While I sifted through posts here earlier today, a place I rarely go now, I caught myself remembering things I didn’t say. I don’t think I was trying to not say things. I do remember I couldn’t catch my breath back when.

I was reading words that I really did mean but there were definitely words not said. There were definitely things I couldn’t say then because I couldn’t see them, think them clearly for the tumult.

I remembered feelings more than words. There was sadness, confusion, fear. I remembered being scared about our future. Fearful about what our families struggle might mean. Fear of failure. Fear of judgment. Stupid fear.

I remember not knowing what to do. Wanting to do the right thing but unable to get to the part of my brain I needed to make those decisions. It took a long time to realize what was happening.

It felt like walking in a dust storm. The wind whipping hair in my face. Dust in eyes, nose, ears and mouth. Stinging eyes and blurred vision. It’s enough to confuse the best of us.

Then the wind would blow a certain way and the air would clear. The energy would change and all felt calm again. I’d slip back into the place I was just before the dust was stirred and hope and think that maybe we were back to ourselves again.

It took a pretty bad crash into walls that no one could see for us to find our way out of that cycle. I feared we’d get knocked down flat and would not be able to get up again. We were all thrown. Up in the air and falling free.

It looked like, felt like that would be how things would be for so long. But somehow we landed well and mending began. We learned to move differently. Learned to speak, listen and play again.

Not everything is all okay. But we are on a road to being okay. We are all walking toward Eden. Whether we all know that or not. And for this I’m thankful. Thankful that God is merciful and faithful and good with a capital G.

It’s not a bow exactly. To say that I thank God. To say that I pray we beat this, all of us, together and that I have hope still. I wouldn’t say there is a pretty bow on it, no. Not when we are still knocking dust off knees and wiping tears from cheeks. Because healing hurts if you let yourself really feel it.

My hands pulled out my knitting today while I waited in the car for one of my loves. I noticed my hands looked so old and sadness came. Not for being older but for having less time than I did yesterday with them. My five loves and their dad.

And now as I type, I let the tears come while the song plays on the radio. The words saying that we are not alone and that God really loves us. And I feel all of it at once. Sadness. Hopeful. Loved. Forgiven. Strong and weak.

The thing is, crisis never gives us time to be ready for it. It slips between the cushions and waits there for us in the dark damp. The clock ticking a sort of count down.

Then when we least expect it and often when we’re already down, it slips out and pulls us in, like a whirlpool taking everything into itself. And when the waters find stillness again, or something like it, we are left changed. I hope for the better.


From the ear buds the soft monotone voices speak slowly enough for sleep to come to me. Silence is too full of the unknown for my tired mind to manage.

Asleep like I am in a race. Running from thought to thought. From dream to awake to the places still and dark between them to running again.

The sound of the dogs breathing heavy, the train in the distance, horn blaring into all the places of the town. long wailing horn rising over fence and building and dumpster and on into the night full with their miles of Winter bare fields. Every sound heard and felt and sending mind to wander and run and search and never find.

Tiny and not so tiny people creaking in over the planks and into our bed wedging themselves into the spaces between he and I. My body unable to turn right onto my back. Unable to fully extend my legs unless I turn and twist myself diagonal.

Words in the smoothest script on so many pieces of paper tossed into the air fall to tables edge and metal chair and hard-wood floors and the scramble begins. Decide what to do, do and decide again what to do.


16 Dec 2020

September Yarnalong

I finished the socks that I spoke of last time. I really love the greens and browns together in this Arne and Carlos Regia line. And they are perfect for Fall. I don’t think that they are for me though. I’ll write something more about that later.

I am steadily working on the wee quilt I spoke of last time as well. I figured out who it is for and now have a deadline. I do despise deadlines. They make me slower rather than faster but I will get it done.

I finished Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott. It is funny and honest and beautifully written. Writers of all sorts are encouraged to pick it up and read it and keep it on a shelf where they can see it and reach it easily.

I started the three books pictured here. We’ll see if one sticks. I hope to read all three- rewarding myself with the most entertaining of the three when I finish the more clinical one, and the more spiritually challenging one. But we’ll see how it pans out.

I started a test knit for Sally Jane last week. It is a lace weight cardigan; the yarn feels so soft and lovely as I turn long rows of knitting into fabric. It doesn’t look like much now because I was near the place where I would divide for the sleeves but then I looked at other test knitter’s pictures and realized that I’d made a mistake and repeated it for too many rows. I went to take back the area and fix it but I guess I was too tired to do it so I tinked the entire thing and cast it on anew.

I am considering doing the same with the gray cardigan I showed last time as well. Something about it just doesn’t sit well with me. I placed it in a drawer where the wool waits for me to make up my mind. So goes my creative process in jumps and starts and back again.

I’m so glad for September to have arrived. It is by far my most favorite month as it signals the end of the long Summer and the beginning of the cooler then cold seasons. Yay and sigh. I am joining Ginny for yarnalong. Be blessed friends. Peace.

November Yarnalong

I’m reading Beautiful Boy this week. I’m not ready to say much about it except that, the story is familiar, extremely well written and hard. Honesty and real life usually are hard though.

I’m making potholders for the church kitchen. Someone awesome asked me to make some for her this Summer. I had never made them before or even seen them but she lent me the ones that her mother had made and I searched online and found a pattern. I enjoyed making them and made some for myself after and now consider them a lovely set to gift.

It’s been rainy and sleepy here today. Hubby and I tackled hard things this morning and I’m being cryptic now because it’s all fresh and raw and private but sometimes things are hard and that is just life.

We had our morning and then with a nap before our favorite lunch as comfort we keep on keeping on. Not because of a poster or a meme that we’ve seen but because Jesus is Alive and we follow him. Our hope is in Him, for real, even when our feelings tell tales. And although this world we live in is full of pain and hard stories, real life ones like the one in the story above, we chose to have hope in Jesus. Redemption is real. So we press on. Thank you Jesus.

Next week we’ll celebrate our 12th anniversary. I counted and we’ve moved to 7 cities in those 12 years. It has been a lot of change. We almost added a child with every move. Our hearts are full to overflowing with joy and sorrow and hope. This is us, no pun intended. #AdoptiveFosterBioParents 👊🏼😉

I’m joining Ginny again. 🙂 Peace friends.

August {yarnalong}

It’s been pretty quiet on this blog but I did remember that it is time for Ginny’s monthly yarnalong. So yay, think I’ll join in.

I finished The Road Back To You by Ian Morgan Cron on Audible. It is such a great book and I think I’ve finally found my enneagram number. I liked this book because it is a very nice breakdown of the numbers strengths, weaknesses and things that will help us to grow and meet the challenges of our types. Thumbs up for sure.

I just started When Helping Hurts: Alleviating Poverty Without Hurting the Poor…and Yourself by Steve Corbett and and Brian Fikkert

Admittedly I’m in a bit of a knitting funk lately but I have managed a few rows on a pair of Vanilla Socks for a friend every other day or so.

I did commit to a test knit for Sally Jane Cameron who is @Pinkhairgirlknits on Instagram so hopefully this will help shake me out of my knitty groovlessness.

We. Will. See.

I’m kinda done with Summer. Ready for the school schedule and all that comes with. I think the kids are ready too. It does sometimes feel strange to not be a homeschool family. Good and strange at the same time. It was a big deal to change things up but it was right. I know that.

I say we’ll reassess every year but I am still not ready to homeschool again, not yet. It is funny to think and feel this way about homeschool now because I used to think and feel the same way about putting kids in school. Just so very hesitant. And fearful for sure. But yeah, there was nothing to fear. It’s been tough and different but God has been faithful and carried us through.

Truth is, if I felt Father lead us- my feelings wouldn’t matter so much, I’d do it and watch the miraculous and the growth happen as my feet hit the water. I’m just tired still lol.

I find myself praying that I will be willing to be willing to do as Father leads and praying that we’ll know if there is ever to be another change. Think that’s it for me for this post. Peace out 😉