*hey there, it's christa*

A December to Remember

Oh, December, you truly never disappoint...well, except for that last Packer game maybe.

Like always, you've been jam-packed with activity, but you won't hear me complaining.

After all, there's been gingerbread lattes, fresh-baked cookies and the faint smell of fresh Christmas pine in the background while I've been running around (and writing, of course) like a madwoman.

There have been movies good and bad (but mostly good, definitely an exception to the rule in my world, trust me), holiday hymns sung in church, lovely cards nestled next to the boring ol' bills in the mailbox and the best part of all? Well, all the celebrating with family and dear friends...

I feel like I've had several Christmases already, whether it was hanging with my dear friend Heather and seeing Breaking Dawn at our mall of choice, reconnecting with my pal Andrea and her adorable son Jack or flying out to Colorado where the bulk of my family lives.

While it wasn't much of a white Christmas, which I'm totally okay with since I grew up in snowy Wisconsin, it was truly memorable all the same. Not only did I get to see my sister and her hubby graduate from college (cue teary eyes), but I got some seriously awesome hang time with my Mom, Casey, Lindsey, Shayne, and of course, Princess Adelyn (she's really into princesses these days). The only sad part really was that it all went by much too fast...

By the way, this is Miss Adelyn Grace after she discovered the wonder of mini Reese's peanut butter cups. Like my hubby who's also been known to down an entire bag in a single sitting, she thought they were so incredible that she hid under my Mom's dining room table and ate them long after she'd been told not to.

Yep, she's got a major sweet tooth. Just like her Mama and Auntie Christa. :)

Kicking Off the Holiday Season With Serendipity

I don't know how this "tradition" got started, but for the past couple of years, Will and I have officially kicked off the holiday season by watching Serendipity.

Now if you're not a fan of this John Cusack-Kate Beckinsale romantic comedy, I recommend skipping this post altogether because the following paragraphs will address exactly what makes the movie so downright lovable.

But then again, how could anyone not like this film? I mean it stars everybody's favorite Everyman, John Cusack. Even if you're not into romantic comedy (and really, these days, I couldn't blame you for that—they've been sooo bad.), Cusack makes what could've been an awful ordeal downright enjoyable (the same cannot be said, however, for Must Love Dogs, but I won't bother going off on that tangent).

What also helps is there's a pretty good script, not to mention a plethora of engaging side characters. Sure, like most sitcom characters, these supporting players are much too outrageous to resemble anyone from real life, but you still can't help loving them all the same.

Not only is Molly Shannon fantastic as the kooky owner of a New Age bookstore who doesn't exactly believe in what she's selling, but who could forget John Corbett's wackadoodle (yes, I just made that up) world musician Lars? Not only does he insist on sporting totally hideous scarves as part of his everyday wardrobe, but he really gets into his own music videos.

Memo to Lars: Yes, those bloodthirsty vikings hate the music—along with everyone else.

What also doesn't hurt the cause are all those adoring close-ups of frozen hot chocolates from Serendipity, the restaurant. And if that didn't already send your sweet tooth into overdrive, there's the chocolate cake that neither Kate or Molly (yes, I forgot their characters' names, so sue me) even bother taking a bite of when celebrating Molly's b-day. Lemme just say they should both be arrested for leaving that behind.

But more than anything, as frustrating as the journey can be on occasion (the first time I saw it with my pal Jessica, all those near misses between John and Kate were just grrr!), it's this sweet story of the lengths two people will go to for true love. But (SPOILER ALERT) when John Cusack finally gets the girl, Nick Drake, rather than say, cheesy Celine Dion (it does take place in the '90s, after all), is playing in the background.

And who's not a sucker for that, along with some pretty memorable NYC scenery to boot?

R.I.P. Borders: Thanks for the Memories!

Given how insanely popular the e-reader has become, I should've known this day was coming—and fast...

But when I heard that Borders was closing all its remaining stores, I was still sad and rather bummed out all the same.

