But, alas, I Digress

Knit 1, purl 1, knit 4, decrease 2, cable motif; k1, p1, k4, dcr2, cb; k1...

The kids all have their jobs in the kitchen following dinner - table and sweeping, trash bag and outside to the garbage and recycling, washing and drying and putting away.

(Thematically action packed mood music from Dragnet)...da da dum dum - The kitchen sink. da da dum dum dum - the scene of the crime.

I just need the facts ma'am, just the facts. What we have here is a voluntary washcloth-i-cide.

These past two weeks have seen this series of chores take an enormous chunk out of my dishcloth stockpile.

While washing dishes, and everything that goes into that task, invariably the garbage disposal needs to be run. Poised to use the switch - no hands anywhere near the opening, no silverware or such lodged within the disposal, the countdown is issued..."5,4,3,2,1,...WHRRRR." It can be great fun, that is unless it is the end of a life, a useful, necessary life of servitude and compliance ended by a merciless appliance.

Four times in 12 days, down that animated hole, that cavern of gnashing of teeth and man-eating secrets have been one of my handknit washcloths. The machine doesn't prevent its movement when it detects a foreign object in its midst, it fulfills its lifelong mission - to emulsify, grind to a pulp anything which has the audacity to exist within its presence. And what happened to be there along with tiny slices of cooked carrot, chicken noodles and fluffy biscuit (oh man were those biscuits good that night. With cinnamon butter and a schmear of honey...oh, so sorry, I digress. Hmmm, back to the story...) Down there with the bits and pieces of minuscule remainders from the division of dinner for six were one my washcloths.

Knit 1, purl 1, cable over the next 6 in repeated motive to the last 4 stitches...

Orange. Red. Yellow. Blue. Each gave their time on this earth as a servant to the slavish task of keeping these counters clean, the dishes prepared for the next meal and the stove, range and sink free of grease and grime and the dirty facts of life.

The dishcloths who withstood washing the vans everytime they got dirty, tumbled in the washing machine and dryer only to be reached for from tumble heaven of 200 degrees and fabric softness to be plunged into scalding water and bubbles to remove the baked on remainders of teriyaki sauce and chicken thighs. (Whoa, that dinner was exceptional, with sugar snap pea pods and baby corn, spinach and broccoli served over nutted rice...oops, again, I digress.)

The strength they maintained, their shape and definition came from their handknit quality. It takes about 20 minutes to knit one of these wonders, but I have had some for three or four years before they needed to be discarded. And literally, the only reason they had been discarded was not because of any faulty design they may have maintained, any raveling or shredding they pronounced. Not these babies: they needed tossed because someone (who will remain nameless) used them to sop up an unexpected puddle of oil-based exterior door paint during a household chore and they were left stained beyond correction.

These handknit jewels have long life expectancy, I only need to make one or two a year. (That is until this year: 2007, the year that will be held within the annuls of time as the High Noon of the Rootin', Tootin', Expert Shootin', High Fallutin' Teddy Bear Rustlin' Gang and the Dishcloth Brothers. Yikes, another digression, so sorry, my imagination just got the best of me...returning the train to her track, yes.)

Though only making two a year, I do treasure making them. I love the feeling of the yarn gently gliding through my continental-style grasp (versus the european style grasp, which is most easily described as backwards...and yet again I digress =) ) and the gauge of the stitch being held temperately within my pointer and tallman fingers. (Will I ever grow up after being a mommy, will I ever call things by their "for real" names and places? Or will I always be captured by little piggies, Ringman, Easy-peasie-lemon-squeezie and mareseatoats and someone's chinney-chin chin? Ummmm...another tangent, apologies, please.)

After meeting the garbage disposal, these dishcloths cannot be repaired, with their giant holes. So as I reach for my handy dandy bag of yarn, I discern that all I have for the moment is red. Not bad. Today I will be using the pattern with cables. I do so enjoy using cables with my small containable projects, a chance to reinforce this perishable skill so that when I find the red merino wool I desire for this cardigan with cabled sleeves and slashed pockets, I will have a defined cable I can reach for in my bag of skills. Sharpened by the repeated fashion of washcloths and baby hats, these cables with turn out fine.

