Potholder Perspectives: Practicality

I knew from the beginning that these potholders would not be practical; the flower design was just too pretty for actual use. Since I knew my mom would use them as wall decorations, I matched their color to the kitchen decor.

I come from a generation of practical women, and I'm cast from the same mold. We're the thrifty women who pinch pennies, clip coupons, shop sales, combine errands to save gas, and thoroughly research every decision to weigh the pros, cons, and future impact. Our tidy, carefully planned lives eliminate unnecessary stress.

However, practicality can be a demanding master. Spontaneity, generosity, and beauty are its enemies. God has recently been bringing this theme to light in a number of circumstances, one of which was an aptly timed sermon on Mark 14. In short, a woman anoints Jesus with costly perfume, and as the disciples rebuke her for wasting such an expensive treasure, Jesus calls her sacrifice beautiful, commending her for doing "what she could."

A strict allegiance to sensibility can cause me to miss out on Jesus' heart. God wants us to be good stewards of our resources, but He also values the motives of love and spontaneous giving that sometimes defy common sense. What a wonderful paradox that the God of order and reason is also the God of miracles and irrational sacrifice.

The potholders that now adorn the wall, though impractical in their purpose, were not an effort wasted.

Potholder Perspectives: Passion

Crochet as a hobby has been moving up on my list of "passions" in the two years since I learned. Right now it holds the number five spot behind God, family, horses, and working with kids. Passion, when defined as extreme, compelling emotion, is not a word I would use to describe myself. An introvert by nature, I'm not prone to radical feeling, or at least the expression thereof, so to make it personal, passion translates more as an enthusiasm and commitment to something I care about, something I can talk about effortlessly.

But before emotion, and before enthusiasm, the dictionary defines passion as "the agony and sufferings of Jesus during the period from the Last Supper to the Crucifixion." Though the phrase "passion of the Christ" is colloquial, I hadn't realized that it had been chosen to define the word. What a strange, yet surprisingly appropriate, word to choose to describe those final days. What could define extreme emotion more than perfect love poured out in a painful, sacrificial death? Jesus showed us what it meant to live a life of passion and compassion. His passion was for God's glory and for people, and so should mine be. Enthusiasm for hobbies or material possessions is just a tool for accomplishing that.

In the course of making this set of potholders, I scrutinized my passion for God, and in some ways, found it wanting. But though I'm weak, and the emotion lies deep, I want to become ever more passionate for Christ.

"The love which they [early believers] felt towards the Lord was not a quiet emotion which they hid within themselves in the secret chamber of their souls, and which they only spoke of in their private assemblies when they met on the first day of the week… but it was a passion with them of such a vehement and all-consuming energy, that it was visible in all their actions, spoken in their common talk, and looked out of their eyes even in their commonest glances."
~ Charles Spurgeon from Morning and Evening, June 5

A New Name

Yep, the Prayer Per Square blog has a new name: "Conversations in Crochet: weaving faith into the scraps of life." As my foray in creative writing continues with other projects beyond the scrap afghan that initially started this blog, I feel it needs a title that more clearly portrays what the blog is about, a title general enough to include a variety of faith and crochet themes. The new name is also a new web address: www.conversationsincrochet.blogspot.com.

Potholder Perspectives: Praise

These potholders turned out to be quite plain: the colors aren't striking, and I had to fudge the pattern. Still, I don't dislike them. I think God looks on us that way - seeing our faults and loving us anyway. That's just one of many reasons why He deserves our praise.

Praise, as we experience it, is primarily performance based, yet ultimately, we want to be loved more for who we are than for what we do. We ought to praise God for his incredible works, but as much as that, God deserves glory and honor simply for who He is. Knowing God's character, praise is just an overflow of gladness for a good God.

Psalm 86:15 "But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness." He is holy, just, righteous, kind, wise, forgiving, merciful, and trustworthy. Because of His unchanging attributes I can "rejoice in the Lord always."

Psalm 104:33-34 "I will sing to the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the Lord."

Prizewinning Potholders

Some of my finished crochet collection took a fieldtrip to the local fair last week and came home with ribbons. The Valentine potholders, which Grandma kindly let me "borrow back" after giving them to her in February of this year, took top honors. The accompanying afghans took a respectable second and third in their categories.

Potholder Perspectives: Purpose

I looked down at the tangled mess of yarn in my hands and then back at the written pattern. Again. Somehow, the mass of loops was supposed to become the perfect, ten-point star potholder shown in the instructions. I wasn't quite convinced. My self motivation has always been driven by whether or not the answer to "why?" is enough to justify something as worthwhile, which in this case, the photo of the finished product did. No, my hangup was on the how.

I remember being asked as a kid, "What's the purpose of life?" in that gravity of manner due such a deep, philosophical question. I thought, that's an easy question! and my reply would come without hesitation: "to glorify God." That conviction remains unchanged. The question of why I'm here and what I should be doing has been satisfied; the question now is "how?". I used to think that glorifying God was just singing and music and good works, but lately He's been showing me many ways to fulfill my purpose.

