I have a miserable confession about this crown .Well, not this crown exactly, I made this one with metallic paper and vintage pearls. The one I had planned on using was a beautiful, stiffened lace, gold crown, ordered especially for my sweet Louie in anticipation of her first birthday. I agonized for a few months over whether or not to purchase it before I finally did, not because it was expensive, but because it's just the sort of "unnecessary" I'm trying to de-clutter from our lives. But old habits die hard, and when I unwrapped the lace crown and set it at a jaunty angle on Elouise's beautiful head, I was so glad that I had caved. I set it up high- you know, so as to be out of reach- for safe-keeping. When I walked into Lou's room a few weeks later to grab it for pictures I got doused with a bucket of ice water. Not really. But the out-of-reach spot where the crown was displayed was empty, and I felt pretty empty about it. I guess I had been really excited about that little crown. I searched high and low, played good cop, bad cop with Sawyer, dug through everything, got furious, got sad, got discouraged, called everyone who had been in the house to ask if they had seen it, and then I called in Jeff. He has the finder power. He couldn't find it though. My silly little splurge, the crowning detail for my little Queen, was completely lost. I was sick about it.
I knew it was ridiculous to care about such a thing but since it was important to me I decided to pray. I pleaded that I would be able to find the crown, or know where to look, and then I sat and waited for inspiration to hit. I felt really strongly, as I had at several other quiet moments that day, that I needed to look in the boxes out by trash in the garage. I did. I found the box it was mailed in, snatched it up, and with my heart pounding and feelings of faith surging through me I knew, before I even opened it, that the crown was there. I peeled back the lid and- the box was empty. Dejected, I turned back inside to make a back-up paper crown. I was sure I was being punished for my bad behavior and caring so much for a stupid little crown.
So I learned my lesson. I repented of my children for being so crazy the day before, and from then on I focused not on the party, but on the reason for the celebration, my darling, dreamy Elouise. We had the most beautiful day for her. I resolved to never lose focus on what really mattered, and to tone down the parties in the future to allow more room for simply enjoying existence together.
And do you know what? The day after the party as Shane was breaking down boxes, he found the little lace crown, in a box, by the trash, right under the box I had looked in. If I had spent as much energy following my prompting as I had tearing apart the house mindlessly all. day. long. I would have easily found the crown.
That's two lessons learned (the hard way) from one tiny lace crown.
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