The Finished Work

I have been knitting up a storm here in my little place, getting ready for birthdays and Christmas. Our families are attempting to have an "Orange Christmas." Both families LOVE the ABC show "The Middle." Simple things and loves, people. Anyway, last Christmas, the Heck family tried to spend less money and give more handmade things, tried to concentrate on the real meaning of Christmas and those they love. For the Heck family, it kind of flopped. But the Skalicky-Boyd family (or at least these two members) are going to give it a good try.

I have been inspired by the beautiful projects of friends' and things I have seen on pinterest to get back into this craft. Not only that, but to actually push myself to try new patterns and stitches. Knitting different rectangles of various lengths and widths  with the same stitch gets old pretty fast.

There is something surprisingly soothing about the feel of yarn in my hands these days. A simple joy of heather grey fibers and wooden needles.

The frustration of awkward movements and squeaking-too-tight stitches (you know what I'm talking about) is over and I am left with the peaceful motions which my hands nearly know by heart. The rhythm of the needles -- purl, purl, knit, loop over, knit, loop over, knit, slip, purl -- quiets my worried mind and calms my anxious heart. What a simple delight, to look forward to years of scarves, hats, blankets, and possibly sweaters and mittens. Even if we are always a small family of two, we will be forever stocked up on knitted goods. Beware family members: I see knit goods in your Christmas stocking future!

I find that no matter how well I know a stitch or pattern there are bound to be moments of panic where I cannot tell where I am headed. Did I just knit when I should have purled? Am I looping over or slipping? And the completely honest: what the heck did I just do?!  When I look at just one part of my work it's easy to get lost. But when I look at what I've done…the rows and stitches completed…I can see clearly where I am and where I need to be headed.

Yes, you're right…this is headed for some deep discussion about the meaning of life found whilst knitting. Can't say I didn't warn you.

As I was knitting this weekend I thought about how I got to this place. The life that I have, this only life given to me on earth. How did I end up here? This place. This day. This time. The sun making freckles on my shoulders, the crisp scented breeze twirling through my hair, the water splashing lightly on my hands as I stretch out from the side of the boat. Clear blue water everywhere I look lined by the most perfect shade of green trees, grass, and reeds. Surrounded by family I have been blessed with but not born into, my husband's history and journey joined with mine, I laugh and smile and joke and soak up the air, and all this moment carries, as my heart swells with gratitude and joy. How did I get here?

Life as a single cord of yarn. Weaving, twisting, tugging through, slipping, and dropping, picked up, and patterned into something simply beautiful; amazing.  I see my life, the journey of my long, thin cord of yarn. A few dropped stitches in the beginning, a beautiful twist and loop later, the empty space created by infertility turned into a perfect and delicate eyelet pattern swooping throughout the work. Another twist and curve as I move from home to grad school and back again. Every day, every hour, every moment a new stitch, a flourish of rich color and texture. Taken by itself it's just a knot, a mess…twisted and sloppy and confusing. Viewed from above and as a whole, it's a beautiful piece of work. A thing not only to have but to enjoy, to bring comfort, peace, joy and friendship.

There is a lot in this that brings me comfort and peace. Two points stick out the most. The work is never done until I am done. Every breath I have is weaving a new row, a new stitch. There is no moment where I get to say "All done." It's a lifelong project, which is a scary commitment, but it also means there is always opportunity to create, correct, change, and cherish. Because the work is never done, there is never a moment wasted, a time to feel ineffective, or a time in which the yarn is not being woven and we live unproductively. It may weave in ways which we wish it wouldn't but it is always weaving. Constant. The second point is that  no matter what crazy stitches and twists I have, the outcome -- if the work is continually viewed as an opportunity and constant project, my hands never idle -- will always be a beautiful accomplishment.

So I knit. I knit these soft fibers together as best I can. I follow the knit of my life, my hands never idle. Just as I am knit together (Proverbs 139).

And look forward to a bright sunny day, large sturdy trees, a hammock, my knitting, sweet tea, and the echoes of far away children running though the park past the wood. A sweater clad family. A perfect day. 

I also look forward to a family of two, warmed by hats and mittens, made with love. Quiet, lazy days. Fiercely committed and deeply in love. Facing life together, hand in hand. "Forever and always, no matter what." ...No matter what. 

The beauty of it all, the hope that I rest my head upon, is that I am not the one who patterned this work, who is tugging me along, twisting and looping, stitching together. I have made several attempts at making a scarf without a pattern before me. Sometimes it's okay, other times it's disastrous. But the One who is crafting this work, deliberately with skill and mastery, never makes a mistake, never drops a stitch unless it is the plan, never misses a step and never loses His place. 

The truth of it all is that if I just let go, if I just allow myself to be molded and moved I can trust that the finished work will be wonderful and beautiful and uniquely amazing. And I will see that the twists that I fought and kicked and screamed about, the drops and loops that I was so grieved over were just bits and pieces of an incredible work. Not my incredible work, not mine at all. But His, in my life.