"Lord, help me to glorify you; I am poor, help me to glorify you by contentment; I am sick, help me to give you honor by patience; I have talents, help me to extol You by spending them for you; I have time, Lord, help me to redeem it, that I may serve you; I have a head to think, Lord, help me to think of You and for You. Enable me to glorify you now, in all that I say, in all that I do, and with all that I have."
~Charles Spurgeon [Morning and Evening p. 92]

Some recent changes in my job forced me to re-evaluate where I was finding that sense of purpose. What I came to realize was that I shouldn't be finding my purpose in my job, my hobbies, my relationships, or my academics, but rather fulfilling my purpose in them. The method can change; the purpose doesn't. Those circumstances change according to God's will, but His purpose for my life - which is sovereign (Prov 16:9), planned, and is always for my good (Rom 8:28)- remains unchanging.

"The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me." ~ Psalm 138:8

Potholder Perspectives: Peace

My first pair of potholders made a nice birthday gift for my friend Georgia, and in the few hours it took me to weave their assembly, my prayers for her settled on thoughts of peace. Georgia's "your crisis is not my crisis" attitude is usually one of unruffled calm, but still I felt the tugging that this "P" was for her.

Peace, that state of calm and quiet, freedom from disturbing emotions, is often paired with contentment, both of which must be independent of circumstances, and dependent only on constants. The world can offer very little in that regard; mathematical equations and scientific laws of nature are not emotionally comforting. So, as with so many fruits of the spirit (Galatians 5:22) peace must find its source in Christ. He offers the remedy for my natural tendency towards anxiety.

Philippians 4:6-7 "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Having made my case for God's authorship of peace, I could stop here - short of reality. But the more I see of the world, the less I am able to rationalize the concept in practical day-to-day life. I've lived a fairly unstressed life, but when I see the pain of declining health, when I witness firsthand the effects of broken relationships, when I face a difficult decision, I can't help but ask God, "how am I supposed to have peace through this?" That must be the "surpasses understanding" part, because with every crisis, He finds a way to lead me back to the character of Christ.

"The person of Jesus is the quiet resting place of His people, and when we draw near to Him in the breaking of the bread, in the hearing of the word, the searching of the Scriptures, prayer, or praise, we find any form of approach to Him to be the return of peace to our spirits." ~ Charles Spurgeon

Potholder Perspectives: An Introduction

After a brief hiatus following my last crochet endeavor, I plan to start a new blog series through which I can continue the faith musings that grew out of the "prayer-per-square" afghan. This next project will explore some Biblical "Ps" (more on that to come) while I complete some potholder patterns that have been patiently awaiting an opportunity to come into being. Look for the first installment to come!

Hooked

Right on schedule, three months almost to the day, my afghan is complete. After three months of prayer, I find that talking to God has given my relationship with Christ new vigor and direction. The afghan may be done, but now it's on to the next project, and I look forward more than ever to that ongoing conversation with my Savior. I'm hooked!

Mosaic

The triumph of recently finishing my last square was soon after replaced by the tediousness of sewing them all together. After having spent three months and 50-60 hours in their creation, I thought facetiously to myself, this is going to take forever. Square by square, I began stitching rows into strips, and strips together. Slowly, the segments began to form a whole.

My life as an adult has been divided. School (as was), home, work, church - sometimes they seem like separate worlds in themselves. I feel like a different person in each of them - not better or worse, just different - and not fully known by any of them. There are few people who bridge multiple segments of my life, and thus few who can get a full picture of who I really am. When my heart cries out to be known, only God is there, holding my life together, seeing the whole, and comforting intimately.

Psalm 139:1, 4 "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord."

Colorful Histories

The big day finally arrived. Square #181 came quietly into being with a sense of finality. It joined its counterparts, which, having been released from their neatly organized ziploc bags, formed a big pile on the floor. One by one, I laid them out in a pattern, colors jumping out at me, each with their own story to tell. The variegated blue and brown was from my very first scarf, the blues and greens of my previous afghans were a credit to their ancestors, and the purple was reminiscent of the set of grape cluster hotpads I made for my aunt. All their colorful histories had become a new, present story.

The past is part of who we become; it is to be remembered and learned from. The memories and experiences of yesterday are the foundation upon which today is built, orchestrated by the omniscient master planner to teach us and mold us.

Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."

On Behalf Of

I felt singularly uninspired in prayer as I worked on my square quota. It had been an energy sapping day, and I felt empty, apathetic as I indecisively picked out some colors. I tried to focus, tried to pick a subject, tried to think meaningfully, tried to remember prayer requests, but there was nothing. Perhaps trying was the problem.

In the end, I could only rest on the work of another, One whose thoughts are higher than my thoughts, One who works tirelessly on my behalf. Tonight, His intercession sufficed.

Romans 8:26-27 "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will."

Trimmed in White

I felt troubled as I started the trim for square # 173. It’s half black, half white, and I felt similarly divided, the proverbial angel and devil sitting comfortably on my shoulders. The creature in white was speaking words of peace: “Let it go, lay your rights down. Let Him fill you with sincere love.”