Naturally, my petty gripes about missing a bookstore pale in comparison to the 10,000+ people who lost their jobs as a result. While I'm mourning the loss of a place where I read, drank coffee and played the occasional game of Scrabble with my favorite people on the planet, I can only imagine how devestated they are and hope that everyone will find a new gig that'll pay the bills—pronto.

I guess the reason I've always loved Borders so much is that I have a bazillion memories there. Back when I was covering the police beat (and whatever else my editors dreamed up) as an intern for the Leader-Telegram in Eau Claire, Wis., it was my post-work watering hole of choice.

While my peers probably opted for something much, much cooler like mojitos after a long day at the office, iced caramel lattes were my poison of choice. And considering that the coffee bar was conveniently located next to practically every magazine known to mankind, well, it was the perfect entertainment option for a cash-strapped college girl.

As a bonus, when you'd already read Entertainment Weekly and Rolling Stone and flipped through the current issues of People and In Style, there were still more than enough actual books to keep you mesmerized for months. It's during this juncture  that I finally discovered the wonders of Austen (better late than never, right?), read countless travel books from cover to cover (and started planning my future itineraries) and caught up on a few of the classics I'd missed in high school.

A couple of years later when I finally decided that newspaper reporting wasn't for me and moved to Nashville in hopes of covering music for a living, Borders was there for me again when I was new in town and needed something to do on a Friday night. Now to be totally honest, I was an equal opportunity bookstore lover and wasn't afraid to step into a Barnes & Noble either (it was my only chance to sip some Starbucks back in 1998, after all), but Borders was still a regular part of my social life.

Fast forward almost a decade, and Borders also played a key role in one of the happiest nights of my life, namely my first-ever book signing back in Eau Claire for Around the World in 80 Dates. When I walked in those familar doors this time around, howver, the store manager told me the coffee was on the house, and the books on the endcaps were (gasp!) mine. Even as I think about that night now, I can still remember how thoroughly elated I was. And as I read my sample passages to the audience filled with family members, friends and former teachers, I never imagined there would be a day when Borders would be no more.

If anything, it's a reminder that life is always changing. Back when CDs were being phased out and my beloved record shops were closing, I resisted getting an iPod for a long, long time. Now I'm a bonafide downloading convert.

Will the same eventually happen with books? Well, I can never  imagine preferring virtual pages to the feel of an actual book in my hands, but I guess I should probably never say never. After all, a world with stories is always better than a world without. But a world without bookstores anchoring the malls I frequent is still a sad, sad place.

What I've Been Doing on My "Summer Vacation"...Part 2

When it comes to music, I've always been a bit of an old soul...

Even when I was a kid, I always liked the artists my friends hadn't even heard of, let alone listened to. In fact, when my peers were rockin' out to NKOTB, I was still in my Billy Joel phase. 

Basically, while everyone else was hangin' tough and crushin' on dreamy Jordan Knight, I was wishin' that Billy had written "Uptown Girl" about me instead of his model-perfect, now ex-wife, Christie Brinkley.

When I'd had my fill of Billy, I moved on to Duran Duran (and yes, I believed frontman Simon LeBon was my future hubby even years and years after "Rio" and "Hungry Like the Wolf" were radio singles) and eventually, my attention turned to the Fab Four when sporting flannel and listening to Seattle's finest was the thing to do.

While the grunge scene and The Beatles shared very little in common, I still felt pretty cool listening to them, even if seemed "dated" to my fellow high schoolers. Whether it was the happy pop of their early years or the crazy, tripped-out vibe of their records toward the end, I knew I'd stumbled on to something revolutionary every time I listened. To me, great songwriting and spectacular hooks never went out of the style, even if the accompaniment didn't exactly scream "now."

And like the girls back in the era of Beatlemania, I was very taken with Paul and those big, sad brown eyes of his. Truth be told, I've always said that if I were required to cry on cue (and I'm not sure exactly when this scenario would play out, since my acting ambitions are, oh, non-existent), all the director would have to do is play the first few bars of "Eleanor Rigby," and the waterworks would show up right on schedule.

