Daily Life Practice

The Spring my brother left to hike the Appalachian Trail, I gave birth to a baby. While he pushed through exhaustion and walked 20 miles in a day, I rode the cresting waves of labor. Each an exercise in survival.

At the peak, he'd rest and survey breathtaking views afforded only to those who do the hard work of getting there. At the peak, I lifted a fresh scrunched up soul to my chest, a miracle infused moment of triumph, pain and searing joy.

It's been a year. In some ways it feels as thought the adventure is over. What is life like after the vista? After the apex of upward toil, sacrifice, strength?

She's one year old.

I knit her a birthday dress made up of hundreds of rows, spiraling around and around, each one seamlessly starting the next, like the 365 days that made up her life. It's imperceptible, how a baby changes, until you look back. When did she get so chubby? Where did those teeth come from? Her first words, her first steps - they just came along and were swept up in daily life, one day bleeding into the next until, suddenly, she's one. Those first few days we marked by hours. 24 hours old. 36. 48. Then in weeks. 2 weeks. 6 weeks. Months and now, like the rest of us - years.

Each day feels so much the same as the last, and yet - we're all growing. It's what happens in the moments that don't feel or look like the big exciting ones. You grow.

It's another normal day that I wake up and remember. Daily life is spiritual practice. It is within the spiraling sameness of daily living that our faith is tested, refined, practiced and played out. This isn't the wait before the ride. It is the ride. In the constant, consistency of one day after another, one foot in front of the other, through the mundane - we practice. We struggle and, over time, we strengthen.

We make spirituality small when we believe it only fits in one Thomas-Kincaid painted box. We miss out on a bigger, all-of-life encompassing intimacy which is what Jesus has for everyone.

It is tempting to believe that we need to change ourselves to become holier, more devout. That we can chameleon our way into the Christian life. But that isn't how God works. God wants you. Just as you are. With your sense of humor, your unique giftedness, your passions and your temperament. People are all different. Christians are all different. This is by His perfect design. Spiritual life practice is less of Extreme Makeover and more of a gentle reshaping that preserves and enhances what was there all along. He takes you, and all that you are, and grows you as you go along. One day at a time.

Sweaters are made up of hundreds of them. Row after row. Lives too. It's not til you get to the end and hold it up that you can fully see how far you've come. How a life can knit a garment of love.

I flip back the covers and my feet find the cold wood of the floor. It's morning and it's time to get started on the next row. Around and around we go.


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Charts and Checks

I'm cross legged on the ottoman by the window for a few rare quiet moments. It's April and, although I always like to pretend that means it's warming up, it's cold. I'm wrapped in an oversized cardigan, knitting by the light filtering in. It's one of those sacred moments when my home is completely still - few and far between these days - and I'm soaking up the brain stillness that comes along. He interrupts my reverie -

"Geez, Mom. You look like a Grandma over there."

The bluntness of kids is really something, isn't it? I smiled at him, and said "well there are worse things, right?" and he rolls his eyes and heads out the back door.

I'm not sure when my Grandma learned to knit, but I do know it was long before I came to be. By the time I was cognizant of such things, I knew that wherever Grandma was, there was knitting. She brought it with her everywhere. And not just knitting, but her bag of curious knitting gear that mystified me as a kid. She'd sit in her recliner, little hands working impossibly fast and it looked like she wasn't even paying attention. On the arm of the chair would be the pattern, paper, and as she worked along she would make little check marks with a ballpoint pen as she completed a section.

I started knitting regularly as an adult, in the brave new world of technology, and I rarely have a paper pattern. Everything is digital, and my phone works just fine, thank you. In nano seconds I can look up yarn types, hundreds of thousands patterns, reviews, completed projects. It might seem better than when Grandma would go to an actual yarn store and touch all the yarns, squinting over paper patterns she found in magazines to find one she liked. I have access to more. Better.

I'm knitting off a chart and it's after I screw up and pull it out in frustration 15 charted rows in that it occurs to me - maybe trying to read a chart off a 4 inch smart phone is anything but smart. Maybe there is such a thing as a time to set aside the ultra connectedness, the bright light of a screen. I'm squinting at it, trying to figure out what row I'm on because there is no way to mark my progress. So I print it off. I make check marks. Row after row, line after line, the pattern flows out from my needles perfectly.

