Oh, sure. Everybody is just enjoying their Christmas Eve. But how will they feel tomorrow, I wonder, if I refuse to allow the festivities to proceed until the Baby Jesus has been found and returned to His birth stable? Uh-huh. Then they’ll understand the importance.
Update for those behind on the story: The Baby Jesus from the (unbreakable-kid-version) Nativity set came up missing sometime during the Rhoades family Christmas dinner last weekend. There was a sighting (by Hunter) in the bedroom formerly known as Tredessa’s or Zach’s old room. But tips on His whereabouts have not yet panned out.
“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all year.” Charles Dickens
I have a whole blog category called “Keep Christmas” inspired by this very quote. Keep: to continue, maintain, look after, maintain possession of. Provide and nourish it. Maintain, preserve and enjoy it. And what are we keeping anyway? The Christ Mass, the worship of Jesus Christ. Of course I will Keep Christmas. With all my heart!
The PJ Party
Of all our social engagements during the festive holidays, there is none so important nor more desirous for which to be invited than the PJ Party with the Grandbebes. The Little Prince himself called for this royal celebration this year, already having deemed it a most regal tradition.
This year’s soiree included “Ice” skating at The Orchard where Gemma promptly fell on her “buns” and did not like skating at all after that, telling every stranger who cared to engage her, “I can’t skate anymore, I am too little,” while Averi went at it as if she were born on ice and Guini fell if anyone skated past her within a 20-foot radius, presumably the wind itself knocking the little featherweight down. But she would laugh hilariously and get right back up and the boys? Well they were boys!. Then there was Taco Bell and these 5 can put away the chips and Nacho Cheese like nobody’s business.
Dave had the 2 little girls while I drove Gavin, Hunter and Guini home. We decided to sing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs, in between theologiocal discussions about how God could be everywhere at once and what God looks like and how God was right there in the car blessing Hunter and holding his hand that very second. Somewhere between “Let it Snow” and “Jingle Bells,” just after the kids had happily spotted the giant star atop the Christmas tree at the Brighton City Hall as we passed, Guini, moved by the true meaning of Christmas, led out a strong, rousing rendition of “Oh no, You never let go.” Yes. The Matt Redman song. And they worshipped their little heads off.
Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You
Then…
The annual Reindeer prints: footprint for the head, 2 hand prints for the antlers, the forefinger for eyes and a thumbprint for the nose. These were created to take home for mommys and daddys – a reminder of how much they have grown since last year. Colorful paint and water flew in every direction, but voila! Art!
Then hot chocolate for all and we got in our jammies and pulled the couch close to the TV for watching Sprout and Elf while munching on popcorn.
The Party lasts all night and into the morning.
At exactly 6:13 this morning, I heard the rumble of small feet tear through the house and shrieks of naughty glee and giggles pierced the sweet sleep I so longingly clung to. Capt’n Crunch Christmas Cereal, helping Poppa wrap presents and place them under the tree and early morning screenings of the classics: Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snowman, our very own film festival! They are making tents of blankets and Baby Jesus is missing. We have sent out a search party, but Gemma announces from the top of the stairs, in that particularly little-lamb voice of hers, “I can’t find Baby Jesus, Poppa. I don’t know where He is?…”
Sandy-the-Dog endures being placed in swaddling clothes, but does enjoy the crumbs and treats the grandbebes leave around the house.
Hunter informs me before leaving that we did not do the PJ Party “correctly” because there were no balloons and cake. He believes with all his heart that a PJ Party must have balloons and cake. {you try, right?}
“Two more ‘sleeps’ until Christmas,” the measurement Gavin and Hunter give to any upcoming event for which they can hardly wait.
Christmas is, after all, coming. In only 2 more sleeps!
I am pretty proud of all my girls. Not only do they go all out thinking of the most perfect gifts to give for Christmas, each of them is spending hours and hours creating handmade presents for the family. And these gifts are not just popsicle-stick napkin holders, no. We are talking heirloom quality stuff. One daughter is giving her sister something she spent working 160 hours on. Steph and Stormie have had weekly “Project Mondays” for weeks, both working on unique and thoughtful gifts.
I am just so impressed at what resourceful and loving women they have become, my “little women.”
Steph’s Tree.