There's just something about Paul's voice and poetic songs that has always resonated with me, so you can only imagine how excited I was when Will surprised me with tickets for his recent show in Vegas. Really, it was like two presents in one since Will and I always have so much fun in the city where we said "I do" five and a half years ago now.

Now I'll fully admit, since Paul is gettin' a little closer to 70, I tried to keep my lofty expectations in check. After all, there has been the odd award show—or even that halftime Super Bowl performance a few years back—where he's sounded a little rough. Thankfully, that sooo wasn't the case during the Vegas show. Funny enough, you could've told me he was 40, and I would've believed you. He looked that young and was full of energy—and his cheeky jokes and quippy stories between songs were a hoot, too.

Not only did his voice sound terrific, but he played flawlessly for nearly two and a half hours. And with 22 Beatles' songs on the set list, not to mention the best of Wings and recent solo efforts, it was a longtime fan's dream come true. Both Will and I felt like we were experiencing something truly special that night, namely one of the best shows we'd seen in a long, long time.

As an added bonus, Yoko Ono was even in the audience, too. And no, she didn't get onstage and sing or do performance art in a box. However, we did spot her joining in on "Hey Jude," which was pretty darn cool considering the song's context.

When all was said and done, the whole night was as close as I was going to get to seeing the Beatles play, which was pretty much the perfect way to spend part of my "summer vacation."

What I've Been Doing on My "Summer Vacation"...Part 1

In honor of the first day of summer and my utter shock about the calendar actually reading June 21st (seriously, where has this month gone?), I thought I'd blog about what I've been doing on my "summer vacation."

Now you might notice that I put quotation marks around summer vacation, and trust me, that's intentional. See, when you're a freelance writer, there's really no such thing as a true vacation—let alone a summer break like all the school-age kiddos and their long-suffering teachers get from June through August.

But if you work ahead on your assignments, you may be able score a few days off, so that's precisely what I did when my sister Lindsey and my cutie patootie niece Adelyn (see left for evidence of her sheer adorableness) came to town from Colorado Springs a couple of weeks ago.

I have to say it was really fun shopping in the ol' toy department at Target before they came. Not only did I get to buy a new edition of Candy Land, one of the best board games on the planet, but Memory, a hot pink beach ball and a ladybug pillow pal, too.

With my cart full of all things pink and enough groceries to feed a family of sixteen, I was so excited for them to arrive. And even though our time together went way, way too fast, having Linds and Adelyn stay was clearly one of the highlights of Will and I's summer—especially when Will taught Adelyn how to shoot a super soaker. Let's just say she was a quick study and didn't mind getting us all wet, which was actually pretty perfect considering it was about 1,464 degrees.

Other highlights of our time together include...Adelyn's impromptu performance of "Jack in the Beanstalk" at Barnes & Noble (I'm convinced she's a future thespian), Adelyn's first ride on the mall's merry go round, fajita night at Mi Cocina, our homemade chocolate chip waffle breakfast that Adelyn decided were cookies and lots of catching up with the coolest sister on the planet while watching LOST.

All in all, a really great time. Now I'm already looking forward to Adelyn's third b-day next month...

Getting Wistful for Paperbacks, Hardcovers and Dusty Ol' Library Basements

I'll be honest, I'm not usually a pine-for-the-old-days kind of gal.

Sure, I absolutely adore old movies and prefer writing actual letters (yes, in my own frilly cursive) to e-mail any day of the week, but you won't see me giving up electricity and "living off the land" any time soon. After all, I enjoy all the perks of modern life too much to go granola.

Although I was a little late to the party, I'm still in awe of my cell phone's multi-tasking powers and love that I never have to miss my favorite TV shows again, thanks to the wonders of DVR. And given my perpetually direction-challenged nature and how I now live in a place with practically 2,353 different freeways, I'm a big, big fan of Greta, my GPS (and yes, I named her).

