A little more than three years ago, my youngest sister Laurie taught me how to knit. I had been watching her knit for quite a while, and I could tell that it was something I would enjoy. It has the potential to be somewhat monotonous--making the same stitches over and over and over again--so I knew I would be hooked! (Actually, that would be crotcheting, but that's beside the point.)
It didn't take me very long to catch on. It helped that Laurie was staying with me for a few days, so any spare moment I had, I picked up my needles and started working. And if/when I messed up, Laurie was right there to help me correct my mistake. My first project was a scarf for my husband Kevin, and I am quite proud of it. Since then I have made many, many scarfs, hats, purses, and blankets (mostly baby blankets, which don't have to be very big), and I never get tired of it. Currently I am working on a full-size blanket for Caleb. I finished Callie's a few months ago, and she sleeps under it every night. I'll start on Katie's once Caleb's is finished. They all get really excited about their blankets and ask me often about the progress I'm making (or not making), which makes me feel even better about putting all the time into it.
Knitting is extremely therapeutic for me. It allows me to be creative and productive, but my mind is still free to ponder other things while I am working, since most of my patterns are relatively simple and don't require much concentration. This also works well with being a mom, because I am able to watch, pay attention to, and interact with my kids while simultaneously working on my knitting. And unless I'm working on a blanket that is pretty far along in the process, knitting is a quite portable hobby--very conducive to sitting in carpool lines, waiting during gymnastics/ballet lessons, etc., etc. I really love giving people gifts, so knitting fits in well with that desire, too. There is always something to be made and given away!
One of my favorite escapes from the dailyness of stay-at-home-momhood is to find a corner by myself in a coffee shop or bookstore, plug my ears with worship music coming from my iPod, let my hands work with the yarn and needles, and only take breaks to sip on my coffee (okay, or to people watch).
Laurie, THANK YOU for introducing me to this terribly addicting but incredibly rewarding hobby! I'll never be as good at it as you are, but that's okay.
Everyone else, you can see some of my master teacher's handiwork and read about the knitting process on Laurie's blog at http://greenleafknitting.blogspot.com. Then you can order some of her creations on http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6175044.
I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of knitting tonight while watching the election results come in.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Nothing Without You
These are the lyrics to one of my very favorite songs, "Nothing Without You" by Bebo Norman. It speaks so strongly to me . . .
Take these hands
And lift them up
For I have not the strength to praise You near enough
See, I have nothing
I have nothing without You
And take my voice and pour it out
Let it sing the songs of mercy I have found
For I have nothing
I have nothing without You
And all my soul needs is all Your love
To cover me, so all the world will see
That I have nothing without You
Take my body and build it up
May it be broken as an offering of love
For I have nothing
I have nothing without You
And all my soul needs is all Your love
To cover me so all the world will see
That I have nothing
That I love You, yeah
With all my heart
With all my soul
With all my mind
And all the strength I can find
Take my time here on this earth
And let it glorify all that You are worth
For I am nothing
I am nothing without You
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Coffee
I drink alone at my house. And I'm talking about coffee. Kevin might have a cup once every few months, but it's only when he really needs to stay awake for work or something. He doesn't enjoy it; it's necessity for him. He likes the smell of it, just not the taste of it.
I, on the other hand, am addicted. I'm sure that some of it is the caffeine, but I'm also quite addicted to the whole coffee experience, in which I indulge twice daily. Once a week I allow myself the luxury of a frou-frou coffee from Starbucks, Cups, or Sneaky Beans, but most of the time I just enjoy my regular coffee at home. I have a 12-cup pot, but I only make one lonely cup in it at a time. (I buy fair trade coffee, so I can't afford to let any go to waste!)
I do doctor my regular coffee up with plenty of sugar and creamer. My grandfather watched me make it once and asked, "Do you want some coffee with that cream and sugar?" If I had to drink it black, though, I would just rather not drink it at all. It tastes like burnt water to me.
