::: reason, season or lifetime friend :::

When someone is in your life for a reason, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. S/he has come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
S/he is there to meet a need. Then without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, s/he will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes s/he dies. Sometimes s/he walks away. Sometimes s/he acts up or out and forces you to take a stand. What we must realize is that the need has been met.
When a person comes into your life for a season, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. S/he may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. S/he may teach you something you have never done. S/he usually gives you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Lifetime relationships teach you lifetime lessons. Those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. You must accept the lesson, love the person/people anyway, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
Source: Anonymous

::: stream of consciousness whilst I wait for the day to end :::

Here's what's on this fickle mind of mine:

My son in Africa: He's dealing with an illness that required hospitalization. We can't really communicate, so I'm quite worried about him. Could be over and done with in no time, could be a long haul. Could be very mild. Could be quite serious. I can't help thinking he wouldn't be there if I hadn't planted the idea.

My faith: I'm turning so much over in my head about groupthink and jingoism and the heartlessness of some people who claim to follow Christ.

My passions: I used to think of myself as a writer. Now, the more I think of writing, the more I think I must have some audacity to believe that I fit into that scene. Or any scene, for that matter. At this point in my life, I feel that anything I write is either adding to the noise. Am I just a clanging cymbal? Do I have anything to contribute in this information age, in this sea of words?

Sexiness: It's sexy to adopt a child from an exotic foreign country. It's not so sexy to adopt a child from 50 miles away who has a learning disability. Do I want to make a difference, or do I want to be sexy?

Education: I'd always chosen to homeschool because I wanted my children to be exposed to a broad variety of subjects and I wanted them to have the freedom to learn at their own pace and according to their interests. Home education, I have always felt, is a superior education. I'd never felt that I wanted to educate for religious reasons, or for social reasons, but now that my children are growing and changing and I'm growing and changing, I see that my reasons always have been mainly social. My daughters are both starting to show interest in attending a local private school, and I'm not so sure how I feel about that. After this year of dealing with the ups and downs of our 14-year-old, Monet, attending this school, I can see how the girls would thrive academically. But socially? It's not that they aren't social girls. They are very, very social girls. But I've been around some of the kids from this school and heard the things my son and other kids have dealt with to have some serious reservations about sending my daughters to school. They're both very smart, outgoing and sweet. I'm worried that even a year in the environment where what you look like and what sports you play are more important qualities than how you treat people and what your passions are will break them into tiny little quivering pieces of self-doubt. I don't, don't, don't want to go there. And yet I fear that my economic abilities limit them from pursuing the kind of education they really desire.

Relationships: There are a couple of people who have really blown my mind this past year with their hubris and selfishness. On one hand, I feel like I am so over these people. On the other hand, it burns me to no end that they don't see how terribly self-centered and hurtful they are. And, if I had another hand, what would be on it is that I want so badly to be at peace with everyone I know that the fact that rifts remain drives me wild. Is it worth it to try to invest time in these relationships, or should I take joy in the peace that is my life with these people removed from it?

My own selfishness. That's all I'll say about that.

And that's all I'll say.

::: in the bleak midwinter :::

Usually, this time of the year, trying to get any schoolwork done at all is such a drag. I'm so affected by the weather, the brown dreariness of it, that I feel nothing like learning, accomplishing, teaching, and I feel only like burrowing, hibernating, lounging and lazing.

I'm not saying that I don't feel that way now, during this bleak midwinter, but I am saying that I'm learning to force myself into a discipline of sorts. Where I would normally awake and say, "Well, I slept in too long today. The whole day's shot. So much for that," I'm instead saying, "Okay. So I awoke late. We'll forgo the normal schedule and get some breakfast, and I'll read to the girls while they're eating."

Usually, forcing myself to start something creates a type of perpetual motion, and I find myself gaining some steam from each thing I make myself do. If I'm completely unmotivated, folding and putting away a load of laundry gets me somewhat motivated, and it continues on from there.

I'm not sure why things seem so overwhelming right now. Life is going very well, I'd say, for the most part. Sure, there are things that could be better, relationships that could use repairing, and money is always a strain, but, for the most part, life is good. But even one small thing, one extra stop for an errand, one more meeting or phone call or page of a schoolbook, and the thought makes me want to crumble. And yet, if I eliminate all of those things, if I find myself without commitments and activities, I sink into a boredom that serves pretty well as depression, and then I simply don't know what to do with myself.

A friend has recently offered to loan me a therapy light, and I'm looking forward to seeing how that works. I plan to use it during lesson times when I'm reading to the girls aloud. That should make for plenty of exposure to the light, given that the bulk of our day involves reading aloud.

I also really feel that I should get out and take walks, but just the thought of it almost sends me to tears. Isn't that pitiful?

So, for now, I'll keep forcing myself to do what needs doing and looking for light whereever I can find it. I'm so thankful for those around me who are patient and loving and kind and pitch in whereever they're able. Without you, I'd be completely lost.