Stephanie’s domestic creativity showed up on her Christmas tree this year. I’ll let her explain it to you:
Here is my tree:
My colors are white, silver, teal, purple, and black. My main inspiration was the ‘un-Christmas’ decor from Anthropologie*
I didn’t use most of my old ornaments this year. I found things around the house to use and re-use/re-purpose for the decorations.
The big flowers are made out of white tissue paper from the dollar store and old unwanted sewing patterns.
The garlands are made from $1.00 worth of string and yarn from the thrift store. Stormie and I finger knitted each one – there is about 175 ft of it….I think:)
The little white flowers are made from white plastic grocery sacks and white pipe cleaners.
The ‘star’ on top is made from old black paper with writing ( I think it was a report of some kind) that I got for $1 from the flea market. I didn’t want to do a traditional star – just something that would stand out.
This last photo is of Guini and Gemma inside the Anthropologie* store in Cherry Creek – LOVE their tissue paper poms!
Thanks for the peek inside the Kelley-Christmas household, Stephanie. And for being such a thoughtful gift-giver.
We scaled way back this year. We have been scaling back yearly, it seems. But we still mananged to get some of our favorites made and even a new thing or two, keeping that oven hot and hopping for hours. There are the wildly popular “Thin Mints,” a shameless and absolutely amazing rip-off of the Girl Scout cookies. The sugar cookies for decorating are made and await a coating of royal icing in delightful Christmas colors. Jovan used her new Pampered Chef cookie press to make the lightest most buttery press-cookies, dusted in colored sugars.
Stephanie has perfected peanut brittle. There are Mexican Wedding Cakes and Gingerbread Men, along with Peanut-Butter Kisses-Cookies and Chocolate-Covered Peanut Butter Balls heaped next to our chocolate-dipped pretzels and “Strawberry” cookies (which have no relation whatsoever to strawberries, other than how they look, but really are made from dates and pecans and coconut and Rice Krispies and fashioned to look like a strawberry – a Rhoades family fav from the 1950s and 60s). And more, yes, there is more.
Things change.
One interesting thing this year was computers. Looking around the kitchen and seeing 3 laptops (2 Macs and a PC) open to recipe sites – that was funny. So much for cute recipe cards, huh? It was also quieter and we missed Elise-the-Niece…Well, it was quieter, that is, until the boys and daddies joined us and a chaotic-Christmas-cheer ruckus ensued, fueled, undoubtedly by the pure sweetness of the ‘cane hitting the bloodstream.
The girls swarmed poor Santa
The guys show up for dinner at 6:30
The boys played cards with Aunt Dessa while the girls took our “food orders” for chicken nuggets and muffins, coffee and salad (their imaginary menus were limited and they are sort of pushy as waitresses, these granddaughters of mine). The ‘bebes chased each other, snuck sweets from piled-high trays of goodies and pushed Rudolph’s paw, making him sing the Rudolph song veeeeeery loudly, at least172times (that Rudolph nose was flashing like a traffic light, non-stop for hours!). I seriously wished for some one to decapitate Rudolph. But the grandbebes? Find him delightful.
Gemma was particularly artistic in her interpretive dancing, inspired by her viewing of “Frosty the Snowman.” Averi’s great joys were bringing handfuls of cookies to everyone, or unrolling toilet paper into the, shall we say, “bath bowl”, and I just hope there was no criss-crossing of these activities.
And at one point, so warmed by both this season of good will and by the way they’d been running like banchees, all five grandbebes ripped off their shirts and flung them like confetti into the air, thrilled to be set free from the confines of clothing so they could fully enjoy the twinkling lights and the Christmas music. “We’re nakey! We’re nakey!” Averi exclaimed with glee and they laughed as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever experienced.
Rocky and Tredessa interact with Santa as well.
Ah. It is the little things.
It took awhile to find every shoe and sock and coat amd mitten (and shirt) when it came time to go home with their large trays of cookies and candies. {Sigh}. But we did it…almost. I still have to make the marvelous butter-cookie dough from which will emerge Raspberry Ribbons and melt-in-your mouth Candy Cane Cookies, among other delights, and the Peppermint Bark awaits me this morning. But most of the holiday baking is complete for another year and it is way too much and more than enough and truly not as sweet as the time I got with my girls. And the whole bunch.
