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So my mom likes us to go to church with her whenever we're home, and especially on Christmas Eve.

So we went to the church that we all use to go to when we lived in Holland (in Pennsylvania, obs).

I sort of grew up in this place, I mean, I went here from when I was a baby until ninth grade. But it's been something like 14 years since I've been back. I have good feelings about it. Methodists are fairly non-harsh.

And during that whole time and apparently still to this day, this woman, here with my mom, has been in the church choir. That's way over 20 years.

I know every inch of this building by heart. Especially all the places where you can't be found by your parent.

Especially in the sanctuary because I would be so bored that I would just stare endlessly at these two lights and that round window up there. BURNED into my memory...

Pews.

Momma.

Peaceable Kingdom.

This kitchen smells like Sanka. Nope, nothing changed here.

I had my confirmation reception in this room.

This is the creepy basement where we use to have Sunday school.

This is the bathroom I would try to hide in during the sermon.

I was in the choir.

12:34.

Beth got a case of Laser Eyes later.

Max has a new toy/baby.

The new addition is almost done!

Christmas Morn! Blueberry pancake time!

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