Jeanne Reuter, a Christmas Card, and the Quiet Power of Being Seen

Every so often, a moment arrives that feels small on the surface—but lands somewhere much deeper.

This Christmas, I received a card from Jeanne Reuter. It was handwritten. Thoughtful. Unrushed. The kind of card that reminds you someone didn’t just think of you—they sat with you for a moment.

Inside, Jeanne wrote a note about Four Women and a Mountain. Not as a review. Not as praise for the sake of praise. But as recognition. Of the women. Of the place. Of the truth the book tries to hold gently.

That kind of response is everything.

Jeanne has always embodied a rare steadiness—someone rooted in the Sierra not just by geography, but by presence. She understands that history doesn’t only live in headlines or ceremonies. It lives in kitchens, in friendships, in endurance, and in the long arc of staying.

Her words reflected that understanding. She spoke to how the book honors women who didn’t seek the spotlight, but whose lives shaped the fabric of a community. Women who built something lasting without ever calling it legacy.

Receiving her card felt like a quiet affirmation of why this book exists at all.

Four Women and a Mountain was never meant to be loud. It was meant to be true. To preserve the interior lives of women whose stories could easily have been lost to time, reduced to footnotes, or never written down at all. Jeanne saw that. And she said so, simply and beautifully.

In a season that can feel hurried and performative, her card reminded me that the most meaningful connections are often the quiet ones. The ones that arrive without expectation. The ones that say: I see what you were trying to do—and it mattered.

That is the greatest gift a writer can receive.

This book belongs to the mountains, yes—but it also belongs to the women who recognize themselves in its pages. Women like Jeanne. Women who understand that legacy is not about being remembered loudly, but about being remembered well.

And sometimes, it arrives folded neatly inside a Christmas card.