December 1988. Stephanie was 6 and we left her and her two sisters (Tredessa 5 and Tara 9 1/2) home alone for a few minutes while we picked up some church supplies for the Christmas season. Wal-Mart was 5 minutes away and it was a small Nebraska city. I wouldn’t try this now, so don’t call Social Services on me, people. They were given strict instructions and told to behave.
We get to Wal-Mart and call home to check on them and are informed by the very responsible and afraid-she-might-be-in-trouble Tara that Tredessa and Stephanie were jumping on the bed and Stephanie had hit her head on Tredessa’s noggin, knocking her tooth loose.
It was very upsetting. Rushing home I am thinking, “Oh no. We have to save the tooth. Oh poor Stephanie!” But it ended up being a bottom tooth and when we investigated closely, she already had her first “grown-up tooth” coming in. Tredessa’s head was a blessing in diguise.
Having 5 kids in less than 7 years, can I just tell you we kept the Tooth Fairy veeeeeeeery busy between 1985 and the early 90’s? Then? We had to give her a pink slip.
The grandbebes enter their tooth-morphing season.
Gavin is a man after my heart. He loves to work and work hard. He spent 4 hours one day last week shoveling snow. His neighbor paid him $2 – for shoveling at his own house! But he thought it was worth that! After the Harvest Fest he dumped his huge candy haul on the floor and said, “I have to organize all this candy, Nonna!” Organization is key for Gavin, a red-headed first-born. Case-in-point, he had just organized the kitchen pantry that afternoon, emptying it of all its contents and carefully filling it back up.
So no surprise that this very detail-oriented and hard-working, freckle-faced kid only had that loose tooth for 2 or 3 days before it came out. He is very consistent and organized that way.
Love you, Gavin! Congratulations! Be sure to tell the Tooth Fairy that prices have gone way, way up since December of 1988!…Love, Nonna
Guinivere and Gemma show up on a crisp autumn morn to hang out with Nonna. Gemma runs to me, squealing with joy, “It’s Nonna! I found Nonna!” I pick her up and twirl her around and she squeezes her face to mine. Guini sneaks by to head straight for the toys and snacks.
Outside there is a fairly strong wind, and though the sun is the brightest bright, we determine quickly that something warm to drink will be in order. I supply my sweet-petites with hot chocolate. They add a crystally sugar cube (because Nonna is out of marshamallows and you must add something) and begin happily stirring and sipping. I join them on the patio with my piping hot coffee.
We discuss all manner of fun topics as we watch Sandy-the-Dog chase birds, and bees are drawn to the pink, sparkly shoes they are wearing. Our steamy hot beverage party moves from under the canopy on cushioned chairs to the stairs to the antique bed/couch (temporarily not in its’ rightful patio space due to a social function held here recently). At some point Gemma divines that if she has a blanket, she can just sprawl on the patio concrete and be quite content.
Suddenly the grandbebes are hungry. I grab a bag of tortilla chips and, for myself, some homemade salsa (the hot stuff). Grown men were unable to eat it the other night, yet Guini devours salsa’d chip after chip saying, “It isn’t too bad. It’s not too spicy.” That’s my girl!
“Nonna, can we watch Sprout?” Yes.
5 minutes later, “Nonna, can we have lunch?” Seriously? Well, maybe a snack, I decide, and as we go through the list of everything we have in the house, they settle on hot dogs. They each have 2. With mustard AND ketchup (ick). Did I not train their mother correctly on acceptable hot dog condiments??!?
Energized by food, they make quick work of the family room, grabbing every pillow and couch cushion, making a circle around the coffee table. Now it is time to run like banchees and scream at the top of our lungs. Round and round the table we go, running on top of the pillows, which, is actually pretty dangerous, let me tell you.
After they tire of it (and I am nearly dead), they pull out the play cell phones and it seems that everyone who calls them wants also to talk to me. I do my best to have believeable conversations into dead phones, as Guini and Gemma follow the chatter quite closely, nodding their heads as if they knew exactly what the phantom-person on the other end wanted to discuss with me. Tara and Tredessa “called” a lot. That is all I am saying.
“Nonna, I have to go pottie,” Gemma would excitedly exclaim. This happened at least 17 un-event-filled times (and did not happen twice when it should have), but we did have quite the chatter-filled bonding time. Guini-the-Flower girl informed me that cameras were not welcomed. And even though I tried to tell her it would warm my heart to have memories of this beautiful, crisp, fine, fall morning together, she was resolute. Softly, yet without apology she said, “I told you no pictures today.”
