To re-knit or NOT to re-knit?

I had never known that you can reuse wool before until I wrote a blog about unravelling and got responses back from people about the power of re-used wool. Until then I thought that once something was knitted together and became unravelled you simply threw it away and started again. The more and more I investigated the idea of reusing old wool that had come unravelled, I became more and more aware of the depth of this process. 

 

A dear and wise friend wrote to me: 

 

“In the unravelling we still have the wool. We lose the shape of what was, but we carry the same wool for remaking the new. All the memories, the experience’s, the lessons, the joys and griefs are still in the wool – it’s not in the shape we loved, crafted, cared for and created though and that’s what makes the heart ache.”

I confess I am not yet anywhere near the “re-making” stage in my life, the unravelling is far too painful, and I cannot yet see any joy in the new. I know it will be a very long process. During the heart ache of this current season, I decided on a project to unravel something I made 37 years ago. Something that I have treasured and had for so long to see if it would help the current healing process. This jumper was to me still perfect, it did not need to be unravelled, it was functional and comfortable and surrounded me with the warmth I needed, so it was hard to decide to unravel it. Yet, this is what happens at times, doesn’t it? It didn’t make sense to unravel a perfectly good jumper, but this was a process that didn’t need to make sense. Sometimes trying to make sense of the “why” is not the correct question to ask, more often we need to ask the question “what next” and this is what this unravelling project was about. 

As I unravelled a jumper I had lovingly made all those years ago, I was surprised as to how hard it was to pull apart. What I thought would simply just fall apart with a few pulls, was not so.

Although it had been knitted so long ago, it was so entwined, that I had to resort to cutting it which caused lots of small pieces of twine. The cutting process was painful for me, yet very real. It took a very long time, I wanted to give up so many times, thinking this is just too hard. And yet I was thankful it was a hard and long process because it showed that something made with such love should take a long time to unravel. If it had unravelled with one pull, it wouldn’t have been so strong and well-made and maybe I would have to question its strength in the first place.  But it took almost as long to unravel as it did to remake something new. This gave me a strange comfort, a validation that the original knitting was not a waste of time, or for nothing.   

Ecclesiastes 4:12 – “A three corded strand is not so easily broken”.  

 

 And yet after a lot of time cutting and ripping and pulling it was all unravelled. All the pieces, in

various sizes.  What was once whole pieces of coloured strands of wool was now all in pieces. What was once knitted together to create a whole piece, a unique design that gave me warmth, shelter, covering, joy, and life was now gone. Some might look at the original jumper and say, well it was very dated, very 80’s, maybe it was time for something new. For me, while I like new things, the old is still special to me and there is something about the love and memories created over time that can never be replaced with something new. But as we are all learning, life throws the unexpected at you and sometimes the old must go, sometimes it is cut, ripped, and pulled away from you and you have no choice but to begin again. 

I was left with the process of tying the broken pieces together to make a new ball of wool, a combination of all the colours, all the threads of the past creation, connected with knots.  

The ball of wool showed its imperfections, its brokenness, and yet the hope of something new that could be remade, rather than the option I had only known before, that it simply needed to be thrown away.

To begin again with the wool that carries all those memories, experiences and lessons, brings the old into the new and creates something better than new.  Or so I have been told. 

 

As I considered what I could reknit, I knew I was not up to re-knitting a jumper. I am not sure how I even knitted the first one, with all its intricate designs. I knew I was only up to making something simple, something that showed me something “new and functional” was possible from these broken strands of wool. 

 
I began to re-knit, to re-use the wool that had been unravelled and created something that now sits on my bed, carrying the memories, the joys, and the griefs of the past. It was all the colours mixed, rather than the colours being separated as in the original design, and yet speaks to me of the hope of something new.  It is not as functional as the original, more of a decoration, a memorial even. This time it was knitted with tears, the original being knitted with love, but none the less it is new. 
 

“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, Be present. 

I’m about to do something brand-new” Isaiah 43:18-19

 
To re-knit or not to re-knit, that is always the question? I’m trusting God that the only option is to re-knit and trust in that process. Right now, I am “faking it till I make it”, one day at a time. The new cushion reminds me each day it’s a choice and yet it gives me a smile of the past as I press forward to the new.  
 

The 360 Effect

12 years ago, I stood at this place in the Northern Territory and watched my son throw stones into the water.  We were on a journey for him into manhood and we were walking with him intentionally to speak into his life and make sure there was key people in his life to walk with him in following challenge teenage years. I look at this picture and I see the wonder in his stance, the focus in the moment of sheer joy and excitement of discovery, the freedom that life was all ahead of him, and anything was possible. It wasn’t until I got up early in the morning to walk here, to capture the sunrise that I realised that this was the exact place I took that photo, 12 years ago. 

 

Now, 12 years later, we are here together again. I look up to emulate the photo all those years ago, but I know I am looking up with a very different process going on in my head. As he takes the photo all these years later and remembers his own journey, I ponder on the journey that has led me here today.  