And high-speed Internet? How did I ever manage without that? Oh wait, I endured that lovely hissing sound and loud "You've got mail" declaration from AOL.

As far as music goes, I like to kick it old-school and listen to entire albums (like my favorite artists intended) on a fairly regular basis. Still, I have to admit my iPod is a pretty great disc jockey, too. Not only does she (and yes, because she's hot pink, I've decided it's a girl!) provide a great soundtrack while I'm working, but I never have to hear any hideous Top-40 music unless I personally selected it.

Sweet.

All that said, however, I'll admit I was more than a little saddened by something I read online yesterday. Sure, it was inevitable, but I still couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that Amazon.com's digital book download sales have now far surpassed that of traditional books of the paper and hardback variety.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading—however people want to do it. I'm an author, after all, so any way we can get masses to forgo Facebook, TV and, well, pick up a book, I'm all for it. Truth be told, these e-readers have plenty of appeal since they're all nice and portable and perfect for traveling. And when paired with one of Kate Spade's too-cute-for-words cases, it's also quite the fashion statement. But as cool as they are, I still find myself resisting...

While I know the tides are changing, I'm just not ready for books to become dinosaurs. In fact, some of my favorite childhood memories involved holing up in a dusty basement of books at our local library. When you live in a small town, your library card is like your passport, and it's there where I discovered everything from Deenie (quite a scandalous read when you're 13) to Anne of Green Gables to The Great Gatsby and so many more.

Plus, for anyone who's ever been to our house, books are a major part of the Banister's decor, thanks to one giant IKEA bookshelf that's stuffed to the gills with theology, travel guides, biographies and plenty of fiction, too, not to mention that ever-growing stack of novels on our nightstand.

So suffice it to say, I couldn't imagine living in a world without pages to actually turn. And as it turns out, I'm not alone (whew!). While flipping through the most recent issue of Entertainment Weekly, namely the "Summer Must Lists," I found a kindred spirit in actor Tom Hanks.

"I still carry a bag of books around all summer, as I'm not enamored with the tactile experience of reading books on Kindles or iPads," Tom says. "Magazines, scripts and newspapers, sure, but my policy on books is: Buy, Read, Keep."

Aside from Cast Away, I knew I always liked that Tom Hanks. :) Here's hoping one day he'll carry around one of my novels one summer (or at least do the honors so Rita can enjoy it beachside)...

London Calling (and Paris and Rome, too)

When you're a kid growing up in small-town Wisconsin, you can't help dreaming about all the glamorous locales that exist outside of America's Dairyland.

It's like Sandra Bullock's character said so eloquently in While You Were Sleeping: "It's amazing how exotic Wisconsin...isn't."

But before you assume that I'm dedicating an entire blog entry to ripping apart my home state, rest assured, I'm not. There's plenty to love about Wisconsin—the Packers, for one. Cheese, and plenty of it, for another. And you gotta love how feisty Wisconsinites are about fighting for their rights. Let's just say the Beastie Boys would be proud.

Plus, if Wisconsin didn't exist, my personal history would've been radically altered. See, that's where my parents met, where I was born, not to mention where I spent the first 18 years of my life in a lovely yellow house on 11th street. So as much as I love to kid about Wisconsin, it's not a bad place in the least. It's just cold for months and months at a time, hence my departure...

Now back to what I was talking about in the beginning...travel. I've always been drawn to it like (insert your favorite simile here). In fact, many of my favorite books growing up—and even to this day—involved protagonists who lived, worked and played somewhere thousands of miles away from where I did—London, Paris, Sydney, Bangkok, Milan, Madrid, Salzburg, New York City, you name it. For whatever reason, their lives seemed so much more enchanting and exhilarating than my own, and whenever I read, I lived vicariously through those experiences—no passport required. And thanks to our local library, everyone else's adventures kept me going while I patiently waited for my own to begin.