But it is captured in my heart and my mind’s eye. And I did sneak a couple of shots. Think she’ll forgive me?
I already knew that for Easter, I wanted to talk a little about the cross because of this beautiful photograph my great friend, Amy Jo Becker, recently took. One foggy morning in late March on her way to work, she spied this display near 120th & Sheridan in Westminister, CO (Victory Church) and thought to capture it for us all to ponder.
Even now, 2000 years after Jesus’ death on the cross, this representation evokes such such gratefulness and awe in my heart.
Childlike faith…
Imagine my delight when, this past Thursday, Gavin, my 3-year-old grandson, ran into the kitchen, suddenly dropped to his knees on the tile floor and began to exclaim, “Look, Nonna, it’s God…it’s Jesus!”
I thought for a split second we were going to have to open our house for tours because it seemed he had discovered an Easter miracle on my floor. I just hoped it wasn’t the form of Jesus in a sticky dirt spot or something for all the world to see. But then I watched him as he took his finger and traced between the ceramic tiles, first up and down, then side to side: he drew a cross.
How excited, I can tell you, a nonna becomes when she realizes her toddler grandson has become aware of the cross of Jesus Christ, something one writer called “the dividing symbol of all history.”
Then Gavin and I went around the house and looked for the cross anywhere we could find it: between the panels on doors, on my old school-house window coffee table. He excitedly “discovered” my cross collection and became especially excited by my very small replica of the “Christ the Redeemer” statue which stands high on the Corcovado Mountain in Rio de Janeiro. “It’s God! It’s Jesus! It’s the cross!” Gavin would squeal with every new discovery, exhibiting more understanding than many full-grown Christians, I thought.
A little later, Gavin came out of the bathroom having found on a shelf the beautiful tiled cross my friend Marilyn had given me and reverently showed me his “find.” He carried that cross around with him for the rest of his visit while he played.
Max says it so well…The Cross by Max Lucado
It rests on the timeline of history like a compelling diamond.
It’s tragedy summons all sufferers. Its absurdity attracts all cynics.
It’s hope lures all searchers. History has idolized and despised it,
gold-plated and burned it, worn it and trashed it. History has done
everything but ignore it. How could you? How could you ignore such
a piece of lumber? Suspended on its beams is the greatest claim
in history. A crucified carpenter claiming to be GOD on earth.
Divine. Eternal. The Death-Slayer. Never has timber been regarded
so sacred. No wonder the Apostle Paul called The Cross event the
core of The Gospel (1 Cor. 15.3-5). Its bottom line is
sobering: if the account is true, it’s history’s hinge. Period.
If not, The Cross is history’s hoax.
As you ponder Christ on the Cross, what are your thoughts?…
The cross stands against the skyline of all time as the greatest symbol of the central fact of Christianity – the death of Jesus Christ in our place. Yes, He died. Yes, He was buried. But that is only a part of the good news. He didn’t stay on that cross, He rose from death, and oh – what was won in that victory for me – for me!
It’s God! It’s Jesus! It’s the cross! Yaaaay!!!
Joyous blessings to you today as we celebrate a risen Savior, Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: See the cross. Ponder it. Understand it. Thank God for it. Sing some Matt Redman: You led me to the cross and I saw the face of mercy in that place of love…Now that I’m living in Your all-forgiving love, my every road leads to the cross..
It’s a trail of bright colored Play-Dough bits and crayon drawings of “piles of snow” and stickers and paint and Light-Saber battles with vacuum hoses and cookies and orange pop and more cookies and dancing to the Fiesta Latin music channel (learning to do the twist and to shake our booties) and announcing, “Watch Nonna, I’m gonna fly now” as we jump from 3 steps up and Nonna’s heart is temporarily arrested until the landing is obviously successful.
Guini
It’s Guini loving the most dangerous thing a one-year-old could love: neon-colored plastic jacks, which she likes to pull one by one from an old Quaker Oatmeal cannister and place on the floor and then immediately one by one they go back in. She actually squeals with delight as she pulls them out, dazzled over and over by the colors and we just watch her as she dazzles us.
Hunter
It’s Hunter begging to be frightened again and again. He makes me put on the Darth Maul mask and chase him, but screams in utter terror when I truly surprise him and then lifts the mask to make sure: “Nonna?” Ok. Relief. It is just Nonna. Back to being chased. Then, time to cuddle and repeated requests to sing “Jingle-bells-all-the-way.” With Hunter, nothing is ever done once. If once was good, many times are better.
