You are currently browsing the daily archive for August 3rd, 2008.
When Adair was about four or five, she’d tell me “I want to be a mermaid when I grow up…” and you could see in her eyes how she was picturing what it would be like. Just looking at her you could see her eyes swim and you could see her think of flicking her tail as she propelled herself through the water.
Mike has asked me from time to time, “What do you want to do when you go back to work?” because my youngest, Alec, will start first grade next year and be in school all day along with Adair as she will enter third grade. All I have been able to muster when my husband has asked this is the thought in my head of “I want to be a mermaid….” and my mind swims off.
This ABC Calligraphie by Lawrence Roque is stunning… I must do this.
Look at the piece in progress by an inspiring stitcher named Cathy… it’s amazing. Just amazing.
Mom? How about another Stitch-Along in addition to our Quaker Mystery 2008? ; )
Have you heard the saying or seen the bumper sticker “Time spent fishing cannot be deducted from a man’s life”? I asked my husband the if the same thing could be said like this, “Time spent stitching cannot be deducted from a woman’s life” and if it would be equally as true. His response was a quizzical expression that shrugged the answer “Sure…” and therefore I am relieved. My time spent stitching is not only about making an heirloom but it’s about time in thought and in reflection and prayer. All of which are likely similar to time spent fishing, but without the tales of the one that got away.
I don’t know why I like stitching… if it’s because I can focus on everything while I focus on one thing, or if it is because I can go to an inner place and find peace and calm when sometimes things on the outside are not so much reflective of that. I’m not sure. I like the creating of it, and I like the distraction of it, all the while knowing that I can lay it aside when I want to do something else. I like having my hands move, in some tiny tiny ways it reduces my desire to grab food, haahaa.
I have about six works in progress right now, and a ton of patterns with linen and floss ready to go. I like being able to switch from one pattern to another on any given day. Somehow having the choice of what to stitch is freeing, especially because sometimes I get bored with the look of one, so it’s fun to work on another and get hungry to go back to the one I tired of. ; )
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything of real substance. It’s hard to get to that place to write from in the clutteredness that I know I allow my life and day to get to. The other day, my mom phoned but was unable to reach me, and thus she had to listen to my voicemail on my cell phone. She later told me that I should re-record my greeting, as it sounded like I had recorded it on a low day. I explained that I recorded it intentionally in that way, as I had tried to tone down my voice in a way, so as to be softer, and less zingy and zangy. More palatable, more patient sounding. More comforting, more mellow. I guess I sometimes feel like I sound like an excitable small yappy dog, one of the ones that never shut up. Yep, that’s me sometimes… I just keep on barking in a high pitched shrill… yap yap yap.
So what is this softness about that I’m looking for, searching for, or trying to be? Maybe it’s a softness from the inside, that I do know is there, yet doesn’t seem to always be tangible. Maybe it’s a speech seasoned with just the right amount of salt (love), and just the right amount of inflection for just the right moment. Maybe just not the sound that sounds excitable all the time, the yap, the yip, the zang and the zing.
Wondering to myself… is it possible to take the yappy out of me, and still be me? And, maybe it is just me, in that when I listen to my own voice, it’s only something that I hear… the shrill yap, the zingy and aloof girl who could stand some more maturing. Maybe in all reality, it’s not really there at all, and instead, I should be content to sound just like me, however the me sounds in that moment. The very me who God has created and brought with flowing grace into each gift of a moment that I am honored to be a part of. Maybe it’s not about me trying to sound like I am soft persay, but trusting that when the time calls for it, the Spirit within me will guide me in giving generously the gentleness of heart and self-control of speech or tone, which beautifully finish off the list of the fruit of the Spirit.
Being content with me… the shrill, the zing, the zang, or the dull, the thick, or the moments of no thoughts at all. Giving myself as myself, not as some phony put on self, that doesn’t to my mother, sound like myself at all. 
I love you mom.