I think I had my first cup of coffee when I was 14 years old. My friend Jennifer made it for me, so I started out with all the cream and sugar. I didn't become a coffee addict, though, until after my first baby was born. So it's been almost eight years now. My children all associate me with coffee, often giving me mugs and such on holidays. When we were at the State Fair earlier this month, Caleb excitedly pointed out to me the Cups booth, which was shaped like a giant red coffee cup. He wanted me to see where I could get some coffee! And Callie always tells me that I smell like coffee on Thursdays, when I usually get to spend some time writing in a coffee shop. (I'm okay with smelling like coffee, except when it's my breath they're smelling. I'll be the first one to admit that coffee breath is awful!)
Drinking coffee is a comfort to me. I love that it's warm and sweet with just a touch of bitterness. I love how it makes me feel. It's actually very calming rather than stimulating to me. My morning cup helps me ease into my day, and my afternoon cup helps me get through the rest of it. This break in the afternoon is a good time for me to sit and talk with my kids about their day at school or work on homework with them . . . or play on Facebook.
Yes, I enjoy my coffee. And I'm okay with the fact that I drink alone. But when I do get to enjoy it with friends, that just makes it even better.
My morning cup is done now, and so is this post.
I, on the other hand, am addicted. I'm sure that some of it is the caffeine, but I'm also quite addicted to the whole coffee experience, in which I indulge twice daily. Once a week I allow myself the luxury of a frou-frou coffee from Starbucks, Cups, or Sneaky Beans, but most of the time I just enjoy my regular coffee at home. I have a 12-cup pot, but I only make one lonely cup in it at a time. (I buy fair trade coffee, so I can't afford to let any go to waste!)
I do doctor my regular coffee up with plenty of sugar and creamer. My grandfather watched me make it once and asked, "Do you want some coffee with that cream and sugar?" If I had to drink it black, though, I would just rather not drink it at all. It tastes like burnt water to me.
I think I had my first cup of coffee when I was 14 years old. My friend Jennifer made it for me, so I started out with all the cream and sugar. I didn't become a coffee addict, though, until after my first baby was born. So it's been almost eight years now. My children all associate me with coffee, often giving me mugs and such on holidays. When we were at the State Fair earlier this month, Caleb excitedly pointed out to me the Cups booth, which was shaped like a giant red coffee cup. He wanted me to see where I could get some coffee! And Callie always tells me that I smell like coffee on Thursdays, when I usually get to spend some time writing in a coffee shop. (I'm okay with smelling like coffee, except when it's my breath they're smelling. I'll be the first one to admit that coffee breath is awful!)
Drinking coffee is a comfort to me. I love that it's warm and sweet with just a touch of bitterness. I love how it makes me feel. It's actually very calming rather than stimulating to me. My morning cup helps me ease into my day, and my afternoon cup helps me get through the rest of it. This break in the afternoon is a good time for me to sit and talk with my kids about their day at school or work on homework with them . . . or play on Facebook.
Yes, I enjoy my coffee. And I'm okay with the fact that I drink alone. But when I do get to enjoy it with friends, that just makes it even better.
My morning cup is done now, and so is this post.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Stewpot
Last week I got to be part of a service project at my children's school. We collected school supplies, backpacks, and uniforms for the children involved in Stewpot Community Services in downtown Jackson. The classes competed against each other for a chance to win a pizza and brownie party, which will be awarded to the two classes who donated the most. All other classes will receive cupcakes, since ALL the classes did such a wonderful job. I am so proud of these students and just wanted to share with you what they were able to give in five days' time:
19 packs of manila paper
21 packs of construction paper
43 3-ring binders
51 packs of colored pencils
59 packs of gluesticks
70 bottles of glue
74 packs of markers
76 backpacks
79 pairs of scissors
91 primary writing tablets
92 erasers
96 boxes of crayons
139 pens
190 packs of notebook paper
230 spiral notebooks
254 uniform tops/bottoms
487 folders
1803 pencils
Also donated were: highlighters, pencil sharpeners, sandwich bags, dry erase markers, post-it pads, hand sanitizer, watercolors, pencil holders, rulers, school boxes, book covers, protractors, rubberbands, index cards, portfolios, tape, activity pads, a dictionary, and a ream of copy paper.