Gavin
It’s Gavin “posing” me with a couple of stuffed animals as he cranks and adjusts Grandpa’s tripod, pretending there is a camera there. He tells me to wait “just one second” then instructs me, “Say cheese.” He squinches his eyes and I smile as he creates a clicking sound with his tongue and then he tilts his head head and says, “Awwwwwe...” because I smiled so prettily. And as he thanks me for sitting still, I wish I were aiming a real camera back to capture this exact moment of pretend into which I was invited. And I force myself to see it deeply so I can never forget this February afternoon…
Being a mom was the most wonderful thing. Being a Nonna, I am completely undone.
May you also know this joy! Blessings! Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: I am feeling a strong urge to climb a fourteener just so I can scream out my gratitude to God for all He has given me, for how He has blessed me. Gavin, Guinivere and Hunter, my personal heritage from the LORD, how I love you!
You recognize that quote, right? It is exclaimed by the saintly Tiny Tim at the end of the Charles Dickens’s classic “A Christmas Carol.
Three
We have tiny people around our house often these days, our grand-kids: Gavin 3, Hunter 2, and Guinivere 1. Our tiny ones have yet to declare “God bless us, every one,” but they are bringing great delight to our hearts in the glow of the tree this Christmas season. And oh, we are blessed by them!
Gavin knows what a cotton-headed ninny-muggins is…(do you?) Gavin, who has watched “Elf” at least 47 times in the past few weeks and made us watch along many times. The best was last night, though, when he reached over to gently hold my hand. As we watched this silly grown-up, pre-school-ish Buddy the Elf character played by Will Farrell, I apparently began to nod off. Gavin whispered, “Don’t go to sleep, Nonna, watch with me,” and then he reached over and hugged me and held my face for a moment to look into my eyes, making sure they didn’t close again. Melt…
When I suggested maybe he would also like to go to sleep, he politely whispered, “No thank you.” I stayed awake at my post, holding his hand and watching “Elf.”
Gavin’s mommy and daddy are making sure he grows in his understanding of Christmas and God’s great gift to mankind. His Jesus-awareness has increased. I found this out recently as he responded to my inquiry “Is there anyone in this car who wants french fries?’ as we hit a Wendy’s drive-through. Gavin piped up, “Yes, Jesus does!”
Hunter is picky about his Christmas confectionsIn spite of the fact that when Hunter discovered, just this past Wednesday, that he did not like chocolate-covered-cherries and flailed the partly chewed brown and red gooey ball at me in utter disgust, he is pure delight! At 2 years old, this little prince is destined to give that Tiny Tim a run for his “God-blessing-quoteable” money.
Hunter loves to lift his hands and “praise Jesus!” He sometimes seems reserved, almost contemplative (not the usual description of a boy at 2), but I suspect there may be a hell-fire and brimstone preacher coming. Even now, he powerfully gestures and declares and holds an audience spellbound. At a recent CD release party, Hunter was heard singing, with all his little might, “Fire fall down…fire fall down on us we pray...” with his arms raised into the air as high as he could get them.
Hunter’s recent “discovery” of “Toy Story” and Woody and Buzz Lightyear has made that movie new again. The other night when just he and I were hanging out, he was rummaging through our basket of Christmas movies and with great joy informed me, “Nonna, look – it’s ‘Woody 2!’ ” No, I don’t believe he was saying “it’s Woody, too…” I am certain he had heard rumors there was a sequel and knew he had found it. He gets the movie numbering system. That’s the kind of mind he has.
Cuddlebug Princess
Guinivere is the princess. She says, “Hi,” a lot and very brightly, like she really means it. “What’s that?” is her favorite question. And there is a lot of other jabbering, too, which seems to be her own secret language, but is spoken fluently by big brother Gavin and cousin Hunter. Everyone in the family thinks that Guini loves them best (although I am sure in my case, it is true) because of the way she comes up to me and raises her arms like I am the answer to all her prayers. She wraps them tightly around my neck while pressing her chubby cheek to mine. Then she’s off, spreading the love, making others think she loves them the most.