But as I switched to the black yarn, another, darker voice penetrated my thoughts. “Dwell on this,” it whispered. “Let it fester into a grudge; let bitterness be your balm.” I can’t deny that those prideful, negative, sinful attitudes are inside me, far too easily released.

But I picked up the white yarn again. I will choose to be humble; I will not be robbed of my peace. White wins.

Romans 7:21-23 “So I find this law at work: when I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within.”

Listen Up

My hook pierced the square vigorously when I started, but my clenched hands lessened their attack as the frustration of the day seeped out of my fingers and into the yarn. After a full, demanding day of teaching classes, I was sick of kids not listening to me. The simplest command, such as “say whoa to your horse only once” was immediately followed by a chorus of multiple ones. The repetition of ignored instruction had worn my patience, and my voice, thin.

I’m a big advocate of listening. By it one says, “You’re the most important priority to me at this moment.” So instead of pouring out my grievances, requests, hopes, and even praises, I just listened to God while square #170 came into being. Sometimes I forget I’m in a two-way conversation. Granted, God doesn’t often speak in an audible voice, but He does speak. By listening, I’m glad to honor Him with my love and respect.

Psalm 78:1 “O my people, hear my teaching; listen to the words of my mouth.”

His Infinite Variety

I crocheted outside again on a chilly but beautiful spring day. I dug through my remaining yarn for square #166, but lately I've been running out of ideas for color combinations. Have I done the blue, green, and pink already? I want to make every square different, but I can't remember what I've done, and with a dwindling collection of hues to choose from, my creativity is waning. I finally decided on a set of colors which, though frequently used, I arranged in an order which I hoped was distinct from past squares.

The colors started to form a square in my hands, and every once in a while I looked up, marveling at how beautiful the sky was. I wanted to just stare at it and lose myself in its expanse. After last night's storm, it was a crystalline blue layered with clouds, some of which lined up in symmetrical organization and shape; others were scattered randomly. Every day, morning, noon, and night, God paints an entirely new, unique canvas in the sky. Sure, He uses the same colors, but in His infinite variety, not one is exactly the same as another. Praise God that His creativity and beauty know no limits!

Psalm 19:1 "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."

Written in the Weave

Spurgeon lies open on the bed before me, helping me to transition my mind from the work of the day to precious thoughts of God and the relaxing repetitiveness of square # 153. I’m quickly caught by Spurgeon’s closing verse of admonishment.

2 Corinthians 3:2-3 “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”

A letter is a message. These days the majority of letters floating around are merely matters of business and communication. More precious (and increasingly rare) is the personal note, into which is poured all the affection and life of one to another. And though we think of letters in the literal sense, the message is not always one of pen and page.

My squares are my letters to God, my emotions, hopes, requests, and concerns all written into the weave. The letter grows longer as I add sentences day by day. These squares are also my letters to others, an afghan made to be read, a message of Christ to you who read this tablet.

Child-Like

My crocheting didn't make an appearance until late tonight. I'd spent the evening revisiting my childhood and learning to play again while babysitting my boss's kids. After bedtime, I sat in the dim room and began to work. It wasn't long before the two oldest crept back, and I let them stay for a while. They were enthralled, hanging over my shoulder and watching me work, marveling at the speed at which my hook looped through the yarn. Laying some completed squares on the carpet, they chose their favorite ones and then delightedly picked through the colors for my next squares. I made one for each of them, praying for the loose teeth and upcoming birthday wishes. It was refreshing to pray for those innocent requests, and to be reminded that God cares for the least of these.

Matthew 18:3-4 "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

Heirloom

I went through an exhibit on the history of the Bible, from the Dead Sea scrolls to modern day, and my mind is full of it as I twist the next color over my hook. The display was filled with authentic artifacts, from fragments of ancient scrolls, to original Gutenberg pages, to first editions of the King James Bible, tracing a journey that succeeded against all odds. Against time, decay, martyrdom of its translators, and powerful rulers trying to limit its distribution, the Word of God prevailed. It gave me a new appreciation for the small Bible which now lies next to me so accessibly. Now, more than ever, I can say with David, “Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart.” (Psalm 119:111). How I love His Word, delight in it, sing about it, remember it, and strive to keep it.

My great grandma’s afghans are well loved, but haven’t fared as well. Some still drape their warmth over furniture in the house, ragged with age, and one sits at the end of my bed awaiting mending. Maybe someday my afghan will be an heirloom to a great-grandchild, a reminder of past heritage. Though it may pass away, I pray that the prayers and faith within its yarns might endure to the next generations.

Isaiah 40:8 “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”

Time Enough

I haven't picked up my crocheting in almost a week, and the days I've missed have put me woefully behind schedule. This afternoon I'm playing catch-up, trying to make up for lost time. Every evening this week, I got off work with the intention of working on my squares, and every evening, I just didn't feel like doing it. I was so tired from work, I either fell asleep prematurely or chose to veg on some mindless activity. I spent some time in prayer in the mornings, but the crocheting conversations went by the wayside.

