things to chat about :: home edition

Here are a few great home ideas that I found this week from some of my favorite blogs. You can browse some more of my favorite blogs by clicking on featured at the top of this page.

Sweet and Simple Photo Display :: Remodeling This Life

Ranch Redo :: The Painted House (Exterior house before and after photos – my favorite!)

photo from Playing Sublimely

The Most Impractical Room in My House :: Playing Sublimely

Pretty Little Things for Your Walls and Furniture :: The Inspired Room

photo from Nesting Place

How to Accessorize Your Coffee Table :: Nesting Place (it’s easier than you think . . .)

A Beach Cottage & A Vintage Milk Bottle :: A Beach Cottage

(not really a house-y post, but definitely a house-y blog. Every photo smells like the sea. Check her out.)

Enjoy your weekend!

chasing space at (in)courage

Sometimes I want space and rest so much that I put it up on my someday pedestal and worship it like a shiny little goddess. But there is a difference between soul space and escapism. I’m writing about this at (in)courage today. Join me?

beauty rising :: a guest post

Kimberly lives in Switzerland with her husband and favorite little people.  She reads a lot, writes a lot, and goes grocery shopping . . . a lot.   She has a new found appreciation for American sized refrigerators and Target, and copes with these losses by drinking lots of tea, blogging and God’s grace. You can find Kimberly at her blog, Find Time for Tea.

My family and I recently shook the dust of New Jersey off our feet, and planted them squarely in Switzerland. We have been living here for a few months now, and I’m afraid that reality has begun to set in. I was under the (false) impression that my days were going to be filled with alpine views, a fondue dinner and a gigantic helping of chocolate for dessert. I have since discovered that chocolate and cheese have a negative effect on the bum, and the alpine views? Let’s just say that for the five days we’ve had sun they’ve been amazing. The other fifty-five days of rain and fog have left something to be desired.

I wake up early most mornings. After making myself a cup of tea, I shuffle to the window for my daily alpine check. If I can see the soft silhouette of the mountains through low-slung clouds and lake mist, I anticipate a beautiful day. By the time I manage to get the kids in the car for the ride to school, the silhouette has become a vivid backdrop of snow-capped peaks against hazy sky. This beauty . . . it never ceases to make my throat catch, and the in and out of my breathing becomes more whispered prayer than oxygen instinct. In those moments, I give thanks. I thank and marvel and wonder at what words were spoken over this land that would cause such beauty to rise from the earth.

Then there are the “other” days, those days that are all rain soaked gray skies and cranky, stir crazy kids in the backseat. On those days I look past the windshield wipers and my gaze rests not on the Alps, but on the tractor-trailer in front of me. My prayers become less thanks and wonder, and more “I might go insane if we have to spend one more afternoon trapped in the house with these three little people. Amen.” It’s difficult to see past that sometimes. It’s difficult to remember that behind the fog and friction, there still lies something lovely. That mountains continue to stretch white washed peaks heavenward, and beauty exists just beyond the gray. It’s a matter of having the eyes to see it, to look beyond the mess, the cranky kids, the unmet expectations, and know that beyond it all there is something worth seeing.

A clear day with a view for miles is something I treasure, but I’m learning to treasure the other days as well. Because even in the fog and muck, I know that just beyond where I am right now, beauty rises from the dust of every day life.

Thank you, Kimberly, for that beautiful perspective. Don’t you love her? She’s the one I told you about last week. I am excited to share more guest posts as the weeks continue. I invite you to welcome her in the comments, visit Find Time for Tea and love her even more.

truth on a tuesday

As I made my coffee early yesterday morning, before the house woke up, two words came to mind: bone-dry and wilted. I guess three, depending on how you look at it. Speaking of numbers, here is a glance at the last 7 days in our house:

2 – children finished kindergarten

5 – birthdays celebrated

4 – teacher gifts bought/made

2 – nights spent away from home

5 – times we’ve needed a sitter

147 – loads of laundry I’ve washed

1 – tooth lost

0 – meals I’ve cooked

It is summer now, and though the kids schedules have settled down, The Man’s has picked up a notch. He has several long-ish trips coming up, because students out of school means stuff for the youth pastor. We both love and fear it, this summer-time schedule. So the past week, with all the goodbyes to school and hellos to summer, it feels like I’ve needed even more margin than usual but I haven’t been able to find/make it. Thus, the wilting.

I’m reading through the Psalms, and this morning I picked up The Man’s parallel Bible because I couldn’t find mine. Yes, that’s right. I can’t remember where I put my Bible. What? I read this:

But You, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. I was crying to the Lord with my voice, and He answered me from His holy mountain.  -Psalm 3:3-4 (NASB)

He grounds my feet. He is my head-lifter. I love when He does that. He reminds me of my need while making coffee in the morning, and then He delights in showing me (again) that He is the holy need-meeter. And in the minutes between the brewing coffee and the silent Word, Sufficient Grace offers a drink of the living water, and the wilting is undone. At least for today.

