Keggie Monsters

My oldest two grands are Keggie Hogs. Keggie, you may remember, is my grand name and, gain, it has nothing to do with a beer keg and everything to do with nieces and nephews saying Aunt Keggie when they tried to pronounce Aunt Shellie. Recently, my son-in-law Patrick, unveiled his grand idea for my birthday party. The plan: load a keg with Diet Coke and party hearty, Keggie style. This because Mr. Comedian knows I’m on the Diet Coke wagon and that I allow myself precious sips of my favorite indulgence only on special occasions, but I suppose that begs an explanation, too.

Several years ago I learned the chemicals in Diet Coke were destroying my brain cells. I absorbed that sobering news, topped off my Diet Coke and continued in my destructive ways. Then, I discovered that not only were the chemicals in it not helping to combat my middle-age thickening waistline, they were ADDING to it! Hello, motivation! Yes, a part of me finds it disturbing that losing brain cells didn’t deter me while not being able to suck my stomach in did, but we’re already too far off track to worry about that now. I was telling y’all about my little Keggie Hogs.

Emerson Ann and Grant Thomas are the first shoots of our growing family tree. They belong to our own kids, Phillip and Jessica. Both Emerson and Grant have younger siblings but like good little Keggie Hogs, the older ones are much quicker about getting into my lap. Needless to say, I adore the younger ones as much as the older ones, despite the big kids’ attempts to monopolize my time. I mention this to set up the following confession: I’m something of a God hog. Really. I’ve come to love His presence. But, don’t fret, y’all. God’s incomparably more adept than I am at handling the needs of His growing family! There’s room for you, and you, and you, too! I beg you to let yourself get wrapped up in His love. In all the earth, there’s nothing that compares to it.

Hugs,
Shellie