Time is not so much a matter of hours and minutes as a matter of priorities, thus the well worn excuse of, “I don’t have enough time,” loses its validity, exposed for the shallow deceit it is. In the midst of a busy life, it's easy to put time with God aside, to fit Him in only when it's convenient. Yet a relationship with Him ought not to be based on emotions, which are fickle, but on truth and commitment. In these I’ve discovered that it is the eternal which gives meaning to the temporal, and that my future hope governs the priorities of my present reality. Any priority that supersedes God is misplaced.

Time is not a limitation; it is a decision. Although this week may have highlighted my failures in that regard, as always, I strive to put Him first, as He should be.

Jeremiah 30:21b "I will bring him near and he will come close to me, for who is he who will devote himself to be close to me?"

Patchwork of People

My yarn was my sole companion during the ten hour round trip train ride I took this weekend. Holed up in my corner seat, I worked on my squares while enjoying my people-watching pastime. A tired and irate mom tried to contain her son at the table in front of me, while across from her, an old man endured it patiently. Behind him, a student put in her headphones and drowned out the world. A middle aged woman sat across the aisle perusing a glamour magazine. I was sitting next to the door, a noisy spot I endure for the variety of people that pass through it. So many are lost, yet every one loved by God.

My squares are full of prayers for people - mostly my friends and family, but also a few strangers. Some friends have asked me to pray for specific requests, but most of them have just been laid on my heart at one point or another. If they are around, I have them pick out the colors for "their" square. Jesus made it very clear that loving people was His priority, that their salvation was His purpose. He came not for a cause, but for a kingdom in the hearts of men. What Christ valued, I must too.

As I pray for the people in my life, for their needs and praises, I find I'm learning more about loving people like Jesus did.

1 Thessalonians 3:12 "May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours [Paul and Timothy's] does for you."

Come Along

The day was much warmer than I had expected as Lina and I set off for a walk on the canyon trails. By the time I reached the bench overlooking the river I was glad to sit down for a while. I slipped off my backpack and pulled out the yarn I had packed along for this purpose. It seemed almost out of place in the prettyish sort of wilderness where I sat. The breeze heard my prayers there.

My crocheting goes with me everywhere these days - back and forth to work, stuffed under one arm at the dog park, rolling at my feet on roadtrips, next to my bed at night, and even carted on walks. It helps me to remember God's omnipresence, for little else accompanies me so faithfully.

Hebrews 13:5b "God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'"

Even though God promises He'll always be with me, I often fail to remember His presence as I go from place to place. He can be there, yet not thought of, pulled out merely when one feels like it, thinks it a duty, or is in need of assistance. I want to invite His presence, to choose to be with Him, in all circumstances, as He is with me.

Falling Short

I had a rough time of it with square #109. It all started when the last of my fire red was just an inch short of completing the center. It was so close that I didn’t want to pull it all out and throw it away, so instead I left out the last stitch so I would have enough yarn to close the circle. I planned to compensate for the dropped stitch in the next row, but I got to the last round and trim, and my count was still off. Some additional fudging worked it out in the end, but I still had a general feeling of dissatisfaction with the number of mistakes I’d made.

There have been more times in my life where I’ve fallen short than I’d like to admit. Inevitably, one sin has rippling repercussions that can affect other people and future circumstances. Yet God still works us into something usable, bridging our gaps with grace. This one square, despite its deficiencies, has a place in the afghan, and its mistakes will be forgotten. Thank you, Lord, for using a broken vessel like me.

Romans 3:23 “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”
Psalm 85:2 “You forgave the iniquity of your people and covered all their sins.”

Patterned

Square #105 was halfway done before I realized it. My finger memory was working well as my mind dwelt in prayers. Every once in a while I stopped to count my stitches: two puff, one, two, three, four, double again. My hands were on autopilot. Treble for the corner, two half double along the side, time to change color.

When I started this afghan my first couple squares were stop-and-go as I deciphered the written pattern. Now the instructions are tucked away as reference because the pattern lives in my fingers. God’s pattern is written on my heart. Created in the image of God, I seek to pattern my life after Christ.

Ephesians 5:1 “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

I’ve read His instructions, and with that foundation I’m out practicing them! I’m learning by repetition to serve spontaneously, to love sacrificially, and to live irreproachably. The longer I go, the more natural it becomes. I pray that my automatic reactions would follow the example I’ve ingrained on my heart, the life of Christ.

John 13:15 “I [Jesus] have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”
1 John 2:6 “Whoever claims to live in him, must walk as Jesus did.”

In the Loop

Momma and I sat in domestic silence while soaking up a warm Saturday morning sun. She worked alongside me, crocheting a hat as I picked out the colors for my next square. I paused in my progress to give Momma her next mini-lesson. Showing her how to do a back post double crochet, her hook felt thick in my hands after 100 squares with my smaller one. When I picked my square back up, I kept an eye on her first few stitches to make sure they were correct.

In addition to helping Momma on her new projects, I've had two friends ask me to teach them the basics of crocheting recently, and I love having the opportunity to share my knowledge about a subject I enjoy. I feel convicted when I ask myself, how willing am I to share my knowledge of Christ? This knowledge is even more important and precious, and the Gospel is not meant to be kept to myself; it is meant to be taught and passed on.

