Skip to main content

Home for Christmas

Ah, Christmas in the South. I'm sure we'll get plenty of winter later on (at least, that's what the almanac, the persimmon seeds, and the woolly bear caterpillars are saying), but for now we thoroughly enjoyed getting to walk at the park three of the four days Adam had off over the holiday.

Spending time together as a family was a gift in itself. Brooklyn and Tobin grew exponentially more excited every morning that they woke up to find Adam still there - and they got to spend some time on the playground at the park that we don't usually get when it's just me (I realize it's not as aesthetically pleasing, but I do really appreciate when there's a fence around the play area), so she got to climb and slide to her heart's content (that is, until larger, louder, kids invaded) and he got to swing for the first time.

Games were played, books were read, tea was sipped, music was listened to, letters were written, movies were watched, and knitting progress was made. Altogether, it was a peaceful and quiet celebration of One born to bring peace.

We've got a few days between before a more traditional weekend of family and presents and fun - while I'm looking forward to it, I'm also planning to relish the space at the end of the year, before the busy new year descends.

2258. Tobin swinging for the first time
2259. Hot cocoa and drive-through Christmas lights
2260. A Christmas Eve family walk at the park
2261. Spending the morning writing thank-you notes - and finishing them all
2262. Lots and lots of tea
2263. Sneaky veggie meatloaf
2264. The library, all-four-together, and local sorbet after
2265. Walks at the park three days in a row (before it got cold and wet)
2266. Real pizza and a Redbox movie
2267. The Ugandan Children's Choir
2268. An evening drive
2269. A perfect-textured Icee


Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Unraveling Designs

It's that time of year again... the 31 Days writing challenge starts today! Bloggers from all over will be writing every day of the month of October on the topic of their choosing. This will be my fourth year participating - the first year I did 7 for 31, and spent a month going through Jen Hatmaker's book 7. The second year I did 31 Days of Sustainable Dwelling, and wrote about local and fair trade living. Last year I was busy but still wanted to participate, so I went the easy route with 31 Days of Everyday Beautiful.

This year I'm diving into my greatest passion: knitting! I'll spend this month looking at past designs and talking about the inspiration behind them, so there will be plenty of regular life mixed in with the stitching - and there may be discount codes for the patterns that I write about. You'll just have to read and see!

Pattern index:

Pageturner Mitts
Hogwarts House Tie
Urban Artemis
Graffiti for Humanity
Love Out Loud
Strange Jacket


In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…


A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…