So I sit tonight, with yarn entwined through my fingers, and 12 rows completed of this project (how many will I need to do? If we are going through a garbage disposal accident every 36 hours which shreds a dishcloth at the rate of 18" per second, then I will require...uh...oh...um..alas, I digress...)

Good night on this warmth-filled first day of spring.

Jessie Irwin Life is Full of Joy: The Outline of Christ

The Outline of Christ

photos by

Major Steve Howard (xanga smhski) 2007

Burrswood - A Christian Hospital and Place of Healing

Groomsbridge, Kent, U.K.

The Outline of Christ

Outlined in my heart is You, Jesus.
Captivating.
Pure.
Holy.
The dark lines on the outside
Showing the pattern
On the inside -
The example that pleases the heart of God.

I hear the low timbre of Your voice, Jesus,
Speaking clearly -
“Love your neighbor.”
“Seek and save the lost.”
“Go and sin no more.”
“You must be spiritually born again.”
“Peace, be still.”
“I AM the way, the truth and the life.”
“Celebrate, what was once lost is found.”
I am not alone –
Your words resonate and echo
With tenderness and direction.

Outlined in my heart is You, Jesus.
Powerful.
Merciful.
Holy.
Your pattern I want to follow
Transparent outside –
Holiness in action
Is nothing more and nothing less than
Living within the outlines
Of the life of Christ.

Oh, Jesus:
I pray for
Your holy love – fill my heart.
Your holy words – fill my mouth.
Your holy thoughts – fill my mind.
Your holy touch – fill my hands.
Fill them to the brim!
Let them overflow
A growing pool on the floor!
Nothing I do today
Will be a burden,
All of it, every minute,
Is a chance to serve You -
To live within the holy
Outline in my heart
Of Christ.

jsi

If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should not look to your own interests but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus Philippians 2:1-5

A letter of dedication and affection

Dear Kleenex,
There is no ignoring it. Today as the sniffles have escalated, the sneezes too numerous to count, congestion mounting with the full realization I must admit – I have an early spring cold. No fever and its misery, no queasiness or upset stomach, but I feel miserable and no one has been able to help me like you. I have to say thank you from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being who you are!

Thank you for being so ready and available, sitting on my end table and bathroom counter, in squares and rectangle boxes, prepared and ready for action even though I walk past you daily without reaching for you. You don’t hold our family health against us – you don’t blame us for not having the coughing, wheezing, gasping for air from large amounts of phlegm reaction to winter. You do not accuse or withhold your presence. You, oh gentle box of tissues, are so forgiving and reliable.

How can I express my gratitude for the so many perfect things you do – your accordion style fold which allows another tissue to be ready, clean and prepared for access for the next time I sneeze or have post-nasal drip? You are always packaged with boxes of friends, I find you in groups of 3 or 6. Your box, when it is emptied of your tenderly organized treasures, is the perfect capacity to hold every single one of the used tissues taken from you. You are so amazing – help with the mess and then clean it up too!

So many products at the store try to alleviate the part of life which has pain, discomfort. Do you try to lie to us, to me, that we can have a life that has “No More Tears”?!. No, emphatically not. You embrace life, and all its reality. The fact that life has tears is why you are ready for me. Tears when I am mad, frustrated, moved, happy, joyful, lonely, blessed, laughing, anxious. Can there be anything I don't cry about? A birthday card commercial has my eyes wellin', and you are right there, just an arm's length away. There are so many different reactions to the facts of life, and frequently with me, that walks hand in hand with tears. You know me, the real me and have never run out of the folded layers of practical help.

I can find you in single ply, 2 ply and 3 ply (what I have needed from you today.) In squares, rectangles, plain boxes or decorated with Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Van Gogh’s Starry Night or Monet’s Water Lilies, you are there to help share my personality, an additional decorative recognition of my personality and style. Junior size or extra large, your layers of gentleness easy the problems I face.