It's something that I need to remember. The wisdom of the small and the slow isn't that, when you embrace them, life gets smaller. When you focus small and slow, life gets bigger than you could have ever imagined. Sometimes the steadiest way forward seems to be the least sophisticated. It looks common and maybe even a little bit backwards. It eschews the bright lights of bigger, more, faster - for the calm and steady simplicity of the next right thing.

From the outside, it may look a bit like settling. Plodding along in normalcy. One drop of water doesn't seem like much, but under a microscope - teeming with life. Easy to ignore in the push and rush of more, but still there. Unlocking bigger and better might be as simple as setting boundaries and taking the time to fully engage in each small step. Each check along the pattern.

When you have everything at your finger tips, you can end up dissatisfied. Your focus suffers in the face of so many options, and you can miss out on what is right in front of you.

I turn it over in my mind. The lure of the information superhighway, the instant and non stop social media - is that more and better is achievable with minimal effort. I can sit here and scroll my life away looking for the next best thing. But at the end of the day, I need to face down the raw truth that living fully and intentionally within my real world is where growth and beauty is truly, palpably, possible.

In knitting and in life, Grandma may have had it right. I'm not ready to give up my online yarn shopping or reading pattern reviews, but if I ever find myself knitting off a chart again? I'm going to pay extra close attention. And be reminded that life is lived best when you take every moment as it is - brimming with possibility, teeming with life - and abide with intention.


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Deadlines, Discipline, Discipleship

I've got a deadline this week, so naturally today when I found myself with a stretch of time while both (!) of my little ones napped, I painted my toenails. And now I'm blogging. It's a knitting deadline, which is almost worse. Writing deadlines can be powered through, but knitting? For as quickly as I knit, there is a limit to stitches-per-minute and I can't simply conjure a sweater out of thin air. Still, there it sits, waiting for me. And I'm doing everything I can think of to refrain from picking it up.

Deadlines do that to me. Maybe it's naive of me, but I don't think I'm really a procrastinator. At least, not intentionally. I'm not putting it off because I'm sure I'll have time to get to it later. I'm more paralyzed by a deadline to the point where I simply cannot bring myself to do the one thing I really need to do. Just thinking about THE THING leads to thoughts of the deadline and wondering if there will be enough time and I can feel the anxiety in me rising. So I paint my nails. And procrastinate by writing a blog about how I'm not a procrastinator. Sigh.

I've been thinking lately about what it means to live life on call. I read this interesting piece a few months back and it really resonated with me. Because what is parenthood if not life "on call"? At any given moment, any given thing could happen. Perhaps that is why I prefer to be a more flexible, fly by the seat of my pants kind of mom. Because when your whole life looks that way, it's easier to adapt to the call, whenever it comes, whatever it is. The danger of such a lifestyle is that it can be a disguise for a lack of discipline. With any strength there is a related weakness. With my great proficiency for adaptability comes a general lack of ability to adhere to any sort of schedule or program for very long. It's something I've been working on and is proving to be more of a mental and spiritual practice than I had previously supposed.

I started exercising regularly a few weeks after Magnolia was born and what began slow and gentle and small has become a daily practice of mine. A non negotiable, like taking a shower or brushing my teeth. Thinking about discipline in this way makes me realize that adaptability doesn't have to flee in the face of schedule. It just works within known boundaries and parameters. Some days the stars align and the kids are compliant and I get a really great, long, sweaty work out in. Other days it is clear that, at best, I'll get in a few push ups while I'm making dinner and stretch while playing with the baby on the floor. The important part is I stick with my goals of intentional movement every day. In the early days, the most difficult part for me was accepting interruption. I didn't want to be interrupted when I was all sweaty, or get sidetracked by kids who needed me and not know when I'd get a shower. 9 months in and I don't even think about it. It has become a part of my daily life.