19 packs of manila paper
21 packs of construction paper
43 3-ring binders
51 packs of colored pencils
59 packs of gluesticks
70 bottles of glue
74 packs of markers
76 backpacks
79 pairs of scissors
91 primary writing tablets
92 erasers
96 boxes of crayons
139 pens
190 packs of notebook paper
230 spiral notebooks
254 uniform tops/bottoms
487 folders
1803 pencils
Also donated were: highlighters, pencil sharpeners, sandwich bags, dry erase markers, post-it pads, hand sanitizer, watercolors, pencil holders, rulers, school boxes, book covers, protractors, rubberbands, index cards, portfolios, tape, activity pads, a dictionary, and a ream of copy paper.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Lunch Money
Caleb has been on a kick recently where he wants to buy his lunch at school instead of taking it from home. "I want to be lunch money today," my little kindergartner says. Happy to only pack one lunch instead of two, I gladly give him the $1.60.
We were surprised yesterday when he said that he wanted to "be lunch money" when we told him they were having fish. So when I picked him up yesterday afternoon, I asked him how he liked lunch.
"It was great!," he exclaimed.
"Really?," I asked.
"Yes. It was a fish what was a square, and I put ketchup on it and ate the whole thing!"
"Great!," I said in a bit of disbelief.
"And it was in a booger."
"I'm sorry?"
"It was in a booger!," he repeated.
Laughing, I had to ask him to explain himself.
"Well, not like a booger what's in your nose. Like a cheesebooger!"
I could hardly stop laughing.
We were surprised yesterday when he said that he wanted to "be lunch money" when we told him they were having fish. So when I picked him up yesterday afternoon, I asked him how he liked lunch.
"It was great!," he exclaimed.
"Really?," I asked.
"Yes. It was a fish what was a square, and I put ketchup on it and ate the whole thing!"
"Great!," I said in a bit of disbelief.
"And it was in a booger."
"I'm sorry?"
"It was in a booger!," he repeated.
Laughing, I had to ask him to explain himself.
"Well, not like a booger what's in your nose. Like a cheesebooger!"
I could hardly stop laughing.
Monday, October 20, 2008
While He's Here
"Take him home and love him while he's here."
This is what I just read on a CaringBridge website that Kevin's cousin forwarded to me. This is what this baby's parents were told when they finally got to take him home from the hospital. I don't even know these people, but my heart can hardly handle reading this statement. The doctor who made the statement wasn't being dismal; he was simply being realistic in light of this baby's extremely rare disorder, which will most likely not allow him to live very long.
I truly cannot imagine it.
No matter how many times I read stories like these, I am convicted of just how spoiled and selfish I am. For some reason, I feel entitled to complain when my kids won't leave me alone for two seconds; they want to (GASP!) talk to me and hug me and laugh with me ALL THE TIME. And I get annoyed because I think they're driving me crazy sometimes. HOW RIDICULOUS IS THAT??? My children are perfectly healthy. (Katie can't eat gluten, but that is a minor inconvenience.) They do not have special needs, and they are very independent for their ages. I have it so easy.
I can remember running into an old college friend a couple of years ago, and she shared with me about her little girl, who also has a rare disorder that will most likely greatly shorten her lifespan. We both stood there crying as she shared with me about her daughter and about what their days are like. A mother's will is strong--she will do whatever it takes to take care of her baby. But a mother's heart is incredibly tender--it shouldn't have to bear such things.
This is just one more instance where I see God's intervention in people's lives. The parents who share on the CaringBridge website know that God has a purpose for their baby boy's little life, and they have already been able to share their faith with so many people because of what they are experiencing. That doesn't negate their pain and their questions; it doesn't erase the sorrow that they are experiencing now and will experience later on when the inevitable happens. But it does give them hope beyond their human understanding. And they know that God weeps with them when the pain is just too much.
