Today is the last link up with Emily for Tuesdays Unwrapped. I'm afraid traveling between countries and states hasn't allowed for a quiet walk, so I have something else on offer today. I've so enjoyed unwrapping the gifts of this month with all of you. Join us at Chatting at the Sky one last time?


We were 'home' a grand total of four hours before I found myself on the phone with 911. I'd had a premonition/feeling/God whisper that there might be a health issue on our trip, so I wasn't surprised to find myself standing in the kitchen giving details about shortness of breath and increased heart rate. Later, after we heard that treatment had begun and discharge the following day was likely, I mentioned to my husband that I knew something was going to happen, I just hadn't counted on it being so early in our trip. He laughed and said, 'Well, there's always a 50/50 chance around here that someone's going to the hospital.'

He's right. Some of our family members have a penchant for self diagnosis and treatment that usually ends up with me needing a glass of wine, and their taking a trip to the hospital at our insistence. We haven't decided whether to call it maddening or endearing. I'm leaning towards maddening. And that's the thing about families. They make us crazy. They make us love them. They make us want to wring our hands and fall apart and hold them together and pick up the pieces and laugh like a hyena and treat them to a coffee and thank God that He saw fit to put us in one.




I didn't need a premonition to know that my kids would be jet-lagged and waking up at four a.m. every morning. But they are and they do. For days, I've begged for the mercy of more sleep while my daughter curls into the curve of me in the bed. She wants to talk. And while I want to cry because, good gracious I'm exhausted, I bend my head into her neck and and her brown hair tickles my nose. I hold her hand in the dark, and I remember her in my womb, curling into the curve of me. I remember the call to 911, the crazy that is family, and that God saw fit to place me in this one. I lie in the dark and I unwrap each name and I call them a gift. Then I shush my girl, because if Momma doesn't get some sleep there isn't enough red wine in the world to make that look pretty.


If you have expectations for this Christmas, but find that things aren't going according to plan, you might enjoy reading this post. Have a wonderful Christmas and enjoy unwrapping your gifts this season.

Kimberly

Given our travel schedule and limited time with family, I'm likely to go a bit quiet here for the next few weeks. I'll pop in occasionally, but not very consistently. If you'd like to receive email updates, there's a little gadget at the bottom of the blog where you can sign up.

I am in the process of a tedious blog overhaul, so please excuse the weirdness that is my blog at the moment. Apparently, I have nothing better to do this time of year than make myself nuts over posting format and date placement. In the midst of the crazy that is the holiday season, I'm so happy to be joining up with Emily at Chatting at the Sky for Tuesdays Unwrapped. She encourages us to take one month, one day, one moment to stop and see. Join me there?



December days feel rushed and hurried and fuzzy around the edges. I sat and stared at my calendar today, and realized that as the days stack up so do the commitments. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw my 'Mom's Plan It' calendar across the room. Who are these moms and why are they always planning things? I wanted to pencil in ridiculous events like 'throw hissy fit' and 'eat ungodly amounts of chocolate'. These things will probably happen anyway, but it would feel good to know that I had delivered and executed on a plan.


Most of the other things on my calendar will happen as well. I will attend a concert and watch my little snowman melt onstage. I'll do drop offs and pick ups. I'll travel miles and miles across oceans and time zones to watch my little people unwrap gifts with loved ones. I will spend lots of time and some money shopping the aisles at Target.

It's Tuesday, the day I've been looking forward to since, well, since last week. I'm joining Emily at Chatting at the Sky for Tuesdays Unwrapped. I love this practice of opening up our eyes to the gifts in the everyday. It's especially necessary this time of year, when Crazy and Nuts hijack the calendar. Join me there?


Opening weekend in the mountains has come and gone. We've been waiting weeks for rain. There isn't enough water to fill the low lying lakes or white powder to cap the mountains this year. And so the long awaited winter ski season is pushed back one week and then another. The people wait expectantly. A blue eyed boy called Pascal sells me a grey coat with a fur lined hood. He tells me to keep warm because snow is coming. 'Soon' he says, 'very soon'. I'm not sure that I believe him.

I'm so excited that Emily has extended the invitation to unwrap more gifts on a Tuesday. I don't know about you, but I need to be more purposeful in my thanks giving, and Tuesdays Unwrapped is the perfect opportunity to do that. Join us?

PS If you are new here, the following post makes more sense if you know that I am an American expat living in Europe. Otherwise, I sound like a crazy person. Because only crazy people take German lessons and get a turkey from a butcher unless, of course, they live in Switzerland.