At the start of Lent, I took a look at my life to consider what other areas I could baby step in this way with. One was taking facebook off my phone - necessary self discipline. Another was starting every day by starting the laundry, something that is so necessary for our home to run smoothly. I've fallen off the wagon with each but I've also climbed back on to try it again. I'm finding the discipline begets discipline, and getting strong in one area can help you begin from a place of strength with others. Neither may seem like a particularly pious spiritual practice, but that's only if you look at it from the outside. From the inside, discipline requires discipleship. I used to think that my wildly undisciplined life was more open to God's leading then a super planned regimented existence, but perhaps that was a narrow, lazy view. Perhaps there is a place that both discipline and openness meet, that spot where you are open to being on call, yes, but also intentional in the meantime. I'm looking for it.

God directing my steps does not absolve me from any responsibility for how I spend my time. It simply means I need to proceed with an attitude of humility, ready for His plans to trump mine, every time. My fear of diving into something because it might not end up the way I had envisioned prevents me from the awe inspiring wonder at watching God take my plans and meld them with His for His glory and my ultimate good.

Anyway, just something I'm wrestling with, learning and bending my brain around today.

So. About that deadline...

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Living With Mistakes {Yarn Along}

I was almost done with the sweater on our drive home when I saw it, way back at the beginning of the joining from the yoke. Right there in the front, cabled the wrong way. I stopped and felt it flood over me. Defeat.

The blundered twist was at least four hours of work back. I couldn't live with it. Could I?

This is Rosie's special sweater. Frogged from various patterns a few times until I found the perfect one (Antler on Ravelry here). Knit in a semisolid from Mosaic Moon called "Rosebud," I'd been looking up rosewood buttons for the front. I'd already tried it on her before beginning the button band and knew it would be the perfect fit. How I missed the glaring mistake then, I have no idea. Once seen, I can't seem to not see it.

So the question stood. Could I live with it? Right there in front, cabled incorrectly? Could I stomach ripping back four hours of work after frogging so much before? I couldn't decide. So I left it in the project bag. I stopped looking up buttons. I drifted back into the "not knitting" fog I had been in before getting excited about this project.

I've been thinking about mistakes lately. The kind that are completely unintentional. The kind that knock the wind out of you unexpectedly. How we respond and live with the mistakes we all make all the time. Do we stop trying? What if there's no going back? Is there  way to move forward, carrying it with us?

I think so. I ask a few friends and they tell me - leave it. Yes, right there in front. Imperfect and flawed, just like the Mama who made it, because isn't that what parenting is like? A work of love, riddled with missteps yet still somehow beautiful and warm despite.

I pull it out of the work bag. Time to finish what I started.

(Linking up with Ginny today!)


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How To Dress A Girl You Love

I knit it for her when she was still inside, feathery fingering weight yarn in purest magnolia-white that just seem to go on forever, thousands of tiny stitches spelling out love. On Saturday I sewed on the two vintage glass buttons my cousin gave me from her grandmother's collection. On Sunday, I slipped it over her downy head in the nursery at church, moments before the start of the service. She slept soundly, wrapped in merino wool on a Sunday in July.

Magnolia Grace joined the family of Christ on July 19th and when our pastor held her up like a prize for the whole congregation to see welcome, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Being a Mother is always about letting go, nudging forward, releasing. Being a girl is always a gamble. Even in a country without sex selective practices and cultural preference for boys, being a girl is a risk. A liability. A marginalized state. Even in a country where girls can attend college or procure employment, they are objectified, labeled and boxed in from day one.

I have four daughters, a fact that can bring me to my knees with anxiety. Not because I don't adore each of my precious girls, but because I do. Because I want more for them than this world, this country, this culture can offer them. The pastor holds my girl up and I breathe easier because I remember - she's in His hands now.

I loved my girl Maggie before I ever saw her dear little face, held her tightly to my breast and inhaled her magical baby smell. Before I saw her, I knew her - kicking deep inside me while I crafted her grace-garment. I think about God on a dark night and how He's made one for me, too, something I'll never grow out of, something that expands as I age, something that I can put on every single day and hold close each and every night.

It's the only way I can navigate this world, with all it's clamoring seductions and sadness. Slipping on that garment of grace the only way I can bear to live another moment as one sin-sick human loving others similarly afflicted.

