Sister Letters


In the spring, I had the pleasure of having lunch with a dear friend, whom I don’t get to see very often. She doesn’t live too far away, but it’s enough to make seeing one another regularly, quite a difficult task, not to mention our very full and sometimes frantic lives. I dared to breathe to her a vision I’ve had for a few years now. I shared the not-so-organized, nor all-thought-through dream of living in or creating what I called a “knitting monastery”. As I described this place where sisters would live together committed to a rule of living which included prayer, meditation, daily work and service, her eyes got bigger. I figured she might be interested in a life dedicated to serving God and others through creativity, but not so much to raising sheep, spinning, knitting, crocheting, and stitching of all kinds. She and I are both artists, of the paint and pen sort. But she dared to admit to me her very similar visions of a monastic life devoted to working out art and life as entwined and part of a regular routine. My heart leapt within me to find such a kindred spirit! And we have been writing letters to one another ever since, addressed Dear Sister ______.

One pretty major glitch to our vision is that we are both married and have children. Though we often long to run away to a monastery and actually live a singular life of devotion, we really do love our husbands and families and desire to understand how to bring this singularity of mind and heart to our home lives as well as to our creativity. We each are feeling a need to have a rightly ordered life, one in which we can fully engage in loving and serving our families and others while also devoting ourselves to the call on our lives to create, be that paintings, sketches, or stitches. We are still working this all out, and it is in the Letters to one another that so much is sorted out, if even in the admitting to one another that our lives are out of control and we feel tossed about by the busy-ness of our lives…not quite the single purposed life we long for and imagine our monastery to offer us.

I am starting here, today, blog posts in the form of Letters to my Sister. These are not the actual letters that my friend and I share via email. They will include some of the thoughts and wrestlings, hopes and desires of a woman who longs with everything she has in her to live life fully, to have a singular vision of devotion in my work as an artist and knitter as well as in my life as wife and mother. I know, theoretically, that all of life is Beauty. Everything from the painful to the pretty, the mundane to the magical, is given to us by God to live and love with open hearts and willing hands. I know in my head that it is all, every stitch of it, used by our Father to create the fabric of our lives, which only He, the Master Designer, has in mind. My job is to say, like Mary, “behold the handmaiden of the Lord. Be it unto me according to Thy will.” Couldn’t I do this better in a monastery? Wouldn’t this job be easier away from it all, working and serving through the knitterly arts? My sister friend and I are coming to realize, or at least concede that it would likely not be easier at all. Wherever we go, there we are! And so we write to one another of our struggle, of the whisperings we hear from our Father encouraging us to stay the course, to remain in the monasteries of our homes and be faithful to work of our hands, be it drawings or dishes, laundry or stitches.

This first Letter is short, to simply introduce the dialog and get the conversation going. In many ways, YOU are my sister as well, and to you I write these things for your thoughtful consideration and perhaps encouragement. We are all in this together. We are stitching our lives even as the Master Designer knits and weaves His Beauty into everything. May He bless the work of our hands!

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Dear Sister,

How delightful it was to walk by the Common Room notice board and see your note to me there! I have read it with relish a couple of times now and am so very thankful for your honesty, your openness about your particular struggles. They seem to resonate with my own. Being so busy really does seem to hurt, doesn’t it? How can we stop this? This rat race feel to our lives? I hear you as you unpack the myriad of things that vie for your time and attention. Being mothers is a full time and a half job! How do we fit in the making and creating we long to be about? Could it really be that we are better mothers if we devote time and space to being the artists we were made to be? On some level we know this is true! But oh how easy it is to think that the real important work is piled up on our washing machines, or that we should be available to our kids 24/7.

I haven’t any definitive answers on this. However I do have some thoughts. Right now though I need to hop in the car to pick up our daughter from high school. So I will write to you later and post the letter to the Common Room notice board. Thank you again for writing! It is so encouraging to know that someone else desires to hold all of life, the laundry and the knitting, as an offering to Christ, or at least as a way to slow down enough to hear Him, instead of rushing through our lives.

Your sister,

Jennifer

Everyday Stitching

einsteinfish

If I could climb into each knitted stitch…there would be something there to learn.

weavingspring

If I could freeze a moment in the warp & weft of everyday living…I might be able to find what it feels like I am missing.

I want to be able to experience the same wonder and marvel at ordinary knit stitches, made over and over again, in my everyday tasks. Is it possible to approach laundry, meal prep, cleaning, errands, and all the myriad of things we do every single day, day in and day out, over and over, with the same stillness, calm, and enjoyment as the over/under of weaving?

I don’t know. I haven’t been able to master that. At all.

I’m reading a wondrous book. Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Warren, is a beautifully honest, life affirming litany of the mundane tasks we engage in every day. Her writing encourages me to remember that these same tasks, boring and never-ending as they are, have the opportunity to be oases from which to drink of the goodness God has for us.

Yes! Yes..this is what I long for. For many months now, I’ve been craving a more contemplative life. I long for this in my creative life as well…to make things slowly, carefully, with presence in body and purpose of mind and heart. I even daydream of living a type of monastic life filled with daily prayer, meditation, knitting, spinning, weaving.

It sounds idyllic. Well, to me it does. The thing is…I would still have meals to prepare. Cleanup afterwards. Laundry to do. Lightbulbs to replace. Repairing broken things. Upkeep and maintenance of everyday appliances. Etc. I’m actually quite spoiled in those latter few…my husband does most of the upkeep and maintenance around our home. And yet I still grumble about all the other stuff that seems to fill much of my days.

I’m in sore need, here at the beginning of a New Year, of reorienting my mind and heart to this truth:

“The crucible of our formation is in the anonymous monotony of our daily routines.” -Tish Warren

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Like knitting the same stitch over and over and over again. Like running a thread over and under and over again. This is where beauty is wrought. I know this. I believe this.

Lord, help my unbelief.

The thing is, I’m a dreamer. I dream of grand things, of accomplishments, of revolutionary beauty being brought into the world. Tish Warren does too:

“I was, and remain, a Christian who longs for revolution, for things to be made new and whole in beautiful and big ways. But what I am slowly seeing is that you can’t get to the revolution without learning to do the dishes.” 

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I won’t get to wear the sweater or give the knitted gift, until I’ve slogged through countless knit stitches. I won’t see a lovely tapestry until I’ve worked the over-under over and over again.

Yes. Today. Tomorrow. And on through 2017.

Knit my stitch. Weave my thread. Do my dishes.

Artfully yours,

Jennifer

Knitting from the Hem

knittingthehem

Ofttimes when I close my eyes

this is what I see –

Genevieve knitting with a string

from the Hem of His garment.

The throng of living is pressing

in on all sides.

Yet He has stopped, turned

and bending over

He lifts my face

to gaze into His own.

In this way

I shall knit on.

***

‘Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak.  She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.”

 Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed at that moment.’

Matthew 9:20-22

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“Praise the Lord, my soul,
and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
and heals all your dis-eases.”

Psalm 103:2-3 (hyphen added)