I managed to procure the turkey. I am happy to report that at no time did I imitate a turkey by gobbling or resort to hand drawn bird cartoons during my two visits to the butcher. It wasn't without a little drama and some embarrassment on my part, but the bird was purchased, cooked, and eaten with delight.

Around the holidays, we try to make the experience feel as authentic as possible, but it's never quite the same. For one, there is no indulging the tryptophanic stupor when Thanksgiving falls on a regular school day. There isn't Mom's Cornbread Dressing or Aunt Carol's Apple Pie to run off the next morning. And there are no familiar hugs and how are you's. There is thanksgiving sandwiched between everyday and life.

On Friday, my German tutor asked me about it. She wondered how we fit the bird in our (not much bigger than an easy bake) oven, and if I could find all the fixings at the supermarket. Then she told me about a few of her family Christmas traditions; the advent wreath, the Christmas goose, and Grandfather trimming the tree on Christmas eve while the children wait expectantly in the next room. She showed me a photograph of her mother's dog called Lia, and one of her nephew who is two and best babysat during nap time.

My eyes watered a little, and the photos blurred.

As we talked, I realized that the consistent feeling of being on the outside looking in, was starting to shift. As if the front door had been opened without my having to knock, and someone had called my name to invite me in. I felt like I'd been given a gift, an invitation to know and be known by another. And if all I can do is say 'Hello, my name is Frau Coyle' after four hours of lessons, then I'm still coming away having learned far more than how to make an introduction.

I'm not sure if she realized the difference she'd made, but that night I gave thanks for the gift, for the open door, the invitation and the chance to find something lovely sandwiched between everyday and life.

I was talking to an older Swiss woman recently about traveling and hair raising experiences on the road.  I told her that I'd been late to our appointment that day because the car in front of me hit another one. I had to change directions and backtrack to avoid the auto parts strewn across the road.  It wasn't much of a story.

She told me about a near miss while driving the motorway in Italy.  I shook my head, 'Near misses, we've all had them'.  Then she said, 'I know there were angels protecting us and I thanked God for it'.  And in that moment, I felt every difference between us- age, nationality, language, religion fall away because God's Spirit transcends them all. In New Jersey, in Italy, in Switzerland, on the road, in our homes, at the hair salon,  He is present and He makes His name known.

Kimberly

I'm joining the celebration of everyday gifts over at Chatting at the Sky today.  I'm so grateful for everyday conversations that remind me that God is so much bigger than the box in which I try to squeeze Him.  

Things aren't always crystal clear.  Life can be blurry at best, maybe a little dark and fuzzy around the edges.  

Listening to an international radio station has it's ups and downs.  Swiss German banter is sandwiched between anything from Bon Jovi to French Rap to Brit Pop to the occasional 1970's Donna Summer's hit.  It's a veritable smorgasborg of musical genres, which generally leaves me feeling confused and disoriented. 

I have spent the last week in a cardboard and packing paper blur.  I'm not really sure what else has happened in those seven days, but I do know my kids are still breathing, it has rained every day,  and we have entirely too much stuff.  And if my husband is reading this, books are not considered stuff.  They are considered essentials.

I get a disproportionate amount of pleasure out of finding a place for everything, and putting everything in it's place.  I love the entire process. Today, I found the perfect spot for my magazine holders, and they never fail to make me smile.

I know that an organized pantry or neatly labeled baskets don't mean much in the grand scheme of things, and the candlesticks displayed "just so" aren't going to be life altering.  But each day, I see my efforts making the smallest corners of my world a little more lovely.  And who can't use a little more lovely?

Kimberly

I'm linking up to unwrap the small daily gifts over at Chatting at the Sky.  Join me won't you?

On this Tuesday, beneath a cloud of volcanic ash, I'm thinking of spring.  Of late afternoon sun freckling shoulders, of beauty and blooming.  Blossoms bring a smile in spite of missing clothes, little girl loneliness, and the overwhelming newness of it all.  They set a tilted world right side up, or as near as you can get with only four pair of underpants and a mug the size of a thimble.  

I am preoccupied with the big stuff right now.  The big things tend to jostle around and jockey for position over the little things.  The little stuff becomes hazy around the edges.

When I do get a moment to clear my head, I find that those little things begin to rise like cream to the surface.  They have been stored there all along, just waiting to be noticed.  They whisper a small "look at me, don't forget me, remember..."

