Happy Holidays, Love c jane

This video is dedicated to my loyal fan Kiki, but I made it with all of you in mind as well.

See you all December 28th when I will be back to blogging and posting the year's best photos.

Happy Holidays!

On piano: Brother Topher
On video: Husband Chup
On key: me, sorta

A Christmas Story About The End of The World

Me as a missionary in Canada--Christmas 1998

I once met a lady in Quebec who had been promised in a blessing that a year after her death the end of the world would come. The Lord would return and usher in the great and terrible day prophesied by biblical prophets. She even showed us the blessing, which had been written and recorded, as we sat eating tofu stew in her half-finished home.

It was Christmas time, eleven years ago.

The snow in northern Quebec was only as remarkable as the sub-freezing temperatures. As a missionary who spent many hours a day knocking on doors with frozen knuckles, I was terribly unprepared for this winter. I traded in my half-hearted trench coat for a double down black survival coat, and relented to adult-sized moon boots. No matter, I could not shake the feeling of being iced-over most of the time. Even with the warm gospel message in my heart.

"When I tell the missionaries about this blessing," said Soeur Tremblay speaking excitedly in English with her French-Canadian accent, "they say 'Oh Soeur Tremblay you must send us a Christmas card every year from now until you die.' Because then they will know when the Lord is going to return. You see."

So my companion and I added ourselves to page 5 of her Missionaries Who Want Christmas Cards list. As far as church doctrine indicated, no one knew the time of the second coming, but who would turn down a hint? Besides, I would love to find out how little Guy was doing or if his younger sister Giselle ever accomplished growing out her inevitable mullet. Keeping up with the Tremblays year-after-year in hopes of knowing when the world ended sounded like an adventurous some-day ending guessing game. Or at least an intriguing story to tell at missionary reunions.

"Only rule" she cheerfully sang in our ears, "is that I must hear back from you, or else no Christmas card the next year."

Deal.

Then when she went in the next room to answer her telephone I dumped my bowl of tofu soup back in the pot.

"What are you doing?" My companion looked at me with disgusted features on her face.

"I can't eat this soup." I said confidently back.

Soeur Tremblay was somewhere in her fifties, so barring an early death, I was trusting I'd have a lifetime to repent anyway.

My mission ended in October. I was grateful to have escaped before feeling the wrath of another northern winter. Quebec was other-worldly, not like the rest of Canada, not quite Europe either. It was haunting and beautiful and curious. I would miss it.

That Christmas I received my first card from Soeur Tremblay. She was still alive, bouncing around her unfinished house--wooded walls bare to the studs--passionate about the gospel of Jesus Christ and doting on her two children.

She is alive! We've got at least another year before the end. I thought to myself, cleverly.

And I thought the same the next year when Soeur Tremblay's card arrived.

But that was the year I found myself divorcing after a nine month marriage. In the whirlwind of "what to do?" I sadly forgot to prove loyal on my side of the deal. I did not write the Tremblays back--a mistake I didn't realize until no card came the third year.

With no return address to write to, I decided I'd join the ranks of the other oblivious saints who had nothing but scriptural signs and wonders to look towards. The end will come when it comes, there's no rushing it.

But every year at Christmas time I wonder about Soeur Tremblay. How she's holding up.

We Are Here For You

me in my infertility days

When in the depths of infertility I found solace in an online forum for other women who shared my situation. Every night before bed, I'd check to see who had written what and looked for any new topics. I remember reading emotional confessions of hope and despair--feelings I knew well. In those online rooms I found friends of support and ideas that helped shape my attitude about wanting nothing more than having a baby in my arms and an unresponsive body. I was buoyed up and validated. And that is how my testimony of forums was formed.

(That last sentence deserves an emmy.)

I am excited about having my own forum--sponsored by the Blog Frog and supported by online friends who visit and post topics for debate and discussion . . . on any subject really. It is a place for women, single-married-divorced-whatever, men who are brave enough to discuss with a community of women, mothers, grandmothers, students, angels, demons and pigs. I love a good battle of ethics with a batch of pigs.

To make things even more interesting, we recently we added several community leaders--bloggers who will be leading regularly on topics from motherhood to womanhood (and beyond!) Today I wanted to introduce these leaders to you and invite you all to meet us over there daily for a an exchange of stories, ideas and thoughts. You will want to meet these women and their brains too.

Ahem, I give to you my Blog Frog Community Leaders:


Heather Johnson M.S.
heatherannjohnson@comcast.net

I am a homemaker, wife and mother. My husband and I have three children (ages 7 1/2, 5 and 1). I am also a professor at Brigham Young University, where I teach Family Psychology. I grew up in Southern California, but now Provo, Utah is our home. Our family likes to play tennis and golf in the summer and ski together in the winter. I enjoy, cooking, good books, sushi, and I have recently discovered that I love to sew. I used to speak French, wish I could dance, and will almost always choose fruity over chocolate.

