First Knit Hat

I've always wanted to learn how to knit.  My beloved Grandma taught me how to crochet when I was a young girl, I've made lots of granny squares in my day.  But I really admire knitting.  I love the way it looks, the way it lays, the way you don't see through it, how nice and flat it is.  

I finally got my chance a couple of years ago at a 4H class that I'd attended  with my daughter.  I came away a new knitter!  I was ecstatic!  I've been knitting ever since.  The hat modeled by my youngest in the photo below is one of my first projects knitted from an actual pattern.  Its darling, but too big for anyone.  We fold the rim and wear it anyway. 

My daughter still practices, but I think right now she's more interested in the idea of knitting than in the effort.  Her level of excitement is more in the enchantment and novelty at this stage.  There must be a way that I can channel that...



Our 5-yr-old in his too-big hat





Why Go I Mourning?

Psalm 42:9

I say to God my Rock,
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by my enemy?"

~ Why Go I Mourning? ~

Canst Thou answer this, believer?
Canst thou find any reason why thou art so often mourning instead of rejoicing?
Why yield to gloomy anticipations?

Who told thee that the night would never end in day?
Who told thee that the winter of thy discontent would proceed from frost to frost,
from snow and ice, and hail, to deeper snow, and yet more heavy tempest of despair?

Knowest thou not that day follows night,
that flood comes after ebb,
that spring and summer succeed winter?

Hope thou then!
Hope thou ever!
for God fails thee not.

~ C.H. Spurgeon

Perfection Is My Enemy

There's a song by  Francesca Battistelli which some of you may have heard.  It's called "Free To Be Me" and has a line that reads "perfection is my enemy".  This line from her song remains in my mind, popping up from time to time.  I suppose I have to say that it "speaks to me."

It likely speaks to each of us to some degree, if we're honest.  After all, who doesn't aspire to achieve greatness throughout their endeavors?  Even a two-year-old desires to hear "Good Job!"  Naturally, we don't grow out of that.  

As we grow into adulthood, however, we learn that achieving sufficiency is all that is required.  But how many of us come to terms with that?  We still strive for the accolade, by now a little voice in the back of our mind that has learned to say "you can do better." 

If we've gleaned healthy outlooks and habits we may learn to be contented with the average requirements.  However, there are many reasons why we don't settle for mediocre.  Sometimes the idea of mediocrity smacks of inferiority.  But why?

Setting aside the obvious, that there are indeed times when we certainly should reach the heights of our potential, my point in this post is about our daily expectations.  Every day, Monday through Friday, January through December, you get where I'm going here?  The question I'm proposing is this, when is it not appropriate to achieve and expect more?   This is plain weird for an American to hear, more so to answer.  But we do wonder.  I think that sometimes we need a break from "being more."

For instance, in my life with children and schedules, I find that I criticize myself because I don't have everything done, like:

1.  Have the laundry washed, dried, folded, and put away.
2.  Keep a presentable home, e.i. dishes, table, counter, floor, etc.
3.  Prepare homemade meals each day and
4.  Serve my family at the table.
5.  Attend each of my children's athletic events.
6.  Keep a tidy bedroom.
7.  See that the kids make it to each Scout, youth, 4H, etc.  (...okay, need I go on?)

I'm not so off-my-rocker that I don't know you're thinking, "Oh my gosh, nobody does all that!"  But I also know that many of you recognize the symptom of self-criticism that I've demonstrated.  

We all have a litany of our own that is notoriously recognizable.  We have it memorized.  I bring it up because I think that average can be okay.  It has it's place, too.  Our aspirations can and should be more, but our expectations shouldn't be synonymous.  We do ourselves in!  Not to mention what we do to our children, our spouses, etc.  After all, haven't we found the cost of "more" and "better" too high, too often?  So, why do we keep after it?

Perhaps it's time to step back and evaluate what we are modeling to our children.  Maybe we should all just stay home once in awhile to play a nice, long game of Dino-opoly as a family after a Tombstone pizza dinner with sliced apples.  We're not perfect, and it's very good!

"You are more than the sum of your past mistakes"

www.metrolyrics.com/you-are-more-lyrics-tenth-avenue-north.html

There's a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she's wandered
And the shame she can't hide


She says, "How did I get here?
I'm not who I once was.
And I'm crippled by the fear
That I've fallen too far to love"


But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?


You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.


Well she tries to believe it
That she's been given new life
But she can't shake the feeling
That it's not true tonight


She knows all the answers
And she's rehearsed all the lines
And so she'll try to do better
But then she's too weak to try


But don't you know who you are?


You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.


You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.


'Cause this is not about what you've done,
But what's been done for you.
This is not about where you've been,
But where your brokenness brings you to


This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.


You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.


You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.


You've been remade
You've been remade.
You've been remade.
You've been remade.


“You Are More” ~Tenth Avenue North
______________________________




Zephaniah 3:17


The LORD your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.

Pregnant

From two lines
instead of one
read in the window of a little white stick.


Just married,
barely grown;
a new life ahead,
an old one behind.


One last smoke,
I'll be good to my babe.
Other decisions will have to wait.


No honeymoon,
no newlywed year;
we're starting a family.
A family!


It's all a shock,
but there's no time to feel it.
We mustn't be selfish,
we cannot regret.


We're not home.
No loved ones round here.
No one to encourage,
no one to understand.
Everyone else
are youths, as we.
What can a young family glean from them?


Afraid? We cannot be.
There is someone about to arrive.
He will need us to be strong.


Oh, Lord!
May we be strong!
?

A Soldier's Orders: My One Great Regret

He came home one afternoon
with some papers in his hand.
His countenance was hesitant.
It was sickening news.

Our little family had a decision to make.
To reside in a new land,
amongst a new language
and a new culture
even further from our home!
Three years away
for our young family.

Or ...

One final year.
One more year to a normal life!
to a life back home!
to a start with our own little family!

Just one more year.

But a year separated.
Husband and wife,
Father and son
oceans apart.
Milestones apart.

Decide.

Decide.

How?! Damn this!
Oh, my heart!



decide



One year or three?
Is this what it comes to?
It is how we see it.
Our babe still in arms,
still a nursling.
We make our choice.
One year.

So it was.

One year apart.
Husband and wife,
Father and son,
each suffering and longing
across the oceans.

Our infant leaves his mother's arms
to walk
and to talk.
Our babe in arms becomes a boy
and doesn't know his daddy.

One year lost.
Gone.
Vanished.

A boy should have his dad.

Let it never be neglected,
the necessity of the bond.

This is my haunt.
My one great regret.

Dictatorship of Pride

It is a terrible thing that the worst of all the vices [Pride] can smuggle itself into the very centre of our religious life. But you can see why.

The other, and less bad, vices come from the devil working on us through our animal nature. But this does not come through our animal nature at all. It comes direct from Hell. It is purely spiritual: consequently it is far more subtle and deadly.

For the same reason, Pride can often be used to beat down the simpler vices. Teachers, in fact, often appeal to a boy’s Pride, or, as they call it, his self-respect, to make him behave decently: many a man has overcome cowardice, or lust, or ill-temper, by learning to think that they are beneath his dignity - that is, by Pride.

The devil laughs. He is perfectly content to see you becoming chaste and brave and self-controlled provided, all the time, he is setting up in you the Dictatorship of Pride - just as he would be quite content to see your chilblains cured if he was allowed, in return, to give you cancer. For Pride is spiritual cancer: it eats up the very possibility of love, or contentment, or even common sense.

C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity