OK, quite bugging me...

Yes, this is an actual post (not just a comment on my own xanga space). I am at home today, our nation's celebration of its independence as a country, enjoying popsicles (only those without red dye) and jello (ditto on the red dye). Well, I hope the jello will be jell-ed soon - I didn't plan ahead. It's a "clear liquids" day for me and I'm surprised to learn that popsicles really don't give you a full feeling, no matter how many you eat. Sodas seem better at this - I guess those little bubbles actually take up some stomach space. I'm preparing for a medical procedure tomorrow and the fun is just beginning - but I'll spare you the details . . . your prayers are appreciated for the doctor who will perform the procedure, the folks who will help, and for my Mom and Sandi who'll be in the waiting room.

I've been thinking lately about how to fire up my walk with God. It seems stagnant. Yes, Tiny Ninja, I KNOW I need to get in touch with ScoobyDoo. You are always right It's hard to put yourself out there, assume you could be a help or encouragement to another person, and risk being rejected. Of course, you're right, it's in God's hands so how can I presume to have anything at stake here? Because I have issues. In my arrogance/foolishness, I grew into a woman who believes she is responsible for the world. If you have a hangnail, I will figure it's my fault somehow. Maybe I'm just wishing that someone would come up alongside me in the way that God may be calling me to come up alongside ScoobyDoo. Maybe I'm just lazy?

Which brings me to crochet. Everybody kind of laughs at my compulsion to crochet whenever/wherever I can and with whatever material is at hand. Yes, I've even finger-crocheted with some lovely lavender package strapping that reminded me a little of raffia, only smoother (it just blew across my path one day and I spent several hours trying to find a source for it on the Net). I don't understand it myself, really. I used to crochet as a hobby, then I put it down for years. Can't remember what got me started again, but it is more than a hobby now - it feels like a vocation (from Merriam-Webster: 1 a : a summons or strong inclination to a particular state or course of action...).

My creations don't always have homes (many are boxed up under my bed in the event they will be needed/wanted some day). They don't always evolve to completeness (those are called abandoned WIPs - Works In Progress). They aren't always paid for (OK, that's another story - or rather a vent/whine for doing business with a known untrustworthy person). I love them anyway. All of them. Even the ugly ones. Crochet is temptation for me - to be lustful (I want to use the HIGH END yarns now, not just the cheap acrylics), to be covetous (I don't know if I will ever have enough yarn or patterns, even though I have more patterns now than I could probably crochet in my lifetime), to be selfish (don't you dare ask me to cook supper, it's only 9 p.m. and I just want to finish 20 more rows!). So, in that sense, it's a learning how to enjoy this craft that God has blessed me with the skill to do and lean on Him to deal with the temptation.
It's also contemplative. My blood pressure is never over 120/80 if I'm crocheting before they take the reading. When I'm not, it's about 30 points higher on the top and 10 more on the bottom. If I hit a brick wall at work, I can go to my car for a smoke and crochet a couple of rows or rounds, and 9 times out of 10 it knocks the brick wall down (or at least starts a good-sized hole in it!).

Well, that's all I'm going to say about that.

Alright, chilluns, satisfied? Love you!

(Transferred from Xanga)