Your oval containers are exceptional! You offer tissues in gorgeous ovals that you let me, a small consumer, design and label. I can take my photo and give you the details and you will put my wedding picture, or of my children with grandma and give me my very own Irwin box of Kleenex for $5.00. You know that although I appreciate any choice you make for me, I will be captivated by the look of joy on my children faces every time I reach for a Kleenex, knowing so deeply that it just might be one of them, and the love I feel for them, that brought tears to my eyes in the first place.

When I accidentally leave one of your tissues in my pocket and it happens to travel through the washing machine and dryer with the laundry, you are so kind and considerate: you do not shred and attach yourself to every single item in the load. You, through your amazing design and ingenuity, you clump together, attaching yourself only to yourself. You don’t make me pay for my mistakes, my negligence. You don’t take a job I need to accomplish and make it harder the way other tissue manufacturers do! No, you are Kleenex; you are compassion in a box!

I can find you with Menthol (what a comfort when I can’t breath), Ultra soft (for the sore, tender red nose from wiping and blowing) in any color I choose. I carry you in your Pocket Tissue form (24 per package – a perfect fit in my Bible) and you in this package are the perfect complement to any gift I distribute at the Nursing Homes and hospitals for 1300 people. No one ever says no to a pack of Kleenex, you will always be needed.

You’ve helped me pull out baby teeth that are hanging on by a thread, and you were strong and reliable. You didn’t fall apart in the face of hard work, you kept it all together. You are on hand when someone’s tears are just spilling over from the harsh words a friend said or the unfairness of sharing a bedroom with a brother or the boo-boo from a fall that is just too much to handle without a good cry.

I know you were created to help take off cold cream, a makeup removal, but for me, you are a trusted and established friend in a time of congested need. Thank you for always being ready to help when help is needed most and not shying away from the parts of life which are not neat and tidy, but instead are moist and messy.

With affection and devotion,
Sneezy on Lake Erie

Photo Autumn Cross at Camp Allegheny
Annie Buckles (xanga anniebuck)

The Cross at a Distance

When I see His Cross,
The Cross of Christ
At a distance,
Removed:
It appears that my ideas,
My dreams,
My accomplishments,
Plans and suggestions
Yes – whew –
They are all safe here in my arms.

In the shadow of
The Cross of Christ.
At a distance,
Removed:
I examine this armful I have.
These things I can do -
Trophies , ribbons, diplomas.
My instruments, checkmarks and knowledge
Titles, ranks, opinions –
“Why are these opinions so important to me?”

I look in my arms
And
I look to the distance
The Cross of Christ,
Removed;
It seems so far away.
“Remind me,” I whisper to myself,
“This armful, why was it valuable?
Why, oh why did I ever collect them?
Hold onto them? Cherish and value them?”

When I see His Cross,
At a distance
I know…
I must run to it.
I cannot run with my arms this full.
These things are worthless…
I must discard them!
To embrace this Cross of Christ.
I cannot embrace when
My arms are so full of myself.
I must release these things.

There will be no room in my heart
For Christ
If I am full
Of myself.

I bow before
The Cross of Christ,
Near, up close:
Bending lower,
Can I bend lower still?
He emptied Himself of all but love:
I am willing to empty my arms, my heart,
To make room for Him.
Nothing in my arms –
Those things,
That lifelong collection –
They were never sinful.
But I repent that they,
Their mere presence,
Had the chance
To create any distance
From this Cross of Christ.

jsi

A huge cloud of witnesses is all around us. So let us throw off everything that stands in our way. Let us throw off off any sin, anything that makes a distance between us and God, it holds us so tightly. Let us keep running that race marked out for us. Let us keep looking to Jesus. He is the author of our faith. He also makes it perfect. He paid no attention to the shame of the cross. He embraced it, suffered there because of the joy He was looking forward to. Hebrews 12:1-2 (NIRV)