On Waking

I just finished a linen bed cover topped with handstitched woolen flowers and vines.  I love the look of it and the weight of it too.  It’s backed with smooth cotton.  I decided not to quilt it because I liked the motion already there on the piece and didn’t want to detract from it.   It feels good to finish this project; I’ve been needing the encouragement of the “here-a-little, there-a-little” adding up to, yes, a completed vision.  It makes me feel like other things will also come to pass.  I like also that it’s not so obvious in color; you have to really look to see its beauty.  Some folks never look for the beauty beyond what seems plain to them. 

I really enjoyed handstitching this.  I love growing and using herbs and flowers, so this project fit in perfectly with the other parts of me.  I signed up for an art drawing class coming up, on botanical subjects of course.  I dream of drawing my own pictures and translating them into stitchery, or mixed media art of somesort.  I also joined a county writer’s group.  I want to cultivate the things I like to do more.

The year on this is important.  I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and reintroducing myself to me while shaking up everything in my house and redoing and decluttering it all.  As it turns out, I’ve discovered I can suffer loss and survive, feel betrayal and still hope, and continue to love mercy and walk with my God through it all.  My life is ridiculously short.  To have peace with God is to have life, and to have life….well…then I can offer that to others around me, too!  I’m coming full circle:  it’s all about the Lord, and He is worthy of it all.

If you like this pattern and/or similar projects, I got this one from here:

Outside this year, much of the garden lay undone and unseeded.  What was seeded went ignored and unweeded and then, as it does, seeded itself before I could pull it out.  The poultry got into everything, including my front “fenced” garden, and the blackberries and scotchbroom took advantage of the whole thing and crept over rock walls and raised beds.  I sighed a lot looking out at it all.  But I did get some grace here and there, too.  Like blackberry pie.  And hollyhocks.  God’s little kisses when the weeds threatened my eyesight.

Inside, I let my Russian sourdough starter lapse and die.  I almost lost my kombucha starter.  My household ran out of soap, and I had to buy some from the store.  I realize these aren’t tragic things, but they were out of the norm for me.  Slowly, however, a few friends coaxed me back into the land of the living.  They let me just weird out on them for a while.  A couple of days ago, I made an oat-coconut-pecan pie.  It was like a warm welcome from the oven, its scent reminding me that sweet things still matter.

God is faithful, and He is still good, all the time.  He walks us through the times that seem (or are) dry and provides plenty of His little angels to minister along the way.  I am thankful for it all.  Joy is real.

Blessings on your road, wherever you are,