Something big enough to hold me and those I come in contact with. Something that is never too small to cover all. Every stress, panic attack, fear, sin, failing. Every heartbreak. Each and every thing swaddles snugly within the grace garment He wove especially for me.

My Magnolia sleeps soundly on my bed and I seal up her special gown, tuck it away in the closet until she's ready to pass it on. That's how grace works. It's never just for us. It's always big enough to be given away and my little Grace, she'll give it away someday - to a daughter or a niece or a granddaughter. That's how it's made to work. It is handed down from one generation to the next and we pass it on to one another like a talisman to guide us through, a solid promise that He will always be enough - for me, for her, for everyone who we come in contact with.

Knowing He is ever present and she is always, always swathed in purest white grace that comes from only one place.


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These Days...

How is it already midsummer? My best friend asked me conversationally if I'd given any thought to this fall's curriculum. I resisted to the urge to laugh/cry. Oh, mercy. Each and every day has enough trouble for itself and I'm sure I'll get a plan together the week before we start (maybe).  My brother and a dear friend from High School are both getting married in early fall. Our family vacation is in August through the beginning of September. I'm still in a post partum fog (yes, still. And no, I have no intention of pulling out any time soon) and life just keeps throwing curveballs faster than I can catch them. No, I don't have my curriculum planned, but I do have faith it will come together like it always does. These days, well...

~ The three oldest kids are gone for a few days with Grandpa up at Fish Camp and the 6 and under set and I are finding our new normal to be reprised later this summer when the big kids head south with the other set of grandparents. I wonder if I'll look back at this summer being the beginning of a shift, the year where our little family found ourselves divided up more and more. I miss my older kids more than I can say when they are away, but I'm reveling in this time with the younger set, watching Jonah have a chance to be the oldest and enjoying the dynamic of my two little boys and two little girls getting along (or not). We are consuming an obscene amount of popsicles, we had an ER visit on the very first day and both J and I are falling into bed exhausted at the end of every day. Oh, yes, I miss those big kids!

~ This weekend J's parents will be in town and Magnolia will finally be baptized. I'll admit to a bit of a panic at the thought of trying to get us all dressed appropriately and behaving appropriately at the front of the church in front of God and everyone at 10 am this Sunday - but then I had a little smack of perspective. Even if Rosie refuses to wear shoes and Pete tries to make a grand escape and Maggie spits up all over her lovingly handknit christening gown - God will still show up. The congregation watching might get a little glimpse into what it really means to be open to life and love and family. I might get another hit of humility, something I could always use more of. Framed that way, it doesn't sound that bad, right? (But please, Rosie - wear shoes! I promise you can take them off in the pew!)

~ Today my oldest is 12. That means this is the last year of life before teenagers. I'm not ready. I'm so not ready that I can get myself quite worked up about the whole business, so instead I'm focusing on all the things I love about this boy. His confidence, kindness, thoughtfulness, his gentle little soul. He's got more than a touch of his Mama's sarcasm, fiery temper (sorry, son) and sparkling comedic wit (you're welcome), but mostly he is his father's son. 12 years ago I didn't know how to be a Mother. He was the start of the adventure. He will always be the gift who began it all. I'm grateful for every day that he is mine.

~ My knitting has been stalled out for quite some time. I'd start something, change my mind, frog, start something else, change my mind again...on and on and on. I finally decided to knit Rosemary a "Granny's Favorite" like the one I knit for Fiona in Mosaic Moon's "Rosebud" semi solid. The color is perfect for fall, not to mention for my dark eyed girlie with her beautiful brunette curls. I'm about halfway down the body and entertained for a nanosecond the idea of getting it done in time for her to wear to the baptism, but the odds of that happening are pretty much slim to none.

~ I started working out a few times a week a few weeks ago and it's really remarkable to me how quickly fitness increases if you just work at it a bit. I have very low expectations, but just try to follow the advice an old friend once gave me: Sweat every day. Get your heart rate up for at least 20 minutes and sweat every day. I've been doing about ten minutes of a Hiit workout (youtube has a ton), 10 minutes of yoga and 10 minutes of strength training a day. Sometimes it's all at once. Sometimes it's spread out throughout the day as I have a moment here or there. This week it has all been in a toy cluttered living room while hollering at Rosie not to climb under my legs and the boys joining in. Low expectations, no guilt, no babysitting, no gym. Just sweating every day. It makes me feel good, think more clearly and gives me energy, all things that are well worth the effort.

