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.
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