It’s an interesting day here at Honeychurch. But, in order for you to appreciate how different today is, we’re going to have to go back a few.
I wrote the blog post about my drastic weight loss. I posted a photo of my torso, showing how bad it had gotten, and how I hadn’t even noticed it was happening. It took a random step on a scale screaming “105 lbs” to get my attention.
There is some concern for my health, of course, but I really tend to think it’s stress. I feel that. I don’t feel ill. But, I do feel….terrified, constantly. Brave faced against agoraphobia, I seem to have done just fine. But, accepting the world as it is, this new pattern of life and behavior, I just can’t seem to move past, get my head around. And my reaction to stress is to subconsciously stop eating. Who knows why, but at least I know it exists.
Then late last night I received a gift in the mail. The box was heavy and huge, heaving at the seams with Styrofoam. Quickly, Phillip and I begin to unwrap, stubborn tape sticking hard to the cardboard. Let me in! What is it???
And with one dramatic and beautiful drop, the walls of packed styro plopped to the floor to reveal a small garden statue of the Blessed Mother. I may not have wept allowed, but I assuredly fell to my knees to smile in my own way of crying. I felt like everything was going to be ok.
This morning I placed her under the ligustrum. It’s right by the cottage, just right outside the room where I write, where I knit, where I spend my time in reflection. I can see her over there right now. It’s more than just a reminder of her grace and love, but a strong symbol of someone I have never met, hearing me, seeing what I write, understanding me…..and sending me this particular gift, just when it was needed. And I don’t think that any devotion to Our Mother would be lost if I said allowed that I see more than Our Lady when I see that statue. I see all the love and care all of you have shown me.
(By the way! Interesting shot! It was one of those typical, humid, grey Florida mornings where everything glows with this ethereal halo….when seen through a foggy camera lens.)
So, today is Phillip’s day off. We’re setting me on a pattern, a new pattern. Food, in small amounts, is being introduced into my system, one spoonful at a time. We have high protein goodies at the ready.
Every half hour I need to eat a table spoon of either hummus or egg salad. We have bolognese cooking in the crockpot (my friend Giovanni is nodding his head like a lovely Italian mama right now), and I’ll have about a cup of sauce with a cup of pasta, no bread, and eat it slowly. It doesn’t matter how long it takes me to eat dinner, sit….relax, be with my husband, watch a movie and slow down.
I didn’t want to knit a teddy bear today. I know I should, it pays the bills. Bear after bear, paw to mouth. I wanted to do something different, a different pattern, something I don’t normally do, if just to get out of my head.
Now, my new knitting friend came to visit last week. We had a wonderful time, just a marvelous time. She handed me a copy of patterns for teddy bear clothes and asked if I’d like to try them. I kinda shrugged them off. “Oh, good Lord, those things will take me forever.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think it would take you that long.”
So today while the slow cooker began to simmer, I pulled out those patterns and dove in. An hour later, I rip everything up and start again. Another hour later, screwed everything up. Start over. I’m now getting damned and determined to figure out why I can’t get this to work…..
I read the instructions again and again and tried once more to understand what the problem was only to find that the one pattern emblazoned on my brain, born now into my muscle memory, the teddy bear, was blocking me. I read her pattern, sure. But, my muscles, my mind, my redundancy had me trying to fit a teddy bear in there somewhere. She said, K2, P1…..My hands said, k2, p2, over and over again.
You see the metaphor, right? Patterns can teach you all kinds of things. I was so locked in this particular one pattern in my hands (in life!) that I couldn’t even consider trying something new.
You know, it was the first time I’d knit from a pattern in years. I had forgotten how much fun it was to accomplish something you’d never made before. I had forgotten the obsession you get with moving on to the next stitch, watching the yarn deliver a passion to see it’s completion. I took notes, in my own particular fashion, so I wouldn’t lose my place. I don’t use counters and such. I use my own little strange code that maybe only this mad little head understands. It may look the I-Ching to you, but it looks like the pattern for a sweater to me. 🙂
I dove in with a delightful need to do something, anything different than a teddy bear, even if it were clothes for the little guy, it still was something different. I’ve spent the greatest portion of this day working on that sweater, the aroma of the bolognese blowing through the air, the Blessed Mother just over there, reminding me of how I’ve been blessed with care. My enthusiasm for this new pattern was compelling me to keep going because I was having fun! I felt a joyousness working that little sweater up, because it was so deliciously different than what I’ve been feeding my soul….
(Yes, I use a lot of metaphors).
And now I’m about done with the little garment, and before it’s even finished, I’m already anxious to start another one, because I had the best time rediscovering the joy in a new pattern.
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