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Even for an introvert, I have a really long runway. I'm beginning to think that I might have benefitted from spending more time between living at home and getting married, precious solitude in which to do some inner excavation. I did spend 4 months alone, working in NYC, and that time profoundly impacted me - but I didn't have enough space to process most of it, so there have been a lot of ideas just sitting around in storage waiting for me to have time to unpack them.

One of them was a sermon on work and creativity, and the pastor speculated about the application of those two things in Heaven. He invited us to imagine having infinite time and a perfect body - to create, for example, a sand mandala using tiny flecks of crushed gems, carefully placing each grain exactly where we wanted it in the circular tray, then taking it to God - to envision His response, the proud parent who sees Himself reflected in His child - and then to pour it out at His feet, an offering, because nothing could ever be as beautiful as Him.

That has captivated me ever since - when I think about it, I start to cry, because it's just so beautiful, and so appealing. But recently it occurred to me that I don't have to wait. I was given the opportunity to speak (twice) on identity, specifically finding ones identity in ones work. So to illustrate my point - and to make it more than just high words, because I'm good at that, in a bad way - I designed a top, made from a continuous thread, wore it, then took it off and unraveled it partway through the talk.

It was a sacrifice. The best of the ability I've been given, and finite and precious time, reverted back to a ball of yarn in a matter of moments. Twice. It hurt, but that was kind of the point. I love knitting, but I can't rely too much on other's responses to my knitting (ironically, some of my favorite designs have also been my least popular, thereby forcing me to reexamine whether I actually loved it or thought other people would). It's a gift - and gifts are meant to be given.


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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…