Wrapping Gifts With my Kids on the first Snowy Day of the Season.

Gift Wrapping on the First Snowy Day


First of December,
The snow begins falling...
Couple of inches and
Keeps coming down.
Quiet and bright.
Ground soft and white.

Up in my sweet room
There with my offspring,
Colorful wrapping,
Fun job ahead...
Presents galore
Spread on the floor.

We are relaxing,
Music is playing...
Happy old Christmas songs
from long ago.
Complete contentment
One perfect moment.

~klm~
12.2.10

It really was one of those perfect moments that will stay in my memory bank for life. One wonderful son, one precious daughter, and me, all together in the room we have just redecorated with my favorite colors. My work was done, so I curled up with pillows on the day bed while they sat on the floor and we talked.

Somehow all the Christmas wrapping paper in the house had migrated to this room, and the gifts they had chosen were spread on the floor waiting to be wrapped.

Pandora filled the air with its best old Christmas music, the kind you hear on the radio every season: "Silver Bells", "Baby, It's Cold Outside", Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Eartha Kitts, and the room was filled with Christmas happiness and the love of family.

Then it began to snow!

And outside the windows, we watched things change from late autumn's brown to a new, clean, pure white. The first snow! Right there, right at that moment, while we basked in each other's company, surrounded by colorful papers and ribbons, wrapping gifts to the sound of the season, right then the sky shared its own holiday treasures, and the air inside brightened as the air outside filled with tiny white snowflakes and the ground was covered with white, freshened for a new season.

Perfect moments like this can only be the gifts of a perfect heavenly Father who loves us more than we deserve. I am so grateful to be loved so lavishly.

Where I've Been

Wow, seriously? I didn't realize it had been so long since I posted. My last post was a gratitude list from Thanksgiving! Linda from Lime in the Coconut read that and suggested it was time for a Christmas list. She has a point! I have been busy with life and not with writing. But it's time. And Ted from Jesus Community noticed I tend to make lists. Well, he's right, I do... this time I'm not listing, but I expect to have a Christmas list up soon. Today I want to tell you where I've been and what I've been up to. I haven't posted much lately because life required my full attention.

I am halfway across the country right now, in the state of Wyoming. The weather is far different here from at home where they are experiencing true winter with near blizzard conditions.

I came out here to attend my daughter's first birth. (I am a trained doula, as well as being her mom.) Got here on December 8th and plan to fly back home on the 24th. A tiny pink thing, Lindsey Ann, was born on the 10th, only two days after I got here. She weighed 7lb, 13 oz, was 20 inches long, and she is simply beautiful. See for yourself:



She has so many different expressions! The run across her face like cloud shadows run across the plains on a windy day, changing constantly.

Sometimes she studies the world around her like a little scientist, scowling in deep thought, figuring out this new discovery. Sometimes a hint of a smile flits across her contented little face. It is amazing, isn't it, how much real humanity is packed into such a tiny package?



After about three days, yesterday she seemed to be getting the hang of life on the outside. Days are beginning to smooth out. Those first few days with a newborn are so intense, with such a huge learning curve for all involved. But everyone is doing well and already I see things settling down.

Meanwhile, back at home, a big winter storm came through. It turned super-cold and roads got very slippery. This is what they tell me by phone. On the way home from church - a half hour drive - the temp dropped 5 degrees and roads began freezing over. Husband was the passenger and my son got a well-coached "first crazy-slippery driving of the season" lesson. I was glad for this. Everyone takes a few times out to remember winter driving each season, and yes, even though he is a pretty responsible 19 year old, still, ice is ice and I worried a little. I will worry a lot less now, knowing his dad was there to help him out this one time when it got so bad.

So I am here, going out shopping in just a sweater while at home they are bundling up. It feels strange. But I am glad that I can be here to help out for a while. I fix meals, help put up their first Christmas tree, load the dishwasher, answer questions on baby care, etc. It's not a lot, but it seems to help out.




It's good.

My Thanksgiving list so far...

things I'm thankful for at this moment...

473. National Dress Up Day! (Also called Halloween) I love that there is a day when everyone pulls their imaginations out and just has fun with costumes! and I love that a daughter of mine renamed it this fun name, National Dress Up Day.

474. being waited on by Donald Duck

475. People in costume everywhere

476. apple butter, spread thick on good bread

477. turquoise

478. going to a fun concert

479. overnight road trip with daughter

480. meeting the artist and his manager

481. getting my new cd autographed

482. coming home

483. days when my hair turns out

484. misty air that replenishes moisture I've lost to the season's dryness. The mist looks dull and gray in the air, but it feels so good!

485. planning family holiday gatherings, and looking forward to their warmth

486. being together with family, with people I love who love me back.

487. the simple word, "hi", and the power it has to connect people. tiny but powerful!

hot tea and apple butter

I'm sitting here this morning with a cup of hot, sweet tea...

I love a good cup of tea.

And toast.

With apple butter.

Oh, my!

The water came to a screaming boil, and was promptly moved by offspring who can't stand screaming.

This is very hot water.

Tazo. Awake. Good tea.

A good healthy dash of agave nectar....

A touch of milk...