Mark 16:15 "He [Jesus] said to them, 'Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.'"

So although my thoughts were scattered and my prayers somewhat distracted as I jumped between working on my own square and helping Momma, I managed to pray, Lord, help me to take the opportunities to preach Christ.

Middle Miles

The rain outside made the afternoon feel later than it was as I worked my way through square #90. It was nothing special, apart from the fact that it marked the halfway point in this project. The middle is about the hardest place to be: it’s far enough along from the start that one has lost the initial excitement and enthusiasm, but still equally far enough from the end that no light at the end of the tunnel has appeared yet.

I remembered my first summer working at camp while I crocheted. On the course of an exhausting nine week summer, week five, six, and seven were at times unendurable. Our program director spurred the staff on, preaching perseverance through the middle miles. Every week he read us this verse:

Jude 1:24-25 “To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy – to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.”

Though we persevere, it’s God who keeps us from falling in the weariness, discouragement, and doubt of the middle miles. How must Jesus have felt on day twenty while he was fasting in the desert - or the Israelites, twenty years into their desert wanderings - or Noah, after twenty days of rain and confinement with the world’s species on a boat?

It’s the hope of the outcome that motivates my perseverance. I keep crocheting because I want to have a finished afghan, and I keep praying because I have hope in the glory of my savior. The middle miles don’t have to be wasted miles, and with persistence, they won’t be. It’s all those miles that ultimately create an afghan and bring a “well done, good and faithful servant.”

Old Fashioned

There’s two articles I read this week that I’m still chewing on as I whip out my squares for the day. The first was about the latest high-tech innovations; the second argued the case for giving young children the latest gadgets and gizmos. In my mind, there just seems something wrong with three year-olds having ipods, educational or not. Internally, I’m bemoaning to myself the increasing pervasiveness of recreational technology. It isn’t bad, but it’s come at a cost.

Crocheting is one of the arts becoming lost in the excesses of a technology saturated society. In my grandmother’s day, women had the patience and perseverance to tat, knit, embroider, and crochet. In today’s culture of instant gratification, women are downloading the latest song off itunes or texting a friend. Sometimes I feel like an old fashioned girl caught in the wrong century, but God doesn’t make mistakes.

Despite all the advancements in scientific achievement, and despite the successes of our modern intellect, God uses the simple to confound worldly wisdom.

1 Corinthians 3:18-21a “Do not deceive yourselves. If any one of you thinks he is wise by the standards of this age, he should become a “fool” so that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight. As it is written: ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness, and again, ‘The Lord knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.’ So then, no more boasting about men!”

This simple girl finished a square with a prayer to become a fool for Christ.

Common Thread

It's Easter weekend and I'm surrounded by my family as I crochet. Grammy is puttering around in the kitchen, Momma's conversation with my aunt is drifting around the corner from the living room, Grandpa and Daddy are hiding out with the grill in the garage, and my little cousins are bouncing around the house with a parent close behind. It's wonderful to belong to such people.

My family is as varied as the colors I'm weaving into my square, each a unique combination of personality, tastes, talents, and spiritual gifts. Though the centers of each of my squares are distinctive, they are all edged with the same black and white trim that marks them as belonging to the same pattern. I am lucky that most of my family shares this common thread, both as blood relatives and as followers of Christ.

1 Corinthians 12: 4-6 "There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all men."

Easter is the reason we even have the ability to be part of God's family. The blood of Christ marks us as his, confirming that without question, we belong.

Galatians 4:4-6 "But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons."

Left in a Square

Someone hurt me recently. It was over an insignificant matter, but my yarn soaked up a few tears nonetheless. I crocheted a square, praying for love for the person who had wounded me, but it was hard. Forgiving someone who has hurt you is much easier said than done, yet Jesus calls us to forgive.

Matthew 18:21-22 "Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.'"

This being the case, my squares of forgiveness are going to have to continue long after the 181 for this afghan are finished. But comparatively, if I had a square for every time God has forgiven me, I'd be wrapped in a blanket far bigger than an afghan. That's why I wove my sorrows, my grievances, and my grudges into the yarn of a square and left them there.

Ephesians 4:32 "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."

Tail End

It was a noteworthy event as I finished off my first ball of scrap yarn, a fuzzy royal blue. Granted, I hadn't started out with a large amount, and I still have other shades of blue, but it made my progress seem more tangible.

It can be hard to see something come to an end, to see a door closed. Right now I'm contemplating the close of a chapter of my life - a sixteen year chapter. It's not an easy decision to make. With one hand I'm clinging tightly to the tail end of that yarn, unwilling to give it up with the hope that I could stretch it out longer. God, I've been serving You in this area; is it really Your will that I let go? But my other hand is prying open its clenched grasp, saying, it's time to move on. God might have something else planned for you.

I picked up a new yarn for my next square as I prayed for wisdom and direction in this matter. If this yarn ends, I know He'll provide another one for me to start on.

Proverbs 16:9 "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."

