Where The Heart Leads

Ten years ago today, the decision to step on a plane to Germany completely changed the rest of my life... in every way that could be imagined. It was on my granmother's 80th birthday that I was flying halfway across the globe to be with the man who had captured my heart.

Almost a year later, I started blogging about my life in Germany, and the feelings and emotions about living in a country that was not my own. Talk about not being in Kansas anymore?!? Those first years were very much processing what it means to experience daily life in another language, another way of doing things, and another culture... all different from mine.

At the time, there is no way that I could have possibly understood the depth of what I was about to do. And I really don't know if I will ever be able to comprehend the full depth of it. There is so much to process on so many different levels, although I am grateful that the struggles are not what they once were.

The processing has been daily, it's been gradual, even seasonal, and it's given me a deeper understanding of who I once was. There are things that I've only realized about myself since I've made that leap.

In our afternoon tea time with my husband today, he posed the hypothetical question "if you knew what you know now, would you have done it again"? Perhaps some things are actually better if you leap before you think about the landing. Would it have helped to know ahead of time what challenges I would go through, and am still going through? I doubt it. Would I have done it all over again for the same man? No questions about it.
 

 ... supposedly the number 10 represents perfection or completion, which I dare say, does not apply in this case, but it sure does help to give guidance to know where to go from here.
 

Pattern: My Jeweled Kaleidoscope quilt pattern, mini block made into a pin cushion
Fabrics: Cotton & Steel, Carolyn Friedlander, and various low volumen Art Gallery fabrics.
Thread: Auriful

Read More

Reflections

Have you ever had one of those years, where you inwardly say to yourself… oh, it just feels like Christmas? What is it that gives us that it’s” the most wonderful time of the year” feeling?... the decorations, the hustling and bustling, the favorite music carols heard everywhere, the delicious high-calorie comfort foods, a dimly lit room lightened by the soft flicker of candles, spicy smells floating through the house, maybe even snow in your part of the world?

I would have to admit that for the past several years, I’ve spent a good deal of time inwardly pondering once the grey winter months arrive, what makes me feel or not feel like it is Christmas. Having lived in a foreign country for the past eight years, my challenge has been to create that Christmas feeling while the one element that makes me “feel” like it is Christmas is missing… my family.

This year will be the very first year that my husband and I have had a Christmas tree together… funny that the 8^th year means “new beginnings”. Each year I’ve wanted a tree, but because of travel plans, whether to my parents or his, or sticky finger children that leaves only one option to set up a tree inside the playpen instead of outside of it, we’ve somehow never managed it. But this year we did manage … a little later than I had hoped, but accomplished nonetheless. It was essentially the first tree that we stumbled on, and a fine tree it is. Despite the kids excitement, I felt a certain melancholy mood as I was decorating the tree. This year has been full… full of good, full of busy, full of loss, full of change,  just plain full. 

Somehow unpacking my ornaments was a pure delight because it seemed as if each one was a surprise… “oh, I remember you” having been packed away all these years. With those memories, I thought about my family a lot. I thought about those that are mourning a much beloved friend that I lost just a few short months ago to cancer, and how this year will be about survival and just getting through for them, and not about “Merry and Bright”. While other friends that are mourning the loss of “what if” … and it makes me very grateful. 

This year during the Advent season we have been sharing each day what we are grateful for, and even my oldest has joined in. Of course, in keeping with kids say the darndest things, he has not disappointed, but I love the fact that he is learning to search out even the little things that he appreciates. Perhaps it is an attitude that should not be limited to just a day, or even just a season. So, despite the fact that the most important people in my life are missing this year, the truth of it is that my life is full of abundance. 

Wishing you the brightest this year for Christmas!

Read More

A Matter of the Heart

They say that home is where the heart is, and while there is much truth in this, for me such a statement does not consider the reality of living abroad.

While driving recently, an old familiar song came on the radio that funnily every German seems to know word for word. The irony of it is that it is an old country song by John Denver, that actually has more meaning to me now that I am on the opposite side of the pond than when I was on the other side... "country roads, take me home, to the place I belong"... 

 Being somewhat annoyed with myself for having teared up while singing along, it was very much a confirmation that my heart ached for family and that familiar place that I once called "home". Living life in a different country is very much a fine balance between letting go of what once was, and embracing, blending, meshing, and creating a home in the new. 

So, I would assume that you have noticed that things have been very still around here, but with good reason. This summer has been about seeing my family, nestling in for a while in that old familiar place with no demands, and just being me. One cannot imagine the kinds of challenges one faces functioning daily in a language that you did not hear your own mother speaking to you from birth on.

But as I soaked in the flavors of the past, I felt a still in my soul. The place of my roots, the place where I feel connected to, and where I long for when I am away. My missing home should not be misinterpreted as discontent, quite the contrary. I have found my home here. Some time ago, a friend of mine said it best... "when you live in foreign country for a long time, you find that there is always something missing... no matter where you are."

My heart is in TWO places, and I call them both home.

Read More

Flip Side of the Pond Friday

Just a short little intro…I thought it might be fun to start a non-sewing related regular post about what it is like to live on this side of the pond. I've often been asked if there is a big difference between the U.S. and Germany. I love the way one can answer this in German... Jein. (combination between Ja/yes and Nein/no) 

Other than the obvious backdrop of old architecture, differences in houses, and landscape, the differences are not as blaring as one might expect. But they are there and they are subtle. With Flip Side of the Pond Friday, I simply want to share an outsider's viewpoint of those small little details that make me realize that this is not the place that I grew up calling home. I'd love it if you join in with your own stories.

**********************************************************************************

I can still vividly remember the very first trip that I ever made to Germany. My then future husband had made arrangements for various mini-trips, events, and meeting family and friends during my short stay. I can remember one visit with his friends, while still being greeted at the door, we were kindly asked to remove our shoes. Normally I would have been more than happy to oblige them on their kind request, except for the fact that for this trip I had severely under packed and even worse underestimated the weather, thinking in terms of the already spring and summer-like weather I had just left back in sunny North Carolina. I remember not only having cold feet the entire night, but that I had to sit on them the whole evening just to keep them warm.

At first, I just chalked the incident up to the fact that perhaps they were just overly protective about their newly installed wooden floors. But the longer I've lived here, the more encounters I've had with people asking me to take my shoes off upon arrival. Sure, if they are super muddy, soaking wet, or just plain full of dirt it's obvious to me, but this is almost a phenomenon that I had never experienced before.

At my son's kindergarten, greeting all visitors at the front door, one finds oversized, giant wool slippers that might appear to have been left behind by some Jack-and-the-Beanstalk character. For the non-native, they look quite odd. But what one is actually supposed to do with them, is slip them over your existing shoes, and glide from room to room so as not to track dirt throughout the whole building. Any German reading this would probably think, ummm, yeah, sounds logical, so what's the big deal? I suppose it's not really a big deal unless you've never seen anything like this before. I completely understand the logic behind this, but nonetheless it is a spectacle which would leave most Americans not quite knowing what to say.

But since living here, I have learned that while in Rome, do as the Romans do... packing your house shoes/slippers for everywhere you visit is a MUST - friends homes, any children's activities found in a gym, and even church!

As with most comparisons... no wrongs, no rights... just different.

Any stories from your side of the pond?

Read More