up working at exactly the place I’d found comfort that Good Friday—The Peale Center. 

Over the years, I've attended many days of prayer. And no matter what is happening in my life, blessings or challenges,  I always look forward to the calming sense of belonging and peace I feel on Good Friday Day of Prayer.

April 10, 2009 is Guideposts 39th Annual Good Friday Day of Prayer.  Last year, they received over 10,000 prayer requests from all over the world. OurPrayer Manager, Peola Hicks feels tough times may bring record numbers of prayer requests this year. "The prayers people are asking for most this year," says Dr. Hicks, "fall into four top categories: 1) job or employment concerns and financial difficulty 2.) health or healing; 3) stress in one's marriage and broken relationships within the family; 4) recovery from substance abuse by a family member."

"Prayer is a strong and meaningful exercise of love, faith and hope. We welcome all to join us as OurPrayer reaches out to inspire, unite and help people worldwide through prayer on Good Friday," added Dr. Hicks. “Visit ourprayergoodfriday.org to send us your prayer request.”

People from the New York area are encouraged to come to the Peale Center in Pawling New, York, on Good Friday, April 10th, anytime between 6:00 am - 6:00 pm, to personally spend time praying for the requests of those in need. In the past, some have traveled from as far as California to read the requests, although travel isn't necessary as people from all over the world can join in prayer online at ourprayergoodfriday.org.  I know I'll be there!

We've had a bundle of glorious spring days here. A perfect time for  me to go along our yard and pick up sticks and limbs that had fallen during winter's storms.  Later, with Henry on his tricycle, I walked beside the road, picking up trash that seems to collect there.  Plastic recyclables that get blown from their collection containers and other odds and ends.

Near the edge of our property, I noticed something sticking out near the bottom of an old tree stump.  Rusty and angular I thought, an old tractor part? Picking it up, I realized it was an old iron sewing machine. Rusty beyond repair but recognizable just the same.

It was heavy and I lugged it home to show Tony who was working in the garden.

"What's that?" he asked.

"An old sewing machine. I found it by an old tree stump down by the road."

After making dinner, I called Tony, Solomon and Henry inside to wash up.

"Did you see where your sewing machine is?" Tony asked. He pointed to our soon-to-be flower garden. "Get it? Sow the seeds."

Isn't it a funny "coinidence" that an old rusty sewing machine would turn up while we're doing yard work and planting our garden and that my husband would put  the sow and sew connection together. 

I'm happy to leave that rusty, old sewing machine exactly where it is and patiently watch as flowers bloom around it, reminding me to keep things together, make beauty from the scraps I'm given and sow seeds whenever I can.