Unraveled

I was finishing up my squares for the day when I noticed that a few unruly skeins were making a mess of my yarn bag, twisting and knotting around other colors. It was time to transform them into balls. Taking the purple mess first, I wrapped it around my fingers and started to form its new shape. It was rough going at first, my hand cramping as I clinched the small lump with my fingernails. I looped and looped, and as the yarn unraveled from one end, a smooth sphere began to grow in my hands. The length of it slid softly through my fingers, though frequently I paused to work out the knots. Every once in a while it would slip out of my grasp and roll away, taking me back a few rounds after I picked up the fugitive string.

I've had times where I've felt like my life was unraveling, but I’ve come to learn that it’s a necessary part of allowing God to mold me into the shape he wants. He pulls me apart, untying the knots of my sin and insecurities, and builds me up to be whole and effective for His purpose.

Isaiah 64:8 “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

Threads of Knowledge

I finished my 60th square today, which means I am officially one-third finished with my afghan. I try not to think about the 121 squares remaining, instead measuring my progress by what I've completed rather than what I haven't, lest the task seem overwhelming. Two a day here, three a day there seems much more attainable.

God, in His omniscience, reveals knowledge to us in pieces, just as a teacher breaks down a lesson into parts. If the teacher presented the whole concept at once, the student would be overwhelmed and confused because he wouldn't have sufficient knowledge to understand it. Piece by piece, God has been giving us the threads of knowledge about His plan and purpose, both for our own lives and for mankind. My pastor wove some of those threads together cleverly like this: Jesus is predicted in the Old Testament, revealed in the Gospels, proclaimed in Acts, explained in the Epistles, and expected in Revelation. Even still we don't have all the threads.

Job 42:3 "You [the Lord] asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?' Surely I [Job] spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know."

There are unknowns in my life. Sure I've gathered a few threads in my short time on earth, and maybe if I wove them together I could make one granny square. But I wait for the day when I'll get to see the whole afghan.

1 Cor 13:12 "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."

Step Out

My yarn crocheting took a trip to the dog park with me and Lina this afternoon. As I sat on the bench working, a little black dog came over and drooled on my yarn bag, and a big fluffy white dog put his head in my lap to sniff my hook. While the other dogs romped and ran around, Lina stuck close by, nearly jumping into Momma's lap when another dog first approached. Gradually her circles of exploration widened, but even after some coaxing she was not willing to go far or engage with the other dogs in their joyous play.

I'm so guilty of this. A cautious, practical nature makes for a limited comfort zone, one I'm not willing to step out of very often. How many times have I missed out on joy, or even disobeyed God by not stepping out in faith? God's been working on this aspect of my life over the last few years, but square #53 was still a prayer for faith, boldness, and confidence to cross that line.

Detail Oriented

My brain is on information overload, and my time with God as I crochet now is allowing for some much needed processing time. This weekend I was deep in research for a new project, and now, back at the office this morning, I was swamped in emails and calls to be returned, updates to make, registrations to change, and a thousand other details which consume head space. The upside is that I feel productive, and when the details start to overwhelm me, I comfort myself that just I'm patterned after my creator.

God is detail oriented too. One look around nature is enough to confirm that. Or take the Old Testament instructions regarding the tabernacle:

"Make a curtain of blue, purple, and scarlet yarn and finely twisted linen, with cherubim worked in. Hang it with gold hooks on four posts of acacia wood overlaid with gold and standing on four silver bases." (Exodus 26:31-32)

Read the full account and you might be overwhelmed too! I love that God's character values detail, how He considers it important to do the little things right and well. (It's the same reason I rip out a whole row of stitches to fix the mistake I made in the square 10 minutes ago). When I look at my day in this light, the information overload seems less like a thousand burdens and more like a thousand opportunities to glorify God.

So I finished with a clearer mind and with a blue, purple, and scarlet "tabernacle" square, patterned after God's own details.

Remember

I recently had a “I could kick myself” moment. Friday evening I worked late, and when I finally got back to my place to grab my stuff on my way out, I told myself, don’t forget to bring your yarn because you need to work on it this weekend to keep on schedule. The yarn lay innocently under my bed as I grabbed my clothes, my purse, some other necessities, and then promptly walked off with the very item I was so anxious to remember. Clearly the weariness of a full work week was taking its toll on my mental acuity. I was ten minutes out, past the bumpy gravel road, when my oversight hit me. I immediately turned around, and though I was glad to have remembered as soon as I did, I was not thrilled about retracing my path. Twenty minutes later, I was back on the road for my 45 minute commute.

I was annoyed with myself for being so forgetful and irrationally irritated with the inanimate object responsible for my delay. I have those times when I think, I should have known that or why didn’t I remember that? How often I forget God’s promises and what He has done in my life. I beat myself up a little when I think, God provided for me before. Why didn’t I remember that in this latest time of need? Or, if only I’d remembered His promise in this current situation! At least I’m not alone in this. The Israelites, who had more tangible signs from God, were constantly forgetting about His provision, protection, and deliverance.

