{new year’s eve}

Went to square beans on the Collierville town square.

Took Andrew to the airport.

Made a last minute decision to come back to Knoxville.


Ate at SATCO in Nashville.


Drove some more.

Sang Michelle Branch louder than you can imagine.

Got home to party cheetah, Morgan.

Began to unpack.

Got a cheerwine, some cheese dip, and watched some gossip girl.

(Yes, I’m publicly admitting it.)


Fell asleep with headphones playing white noise because of the party going on.

SAID YES TO STAYING IN ON NYE. best decision evaaa.


a christmas tradition

A tradition of our family, and now the Greene family (as of 2009), is to go see a movie on Christmas night.

This year’s feature: Sherlock Holmes 2. Lots of action. Sat in a gum chair. Lots of snoring from the gentleman beside me (not my dad). A kids’ row and a parents’ row. Lots of one-liners that were quite humorous.

Love these girls and how instantly we are in stitches laughing with each other! Favorite Christmas memory thus far.


first iPhone day


Can’t say that I feel fancy enough to have an iPhone or use it. After all, I traded a Nokia flip phone for this high tech baby. The man at the store acted like I brought him a stone age cell phone. He “hadn’t seen one of those in a long time.”

Facetimed with Foy. Bought dad jeans. Saw lots o’ carhartts. Wanted that skirt.

Three out of the four at bass pro.

I am my dad’s sidekick.



{ an excerpt from Ann Voskamp’s post yesterday – When Christmas Stretches You… }

Shalom, she counts the holes of our spiral Advent wreath, the candlelit evenings we have already passed.

“All these nights of waiting…” She methodically counts the remaining carved cups for candles. “And just…1, 2, 3…  four more nights and Mary will be in Bethlehem!”

She’s clenches her hands in giddy glee and it’s not about waiting for gifts, but waiting for the Child.

She turns and says to me knowingly, her head slightly tilted, her nod and smile so certain, “I know it didn’t take her 24 nights to really go to Bethlehem. It’s just the way we count the waiting... right, Caleb?”

“Yep.” Caleb’s rocking chair creaks.

He leans forward to straighten one of the candles. “Did you move Mary a bit closer, Shalom?”

It’s when she reaches for the wooden figure of Mary that I remember.

I see the swelling silhouette of Mary there on the back of the donkey and the starkness of it strikes me, what it really means to be a womb.

Mary’s distended.

Her skin is pulled taut.

Her belly swells round and her abdomen bulges and she is drawn to the outer rim of herself.

Mary’s stretched.

To be a dwelling place of God, a womb for Christ, means to be extended, taken to one’s outer edges… stretched.

To be a womb for God means there will be stretchmarks.

This season of Advent may hurt. I may feel weary. These days may not be easy. This is the how God may be growing within me.

I reach out and touch Mary full with Child and I hurt in the knowing: A true Christmas, one that God indwells, will experience pangs and pain.

Kids will cry and siblings will bicker and relationships will grow taut and there will be days where nothing goes right and the season rather dissolves into one sloppy, muddy puddle.

And this Christmas, I’ll be stretched thin and I will feel myself asked to love to the furthest edges of myself, asked to extend grace to the outermost reaches — because how else can I grow full and large and round with God?

To be a womb for Christ, I’ll feel my inner walls, my boundaries, stretch.

Stretching the shape of a soul hurts.

a cheetah christmas

{ cheetah cheer for mere bear }

in response to N*SYNC’s holiday jamz, there was dancing and singing

yes, that’s mstrids – on the counter – with a wooden spoon. no, you can’t make this stuff up.

there was secret santa gift exchanging

if we had a christmas card, this would be our photo of choice.

 { the wise men follow the star, the way i follow my heart. -justin b }

love, the cheetah sisters