Jeannie Greenwald
Atlantic Beachlife

Jeannie Greenwald loves life at the beach. She relocated from Michigan to Florida nearly ten years ago and picked a home within walking distance of the beach as her consolation prize for moving away from family and friends there. She and her husband have three kids, ages 13, 12 and 8. Jeannie has a master's degree in psychology and works as an adoption social worker, part-time. Her own three children came to them from Korea and China, so she knows firsthand what it's like for parents who want to adopt. She writes home studies for prospective families, then does fun writing on the blog, replete with photos. Too many photos reside on her hard drive, and she never actually decide which 12,000 to delete. Jeannie loves gardening - and living in a place where she can garden year-round. Jeannie does not love cooking but has a daughter who actually enjoys the kitchen, so Jeannie does spend more time there than she would, if she had her way. She enjoys swimming - both lap swimming, and playing in the ocean or in Florida's springs - snorkeling, taking naps both on her couch or on the beach, reading good fiction, shopping, and talking on the phone with her sister. She loves exploring new places in Florida where both she and her kids can have a good time. Jeannie recently created a line of tee shirts for her local beach towns, and hopes to expand that business to other coastal communities. Jeannie spends way too much time online in general, so of course she's excited about interacting with everyone in the Cjane community.

Layla Bliss
Lets Talk About Our Love

i love Jesus.
i love my good husband.
i love our sweet son.
i am blessed.
i am thankful.
i am waiting.
i love making food, making music, making relationships, making stuff.
i am enjoying the goodness of wifery and motherhood. and i want to remember it.

Deb Averett
Fresh Nest Design

Deb Averett is a mom of a 2 year old going on 15 and lives in the Midwest. She loves blogging-- you can find her at at http://FreshNestDesign.com which is an interior design blog helping readers find their style and teaching them DIY tricks as well as sharing inspirational mood boards. She also helps businesses and bloggers get a handle on their marketing plans over at Toolulu {http://toolulu.com}-- which mixes social media with traditional marketing. She loves the simple things in life like fire flies and ice cream.

Jenny Eckton
Formerly Phread

I grew up in New York (not the city) and currently happily reside in Provo, Utah. I'm a mom to six: five alive and one in Heaven, and a wife to a man who is passionate about education. I enjoy media (tv, radio, movies, and music), and have participated in two triathlons so far.

Evonne Ballard
Evie b photography

I'm a mom to three young kids (two girls aged 4 & 3) and a little boy (almost 1 1/2) and I'm married to my complete opposite! I'm a born-and-raised Los Angeles girl and Utah transplant and he's a hunting, fishing, mountain-y Utah boy who loves anything and everything to do with the Dallas Cowboys (ugh). And yet, somehow, it works! My biggest struggle at this stage in my life is figuring out how to balance it all. Besides mom & wife, I am a self-taught photographer by trade, work a part time job at night, often use the TV as a babysitter, try to be crafty, dream of writing someday, and have more projects in my head than time in the day to finish them. My photography blog is just that...pretty cut and dry. My personal blog is really a reflection of what's going on in our lives. Posts vary from observations at work, things my kids have done (or not done), gratitude, the joys of motherhood, family frustrations, crafts and tutorials and photos. It really is a hodge podge of lots of things...much like my everyday life!

And please meet me at the forum this afternoon (1:30 mst) for a live chat about whatever you feel like talking about. I might want to muse about the shrimp fritters I ate the other day. But you know, that is just me.

For the online chat, go here.

They Try To Pull Me Away, But They Don't Know The Truth

I meant to write last night but got caught up when I saw Leona Lewis was going to be on David Letterman.

Dear Leona,

I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you.

Love,
c jane

Plus I had to watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance even though I don't feel emotionally invested this season. I think it is because the choreography has been nothing to write home about.

Dear Home,

Nothing to write about.

Love,
c jane

Nothing like say, season 4 when Chelsea and Mark danced to Bleeding Love by--who else?--Leona Lewis:






Anyway, as I was writing this post in the basement I forgot about the pot of milk I put on the stove for hot chocolate and it boiled over and burned mightily, filled the house with smoke and produced a smell of charcoal, urine and nightmare.

This why I usually post at night.

Dear Self,

Get ready for the slew of "safety comments: friendly reminders!" from your less absent minded friends.

Love,
c jane

Really, I just wanted to say that I am going to be chatting live with anyone who wants to chat live with me tomorrow on my Blog Frog Community forum. It will start at 1:30mst and go for an hour. So, if you live in Australia I fully expect you to set your alarm and be there in the middle of the night. Don't let me down Australia.

We will also introduce my community leaders who will be leading thought -provoking discussions over there.

You can also see some great conversations already going on here:

Home Decor Nightmares

kids skipping grades

and

Obama Winning the Nobel Peace Prize

See you all tomorrow!

p.s. Suggestions for getting the smell of burnt out of my house? Besides opening all doors and windows (check).

What's Going On Here:

Andrew has the camera.

Lucy wants a picture by the tree.

I say Andrew, "Don't take a picture of me."

He says, "I won't Court."

I say, "I am serious."

He says, "I won't Court"

He winks at Lucy.

I go back to coaxing The Chief out from behind the tree.

White flocking bits are sticking to me,

on my dress

in my hair.

(I was warned, but I didn't heed

the part about toddlers and

flocked trees.)

"Come on sweetheart,"

I sing sweetly.

But he doesn't move.

Meanwhile Lucy poses

(her old cheerleading pose-perhaps?)

Betsy ponders the great attributes of classical Rome

and Andrew takes the picture.

(With me in it.)


Anybody thirsty?