Psalm 106:7a-8, 12-13, 21a “When our fathers were in Egypt, they gave no thought to your miracles; they did not remember your many kindnesses, yet he saved them for his name’s sake, to make his mighty power known… Then they believed his promises and sang his praise. But they soon forgot what he had done and did not wait on his counsel… They forgot the God who saved them, who had done great things in Egypt.”

Forgetfulness leads to ungratefulness. I don’t want to be guilty of the same sin, so square #37 was a tribute of remembrance to God’s character, His past reliability, and His present promises.

To Will and To Act

It was late by the time I got to my afghan, and I collapsed on the bed after a long day. The weariness had reached my feet but not my fingers. They worked away while I thought about Awana this evening. Council time had been the first installment of the Easter story, and the leader asked the kids what they thought Jesus was praying about in the Garden of Gethsemene. One of my favorite little boys, his brow serious in thought, raised his hand and said, “He was praying that the things which were about to happen would go by fast.”

Such insight from a seven year-old stuck with me as I drove home and worked on square #29. I’d never thought of it before, yet it’s such a realistic human response. Who would wish to prolong pain? The amazing part is that Jesus knew what pain imminently awaited him, yet he still prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42).

I too pray that God would take away pain or change difficult circumstances, yet I have to admit to the hypocrisy in my own life of when I say, “Your will be done,” but am not willing to obey when that will is difficult or painful. God, give me the courage and sincerity to say “Your will be done” when it means taking the narrow, rocky path. I trust that You have a good purpose for it. But Lord, when those times come, may they pass quickly!

Eye of the Beholder

Today was full of the splendor of spring. After I got off work (if one could call riding horses all day in beautiful weather “work”) I took my yarn outside and sat until dusk, enjoying the extra light that daylight savings time afforded. I am so blessed to live in such a beautiful place, and as I listened to the turkeys gobbling (yes, that’s right) and the deer creeping cautiously past, square #26 was a praise for God’s creativity and the beauty of nature. I hummed a few strains of the old song:

O Lord, you’re beautiful
Your face is all I seek
And when your eyes are on this child,
Your grace abounds to me.

When I finished that square, I looked down and saw a pink rose in my hands. I hadn’t chosen colors or their order with this in mind, but there it was. Maybe it’s a feminine tendency, but I love beautiful things. So I decided that squares #27 and #28 would also be roses – roses for two beautiful women God put in my life. Both have modeled to me authentic, active faith, and have poured the love of God into my life. Sometimes I wonder why they chose me, but I’m so glad they did, because theirs is the beauty that truly inspires.

1 Sam 16:7b “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

Anywhere or Solitaire

All is quiet as I sit on my bed, except for the faint rumblings of the heater. It’s Sunday, my “day off” from crocheting, and everything else, but I’ve pulled out my yarn anyways to unwind before bed. I’m pretty sure that crocheting will still qualify as “resting” on the Sabbath. I have a lot to chew on from church this morning and youth group this evening, and my mind is aimlessly busy.

How glad I am to be alone at this moment. I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be to concentrate as I work on this project. I’m often surrounded by people and activity as I pray, and I also have to multitask by counting my stitches. The good thing is it’s teaching me the reality of praying anywhere, anytime. When I was a kid I had this pious notion that prayer had to be long to be good. These days, I find that sincere simplicity and brevity is sometimes more authentic than long-winded eloquence. I’ve learned that my “flare prayers” (as a friend called them) during conversations are equally valid.

But tonight, the struggle against distraction was only from myself. How easy it is to fill up time with other things. I resisted even turning on some music, taking full advantage of the luxury of solitude that allowed me to focus. My single, solitaire square, with a simple thanks for the stillness, seemed apt.

Note: You may notice that the day this was posted is not Sunday. By way of explanation, my posts are usually a few days behind when they were written.

Playful Pets

The two white balls of fluff that are my grandparents’ Pomeranians were quite interested in my crocheting as I started square #17, and they were distracting as I tried to think about what I wanted to pray for. BeBe gave a startled jump as a ball of yarn rolled off my lap, hit the floor, and bounced towards her. Lily, however, wasted no time in making off with the ball in her mouth – a drive-by kidnapping. When I set my crocheting down to jump up and get my camera, she trotted around the room, my hook clinking on the hardwood floor behind her.

These playful antics are similar to those of my cats at home. Tiki tangles with the ball of yarn on the living room floor while Samantha looks on from my lap, serving as a soft work table. Both contribute to my work by shedding their white and black hair into the weaving process. Samantha frequently enjoys the comforts of my last afghan, which adorns my bed and serves as a “time-to-cut-the-claws” indicator.

Once my yarn had been safely retrieved from the white jaws of death, I sat down with a smile to finish my square. Thank you, Lord, for the little joys and pleasures of pets.

Ocean Meditations

My crocheting came with me on a day trip into Santa Cruz. The yarn rolled around my feet as my friend drove the winding road through the redwoods. My progress was stop and go as I took breaks to look up and watch the road, fending off car sickness.

It was a beautiful day, and the beach and boardwalk were empty as I strolled along the shore. I love the sights and sounds of the ocean – the lulling crashing of waves and the swish of water over sand. Its immensity never ceases to amaze me, and in that moment I thought, “I forget how big God is.”

