Skip to main content

Peace in the Beauty

March! That sounds promisingly spring-y to me. Although, the promise of Spring is already being fulfilled here in the South - the Jane magnolias have bloomed, the forsythias have lost their blossoms as they begin to grow leaves, and the ants have begun their yearly attack a solid two months earlier than usual.

February was, to be quite honest, rough. We three are all thoroughly tired of Adam being gone, and have begun to get on each other's nerves (more than usual. There's always 4pm). At the end of several weeks during which Everything Was Awful And I Was Not Okay, I called for reinforcements and let the Littles spend a few days with out-of-town grandparents. Per the Sanity Rules, I worked on lowering my blood pressure before scraping the last of the applesauce off the walls, and found deep soul refreshment in a hike and some solid knitting time.

It is totally okay to not be okay. That's a lesson I'm learning slowly, since one of my spiritual gifts is "being the calm person when everyone else is freaking out," but sometimes I need to be the one who freaks out. I am so grateful to have people in my life who will be the Calm One for me when I need them - people who ask how I am, and then don't run away and not look back when I pour out my tale of woe.

But I'm learning to find peace in the beauty - to look up and look around when I'm feeling overwhelmed by a circumstance, and to fixate on something beautiful. I suppose it's a variation on seeking gratitude in all things, although this strikes a deeper chord in me. Like Sam's song at the edge of Mordor in JRR Tolkien's book The Return of the King... "above all shadows rides the sun / and stars forever dwell / I will not say the day is done / nor bid the stars farewell." He wasn't necessarily having a moment of "well, it's dark enough where I am here, but I'm glad to have seen that star before going on to the hardest and darkest part of this quest" - it seems to me to be more of a simple acknowledgement that as long as there is beauty somewhere, there is hope.

So moving forward into the season of Lent, that's my goal. To share that hope by consuming less and contributing more - not just by, for example, only checking social media when I have something (I hope) of value to add, but also intentionally calling out the beauty that surrounds me so it can touch the hearts of others, as well.


Patti Miinch said…
Another beautiful post. Your words soothe and refresh -- thank you for sharing your thoughts with the rest of us through this blog.

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…