And two ice cubes. While I make the toast.

Gluten free, rice flour, never tried this before, but it's good! It's delicious!

With apple butter. Oh, I love apple butter!

Apple butter makes me think of my grandfather, PeePop.

PeePop, because the oldest cousin couldn't pronounce PopPop when she was a tiny girl.

PeePop knew how to enjoy apple butter, and he taught us:

A half inch thick on the bread.

Half inch, got it?

Well, who are we to argue with the grandpa?

And so this morning, I savour tea, like my British aunt (on my mother's side) used to enjoy, and with it I eat toast and apple butter, like my father's father used to enjoy.

And my solitary moment is a reflection of my heritage.

Mmmmmm....

Good stuff.




(linked to LL Barkat's "On, In, and Around Mondays" )

Noone Knew

Noone Knew

Noone knew.

When my heart had broken into shards,

When my heart was aching so very hard

That I could hardly stand it,

And I hurt from the hair down.

Noone knew.

Because I could still walk,

And I could talk,

And I could say, “Fine” when anyone asked.

But they didn't know me well enough to see what was behind my eyes,

So noone knew.

But you knew.

And you cared about me, I could see that in your eyes.

You didn't invade my privacy with questions

Or unnecessary words,

But I bet you prayed for me,

Because you knew.

And you cared for me

As a good friend would do.

You knew.

And you were a good friend.

So I'm telling you now...

Thank you.

~klm~

© 2002

(This is not a new poem, but it is a real poem. I wrote it years ago. I am sharing it here, responding to L.L. Barkat at http://www.thehighcalling.org/ . We are looking at a specific poetic tool, called the catalog technique. Honestly, I am not sure if this is a good example of this. This repetition is something I use a lot, almost automatically sometimes. I use repetition here not only in the repetition of the main phrase throughout the poem, but also with parts of lines repeated in the first two sections. I remember my dad talking this way sometimes, when he was serious and really wanted me to hear what he was telling me. It reminded me of a preacher, this repeating of a part of a phrase, not in poetry, but in speaking. Maybe his using it with me makes this repetition for emphasis or contrast come naturally to me. But I never knew it had a name, and I'm not sure if what I am doing here is exactly what the catalogue technique is about. Regardless, I write to unload my heart, and the styles and techniques just work themselves out, for better or worse. Please hear my heart when you read this. )

the smell of winter

The last Sunday morning in October, I sat in the pew and noticed that the air smelled dry, and dusty, like winter. Like Winter, when the furnace blows and the air dries up, and things are dead and brown, and dusty, and scarce on life. That was the last Sunday in October.

The very next day was November, and later in the week brought the first flurries flying in the almost freezing, under an absent-minded sky that scowled, ever so slightly, like it wasn't sure what it was supposed to do.

November is for gray skies. For sunless days that string together like dirty pearls. We all forget what we are supposed to do. We forget who we were, back in the summer. Life ebbs.

Two different people asked me today, as the flurries flew outside, what did I think of the snow? And I said I didn't know yet. I'm not sure what I am supposed to think. I haven't decided. Some people seem surprised by the snow. Others counter with, "What did you expect, it's November!"

I know the snow will pile deep, and then it will shine. It will soften the lines of the landscape and reflect the moon's blue glow. It will sparkle on sunny days and become dotted with sledders on the hills. It will be beautiful. I will love it then. But it will be cold, so cold, and life will ebb some more. Energy fades in the winter. Smiles fade under the colorless skies, and souls need the sun to shine.

But it will be beautiful.

So I don't know what to think, how I feel about the snow that came today. I'm not getting giddy out of a sense of obligation, that's what I'm not. But I'm not hating it, either. Little kids love it, drivers don't. I have no opinion. It's just flurries. It isn't staying yet. Like the smell of winter, it portends, that's all.


(I was challenged by Emily at http://canvaschild.blogspot.com/ to write something to join her and a bunch of her friends for "imperfect prose on Thursdays" over at her place. I wasn't sure if I had anything, but I guess I did after all.)

Pleasures

456. bright sun shining full on my face like happy kisses

457. getting lost in a big, smooth, steamy vanilla latte, whipped cream on top. Comfort food.

458. potato chips, delicate crunchiness all salty good

459. Kalamata olives

460. the smell of fresh coffee filling a place

461. waiting for the foam to settle down so I can top off my Vernor's

462. shouting for joy, really LOUD! at the top of my lungs! (in the car where I won't scare anyone!)

463. honest sadness.

464. good clean anger. not the ugly kind, but the kind that heals.

465. clouds that shine bright at the edges

466. pretending, when I can, just for the fun of it. It's good to play sometimes.

467. being real and honest, transparent. Within right boundaries, it seems healthy and freeing.

(I don't mean to "be transparent" with other people's stories, even when they overlap mine. I mean to tell the truth when possible about where I am. Still working this out.)

468. really big tortoiseshell sunglasses. I wanted some, in fact, but they told me my prescription wouldn't work in those. So now I just enjoy them on other people.

469. exercise balls

470. lots of suds on top of fresh, just-hot-enough dishwater

471. starting a new week, with new possibilities

472. getting a new cd for my own listening