yarn along:: november 2023, giving grace

There were more good days last week than hard ones.  It takes time to adjust to a new place, I keep telling myself.  I'd forgotten the pains and toil of moving six years ago, just like I'd forget the effort of childbirth until the day of my next labor.  I was hoping to find a blog post that could remind me of the blur that was August 2017 to December 2017, but I didn't do much writing during our first four months in Philadelphia.  All I found was a small re-cap in January of 2018.  My words from the past, written while I was still reeling from the move and before I had found my dearest friends in Philadelphia, encourage me in the present.

Meaningful connections take time.  It really does take a whole year of living in a place to settle. We are doing the best that we can, so we need to heap grace on one another in abundance.  Grace for myself, when I mistake the time and place of the basketball game for the boys, or get lost yet again despite GPS, on the way to a new meeting place.  Grace for my sons, who each face some significant challenges amidst the joys of being settled in a lovely community.  Grace for my daughters, one of whom is away and will never really call this place home.  I hope she feels that we are her home.  

All that to say, October's schedule left me scant knitting time.  I made a little progress on a few projects: the green shawl, a pair of socks, some sock yarn squares.  The results are not especially beautiful, so I'm showing you some newly acquired yarn that will become more socks for me.  Just a few more pairs and I will be able to replace all of my worn-out ones.

Reading, too, has fallen by the wayside.  Even pre-reading for next term, which starts in two weeks, isn't close to complete!  I have, however, found little snippets of time before the day really begins to read A Song for Nagasaki, which is assigned reading for The CMEC high schoolers.  Oh, my.  Some mornings have found me tearfully turning the pages of horrific details about the bombing of Nagasaki.  I don't know if my tears fell for the tragedy of the past, or for the atrocities currently unfolding in Israel and Gaza.  Lord, have mercy. 

I leave you with words of hope.  May you discover something glorious in the small things of your daily life.

There are some people who write haiku poetry to make a living.  You know what I think? We should make our living become haiku poetry.  You might toil at a clattering factory or on a tossing fishing boat or be battling to make a living in a dingy shop.  There are people who have written inspiring haiku in such unpoetic situations.  And we, if we really want to, can make each day into a poem.  Of course we have to create a heart that is both serious and light!  We have to gaze below the surface of things, search out the hidden beauty that is everywhere and discover glorious things all around us.  Then each day becomes a haiku poem.

                                - Takeshi Nagai quoted in A Song for Nagasaki