My heart aches for those who experience such tragedy with a child. But the truth is that I'm not guaranteed to have my three healthy children any longer than they'll have their baby boy. So really every parent should be sent home from the hospital with this advice:
"Take him home and love him while he's here."
This is what I just read on a CaringBridge website that Kevin's cousin forwarded to me. This is what this baby's parents were told when they finally got to take him home from the hospital. I don't even know these people, but my heart can hardly handle reading this statement. The doctor who made the statement wasn't being dismal; he was simply being realistic in light of this baby's extremely rare disorder, which will most likely not allow him to live very long.
I truly cannot imagine it.
No matter how many times I read stories like these, I am convicted of just how spoiled and selfish I am. For some reason, I feel entitled to complain when my kids won't leave me alone for two seconds; they want to (GASP!) talk to me and hug me and laugh with me ALL THE TIME. And I get annoyed because I think they're driving me crazy sometimes. HOW RIDICULOUS IS THAT??? My children are perfectly healthy. (Katie can't eat gluten, but that is a minor inconvenience.) They do not have special needs, and they are very independent for their ages. I have it so easy.
I can remember running into an old college friend a couple of years ago, and she shared with me about her little girl, who also has a rare disorder that will most likely greatly shorten her lifespan. We both stood there crying as she shared with me about her daughter and about what their days are like. A mother's will is strong--she will do whatever it takes to take care of her baby. But a mother's heart is incredibly tender--it shouldn't have to bear such things.
This is just one more instance where I see God's intervention in people's lives. The parents who share on the CaringBridge website know that God has a purpose for their baby boy's little life, and they have already been able to share their faith with so many people because of what they are experiencing. That doesn't negate their pain and their questions; it doesn't erase the sorrow that they are experiencing now and will experience later on when the inevitable happens. But it does give them hope beyond their human understanding. And they know that God weeps with them when the pain is just too much.
My heart aches for those who experience such tragedy with a child. But the truth is that I'm not guaranteed to have my three healthy children any longer than they'll have their baby boy. So really every parent should be sent home from the hospital with this advice:
"Take him home and love him while he's here."
Friday, October 17, 2008
The Curse
True Story:
During my sophomore year at Mississippi College, my friend Missy and I rode to the MC/Samford football game (We were just going for the trip to the Galleria after the game.) with our friends Will, Chris, and Campbell. As on all good road trips, we got to talking about relationships, what we like/don't like in guys/girls, and all that good stuff. Well, at some point in the conversation, Missy mentioned that she preferred that a guy not have a hairy chest, and I agreed with this.
Those three guys would not let this go! They gave us the hardest time about it, probably telling us we were being superficial. After much torment by them, I finally looked at Missy and said, "You watch. Now one of us is going to be cursed and marry somebody like Kevin Partridge."
Fast forward:
I have been happily married to Kevin Partridge for ten years now! And, yes, he keeps me warm. Kevin also says that in the version of the story that was relayed to him, the word that Missy and I used was much stronger than "preferred." I'm sticking with this, though.
During my sophomore year at Mississippi College, my friend Missy and I rode to the MC/Samford football game (We were just going for the trip to the Galleria after the game.) with our friends Will, Chris, and Campbell. As on all good road trips, we got to talking about relationships, what we like/don't like in guys/girls, and all that good stuff. Well, at some point in the conversation, Missy mentioned that she preferred that a guy not have a hairy chest, and I agreed with this.
Those three guys would not let this go! They gave us the hardest time about it, probably telling us we were being superficial. After much torment by them, I finally looked at Missy and said, "You watch. Now one of us is going to be cursed and marry somebody like Kevin Partridge."
Fast forward:
I have been happily married to Kevin Partridge for ten years now! And, yes, he keeps me warm. Kevin also says that in the version of the story that was relayed to him, the word that Missy and I used was much stronger than "preferred." I'm sticking with this, though.
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