A Thought
If you follow me on Facebook you saw this image recently.
The verse came to mind while I walked Coco. I really didn’t want to walk her. I was cold. My muscles ached still from last week’s exercise videos. I didn’t want carry my workload. I wanted to go back to bed. Or sit on the couch. Be in my head. Knit my little heart out. But God… But the Holy Spirit… But Grace—
I found myself outside under a midnight sky with light creeping up—just barely. Within the five o’ clock hour. I cried out to God. I told him exactly how I felt about the journey he has me on, how much it freaking hurts! And this verse came to mind. Thank you Holy Spirit!
Later I texted my friend (and financial coach).
I usually work on my BSF study in the morning but I’m a few weeks ahead due to Spring Break and my confusion over what study we would be on when we returned. So I decided to camp out in Hebrews 12. I was struck by these two things…
Jesus suffering with joy awaiting him. I suspect the author of Hebrews writes this to encourage us to endure for joy awaiting us. Interestingly the call to endure God’s training methods comes with a promise. Is there a connection?
The author of Hebrews encourages us with the truth, THE TRUTH, that God’s disciplines us because He loves us. If I feel his discipline, I should recognize I’m also feeling his love. Even though it doesn’t feel good, it’s not fun, but it’s always good and will lead to growth, peace, holiness, joy. This is great news to my weak and weary heart today.
An Update
I recently interviewed Deb Buckingham of Knit On Designs and had so much fun doing it that I reached out to Noora of Finnished Knits to see if she would be willing to come on the blog. She said YES. So be on the look out for that.
I’m also drafting an email to send out to parents of my summer knitting students. They will sit with me for a couple hours a day over the course of week to learn knitting basics. My hope is that in a week they will complete a project that will give them the knitting bug that keeps me knitting like a mad woman! I have two more spots for children ages 7 and up. Teenagers welcome too! If you’re local, let me know if you’re interested. Cost of class is $100 and doesn’t include supplies. This counts for art if you’re homeschooling!
I have an adult friend interested in taking an adult class with me. Right now I’m brainstorming what that could look like. I’m thinking one class a month over three or four months. I would be available in between classes to help with any problems. I’m thinking in person but I could also do online. Would you enjoy either of these options? Assuming the class would be four, one hour sessions, I would offer it for $75 total. Supplies not included.
A Story
My sister and I used to call ourselves besties in high school. But the truth is, we were frenemies. Super close one moment. Villainous towards each other the next. Inseparable by design. Predictably argumentative. We shared a room and protested the arrangement by pushing each other’s buttons, because that makes sense? We told each other everything and had each other’s back. We were… Sisters.
We loved each other.
I once heard you don’t fight with people you don’t love. You cut those people off, removing yourself from the relationship. You don’t care if you lose them. You don’t care that much about them anyway.
We cared about each other a lot. So we fought often.
There were times the wounds cut deep and weren’t easily mended. Those moments had me questioning the sincerity of our sisterhood. The way we question everything when things go awry. We often think something is only true if it’s perfect… Nothing and no one is perfect except Yah.
Sure, Candi has the power to enrage me more than anyone on this earth. Yet, like my husband, she’s also been the person to show me some of the most lavish displays of love.
Jesus once said, “There’s no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). In my junior year of high school, I foolishly skipped school to hang out with my ex for Valentines Day. Within the next few days, I would taste something of the deliciousness of this truth. And my sister, not my ex, would be the one demonstrating it.
Candi and I took the city bus to school that year. Instead of heading into the building and to homeroom, I jumped into my ex’s little, black, beat-up Chevy. He had a cute, white bear for me, covered in red hearts. We went to the movies and to the mall. I wish I could remember what I saw. We probably made out. And the rest was erased by the horror of what would come later. But for now, we were happy. Triumphant. We pretended we were adults with no responsibilities, doing whatever we wanted for a few, measly hours before he returned me back to Royal Oak High.
When I got home, I couldn’t wait to show my mom his gifts. I told her he surprised me before school. Sure, we had broken up months ago, but it was clear he still had feelings for me. And I could relish them. My mom smiled. Picked up the bear. Turned it around and gave it back to me.
“I got a message from the school today that you missed a class?”
“Oh, Ms. Shane always marks us absent if we are fifteen minutes late. I was there.” I said this while opening up my Environment textbook. If I had homework to do for the class, then I must have attended it.
She believed me.
She believed me so much that when she received another call the next day, she argued with the school’s secretary for ten minutes. “My daughter told me she was at class.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’m,” the woman said, “your daughter brought in a note for her absence this morning. With your signature.”
My mom was speechless. I had never done such a thing before, and I made her look like a fool.
“I’m really sorry. I hate to have to tell—”
“No, th—thank you,” my mom said before hanging up.
The same secretary would say to me later, “I spoke with your mom today. She knows you weren’t here.”
Ever had an invisible man kick you in the gut, reach down your throat and steal your breath? That's how I felt. Unable to focus for the rest of the day. What was I going to do?
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My sister and I walked a couple miles to our house. We found my mom’s car and my stepdad’s truck in the driveway. Yet the house was quiet like no one was home.
Their silence was loud. I felt sick.
“Maybe I should run away,” I told Candi.