 

12 years later, I consider what is ahead of me now, in my life, certainly anything is possible, but in the moment, I feel sadness and loss. The longing to be back there 12 years ago and what I could have done differently for me to not be here where I am right now. The thought that back then, I could not even imagine my life taking the turns it has, to lead me here today.  It is probably good we can’t see too far ahead in time; it would frighten and overwhelm many, especially me. 

 

But there is also joy today. It is the realization, that I am only here because my son is walking with me. I would not have been able to come here today if not for the confidence he saw in me and the choice he made to come and be with me.  We drove through rivers and unpaved roads to be here in the dark, taking risks and being brave together. We found ourselves here, without power and no-one around if we were to encounter trouble and together, we made each other stronger.  I would not be able to do this on my own. As 12 years ago he would not have been able to be here then, now the roles are reversed.  

 

This time he is carrying me, giving me strength and love, in a most challenging time in my life.

 

It is the 360 effect.  The one you dream for, but never quite know if it will occur as they are growing up. That time when your children become your strength in a way that you hoped to be for them when they were young. It was a special morning, as I remembered and was able to look at how far he has come and to be so proud and in wonder of the man he is becoming. 

 

It was sad that this is such sad circumstances that he has been able to return the favor for me. To speak love and courage to me, but often that is the case. It takes a whole lot of humility to find myself in this space. To be here with my son, helps me feel secure and feel a small sense of confirmation that I must have done something right, along the track.  Or maybe it is simply the grace of God, that gives us what we need, when we need it.  Being here with my son is a special gift I will treasure forever. 

 

When you have children, you want the best for them, to give them the solid foundation, to be able to face whatever comes.  My deep desire was always that they would have a deep connection with God, who guides and sustains them.  Here I stand with my son, at 24 years old and I can only see these qualities growing in Him, and today they are also sustaining me.  

I look up, I throw a stone, I consider what is next and I am thankful for those who walk with me. It is a gift to know that in my darkest moments my children comfort me, love me, and stand alongside me in the pain. I no longer take that for granted but am thankful for their actions that show me so. We don't know the future; I was foolish to think 12 years ago our future was assured.  I was so certain back then that I had all that my children needed to provide a safe and caring environment.  But life takes turns and twists we cannot see it where it will take us. When the rubber hits the road and our faith, and love for each other are tested, it is often in the hardest of times that true loves shows itself. I thank God for this moment today, a chance to not only re-capture a memory but to transform it, to come full circle, 360 degrees. To go from mentor to mentee……. I humbly celebrate my son and his presence in my life and am thankful for both of my beautiful, amazing children today. 

Joy is a Choice

This particular day in lockdown felt like it could sting. My daughter turned 21 and we could not celebrate it the way we had planned, the family was all separated and not able to be together.  COVID has affected us all in so many difficult, tragic and inconvenient ways. Some we can laugh off and let it go, some that sting. I know there has been much pain and loss for so many and the question is how we face it and move forward. 

 

It is when we feel separated, isolated, on the outside looking in, restricted even from human touch, or completely cut off which can happen in multiple ways; that grief, panic, anxiety, fear and tears and anger can take a hold. 

 

I wrote on my daughter’s card: 

 

“This is not the day we planned, but we are learning this is the day we have. Live it well, make the best of each moment and today, like any other day can be a happy one” 

 

A day that could have stung, ended up having some lovely highs, because we chose to make the best of little moments that we could have. The isolation made me more aware of the things that are most precious and allowed me to grieve more deeply for what I no longer have. Most importantly, I did not let the pain and loss destroy the joy.

 

As one so much wiser than me said: 

 

“Joy is possible even amid great labours – the labour of dying, the labour birthing, and the labours between. We cannot force it. But we can create moments to breathe through labour pains and surrender our senses to the present moment, notice the colours and light and feeling of being alive, here, together, joy comes more easily…….Joy returns us to everything good and beautiful and worth fighting for…joy is the gift of love: it makes the labour an end it itself. I believe labouring in joy is the meaning of life” (Valarie Kaur, 2020)

 

I reminisced where I was 21 years ago when my daughter was born and pondered on all that I had back then.  During the ‘actual’ labour, there were so many moments of joy that I took for granted, that now feel lost amidst complication and pain. 

I know this day could have gone many ways. I had the choice to bring joy or pain, grief or laughter, possibilities or giving up, love or pity, grace or unforgiveness, prickly or soft, hope or hopelessness. Every moment was a choice. Every moment is a choice. And often it is not a choice I can make in my own strength.

This is not the life I planned, but I am learning that this is the life I have…………I choose to live it well, to make the most of each moment and choose today and each day from now on, that there will be happy moments again. 

 

“Performance of joy while the wounds are still being inflicted is not a display of otherworldly strength. It is an act of faith that God will not give us more than we can bear”. (R. Rohr, 2021)

 

I am thankful for my loving Heavenly Father who holds me up every step of the way. I would not and could not, do it in my own strength. I know we all have those days that sting, those times when life throws you something that seems too hard to bear, when the day or life you planned falls apart.  It is in these moments we must choose to believe that that ‘labouring in joy IS the meaning of life.’