Happy Acre

Sometimes kids can seem to thwart even the best of intentions.

It makes me feel so helpless sometimes.

I was just trying to watch a bit of General Conference. We were at my parents' house for spring break. There were a lot of people there because it was also Easter Sunday.

I was so tired. This and that had kept me busy so I'd missed the first bit of the session. I finally sat down to watch. Simon was soon at my knees asking for help, showing me things, just talking.

I guess all of those little times where I was interrupted while trying to read my scriptures or pray or listen during sacrament meeting have been piling up and the camel's back broke.

I was pretty mad.

As calmly as I could, I helped Simon get his shoes on and I got my coat on and we went outside into the cold, windy yard.

When I was getting Simon strapped into the swing, my dad's big mean canadian goose came running up to the fence hissing and honking. I admit I wanted to grab it by the neck and throw it across the yard.

I kicked the fence at it and yelled.

The goose did not care one bit. But Simon did. He wanted to get out of the swing so he could kick the fence and yell at the goose. At least he had more cause. The darn thing had bitten him earlier.

Well, it was a little bit funny, but I felt stupid and ashamed. I apologized to Simon and told him I shouldn't have been mean to the goose. I took his hand and we walked around the yard.

We walked around the whole yard.

My heart softened.

Several years ago, while my sisters and I were enjoying the Jane Austen and Little Women type books, we decided that we needed to give our childhood home a name. All of the "estates" in those books had charming names. If I remember correctly, we put it to a family vote.
Somehow, we settled on Happy Acre.

As I walked hand in hand with my little boy, I also walked through memories and by old friends.

The apple trees that were so perfect for climbing. The big tall lombardy poplar that was big even when I was little. The apricot and other fruit trees that were too small to produce back then, but have fed my own little ones. The giant weeping willows that were just little sticks in the mud when I helped Dad plant them. Now they make hideaways for the grandkids. And the little grove of pine trees that seemed so small and out of place in the middle of the yard when we planted them. Now they tower high above the two-story house.

I walked and remembered and Simon and I had some swordfights with sticks.

And Happy Acre worked its old magic. It has always been a happy place for me.

I look forward to reading the report of General Conference. Even if I don't make it through the whole issue, I will know that I learned something special this Conference Sunday.


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