Job 38:8, 10-11 “Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’?”

When I consider how God created and controls the vastness of the ocean, I realize how small my faith is that I don’t trust his power over my problems. So square #14 was born in a splash of blue, green, and foamy aqua, an ocean in yarn to remind me of the immeasurable greatness of my God.

Matthew 8:26-27 “He replied, ‘You of little faith, why are you so afraid?’ Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, ‘What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!’”

The Great Cover-Up

I pulled the ball of mustard goldenrod out of my bag for square #12 and viewed it with distaste. The old yarn is downright ugly, but I needed to use it up. So, I crocheted a small circle and then surrounded it with a pretty pink and purple. Maybe, if I sandwich the ugly yarn with the pretty, no one will notice the cover-up...except me. I'll know it's there.

My grandpa said this morning, "The world only knows us by what we choose to show of ourselves." I have to admit I've got some ugly yarns in my life that I don't want others to see - we all do. Sometimes those yarns get exposed; other times we hide them for years behind a facade of superficially pretty colors. I've often felt a guilty embarrassment when others praise me or think I'm so good. Don't you know that I'm no better - that I struggle just like anybody else?

To quote Pride and Prejudice, "One has all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it." God has all the goodness, and I have just the appearance of it. I can't hide my ugly yarns from Him. The truly good news is that God uses our weaknesses to further His purposes. Our failings don't change His sovereignty or His love for us. What we call ugly, God calls beautiful; what we call weak, God makes strong; what we call worthless, God considers priceless.

So for square #13 I deliberately picked out clashing colors - neon purple, red, and multi-colored brown/green/blue. My artistic sensibilities cringed at the combination, but that square was going to be a necessary part of the final picture. And this is my prayer, "Lord, thank you for loving me despite my weaknesses. May they be used to glorify you."

2 Corinthians 12:9 "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

Color Connotations

My yarn kept me company this afternoon during some relaxing free time. Despite some good teaching and community in the midst of this conference, I was feeling somewhat down; the odd one out. I pulled out my small ball of yellow for square #9, which reminded me of bright cheeriness. I am not a yellow person - this coincides with my serious, reserved nature. The only reason I even have this yarn is because Momma dug it out of the cluttered recesses of our basement to add to my stash.

Today, yellow made me feel better, but also reminded me of how critical and negative my attitudes tend to be. Recently, God has been exposing this flaw, so my prayer was, "Lord, teach me to be yellow - bright, positive, and bringing light to others."

Colors have connotations for me. As I decided on a scheme for square #11, praying for my boss and his family, I kept seeing a vineyard, and chose colors accordingly. They got extra prayer because I kept making mistakes and having to go back and fix them. When I saw my boss's wife a short time later and showed her their square, she exclaimed, "Purple and green are my favorite colors!" I'd had no idea. But God obviously did, and not surprisingly, when God directs my plans and hands, he has a special purpose.

Scraps of Life

My first several squares are getting to see the world as they accompany me on a roadtrip to a job conference. No doubt they'll tell their younger counterparts about these good old days in a few weeks. Square # 7 was born on the way, bound with a prayer for safe travel. Though portable, it necessitated the bringing of a scrapload of colors, the bag of which had its own seat in the back.

I wasn't intending to make a scrap afghan. The vision of my grandma's mismatched, black framed version wasn't appealing. No - it was a neatly coordinated pattern I had in mind, until I came across a striking picture that changed my plans. The hats and hotpads I'd made recently had hardly made a dent in my leftover yarn, so scrap afghan it was.

The truth is, I try to do the same thing with my life. I try to control and coordinate, organize and match. The problem is, it still seems to turn out a mess sometimes. I'm learning that if I bring my scraps to God, He will weave them into something beautiful.

Rosary of Yarn

I embarked on my third afghan venture on Saturday after two glorious hours lost in the craft store. Every time I visit, I enter with peaceful anticipation, peruse the colorful yarns and fabrics in wistfulness or indecision, and exit drowning in creative juices.

After a brief hiatus of recovery from my last afghan, I was ready to take another one on. With every project I do, I try to learn a new stitch or pattern, and granny squares have been on my list ever since I started crocheting. Being the nerd that I am, my brain soon jumped to the mathematical possibilities involved in setting a goal for completion. I knew I wanted to finish it by summer, when my job would get busy, fast. So I worked it out:

72 days (12 weeks, six days a week)
181 granny squares
= about 2.5 squares a day

Finishing what I started has never been difficult for me; I’ve always been a self-motivated perfectionist, so the prospect of this neat calculation, while satisfying, held no particular challenge. And then, it occurred to me: what if I put the same kind of time, effort, enthusiasm, and persistence into my prayer life as I did into a mere hobby? Here was an area in which I could benefit from some discipline and perseverance; this could make something mindless, meaningful.

Handmade afghans are heirlooms, and there is something special about the thought of every square representing time spent in a conversation with the Lord, representing the pieces of my life brought before Him. In this way, I could weave a memory rather than just an antique.

This is the beginning of my rosary of yarn, the story of my prayers and squares.