“What’s in that bag?”
The Kettle Slayer points to the large comforter bag against the wall.
“All the sock yarn,” I answer. “There’s so much!”
“You don’t need to buy sock yarn for a loong time.” He pauses, inspecting the bags and totes of yarn around the room.
“Unless the right color isn’t in there.”
It is good to be understood.
We went to dinner the night of our friend’s birthday. The house salad, shared around the whole table, was full of deliciousness. Greens, cheeses, watermelon, and more.
Mrs. Carnegie is not a watermelon fan. She carefully maneuvered the perfectly pink pieces from her plate to mine. One escaped onto the table. A couple flew off the table and right into my purse, landing squarely atop the sock in progress.
The pink in the socks made it challenging to find all of the watermelon.
Mrs. Carnegie apologized, the rest of us laughed. The parmesan watermelon bits were eventually separated from the almost sock.
I announced, “Now they are watermelon cheese socks.” We laughed more.
Today at the memorial picnic I finished the first sock. One more watermelon cheese sock to go!
These beautiful flowers were all along the road near where we celebrated today. I think they are Red Eastern Columbines. Inspiration for the next pair of socks!
This is a season of transition. As with past life seasons, I am drawn to finding a scriptual parallel to help me clarify my thoughts and discern my path.
***Important Note Worth Repeating
The faith language I use is that of the Protestant church. I grew up with those words and it is how I know to describe that which is larger than me. Faith is profoundly personal and I understand that my words are not the words used by all persons.***
I had an Advent That Would Not End during which I waited expectantly and then waited more. I wandered in the desert, blessedly not for forty years. There was the Longest Lent Ever when Alleluias were absent from my heart.
And now this time. A time between times. Anne-girl and I tried out a few possible parallels that didn’t quite fit. I’m not wandering so the desert and the wilderness are out. The destination isn’t precisely clear so maybe not following the star.
She thought of it first. Noah and the flood?
Oh, yes. Leaving what is known. Purposefully taking some things with and leaving some things behind. Ready to welcome new growth and new experiences. Not sure exactly when to get out of the boat or where the new life will begin. And in the meantime, sitting in the boat with family and animals and animal poo.
That sounds about right.
Our knitting friend said something beautiful and simple a few days before her passing. “I don’t need to be places I don’t need to be.”
Not floundering in the waters. Not drowned or lost. I will continue to be intentional about what is left behind and what is carried with. I will send out the raven and the dove. I will stay in the boat, waiting for the right time, knowing that dry land and the rainbow are not too far away.
A friend from our knitting group died last week. She had been quite ill and, in the weeks leading up to her passing, we tried to have knitting at her house more often. She gave me a sock book. I am knitting these socks and thinking of her and of my other friends who knew her better and longer. My heart hurts, but theirs are broken. I knit and pray, knit and love, knit and knit.
We will gather this weekend to celebrate her life and soon we will gather with the spinners to celebrate again. There is a trip to Rhinebeck in the making. My friend is much loved and much missed.