Get Knitty with it!

Who would've thought? Me - the most un-domesticated woman on the planet, would love to knit?

Several years ago I taught myself to knit so I could make my friend Stinky, a scarf. My motivation for a handmade gift was to show her how much I cared. A lot of thought and time go into knitted pieces.

Despite it's tumerous shape and dropped stitches, Stinky loved it. I think she still wears it four years later!

I've come a long way since then.

My Latvian mittens, a very colorful complex fair-isle pattern are a far cry from that awkward 6ft length of knit rows.

Last week, at the Words For the Journey Christmas party, we exchanged gifts with our secret prayer partners. Many folks recieved journals, ornaments and yummy food stuffs. My prayer partner knitted me a prayer shawl.

I've noticed her working on it for weeks. Knitting was new for her. Something she wanted to get into so her mind can rest from writing and momming. While she knitted, she prayed for me. This precious swath of yarn is a reminder that I am "covered" in prayer.

She explained to the whole group what the knitting was about. My eyes leaked. The shawl is also a reminder that even though we have a few lumps and dropped stitches, God still loves us and can use our messy selves and writing for His Glory.

The prayer shawl is draped on the back of my office chair so it can fulfill its yarny calling.

Almost everything I've knitted has gone to people whom I love.

Now, I'm more addicted to this hobby than ever. I love taking a ball of yarn and forming it into something useful and pretty. It also gives me time to mull over plots and characters and literature in general.

I enjoy it so much that I'm thinking of getting an Etsy account and selling some simple things to help pay for my writing work. (Conferences, reference materials, association memberships, trade mag subscriptions...)

Yeah, knitting a sweater takes a while, but it's exciting to see it forming. I'm in the middle of knitting my first adult sweater - a hoodie pull-over for myself (the guinea pig of my projects), along with really cool handwarmers (see picture) to keep my hands warm while I type.

Knitting Daily pops into my in-box every day. I'm finding it to be one of the most valuable resources for knitters ready to move beyond scarves, hats and pot holders.

The past few posts feature a variety of knitted sweaters by Interweave, modeled on members of the writing staff. All in an effort to let knitters see how a sweater may look on their body type and the modifications are given!

Finding tops that fit me is like trying to freeze water in a blazing furnace. BOUS. Boobs of unusual size.

Knitting Daily shows me I can make sweaters and tops that fit. I'm toying with designing some of my own. For some reason, I have way more fun making things than buying them off the rack.

Pardon my yarning over knitting. I'm enjoying it so much!

If you want to start out, got to www.knittinghelp.com - there are videos showing how different stiches and basic skills work. I use it all the time!

Knitting Daily is a blog about knitting and creativity. Oddly the inspiration I find perusing patterns and yarns fires my imagination in regards to my writing. Hmmmm. Creative process...

That will make for a fun post topic!

Daniel update

Since so many of you are asking, and literally hundreds of people prayed. Thank you so much!

Here's the comment from my sister.

Hi Sis, we really appreciate everyone's prayers. We truly felt God's care in this whole situation. Thankfully Daniel's fever is under control and his seizure was harmless despite how it looked. He is a little traumatized by it all (as am I!)but he was very brave when it mattered most and should bounce back quickly. Thank you for this posting!

Please scroll down a little to read my "Learning to apply" post. I'm in the process of collecting Bible verses to combat my destructive habit of worrying about finances!

My Big 'Ol Wrestling Match with God

I'm in a funk. Have been for a long time.

Life hasn't been kind to me or my family for the past five years.

I prayed and prayed. Had other people with "direct connect" pray... and the trials, pain and suffering continue.

God hasn't been on my list of favorite people lately.

Throughout the summer, I've been going through Beth Moore's Breaking Free Bible study with my BFF Stinky. Beth sure digs in the ickiest places, bringing up memories, habits and behavior I'd rather forget.

Yesterday's study was about betrayal. She posed the question, "Have you ever been betrayed by someone you believed loved you?" Chewing on my pen top, I dove into the sewage sloshing around in my skull. I couldn't think of a person... except...

God.

Flashes of me lying on the floor of my bedroom sobbing over devastating news or lying in a hospital bed, victim of stupid trauma flickered behind my eyelids. "I have tried to do what's right since I was six years old! I chose to obey you and be tormented and teased through school. I stayed pure, I (fill in the blank)... and this is how you reward me? Why am I a Christian? God, I feel betrayed!"

Nothing hurts more than feeling betrayed by God. Not even a dislocated elbow with a triple fraction.

Before you judge me and call me a whiny butt, let me point out this is how I felt. Feeling and truth are NOT the same. Betrayal was my human explanation for what God was/is allowing in my life. Yesterday I discovered I still feel that way!

Lighning flashed over the eastern plains, and the trees dripped with recently fallen rain as I shuffled through my neighborhood under the cover of darkness. Settling on a playground swing, I opened up and let God have it. No holding back. No trying to be a "nice little Christian."

I told God I felt he didn't give a damn about me. Such language is very un-Darcie-like. But it was the pain of my soul speaking.

As I cried, yelled, did a flip-de-do on the swing, I realized how much in bondage I am to this sense of betrayal and fear of attempting, well, anything for fear of failure.

Rabbits scuttled in the grass underneath the huge pines. It hit me. Dreams. Almost every dream I've ever dreamt for myself has gone down in a blaze of humiliation and crushing sense of failure.

Since age five I dreamed about being a doctor. Made it through two years of pre-med before I failed. Literally. Failed math and chemistry. Had to make sudden course change w/ no time to think.

Dreamed of becoming cinical psychologist. Completed a whole new major and minor in four semesters with a 3.7 GPA. Planned to go to Wheaton for my PsyD. Failed. Got rejected b/c of GRE scores.

Dreamed of becoming a teacher. Wracked up 56K in student loans. Dreamed of making a difference in kids' lives. Couldn't succeed in broken system. Had to bail b/c of heath. Failure.

Uncovered dream of wanting to be a writer... four years later I have $7 in my business account and few paid assignments, lots of rejection letters. Failed.

And I'm only highlighting the major ones. The root of my betrayal lies with my belief that everything I touch or attempt fails or breaks (don't get me started on the breakage thing...).

Faced with having to find a "real job" - one that actually pays money, so I can pay back the $56K I borrowed in pursuit of failure, I panic. I CAN'T see myself doing anything BUT fail.

Add to that the dynamic of being a wife and mother... how badly can I ruin all that?

I've begged God for answers. Silence.

All around me folks speak of answered prayers. Big prayers. Like, thousands of dollars showing up in their mail box to pay off a debt. Healing from some bizarre medical condition. Needs being met month after month after month. Instead of rejoicing with them, I get mad. I feel betrayed. By God.

I know Jesus said that life will be rough, especially when we follow him, but won't a little relief make the ick easier to swallow? Ya think?

Big Picture.

What next? I need to let it go. All of it. But this part me of clings with whitened knuckles to this crap. Yes, crap. Why? What is it about human nature that makes us cling to the things that render us ineffective and impotent?

Beth Moore says the hallmark of the work of Satan is guilt. Satan attacks us to send us to the bottom of the ocean, or make our testimony benign. After all, he can't take us to hell with him.

I wish I could tell you I had an epiphany. That I'm pullin' myself up by the bootstraps (spit-TING!) and gettin' back on dat dere hoss.

Rather, I'm tired. Clueless. Wondering if He'll ever answer. Hanging on.