Things here are good. God is good. Life is as messy and chaotic as always, my yard is full of weeds, my kids are sticky and dirty more often than not, J's work situation may be changing again soon and we're just doing the next thing. Sometimes I step out on the back porch and just take a deep breath and close my eyes - just for a moment. Sometimes it's just enough to untie the jangled nerves and soothe my stress knotted muscles and remind me that every breath I take on this day is a miracle.

And that is good enough for me.


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Just a Little Bit

I've been convicted of time management lately.

I told my husband "There is enough time in my day for everything important. I just need to be better about time management." He dubiously cautioned me "Everything? Don't overdo it." I brushed it off.

It's summer. The daily rush of school is set aside for a little bit. Why shouldn't I have time to workout, do laundry, read to the kids, make food, clean, knit, write, read, play outside...? The answer must be distraction. Unintentional time-frittering. I must be lazy.

Armed with a plan to intentionally "do all the things," I started. Quickly things went downhill. That is, not according to plan. Halfway through my work out, a parenting demand was made of me that I was unable to put off for later. So I got a half work out. Once interrupted, the baby needed to nurse, and then it was lunch time, and then it was clean up lunch time, and then I realized I needed to go ahead and shower and give up the pipe dream of resuming that now hours-past work out. Out of the shower, the toddlers needed naps. The baby didn't want to be put down. A friend dropped by. Another called. Then it was time to figure out dinner.

All the time, my frustration mounted. Frustration with myself. Why couldn't I be organized? Why was my day bite-sized chunks of this and that, never a full, satisfying box-check of finished tasks? I spiraled. Why can't I manage my time? Why can't I be like those "no excuses" Moms with ripped abs and healthy, well adjusted kids?

I leaned against the kitchen counter after wiping it for the billionth time, picked up some knitting that was laying nearby and knit a row. One.Row. "Well, that's something." I thought. And then I thought some more.

Today, I worked out. Just a little bit. Today I got a shower. I cleaned a little. I visited with a friend. I read to my kids. I pushed them on swings. I cleaned out the fridge. I had a heart to heart with my preteen. I filled hearts and bellies. I knit and I jotted down a little something to write about later.

Just a little bit of each thing, but you know what? I did get it all in. Just not how I thought it would be.

My life is full of interruptions, but interruptions are often God-ordained opportunities. Perhaps the most important thing I did today was set my expectations aside for what was needed at the time. That's no small feat. People feel comfortable swinging by my house. That's a privilege, truly, even though at times it can send me into a bit of a panic. Life doesn't stop. If everything went according to my plan, I'd miss out on so much of what life is all about: serving others in love.

God has given me a passion for many wonderful things in life. He has also given me 7 wonderful kids, a community of amazing friends and family and a husband to care for. He gives in abundance all the desires of my heart.

Today I got in bite-sized pieces of everything I wanted to do. Tomorrow I may not, but you know? I live a life where it is possible. Today, my time management is largely open to the needs of others. It won't always be that way, but while it is? I know I'm not lazy. I know I'm not making excuses. I'm also not checking boxes. I'm living life as it presents itself, one knitted row at a time.


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Sunshine for Sara

Sometimes God places a person in your life in a way you never expected. Sometimes you don't even realize it's happening until you look back a decade and realize a third of your life has been enriched by their presence in it. Sara is that person for me.

My Mom always cautioned me against making friends online. Or posting pictures of the kids. Or having identifying information available, like addresses, phone numbers, etc. A common fear at the dawn of widespread internet use was that people were regularly tracked down and murdered or abducted due to carelessness with their personal information.

That was the age I grew up in, and why my first email address bore little resemblance to my actual name. Still, I couldn't resist, and back then when the only social networking were forums or chat rooms and blogs were still called weblogs, I started one.