Then this happened…
Seeing Santa Claus A few days ago, their mommies and aunts and I packed up Gavin and Hunter and Guini and took them to a small room at United Power, where it was rumored that Santa Claus would be making a visit. We all acted excited about it, so the kids humored us and got all enthused about it, too. There were hordes of beleaguered parents and ornery kids being forced through the room in a tight maze created by tables. Up and down the aisles we went, like cattle being led to slaughter, all for the treasured keepsake photo of our little ones with Santa Claus.
Some families had all 2.3 children dressed in matching reindeer sweaters and were perfectly coiffed, with shoes shining and teeth straight. Others had kids with snot running down their faces and their hair standing straight up due to static electricity, with one shoe untied (is this fair – should the kid with snot have to have static in his hair, too?).
Getting all the way to Santa Claus was long and arduous. How did we keep their eyes on the prize? Because across the room you could see the man in the elf hat with a plate of cookies and a table full of candy canes. So we stayed in the line with 238 people in front of us, 867 behind. Guini waved and said “hi” quite merrily throughout, even though it was just the same group of people over and over, up and down the maze. She thought everyone was there to receive her love and friendship.
Finally, it was our turn, our moment with Santa. It was the moment I would get the perfect picture of my 3 adorable grandchildren, sitting atop the Claus’s knees, smiling, delighting him with their gift requests. I daydreamed how I would show the picture to all, the symbol of our perfect Christmas 2006. And soon, the icing on the cake: cookies and candy canes.
replace this image
photo taken a split second before Guini began pummeling Santa to within an inch of his life
And now, in this corner, weighing in at only 21.5 pounds… Well, when Tara put Hunter on Santa’s knee, he began to cry. Big, wet, grievous tears spilled from his face. Gavin got less thrilled about the whole thing the closer he got to this big furry-dressed man. But he politely smiled and stood close, but not too close to Santa’s knee, refusing to even look at the gentleman. At this point he was wondering why we had all been so excited. Guinivere, “Miss Friendly”, let out a bone-chilling scream of protest when she was placed on Santa’s lap. All the people squished in to that room, including Santa’s helpers stopped dead in their tracks. We held our breaths…
The photographer looked panicked, but was somehow able to snap the fastest kid/Santa photo known to mankind just a split second before Guini turned around and began beating Santa in his big, fat, acrylic, fuzzy, fake beard for all she was worth. They had to call security. But doggonit, we didn’t leave without our cookies and candy canes. So, you know, it was worth it. Tiny Tim has nothing on my grandbabies!
Blessings! Jeanie
NOTETO SELF: Watch with them, pray with them, squish cheeks with them…get cookies and candy canes with them by any means available! And remember – Jesus is in the car with me. And He may want fries. :)
I am blogging now! My amazing son-in-law, Tristan Kelley, got me set up, so with a nod to David Letterman for the use of his format, I’ll tell you why. Here goes:
Top Ten Reasons I’m Blogging Now
10. This is a way to record what is happening in my life in all different areas. I stunk at keeping diaries when I was young (always lost the key), and my journaling has been sporadic, but if I think some one will discover I’ve been neglectful, I am motivated to do it!
9. Bad memory. This shall be a record of my journey for everything I may forget as the days and weeks go by. And the kids can tell you, that could be a lot!
8. Because I said so…and I’m the mom! :) This is a chance to speak into the lives of my children (I hope to inspire and encourage them) and other friends and family and tell them things I want to make sure they know. And they can even talk back (through the use of “comments”). It’s your chance, kiddos!
7.I LOVE the site Tris set up for me! My girls found this stock image of the red-head and Tristan made the fall leaves swirl. It makes me laugh every time I see it. So, for that reason, I will be here blogging! [update: this was in reference to original header gif]
6. It’ll help me process what I am thinking and learning and, as I write, help me figure out who God intended me to be. “I think, therefore, I blog.”
5. Because I just know everyone will adore all my grandkid-stories and pictures!
4. You’re so far away: hopefully, I’ll get comments from friends old and new, near and far. And those letters that never seemed to have been mailed will morph into shorter, but more steady contact! HOPE-hope-hope!
3. I have soooooo much to say! Ask any of my childhood school teachers! But I hate talking on the phone. So. Blog.
2. Really cool, intelligent people seem to have blogs. I am hoping to become one of those.
And the number one reason I am now blogging: 1. My mother will like it!
Blessings! Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: Ask Tristan where spellcheck is on this thing???