Remember Michael watching Sophie twirl in the kitchen, the color in her cheeks rising with her pink tulle dress as it floats and kisses the air around her waist.  Look at me....

Remember Ethan's front teeth, criss crossed and wobbly.  He waits and wiggles and sighs.  Until they fall,  apples are replaced with applesauce, and he counts the ways he will spend the money beneath his pillow.  Don't forget me....

Remember Rachel, with her mother hen ways.  Remember the weight of her hair and how it falls like a cape around her shoulders.  The spring sun makes her glow.  She is all softness and light and calm. Remember....

Today, I'm letting the little moments eclipse the big ones.  Join me over at Chatting at the Sky as we unwrap the daily gifts that quietly beg to be noticed.

I have an addiction to Home and Garden magazines.  They are my guilty pleasure, along with the Black Eyed Peas (I know, it's ridiculous), and chocolate chip pancakes.  I have these magazines stashed in every corner of my house.  My favorite pages are dog eared or ripped out and strategically used as coasters.  No one notices them anymore, they are more fixture than fancy.




Yesterday, my daughter happened to notice my latest arrival sitting on the table and said "Mom, that looks just like you.  That pretty chair with the flowers and cup of tea.  I can see you sitting there.  It's not really me, but it's definitely you."  And she was right.  It is me.  She put into words exactly what I love about this photograph.

It was as if she had picked up a flashlight, pointed the soft slanted beam at my heart and said "Hello, there.  I see you".  I felt noticed.  It was a little thing really, an offhanded comment about a magazine cover.  But carefully wrapped beneath her words was the gift.

Kimberly

I'm unwrapping this really sweet gift with Emily and friends at Chatting at the Sky.  Take a hop on over and have a look.

The rain is leaving wavy ribbons on the picture window, as I sit and drink my fourth cup of tea for the day.  We are cozied up indoors, the feverish little one and myself.  Today is not a day for errands, although those will need to be done.  It is a day for homebodies.

There are piles of laundry waiting their turn in various rooms of the house, a sink full of dirty dishes, and a small stack of mending on the counter.  They will keep until later, after my tea is drained.  This is what home feels like.  Home feels like a little one asking for another cup of orange juice, the flicker of the candle burning in the kitchen, and beds fitted with fresh sheets.  It feels like a stack of towels warm from the dryer and a steaming cup of tea next to the sofa.

Home brings me comfort on the rainy days and a respite from the endless running around.  It is a vanilla scented haven of white daisies and polka dot mugs and sweet grins.  Home is where my heart smiles, I breathe easy, and I unwrap the daily gifts of the ordinary.

Kimberly

Take a minute or forty to check out the gifts that Emily and friends are unwrapping today at Chatting at the Sky.  You might want to throw that load of laundry in first, grab your mug, and settle in for a while.

I have days that are all fireworks and twinkle lighted, castle bound joy.


Today, I'm unwrapping the gift of finding joy in the mess.  I'm trudging up and down the basement stairs, looking with my eyes at the mess, but seeing with my heart, the joy.

The joy of having a family to call my own. Kids to pick up after and a husband's dry cleaning to drop off.  Cozy flannel sheets to launder and homemade meals to prepare.  Bags to unpack and a crazy fun vacation from which to recover.  There can be joy in the mess, but sometimes it requires looking through a love filter.  Not the rose tinted kind, but the love filter that clarifies and refines and makes the real rise to the top.

Kimberly

After a Thanksgiving that proved to be painfully beautiful, we spent a Together Day outside, enjoying the last of fall.   Leaves were raked and beds prepared for winter.  The dead was removed and made ready for the fresh start to come. The last of the sun's warmth was soaked into cold weather skin and the hammock swung with legs, arms and giggles.  I gave Thanks... for the pruning, removing and readying of my heart as well as my home.

Kimberly

I'm linking up to Tuesday's Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.  Emily encourages us to take a closer look at our everyday and seek out the given gifts.  Even if they're painfully beautiful.

This photo makes me happy in ways I can't explain.

Unguarded moments are so rare, don't you think?  I wish to see more of them.  A tender glance, an amazed grin, a hand to mouth. Kids are good at the unguarded, the true thing.  I needed this photo to bring me back to truth, and to reveal the pleasant but bland veneer I so carefully paint on.

Kimberly

I'm linking up to Chatting at the Sky and joining in the conversation about finding the un-ordinary gifts in our sometimes very ordinary days.