::: the addiction returns :::

I thought I had recovered. I didn't think I'd ever go back. I'd hidden my needles away and figured that I'd overcome my addiction. No more spending money on my habit. No more withdrawal when I couldn't get to my needles. I was cured. Done. Finished.

That's what I thought.

But, somehow, the addiction snuck back into my life. I pulled my box of needles from the top shelf where I'd stashed them away years ago and laid them all out before me, only to find that I needed more. The needles I had were not the ones I needed.

So off I went, into the heart of the big city. I unabashedly walked in and spent $43 on my addiction, right there, in broad daylight. I immediately felt guilty. But before I knew it, I was alone in my room, knitting away.

Socks. The socks made me do it.

I've been wanting to try socks for a long time. I've made a few simple projects, and I even posted them on a blog a few years ago here, but I'd stopped knitting for strange reasons that I'd rather not divulge here. The reasons were strange enough, however, for me to dispose of my large box of yarn and my gallon-sized bag of knitting needles. And after watching friend after friend knit adorable socks, I finally decided that I had to give it a shot.

It took me a little while to find my way around a ball of yarn and a set of DPNs again, but  finally got the hang of it, and I invited my friend Jill for a knit-in. We holed ourselves up in my little bedroom retreat, lit some candles, turned on the lights on the Christmas tree (Yes. It is. I know.), and knit and gabbed. Jill even solved the mystery of the long-abandoned knitting project I couldn't finish because I'd begun them at a fiber arts club to which I'd never returned and couldn't remember what the process was called.

"Look up twined knitting," she suggested, and I took a gander at the Google results on my trusty iMac. And, ohmygoodness, there it was. I'd been taught it as Tvåändsstickning and it had been the most fun I'd had with two needles in my hand.

Of course, that led me to lust after other patterns, which I will now lead you to lust over. You can turn back now, if you like. Don't say I didn't warn you.

All of these patterns can be found at the Sandra Singh website, plus many, many more. The website advertises free knitting patterns, but I didn't find any. Still, the patterns they have are quite adorable.

So now I'm chomping at the bit to finish my very first pair of socks so that I can give myself permission to move on to another fun pattern.

The addiction has indeed returned. Bring on the needles.

::: for jill :::

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

::: stream of consciousness whilst awaiting my twentieth anniversary :::

I love celebrations.
I love planning them,
preparing for them,
sneaking around about them
(paying for them, not so much),
and springing them on people.
I love surprises,
both creating them
and receiving them.
My dear husband?
Not really.
He doesn't create surprises,
and most birthdays/anniversaries/holidays,
he's attacked by some virus or bacteria
and sleep overtakes him,
and I am left alone to celebrate.
It's not his fault, but yet I blame him.
It's not his fault, but yet,
every holiday,
every birthday,
every anniversary,
I awake, hoping to find
breakfast in bed,
or a piece of pottery,
or a surprise getaway,
or a love song written,
or even just a letter,
a paragraph,
a sentence.
The emptiness leaves me feeling
selfish.
It's one of my biggest fears about Heaven,
that I'm looking forward to this grand mansion,
this eternal life free from pain and tears
and sickness and anxiety
and worry and fear
and loneliness and hope deferred,
but that I will find, instead, only death
and darkness,
and nothing.
Dear God, I want to lean on you
and find my joy in you,
but this too too solid flesh,
which will not melt,
longs for tactile proof
that I have worth,
that I am known.
In the meantime,
I will create the surprises,
and try not to hope for
too much.

::: your assignment :::

Here's what you need to do today:

Finish one thing you don't want to do.
Make yourself do a little bit more of something you do want to do.
Put away something that's been left out for too long.
Fix something that's been broken for too long.
Give away something you don't need.
Tell someone you're sorry. Probably the person you're waiting for an apology from.
Confess something.
Hug someone you've never hugged before. Or maybe just someone you haven't hugged in a long time.
Read what Jesus said and decide if you agree with it, whether you're an atheist or a fundamentalist or somewhere in between.

Go on. It'll be good for you.

::: new year's eve :::

Just a glimpse
of a cardinal red scarf
and cap.
Another guest leaves the party.
Catch that moment.
Ball it up and tuck it into
the pocket of your acrylic sweater,
the grey one with the hood,
the one you wore while you sat
in the corner
in the rocking chair,
so that when you next
thrust your hands into the
too-long sleeves
and the just-right pouches,
you'll find it
and hear the banjo
and the cajon
and the sexy bass solo
and the improvised oboe voices
because the oboe remained unseen.
Taste the peanut soup
and the peppernuts
and the green chili dip,
warm, but not spicy,
spread thickly on crisp Ritz crackers.
Drink the sparkling citrus punch
spiked with Vernor's,
and pick the raspberry seeds
from between your teeth.
From the deep softness of that pocket,
bring it out,
and then you'll sing the harmonies
loudly in your head
and feel the warm, worn wooden floor
bounce beneath your feet.
Yes, for now,
ball it up,
that moment.
Tuck it in,
that memory.
But don't leave it there.
Shake it out
and play it again,
and this time,
you can sing out loud.
You can
take the stage, too.