Happy . . . day? I’m just not sure how to begin this post. Although it was originally intended to be a birthday post it hardly seems the proper theme just over one month later. But I know you all too well. Since you already have to share your birthday with one of your sisters I hardly thought it fair to make you share a blog post with her. And how could I write a Happy Birthday blog post for you and leave Jennifer out? And how could I write a double birthday blog post just two days after The Man’s birthday? That’s not at all an excuse for having postponed your blog post. Wait. Somehow that’s gonna’ come back and bite me because I just remembered that Tracie’s and Ginger’s birthdays are the same day. Double post. Dang.

{Dear Jen, I owe you a blog post. It will be beautiful. You might even cry. I love you.}

I’ve sincerely thought a lot about this post. I tried to remember how old you were when I first met you. Tracie and I were in 9th grade when we met. So that was somewhere around {calculating} 198?, 1980something. . .  1983, I suppose. I still don’t know how old you were. Little. Little enough to make me feel like I was so important and could boss you around if I wanted. I don’t remember ever wanting to.

But what I do remember, what sticks out vividly in my mind is a conversation we had one night. We talked about how the world was back in those days of the ’80s and we talked about when Jesus might split the eastern sky. And you asked me how long I thought it would be. In all of my teen wisdom I spoke right away, “I think it’ll be in like the next five years.” Wow. Profound. Truly insightful. And prophetic, of course. I succeeded in scaring you half to death. After a brief moment of sinking in, you muttered, “but I wanna’ have kids.” Please forgive me, but I’m laughing out loud right now. I think I owe you an apology.

I’m deeply sorry. Plus, YEH, you have kids! Oh the irony of it all to think that I was sure that would not happen and now we are both grandparents. Funny how time changes perspective on age difference. Somehow it’s melted away and although I bear more spots and wrinkles than you, we are indeed both grandmothers. Something I could’ve never fathomed at this age.

It’s been such a pleasure sharing this joy with you. And having my daughter and your daughter-in-law as best friends has sweetened the experience. I’m sitting here looking at this picture of the boys as I type this:

and I’m just blown away! That he calls you Maw Maw! It makes you sound so much older than Nanny makes me sound! Ha ha ha! No, really, I’m just in awe of God’s goodness. That picture makes me all kinds of happy. Gavin and Braylon look like little old men without a care in the world, talking smack about the women in their lives and about to high-five. Like a scene from Grumpy Old Men. Except they’re not grumpy. Or old.

Grandmotherhood is certainly not all we have in common, though. There’s the sarcastic wit that I’ve only recently discovered the depth of which you have via facebook. Recently I shared some of it with Joe and he said he had no idea you were that witty. I think he knew about the sarcasm. I’ve decided you win the battle of the wittiness. Or maybe I’m just being sarcastic.

We’ve shared a lot through the years. Insanity over cleanliness, your sisters, other things that we no longer have in common because one of us changed, your sisters. Did I mention your sisters? And oh wow! I just thought of something else we might, maybe, could’ve shared, but didn’t and I don’t even know what to say. Except that I’m truly glad things didn’t work out well for you. (Don’t you just love how I throw in random vague facts that others may not understand?)

Right here is about where I originally wrapped this post up. But then your text about you watching Hoarders reminded me of the long hours I spent helping you clean out your ginormous and overly stuffed closet. Yes, I realize they’re antiques and not cats and that’s great. I want to congratulate you for not hoarding cats and on behalf of your family I say thank you for that. But for the first time I’ve realized the irony of this situation. You’re a neat and tidy everything-in-it’s-place hoarder of antiques. Is there a show for that?

But there’s something else that your antique hoarding has reminded me of. Amidst those antiques are no doubt clay statues. Created by your mother. I still have those precious pieces she made for me. And I would proudly wear the title of hoarder rather than part with them. She would be proud, Tanya. She would be so proud of you. And the One who created you by clay—He’s still watching over you and carrying you just as you have those precious pieces of clay by your mother.

A lot has changed in the past nearly twenty years. Let’s face it, the world has gone to pot. It’s not a pretty site. But as I look at that picture of our grandsons I can’t help but think that this time you and I are both keeping our eyes on those eastern skies.

I love you, woman! Happy Belated Birthday!

Good night, Maw Maw. Nanny’s tired now.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus. ~Revelation 22:20b