Our family joke is that despite the frozen-tundra Iowa winters (that we are NOT having this year--although an ice storm with a foot of snow is predicted for this weekend, I'm not sure that I believe it), no one in our household would be able to go cold. At last count, we had 27 baby blankets, not one of which we spent any of our hard-earned cash on. Oh, the variety is endless: patchwork quilts large enough to give Liberty some much needed rolling room on the floor; lovingly hand-knitted or crocheted (I never can tell the difference) baby afghans in beautiful pastel colors; thick , cuddly, cushy blankets; super-soft, cutsey blankets; good-old receiving blankets; and Care Bear-enhanced, thermal blankets.

If we ever add a younger sister to the bunch, we'd better not get any more blankets! We'd have to add a Blanket Room onto our house. And I pity the poor younger brother who has the nerve to come along; he'll be forever in therapy due to the lovely pink blankets that we will wrap him in when he arrives.

When Liberty is old enough to have a grown-up bed, I will stitch each and every blanket together to create a huge quilt, and her husband had better thank his mother-in-law for the lovely cover on their bed. (I will check it every time I visit for hints of closet-shelf dust!)

But while we laugh about all the blankets, I think to myself of all the love they represent to our family. What a gift! I'd like to keep that massive quilt made of blankets for myself in the future, so I can pull it out every now and then, and remember all of the people who sent them and all of the love that Liberty and our family is being wrapped in.