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How hard is it to let go of things?
I decided recently that it was time to get rid of some of our four-year-old granddaughter’s older toys and books and, well, things that aren’t really toys but that have been essential to her play in the past - like empty boxes. I thought that last weekend would be a good time to do so.
On the trip home from picking her up, I planted the seeds.
“You are getting to be a such a big girl.”
She, proudly: “Yes, I am.”
“You’re getting taller. And you are learning how to do so many new things.”
She, again, still proudly: “Yes, I am.”
“I think you are getting too old and too big for some of your toys. I was thinking this weekend we could go through them, and you could help me pick some things to give away to littler kids.”
She, a little dubiously now: “Okay.”
Pause. Long pause.
She: “But not my panda. I love my panda. I’m not too big for my panda.”
“No, no, not your panda. We won’t give away anything you still play with or love.”
She, only slightly reassured: “And not my baby animal book. I really like my baby animal book.”
“No, not any of the books you still like to look at or have me read to you. We won’t give away anything you still play with or love.”
I changed the subject and our talk turned to other things. But the first thing she did when we got home was go upstairs and start grabbing toys which she lugged down to the kitchen to show me, saying things like “I really love my Dora doll” or “This is my FAVORITE puzzle” or “Will you read this book to me tonight?”
And this continued, on and off, all weekend. I put a small, empty box by the back door and told her she could put whatever she wanted me to give away in the box. I assured her repeatedly that I would not throw away anything that was important to her. And she continued to haul belongings downstairs so she could declare her love for them before she took them back up.
She did put one book in the box. But it was a book my mother had sent our son when he was born, so I quietly took it out. At the end of the weekend, the box was empty.

This photo of our granddaughter's hand, taken when she was only a few weeks old, just took 1st place in the ABC Group's weekly contest - I Is For Infants.

It has been in her room forever, part of a grouping of four images (hand, foot, face sleeping, face awake) all in the same tones and framed to match one another. She loves them. Occasionally I think I'll change them out for something more suitable for her four-year-old self, but then she looks at them when I'm reading her bedtime books or helping her choose her clothes and says something like, "That was my hand when I was a tiny baby? I had really little fingers". And I say to myself, "Nah, I'll just leave them up a little longer."

"He says the best way out is always through."
-Robert Frost, A Servant to Servants

Stenophobia by Nikolyn McDonald
Also available in black and white and with text

Our four-year-old granddaughter visited this weekend and one of our projects was making cards to use for thank you notes for the people who had given her Christmas gifts. Good thing we had three days!

Making the cards was great. She loves to color and draw and cut and paste and put stickers and duck tape on and paint - AND she got some new glitter glue markers that were WAAAY cool! Even so it took 2-3 days per card since she wanted to do more than one thing and much of this had to dry between sessions.

Dictating the message and writing her name on the cards was the hard part. She was quite happy to say "Dear X, Thank you for X. Merry Christmas (or Happy New Year)" and maybe "I love you" but I wanted a little content and I wanted it to be hers - even if . . . uh . . . prompted. As for her name, she told me she couldn't do the "e" so I agreed to put that in for her; and, according to her, the "s" was "scribbled" - it used to be backwards but recognizable but I think someone is helping her get them right way round because now they look more like an elongated "c" with a little tail on it.

And then I had cool - I thought - colored envelopes so it took awhile to choose which color to use for each card. She put the card and note in the envelope, I wrote the address on, she taped the flap down (we were both delighted that she actually had a REASON to tear off pieces of tape), and she put the stamp on (I covered all but the upper right corner of the envelope with my hands which annoyed her but I told her it was the post office rules).

We got about 2/3 of them done; we'll finish the rest next time she comes.

"I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play . . . "

Now a familiar Christmas hymn, these words originally began a poignant, personally meaningful, poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Christmas Day in 1863. If you love this carol as I do, you will be moved by this account of when and why it was written as well as by a reading of the entire poem.

So incredibly appropriate for this day and age.

"If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there."
-George Harrison paraphrasing dialogue from Lewis Carroll's *Alice in Wonderland*

Lone Poplar and Road by Nikolyn McDonald

“You can't get too much winter in the winter.”
-“Snow” by Robert Frost
Sunset at Walnut Creek Lake by Nikolyn McDonald

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
Sunset Shrub by Nikolyn McDonald

"'Enough' is a feast.” Buddhist proverb
Cordial by Nikolyn McDonald

I love to get mail – real mail with a stamp on it and a hand written note that is meant just for me. Even though I’m eager to see what’s inside, I take my time opening it, just to draw the moment out a bit.

Mom died in the spring of 2012 and she was the one who always sent long letters, the envelopes bulging with newspaper clippings and old photos she knew we would enjoy or find interesting, so I no longer get many of those; but I do receive cards and notes upon occasion.

Sometimes it’s a note from my sister – the one who has so many of Mom’s old journals and loves to go through them – sharing a tidbit that brings my childhood back in a rush. Sometimes there’s a card from one of my nieces or nephews with a recent photo of one of their own children and I marvel at how quickly they are growing. Sometimes it’s a thank you note and I find out that I managed to select the perfect gift or bake a casserole that came in handy. When times are personally tough, a note from a close friend or a family member lets me know I am in their thoughts. At Christmas I enjoy catching up with friends and family we haven’t seen in years and years – but whom we continue to feel we are keeping up with just because of the annual correspondence. And of course on special occasions like a birthday or anniversary, a card, even if there’s no note on it, tells me someone far away was thinking about me long enough to select, address, and send it.

There are so many reasons to write – do you ever take the time to drop someone a note to someone just to say you care?