I’ll get to further biblical considerations about blogging in later posts (God willing). Right now I’m having too much fun that I want to share…
Ironically (I regret to say), it started with a pity party.
Opportunity had dangled aloft before me. I’d thought I’d grasp it and travel with friends—to a rave-drawing yearly fiber arts festival.
I reached out eager fingers. All I had to do was manage to meet the friends at point A about an hour’s drive from my home—by five AM! From there we’d chat away a happy four hours accompanied by humming of tires, then revel in wooly wonders and cotton confections, watch demos of delightful textile tools and techniques, sample five-star foods, purchase more than we’d planned, and toward evening start making breathless return to point A, from which I’d travel back home.
One problem: Bad vision and good sense prevent my motoring major highways and unfamiliar roads alone anytime, and even small, familiar back roads in early hours before vision clears or at full days’ end, when fatigue fogs and distorts the view.
Easy assumed solution: Husband always holds up the offer of driving me almost anywhere—at any reasonable time.
Reasonable time. That was the catch! I’d forgotten! Post-festival morning, the calendar now informed me, he had a preaching date.
I didn’t even ask him. Good stewardship of his monthly responsibility at a nearby prison calls for adequate sleep as well as preparation.
Oh well, canceling my trip didn’t bother me much, really, I told myself. There was always next year…
But Friday morning I woke up sinning! The sin of resentment. Suddenly I was resenting my hindered mobility, my lessening eyesight, resenting having to get someone to drive me about like a child. If I could just hop into my car and take off by myself in wee dark hours and return in day’s end darkness—like I would have done all my previous adult life…
My tell-yourself-the-truth conscience admonished me: “Your resentment is toward the good Lord God Who loves you with infinite wisdom.”
I knew that, but my fleshly emotions kept whining sporadically within.
I prayed and wrestled the inner conflict with thanksgiving, for benefits of warm bed and extra sleep on Saturday morning, for some time to myself to be still, and even for what I didn’t like.
At some point a light shone into the pit my grappling had made and revealed a ladder. An email appeared, asking, should they pick up anything for me there?
At first I envisioned a small car overloaded, inside and out, a number of gadgets and bundles tied on top! But wait! What about all the materials and equipment I already had around me, sitting idle? (“Yeah,” Conscience agreed. “Shouldn’t you use some of that before you go buy more stuff?”)
I’d been reading others’ “31 Days” posts. How about starting one of my own (very late-blooming), about venturing one new thing each day with fiber or fabric or related equipment already at hand?
That proposition was my ladder, and each day’s stepping onto a new, untraveled rung has been lifting me higher, higher, past neutral feelings to decided delight!
So, coming up: some oddball “31 Days” type posts, probably intermittent, with several ventures sometimes bunched together, and interspersed with posts about scriptural light on blogging.
And so, probably next: A Home Spun Day to Rejoice in.