Improbable Moments of Grace

"Here is what happened next.
     America went to war in Iraq, and my pastor, Veronica, gave a brilliant sermon about how, with the war raging in the Middle East, now was not the time to figure everything out, like who was to blame or whom we would vote for. It was not the time to get a new plan together and try to push it on through. It was time to be still, to get centered, to trust what we've always trusted in: friendship, kindness, helping the poor, feeding the hungry. So, having felt scattered for much of the past two years, I took Veronica's words to heart, and began to get quiet whenever possible, to go for longer walks on the mountain, to sit in beggy prayer and fretful meditation. My mind kept thinking its harsh thoughts, but I'd distract myself from them gently and say, "Those are not the truth, those are not trustworthy, those are for entertainment purposed only." 

~Anne Lamott in Small Victories: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace

I've been in an odd place lately but I think this^ is what I have intuitively been doing.  Multiple friends have noted to me that I've gone radio silent on Social Media lately.  And I have.  Partly because I've been busy living.  And partly because I didn't feel I had anything significant to contribute so I didn't mind sitting back.  

Big changes are ahead and I feel the fear and excitement of it all.  

Not a lot has changed externally yet, but internally, I've been gutted and rewired and insulated.  (Many hours of therapy and meditating and pondering and working through stuff.) So. Much. Work. Just like our house that we bought.  It was falling down.  There were carpets that had to be torn out. Joists rebuilt. Walls insulated. Roof re-shingled.  But it's stronger now. It's much more WHOLE.  It has been loved deeply. All the way down to the joists. Now is when the cosmetic changes come about.  And with ME it is the same way.  I tried from the outside in once. It didn't work so well. I tried masking my pain with makeup and new styles or a fake smile.  But like painting over rust or MOLD- the paint eventually bubbles until you can't ignore it.  So I've done a lot of work.  And I can see there is a lot of work ahead.  But now that my shelter is stable I can sit for a while.  To ponder.  To dream.  To anticipate. To just BE.  And I'm rather enjoying it.  

I have come back to the world of social media, but it's different now.  Not because it is but because *I* am.  I am much more confident to be the AUTHOR of my story. The CONTRACTOR and CONSTRUCTION CREW of my safe place within me. 

And I consider that my own Small Victory.  

Stitches

I received some "love mail" today. You see, my dear Mom sent me a package and I got it today.  In it was this book: STITCHES: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott.  (click the link-I don't know how to link the picture)

Oh. My. Heavens.

SUCH a WONDERFUL book. Seriously.  Buy it.  I read it with an orange colored pencil in hand and highlighted MANY wonderful passages and quotes.  It's 96 pages long and yes, I read it all in the 6 hours I've had it (which if you do the math is on the slow-ish side of reading, but I promise you I took time to feed my family dinner, left over sloppy joes, and bathe the smallest wee one and put him to bed, sent the other brothers with Daddy on a project, I also let my kids watch Netflix this afternoon.)

My all time favorite quote, it has a heart by it in my book, and perhaps fellow sewers will love this as much as I do;

Sewing is the finger and heart equivalent of putting one foot in front of the other.

So many other quotes I want to share but there's a reason this one stands out.  Remember my Correspondence Course in Self Care? (If not click the link) Those strips of fabric were meticulously crafted into the beginnings of my very own quilt top.  See?

This pattern starts with sewing the strips together at angles to create the LONGEST STRIP OF FABRIC KNOWN TO MAN.  Seriously.  Football field length.  Then you fold in half sewing that strip to itself lengthwise.  Which takes FOREVER.  

This is me hard at work. Just when you think you can't sew another stitch, that you MUST be close to the end you look down and see that you're not even halfway.  It's disheartening.  So fifteen minutes later (not kidding and this is after an hour of making the longest strip known to man) you might have that first strip done.  From there on out it's easy peasy.  The rows double in size each time so the length you have to sew is 1/2 as long.  (Doesn't make sense, I know- but it's not a tutorial on how but the lesson learned.) The agony of that first strip is real.  It is hard.  It is exhausting and butt numbing.  And yet you plod on.  With hope that it won't turn out an ugly mess.  And guess what?  You were right all along.  It's wonderful and far different than you had ever imagined.  

And isn't that our journey through life?  Our journey as WoPAs? Trying to figure out how to plod on with this forever long stitch?  Having to unpick and resew when the pattern gets skiwampus? 

This is a metaphor that I will cling to.  For I've always been a pretty fearless sewer.  And now I'll start applying that to the rest of my life.  

One foot in front of the other. 

One stitch and then another.  Some unpicking.  Some re-sewing.  And a beautiful unknown pattern will reveal itself.