I can't say when exactly I met my friend Sara, or who found who first, but through those early blogs we got connected. Both very young Moms, we had blogs that helped us feel connected during a lonely point in our lives. And babies. Lots and lots of babies. In fact, over the years we ended up kind of in sync, and are now both pregnant with our #7's. We've both done a lot of growing up. A lot of changing. She is one of just a few online friends I have met "in real life" and is someone I consider to be a close friend. Someone to rely on. Someone who gets me.

She's who I think of when people talk about online friendships in a negative way, as if such connections could never be more than superficial. With Sara, I've shared incredibly personal moments. I've confessed deep dark secrets and I've whispered prayers for her and her family. Yes, she's technically my "online" friend who I've seen three times total. She's also a kindred spirit. A person who knows me in ways others just don't.

Both Sara and I started knitting around the same time and it quickly became a passion for both of us. Something we enjoy that we can do right along side raising our kids and dealing with the stress and insanity that life tends to bring. She made me a beautiful dress when Rosie was small, and I bought yarn to make something for her corresponding baby - and didn't, once Rosie revealed herself to be colicky and entirely intolerant of me doing anything but holding her.

This time around, she sent me a lovely set for my #7 and I managed to get something together for her expected little one. There's something special about knitting for a friends' baby. Something extra special to knit something for someone who you know "gets" the deal about knitting. The time it takes, the careful selection of materials and patterns. Someone who knows how to take care of it and truly appreciates what goes into it. I just love the opportunity to keep both Sara and her baby in my mind and heart, praying for both while needles and yarn work together to become something special.

Yesterday, she messaged me her ultrasound picture. After three little ladies in a row, #7 is a boy. Which puts us both with 4 girls and 3 boys. I laugh because of course. That's just how we are. In sync in the funniest ways.

It's been a few years since I've seen Sara. We have plans to try and get together this summer, knitting on the beach while watching our kids play.  I hope it happens. If not, I'll still know that our ten year friendship is something special. Something priceless. Just knowing that someone out there gets me. It's a precious, precious thing.

(I made Sara's sweet #7 a Baby Vertabrae and socks on sunshiney Swish tonal).

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Late Night Crafting

I seemed to have lost it for quite some time, that crafting mojo of mine. First the early weeks of pregnancy, with their exhaustion and sickness. Then the second trimester, feeling better but still falling asleep quite early. But now, now I've got that thing going on that can be both frustrating and awesome. Pregnancy insomnia. For me it's not really insomnia at all, just messed up sleep schedules. Staying up too late leading to late afternoon naps which feeds the disordered pattern further.

I certainly could work to correct it, be extra strict with myself and maybe power through the afternoon drowsiness and put myself to bed early. The trouble is - I secretly love it.

Time alone (or at least with no children around) for hours? It has been a while since I had much of that and it is kind of amazing. Especially when it coincides with compulsive creativity.

This week I went ahead and knit Rosie a shrug on an absolute whim. When dressing her for church on Sunday, I noted her lack of light colored sweaters. Thanks to living in Michigan and knowing that any sweet little sleeveless spring church dress demands wool well into June, I dug into the yarn stash, sat down for a few hours and churned this out. I followed the Something Beautiful pattern and chose the option for short sleeves.

The next night I finally printed off the pattern pieces to the Sally dress I've been meaning to make her since before Christmas. My plan was to cut out the pieces and maybe sew it the next day after co op. Well, by the next morning all that was left to do was a bit of hemming. Whoops.

In light of this recent compulsion and those lovely stretches of late night time to do what I please, I'm trying to be a little bit more intentional and come up with a plan to make the most of it.

I'll definitely be making another Sally dress for Rosie - maybe a few for gifts as well. And this baby needs this romper, I think. The yarn for the christening gown should be here soon, along with an extra skein that might have to become a sweater to add to the baby shower pile.

Linking up with Ginny and Frontier Dreams.

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Mischa Dress

I haven't been doing a lot of intentional knitting lately. I've always got something on the needles, living in whatever bag I grab when running out the door to our co op or bible study, but I haven't really sat down solely to knit in quite a while. With our birthday month keeping me busy, a few family illnesses setting me back and a renewed focus on getting our homeschooling wrapped up before the new baby, knitting has been put firmly on the back burner.