Funny enough, as much as I thought about leaving my familiar confines, I didn't actually get my first passport stamp until I was 26. Unlike the bulk of the missions majors at the university I attended, visiting somewhere like Burman or Banglaedesh wasn't actually part of my course requirements, much to my chagrin. And since college kids aren't exactly known for their deep pockets, traveling just for the heck of it was out, too. So I was content to see a bit more of the United States whenever I could. The rest of the world would just have to wait.

And then, it finally happened. After moving to Nashville and starting my writing career with CCM Magazine, my journalism degree paid off in some international travel dividends. Our editor decided the time had come for an international music issue and would I be interested in flying to London to interview Delirious for the cover story?

Um, yes, please...

So just before Christmas in 2003, I flew to London all by myself. And while the idea of traveling alone—let alone traveling across the big ol' pond alone—would be downright depressing to some, I still consider it one of the best things I've ever done. While it probably sounds like I've been bunking with Oprah or something, I learned so much about myself on that trip, so I really can't recommend solo travel enough.

Sadly, none of the pictures I took did the experience justice (perhaps a testament to my shoddy photography skills?), but I still have so many vivid snapshots in my mind that instantly transport me back. Walking around Notting Hill, coffee in hand, looking at the candy-colored houses and wondering about the people who lived in them. Singing Christmas carols with a church-full of strangers during one of the prettiest holiday services I've ever been to. Eating fish and chips with a complete stranger at a local pub who had no idea who (gasp) U2 was, let alone where Tennessee was on the map. Riding the train through the countryside to Arundel and writing about my time in London in my journal (yeah, for the uninitiated, that's what life was like before tweeting was invented).

Basically, it was all as magical and wonderful as my younger self's dreams were.

Now several years and passport stamps later, I'm about ready to embark on another European adventure—with my dear husband. It's the first time we're traveling abroad together, and I can hardly wait. In addition to reconnecting with my favorite city on the planet, London, we're also heading to Hemingway's playground and the home of gladiators, the Sistine Chapel, and what I'm guessing is some pretty incredible spaghetti and gelato.

And while I definitely plan on taking lots and lots of pictures, I'm guessing the best memories will still be the ones I write down. So if you're game, plan on hearing all about the Banister's 5th anniversary trip (or as my friend Melissa Riddle-Chalos calls it, my second honeymoon) right here.

I do plan on tweeting about it from time to time while it's happening, too (thank you iPhone), but the goal is just to enjoy the moment. After all, I've been daydreaming about it for a long time now...

List #10: 10 Things I've Been Thankful for in 2010

I don't know how my pal Lori @ Girly Muse did it day after day earlier this year, but I gotta say that coming up with 10 truly superb lists for your blog is way, way more of an arduous task than I ever expected. It's not like Wayne and Garth coming up with their favorite hot babes, that's for sure.

So at long last, here we are at list #10, and I'm ending things on a thankful note.

Considering that it's after Christmas and almost the end of the year—something I still can't believe—I thought this would be an appropriate move because there's sooo, sooo much worth celebrating. It was a year of big change in the Banister house as we moved from St. Paul to the Dallas metroplex, but now that we're settling in a bit, we're seeing how switching things up has been really good for us.

And now with no further adieu (I am the queen of tangents, after all, and could ramble on and on and on about nothing in particular for days), here are 10 things I've been thankful for in 2010 (in no particular order).

*Grace (and lots of it)

*Five glorious years of marriage to Will, my best friend and the guy who still makes me swoon every time he walks through the front door...

*Plenty of freelance work in what's been a horribly devestating year in the oh-so-scary job market that's particularly so for journalists, writers, editors, etc.

*Having not one, but two, fabulous interns who helped me with a gazillion important projects in Minnesota

*Reconnecting with old friends on Facebook, in Nashville during GM Week and in my new hometown of Dallas. Thanks, as always, for staying in touch and making me feel so loved and appreciated.

*Trading in my piece o' junk phone for a proper smartphone. Yeah, they're actually worth the hype, I tell ya.

*My GPS that helps the direction-challenged like me actually get from here to there in DFW. Yeah, I'm sooo not a map person.