***

Is there a gift waiting in a quiet place? Is there a moment you would like to unwrap here with us? The guidelines for Tuesdays Unwrapped can be found here. In summary, link up with the permalink to your unwrapped post, or your link will sadly be deleted. I would also ask, as a courtesy, that you would please link back here to Chatting at the Sky by either using the button or a text link somewhere in your post. Thank you.

tuesdays unwrapped at cats

on cooking and writer’s block

I’m working on a post, or possible series of posts, about relating with girls who are in high school. I don’t like calling them teens or youth so much, I think mainly because you will hardly ever hear a girl that age call herself a teen or a youth. Only old people call them that. And by old, I mean my aged people.

Anyway, I have this post I’m working on in my drafts and it looks almost finished, but I know it isn’t. There is more to be said, to be thought about and communicated. I wanted the post to be a microwaved dinner and instead it’s turning into a crock pot meal; slow cooked and day-long simmered. So I can’t hit publish yet because it hasn’t cooked enough.

In the past, that would frustrate me. I would want to be able to sit down, work on something, and be done with it. If I couldn’t work it out, it left me feeling dissatisfied and unsettled. Now, though, I have learned to trust my own intuition in writing, and that one sign of a maturing writer is knowing when you are finished. And also, when you aren’t.

Lots of writing is like that. Some ideas come easily and leave the fingers quickly, ready to be shared and discussed. Others develop over time and only with sufficient space and margin. Sometimes ideas that I think will take days to work out come easy and effortlessly, while others, like this post I’m working on about high school girls, turn out to need more time. I don’t ever really know which kind of idea I have until I sit down and start to work on it.

It is that way with all kinds of writing for me: journaling, blog-writing and, as I’ve been discovering in the past few months, book writing as well. When I uncover an idea or a thought that needs time to percolate, I can’t afford to walk away from writing all together and give it space. I have to keep on writing, sometimes leaving gaping holes in my manuscript or a nearly-finished draft in my blog dashboard to be filled in and finished when the time is right.

Writing can’t be forced, but it must be practiced. I can’t force an idea to finish itself, but I can continue to try to work out more ideas. I’ve never experienced writer’s block. I’m not even sure I know what that is. Perhaps it could have to do with a writer who is trying to cook a crock pot idea in the microwave. It won’t come out right and it could even give the impression that you are a lousy cook. And so, you give up for a while. You cannot afford to give up. Move on, yes. But don’t stop. Give it space to breathe, but come back to it. And in the meantime, keep on writing.

in which my first guest poster could be a movie star

I want to thank those of you who have submitted or are planning to submit a guest post. It will help so much in these final weeks before my deadline. I have been so encouraged at your support and willingness to help. I will have my first guest post up sometime next week. I won’t always announce that fact, but there is something I just had to say about this girl. Y’all. Look at this:

That’s Kimberly, my first guest poster from Find Time for Tea on the left and Kimberly Williams from Father of the Bride on the right. I know. They have the same name. What? And if you disagree with me and try to tell me they do not look alike, I will simply tell you that I am skilled in these things. I see numbers as people, letters as colors and movie stars in everyone I meet. It is a gift.

So look out for Kimberly sometime next week. I would have just mentioned this at the end of her post, but I didn’t want to junk it all up. Carry on with your regular weekend activities. I went to the rich people Goodwill with my mom and sister today. I bought lots of shirts. Good times.

one way to find the time

The thunder began to roll just as they nestled into bed. I settled downstairs with a book, knowing I would soon hear at least one small voice. Mommy, I’m scared. Sometimes I’m annoyed by it, thinking my mother card has timed out already and can’t you just go to sleep? But this night, I expected it, welcomed it. I wanted them to need me, to long for comfort, to need mothering. I sat at the foot of her bed and read my Mary DeMuth book as she fell asleep, calm.

The rain continued to fall and I read on, entering into a narrative world of grief with small glimpses of hope mixed in. An hour passed, then two. I craved the quiet last night. I wanted the time to read and listen and hear. As rain echoed against windows and doors, I found myself thankful.

Lately I have tended to turn on the TV when I clock out of duty, my mindless escape from thought and responsibility. But the noise of it has become like a party goer with poor people skills, carrying on and on and never noticing if you are bored or angry or hurt or sad. He just keeps on talking and laughing and making his colorful noise. The life of the party. The look-at-me guest. I was happy to keep that guest from my living room last night.

Is it hard for you to find the time for quiet?

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