The Mischa dress lived in my diaper bag for a while. I cast on for it while on my weekend getaway last month and worked the yoke, but once I started the skirt (aka the boring part) I tossed it in my bag for mindless knitting when I was out and about.

I pushed to finish it over the weekend, casting off in the van on the way to church Sunday morning. Despite some pooling in the skirt, I think it turned out rather nicely - and hopefully will fit the new baby in the fall.

I love all of Taiga Hiliard's designs and have been thinking of making a baptism dress next. My only struggle is with the idea of spending hours and hours on something I know for certain will be worn exactly once. On the other hand, how wonderful would it be to make my daughter's christening gown? I'm thinking a longer version of the Lizzy dress will work nicely. On a silk/merino blend? Ohmygoodness.

In the few moments I have had to sit down, I've been reaching more for a book. "Pushed" isn't exactly soothing reading for someone about to go to the hospital to deliver a baby, but it has given me all sorts of reminders about delivering in a hospital and just what things I should be on the look out for. It really is an excellent book and I highly recommend it. Just proceed with caution if you are pregnant and prone to anxiety (wait, isn't that most pregnant women?).

Linking up with Ginny over at Small Things.


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An (Early!) Birthday Sweater

I convinced him to let me buy the yarn to take on my semi-annual girls trip away. After all, I needed something to work on and the birthdays are just a month or so away...

Well, the yarn came, coinciding with a business trip that took him away for four long days and nights. I had no choice. I started.

At first I told myself I'd just work the yoke - get past the lacework to the mindless knitting that would be prime work for sitting and talking with my girlfriends by the fire. But the yoke went quickly and I told myself alright, just a little bit of the body. When the body was done, I thought maybe I'd save the sleeves but by that point I was really wanting to see the end result.

All in all, I knit her size 7 sweater in a week - trying to convince myself not to the entire way, a good 3 weeks before I left on my trip. I really shouldn't buy yarn in advance. I don't stand a chance.

Apparently I also shouldn't make birthday gifts in advance, because once it was done I couldn't resist giving it to her right away. She has worn it daily for a week and declares it her favorite sweater ever. I really couldn't ask for anything more than that.

Forgive the iphone pictures, my DSLR battery charger bit the dust! The sweater pattern is Granny's Favorite, the yarn is Swish DK  in Dove Heather (approximately 5 balls for size 8), the buttons are 1/2 inch blue glass vintage purchased on Etsy. Linking up with Ginny's Yarn Along today!


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Rise and {Shine}

A very blustery night was followed by a brilliantly sunshiney morning and it's just enough to make me think I might just make it through. Although Spring is a long way off still, especially here in Michigan, the sun is the first hint, a reminder that it's not that far off.  I measure it through my camera lens and feel a particular thrill when there is enough natural light for somewhat decent pictures. 

We're finding our way through these long, locked inside winter days and it's really not half bad. After a few particularly rough years, so far this has been the best Winter I can remember. Somehow, six kids schooling under one little roof is working out just fine. We are finding enough to keep ourselves busy here and have nailed down a flexible but effective routine that seems to take into account everyone's needs - amazing when you consider we have everyone from toddlers through elementary and middle schoolers with a pregnant Mama besides. We ease into the mornings with nothing formal until 10, have a few intense hours before more ease in the afternoon while babies nap. It's ideal for me, for now - growing another little one and just beginning to feel that need to slow down a little bit as we head into the third trimester.

These kids never cease to amaze me and this has been our best homeschooling year yet. It's not often that everyone blossoms at once but it seems like suddenly each one of the four I'm schooling have had their own "Aha!" moments and it's so wonderful to witness. I've been at this long enough to know that these mountaintop moments are the exception, not the rule, but after seriously doubting myself and considering sending them all to school in the fall - it has been a much needed affirmation that we are just fine.

I'm taking these days to really sink into life as it is today and am finding so much peace in the predictability of it. I've never been much of a schedule person but I'm finding a lot of comfort in knowing that if I just follow the plan, I'll end up at the end of the day just where I need to be.

I'm discovering the keys to a happy life are just these: Coffee in the morning, knitting all day, relaxed expectations and a heaping dose of gratitude. I think I can manage that.

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