*The Food Network, my escape from the daily grind and the inspiration for many a delicious meal.

*Starbucks coffee, which provides that big ol' jolt of energy I need to get started every day with their caramel macchiato goodness.

*Warmer winters and more sunshine for, well, all the obvious reasons...after four years in Minnesota, I'm already 864% less grumpy than I normally am during those sluggish winter months, and for that, I'm grateful.

Now that I've shared mine, I'd love to hear from you. What have you been most thankful for in 2010, and what are you looking forward to in 2011? As for me, I'm already looking forward to a healthier mindset and getting to serious work on novel #3.

In the End, It's Only Stuff...

All has been quiet on the blogging front since I've been living in the Dallas metroplex these past three weeks, and believe me, it hasn't been for the lack of something to say.

There's just been a whole lotta (and yes, I realize I said "whole lotta"...ha ha) unexpected drama with getting settled in, and suffice it to say, I can't wait for things to be nice and routine again (a.k.a. normal).

Now mind you, the Banisters' drama is not the salacious stuff of your average episode of Jersey Shore (thank goodness), but it's been crazy all the same, thanks to some seriously incompetent movers who aren't exactly some of my favorite people at the moment.

For the record, if anyone ever contemplates using Manchester Moving & Storage, don't! Trust me, you'll thank me (and will probably even want to hug me out of sheer thanksgiving) for steering you far, far away...

Basically, after patiently waiting three looooooong weeks for our stuff, (it was supposed to be "about a week," but that's really only the beginning of how ridiculously messed-up things were), the Manchester guys finally brought our stuff this past Sunday morning.

Thrilled that I'd no longer have to check in with them every single day (which involved hearing this very long, very syrupy hold message about how they understand how stressful a move can be and how they'll do everything to make sure your stuff is protected, blah, blah, blah), our delivery day was supposed to be a day of rejoicing.

After all, we'd finally get to settle into the home we'd been paying rent, utilities and lawn care for—and subsequently, weren't getting to use for anything but a mailbox and storage for about one box of my office stuff.

As you've probably have already guessed, rejoicing was about the last thing on Sunday's agenda. Turns out, just about all of our furniture, not to mention my dishes, glasses, etc. arrived in pieces. As Will put it, the experience brought all new meaning to Bob Dylan's song "Everything is Broken."

Our horrible move-in day all began with the destruction of my cute accent table from Pier One. Now I know, it wasn't exactly Ethan Allen. But it was darn adorable, and I loved how my giraffe print lamp looked just perfect sitting on top of it. And considering that the Manchester guys bubble wrapped and draped sturdy, padded cloths around every piece of furniture we owned, I was definitely a little shocked when my cute little table looked like an alligator had taken a bite out of it.

Mourning my loss, I reminded myself that it was only an accent table, and that I could probably find a suitable replacement in no time flat. Little did I know, though, that was only the beginning of a day filled with loads and loads of tears...and furniture that looked like it had endured a grisly death.

Only minutes after saying goodbye to my table, I eventually bid farewell to our lovely pillow-top bed and headboard (not even a year old, our mattress was yellowed, bloated and looked like it had been dragged through the Nashville's Cumberland river), our coffee table, flat-screen TV, armoire, dresser and a slew of my favorite dishes, pitchers and casserole pans.

While most people would probably assume it was the bed or the TV that officially sent me over the edge, it was actually the loss of my favorite yellow casserole dish that officially inspired the waterworks. For someone who loves to cook, pots, pans and dishes are like extended members of the family...it's hard picturing your kitchen without them, and now I was forced to do just that.

But after a good, loooong sob and countless theories on how people who have a moving company could mess up sooo bad, I started feeling a little dumb for getting so upset. Really in the end, it's only stuff, right? Unlike my hubby, my wedding pictures or my Dad's precious Bible that I've kept with me since he passed away in 1990, all of the furniture, the TV and the dishes, can be replaced in time. Those other things? Well, not so much, and they were all fine. 

