The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Cousins Graham are huge fans of C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, and basically all tellers of the one great story. For the younger of the Cousins, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader holds a special place in her heart. It's the book she reads over and over again. It's one of the few books that can absolutely wreck her into millions of different pieces. Thankfully, Lewis helps the reader give those pieces to the Author who fashions them good from the chaos. AE, the younger of the Cousins, prompted by the question "Which Lewis character are you?" wrote the following:

The books nears with a command: "Come and have breakfast." Lucy sensing the end to Narnia is near begs the great Lion with urgency for it is Narnia where she meets him. It is Narnia where she learned to follow. It is Narnia where Aslan's breath strengthens her every resolve. But is is in Narnia she cannot stay.

I've been Lucy, I am Lucy; learning to love the great lion in a place that despite original intent, isn't too easy to feel His call, His roar, His breath. Looking back, looking through the places and spaces of my journey where I haven't seen Him is to look back and realize He has brought me here in order to teach me to love Him there. To love Him in the places that are hard and scary. But mare than that, to love Him where it is loud and where His name is different in calling but mighty in strength. 

How sweet it is, despite my tantrums, my faults, my questions that convey doubt more than faith, He calls me still to the table, feeds my soul, and opens the door to the sky.

Dear Southwest Airlines

We heart you. We really do. You make flying fun.

How do we, the Cousins Graham, know this? Several times a month, our rear ends make themselves comfortable in your justtherightsize seats. Since we know you so well, we thought you should know us.

Meet Hayden. Perhaps the funniest, craftiest, (but not in a weird old lady craft way, like a MacGyver in cute shoes sort of way) smartest, girl you'll ever meet. Three degrees to her name, she still finds great amusement in Fancy Nancy books. This shows she's well-balanced. And a sucker for glitter.

Meet Ashley Elizabeth. Fighting regularly the urge to be a full-time wonderer/wanderer, AE has a giant list of places she'd like to live and jobs she'd like to hold. Top of that list? Write the questions/answers for Prime Ministers Question Time. Believing Congress would be more fun if we acted like the Queen's government, AE regularly chases windmills in high heels, wearing fun jewelry, and with her best friend and cousin, Hayden in tow.

One half of the Cousins Graham had a pretty crappy 2009. She left the job she loved, the town she loved, and the man she thought she loved. Leaving the big white dress in the store, she decided 2010 would be a year of things she never thought she could do. Forcing Hayden into the madness, the Cousins Graham made 2010 the Year of Running.13 half marathons. 13 different days of 13.1 miles. In races alone, the Cousins Graham covered 170.3 miles this year. With training, they covered about 180.3 miles this year.

And you, Southwest Airlines made it all possible. We got very used to your crews located in Columbus, Nashville, Boston, Orlando, LA, and Denver. Never chiding us for holding onto our racing shoes/GU/running watches/running clothes while checking valuable family jewels in our luggage, never hurrying us along while we slowly and painfully walked up/down the jetways, and never laughing at our requests for more coffee during those 6:04 Monday morning flights back home. Southwest Airlines, you made our trips posssible!

We apologize for the grouchiness and thank you for the smiles. Next year we forsee a year of reading, so we don't anticipate seeing you as much. But we'll keep you in our hears. And wallets. And rapid rewards memories.

With love,

The Cousins Graham

Merry Christmas to All!

The dread is upon me.It’s that time of year again and there is nothing I can do about. It is the fear that wakes me in a cold sweat; clinching my chest, in a soundless scream. Is it the Jello-bean-fruit casseroles of indeterminable color laid out for the unsuspecting during holiday potlucks? No. Is it sad emptiness of the movable, inflatable creatures in yards across America ? No, but let’s not kid ourselves they have the potential to come alive and kill you. Inflatable Santa knows when you are sleeping and knows when you’re awake, you better watch out …. However it is true fear that haunts me like the ghost of Christmas Past:  My Parents Annual Christmas Letter.

  

Every year when I should be dreaming of sugar plums (which in my head looks like some magical willy woka fruit instead of what google images showed me - seriously a sugar donut? That all you got, in your face pioneers, electricity and better food!) and presents under the Christmas tree now looms the knowledge that soon everyone my parents have ever been in contact with will all get to read about me in paragraph form.  From Edith, my Nana’s friend who was actually at the birth of Christ who will have to have the letter read to her by the nursing home staff,  to Ed the man we once met, for no more than 24 hours ,while on a family hiking excursion, they all get an update on the family. FYIPS, Ed while your stories about rock formations in no way made the trip longer, you have now earned a coveted spot on the Family Christmas letter list, for this is the season of Peace, Love and apparently Sharing.

“Why is this a problem?” you ask.  No editing rights. Every one from husbands, to southern belles know that is it not what you say but how you say it.  Instead of saying you smell like dead sunk, southern belles know that saying “Sugar, you smell just like my old pappy use to smell, course he useto pour his cologne on something fierce, however you do reminder me of him, bless your heart.” And husbands know to respond to “Do these pants make me look fat?” by either diversion or defection.  Diversion: “Did I tell you that I heard Tom down the street is having an affair with his son’s teacher?” Deflection: “Baby I’ll always think you look pretty but I got to say your back dress is my favorite, you look gooooood.”  My dad worked for the government and my mother was a teacher so you can’t tell me they didn’t learn this! But no, the one time I ask them to stretch the truth a bit, they are looking at me like I am speaking Gaelic Piglatin! In last year's Christmas letter, I was such a looser they had to write about this year's plans. The year before that, in hopes to make my brother’s bio and my paragraph have an equal word count they started listing my favorite things. “Hayden is very happy to be employed, our family still lives in hope that one day one of her 3 degrees will be useful, she likes the color green, smoothies, reading and is still currently still single, for dowry info please go to the web site listed above and please note the sliding scale; willing to negotiate for republicans, small business owners, or fertile males.” 

What is worse is I don’t have any say in the pictures and this is a huge problem, literally. Zaftig, Botticellian, not-petite-in-any-way is just some of the words that can describe my arse. Yet every year it is figured in the Christmas year letter like a member of the family. 2007, our the family hiking the grand canyon, my brother the iron man in front, followed by me, then my father the Japanese tourist taking shots and so what started out as a grand, grand canyon shot ended with a panoramic view up the canyon with my ass as the focal point.  2008, it was the picture our family decorating the tree- guess who was bend over and had her back to the camera cause she was decorating the tree! 2009, group shot where the shortest family was not put in front but placed off to the side and turned sideways. Jesus wept, people!

So as the metaphorical midnight approaches and I wait for the visitation from the sprits of Christmas, via letter form, I can only hope to make it the end when Tiny Tim proclaims "God Bless us all."