Now I'm not going to lie, the experience of losing all these things still stings. There's still a slew of boxes I haven't gone through yet, and I'm sure there will be tons more stuff that's destined for the garbage bin.

And the past few days have downright inconvenient to say the least when you're filling out long claims reports and trying to find a new bed when you really loved your old one. However, compared to the recent flooding in Nashville where people really did lose everything including those aforementioned wedding pictures and family treasures, our losses are truly paltry in comparison.

If anything, the experience has brought the oh-so-wise words written in Matthew 6:20 to mind: "But store up for yourself treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

I'm guessing that might also include movers who fail to bring your stuff to you in one piece...

The Lost Art of Writing Letters

While packing for a big move is generally one giant hassle, I have to admit that I actually love getting rid of all the stuff I really don't need.

I've never been a pack rat by nature, and clutter drives me absolutely nuts, so any opportunity to streamline our stash (especially after four years in the same apartment) is always welcome.

But in all my overzealous fits of throwing junk away over the years, I've always held on to an unobtrusive, medium-sized box of letters and cards that have really meant something to me.

With Will starting his new job three weeks ago, I've spent quite a bit of time by myself in this ol' apartment. And while I've never been the girl who always needs someone around, (I'm pretty good at keeping myself entertained most of the time, thanks to a plethora of books, DVDs, and well, freelance work), those letters felt like old friends when I found them again.

Nestled inside were a couple of notes my dad had written me—one congratulating me on qualifying for the junior high spelling bee, another penned in his gorgeous handwriting (definitely not the norm for most guys) with a simple "I love you."

In between all the little scraps of paper and smaller note cards were a plethora of birthday wishes from dear friends like Tracey Bumpus, Jazzy Jess Dumoulin, Janet Chismar and Suzie Walter—some adorned with glitter (my signature look for the bulk of my Nashville era), others featuring very tan, very buff cowboys (a very funny reminder of my single days, courtesy of Ms. Chismar). A couple of my favorites were humorous cards from my brother, Casey, who at one time, always signed his cards "Your Brother Casey"—as if I'd forgotten my one and only brother. :)

And then, there were the letters—piles and piles of letters from people who'd taken the time to let me know they cared by simply writing. Some were from my Mom, detailing the day-to-day happenings since she made the move from our childhood home in Ladysmith to Colorado Springs. Others were from my pal Krista Bergstrom, assuring me that God really did have good things in store when I was discouraged and not quite so sure.

Once again, I also felt blessed to have such a witty, wonderful hubby. Can I just say it's incredible being married to a fellow writer? Not only did his musings make me laugh (and tear up) all over again, but they would probably, on occasion, jumpstart a cynical person's gag reflex because they're so darn sweet. I'm thinking Romeo could've even learned a few things from Will...

You know who else writes a really good letter? My friend Melissa Riddle. Not only are the cards themselves truly one of a kind, but when I re-read what she wrote before Will and I moved from Nashville to St. Paul, it really encouraged me as Will and I are about to embark on another new season.

After reading Melissa's cards, my tears really kicked into full force when I saw the sizable stack from my sister, Lindsey. Scrawled in her trademark bubbly style that's practically a cousin to my own, I'd forgotten just how much we'd written to each other over the years. While sipping a tall glass of lemonade, I can't tell you how much fun it was to relive her semester spent in Europe (all written on incredibly scenic postcards), to read about all the joys (and drama) of her high school and Bethel University years and to hear about the new joys of life since she married her hubby, Shayne and became a Mama to the sweetest little muffin ever, Miss Adelyn Grace.

Even though we're eight years apart in actual age, you never would've guessed it from reading, and her thoughtfulness was yet another reminder of how thankful I am to have her in my life.

I must say...sorting through the box was not only a fantastic trip down Memory Lane, but a reminder of how much I love letters (writing, receiving them and otherwise). While e-mails and text messages are definitely faster (and necessary) in our time-challenged world, there's something truly special about hearing from friends and loved ones the old-fashioned way, complete with a return address and a stamp.