Walking on Eggshells

Wow. The last 48 hours have been some of the weirdest I've lived through in awhile.

I don't want to go into too much of it. Personally, there's been some things, some of it good stress, some not so good, but all of it takes its toll, the good and the bad. Professionally there were some things as well, and again, those I will keep in private contemplation, but it also has my mind swirling.

One thing I can share about in general terms though--community.

I'm a member of a really great community online that has truly been a good substitute for a religious institution in my life. It fills that need for gathering and support, and does it in such a way that I don't feel as though I have a "void"--I grow, both in faith and in my inner being, and I both give and receive support from the members of that community.

Recently there has been some upheaval, and despite my attempts to not involve myself, I found that I am deeply affected, no matter that I'm not a participant.

I feel like I'm caught in the middle of a splitting church--you know, the sort that splits over deep theological issues, like carpet color and whether or not the benches should have padding--and now I don't know which study group to go to. Do I stay with the originals? Do I go over to the new splinter? Do I just keep a foot in each camp because frankly, I'm friends with all the parties and have no beef with any of them?

It's one of those situations where I can see where both parties handled things (in my opinion) very, very badly in some ways, and yet both parties did what they felt was right. On the one hand, I absolutely hate how the situation was handled on both sides, and in equal measure. There isn't any one side of this that did worse than the other, as far as I am concerned--I don't know the order of events, but again, it appears to be something that just kept building and building. At the same time, both sides did what they absolutely believed in the deepest part of their beings was the right thing, and I am completely supportive of both in that--the parties involved are principled, thoughtful people and stood firmly by their own convictions, and that is always to be admired.

In the end I find myself backing away from all of it, taking away the lesson that even the most religion-free communities can have deep dramas, and perhaps nowhere is safe. My heart is broken to see dear friends hurting in this way, and nothing I can do to mediate or soothe. All I can do is sit back, do some meditative knitting (and praying), and hope that hearts can be healed and life can go forward for everyone.

I hate this.

Book Review: Matched by Ally Condie

Matched by Ally Condie

"I'm not so sure whether I like this or not. On the one hand, I "devoured" it quickly--read it in a day and a little, election day. And it was good. I guess.

It takes awhile to get going. I'm not sure how but I think the author could have described the "world" in a better, more approachable way. It's almost as though she took sketchy notes from a journal and only fleshed out the bits she felt like it.

Also, I never really "got" the whole "sorting" thing. I mean, ok, I kind of understand it, but what "job" would it be used for in adult life? What's the correlation to the "past" in this world? Meh.

But, over all, it's an ok story. I'll probably read the rest to find out what happens, just because I like the character of Ky. Still, the whole thing kind of felt like the author just jumped on the "Hunger Games" bandwagon."

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The little things

This morning I unlocked the front doors of the library and I saw a piece of paper on the ground. I picked it up to throw it away, and noticed it had a little “heft” to it, so I looked closer. On the outside, there was written a note. The note said “My Name is _____. I owe you 20c for 2 pieces of paper” (we charge 10c/copy).

Every day I see adults trying to welch on their obligations somehow. I get especially frustrated when one will put off paying a 50c fine, but then drop $5 on movie rentals. Here this kid (definitely a kid’s handwriting) came down before we opened, and when he saw it would be awhile, he took the time to leave the money anyway, trusting that we would be the ones to take it in. It's such a little thing, and we would have never known that he had even made the copies--there was no note on his record stating he owed us for anything. But he still went out of his way to make sure he paid what he owed.

What a refreshing start to the day.

Reviewing "The Distant Hours" by Kate Morton

The Distant Hours by Kate Morton

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

First of all...this is not a thrill-seekers story. If you picked it up because you love mystery stories with grand conclusions all tied up in a neat little bow...walk away.

This is a book for readers, and writers, and lovers of the written word. The descriptions are sweeping, and mean as much to the story as the hundred quiet little intrigues that they build up.

The suspense and mysteries, while concerning large events, are never revealed in a giant "A-HA!" conclusion. Instead, they are introduced quietly, and just as quietly played out. In the end you know all the conclusions, in a very satisfactory sort of way, but again--it's not some giant "resolution" and those who like stories like that will not like this one.

I'm so glad I've read this. Morton clearly has a love for the written word, and her voice reads more like prose than simply "a novel." Some have complained that the book needed editing; again, I disagree. For me this was just as much about the descriptions and seeing things through the lives of the characters as it was the story itself.

Well done.

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Wine & Wool

Today I'm in a state of wild anticipation--for tomorrow, OH, TOMORROW, is Wine & Wool day!! It's the most, wonderful time, of the year....ok, maybe not quite, but for mid-Michigan fiber types it is.

Last year I scored some gorgeous purple/gray alpaca that is almost too pretty to spin. There were other things too....I'm working on a shawl (if you call beginning it, knitting for a long while, seeing that the concept you're aiming for can in fact be done, and promptly tossing it on the "projects" basket "WORKING") made from a merino/tencel brand I bought as well. I spun it up single ply, because me and plying aren't really great friends, and it's knitting into a beautiful self-striping yarn:

It's further along than this now, but I seem to have lost the yen to photograph projects. Perhaps because the only ones I've "finished" lately are gifts for friends or family...some of whom read this blog. And while I SUCK at surprises, I'd like to keep one or two that way, at least until they're gifted.

So anyway...tomorrow. Specifics, if you're interested: Sandhill Crane Winery on Walz Rd. (google it, I'm lazy), 11-5. "Overflow" parking is at East Jackson Middle School (there will be a shuttle), and wine tasting is free. Lots of great vendors, local to the tri-state area. Come take a look.

Inside Joke

Thinking today about Amber. For days, weeks, we had wondered, prayed; wracked brains, prayed; packed up her things, prayed some more; I cannot begin to tell you how many times I had wanted to bash my head against the wall in frustration. "Where are you?" was a constant refrain, fear for the worst a constant companion, and anger and sadness constant emotions. "Stressful" doesn't begin to cover that time for all of us who know her; "out of my freaking mind" may come closer, for me.

And then, she was found, bodily whole. Oh the joy! Pure and unadulterated. More godly souls than I may compare it to the rapture Christ must feel at His children's homecomings; for me, it was like this physical weight had been lifted from my chest, a missing piece found.

But not all the pieces were there yet. (And still aren't.) Amnesia? That sounds like the plot of a second rate daytime soap! Surely not real life? And yet. My joy was tempered, thinking "at least I know she's alive," but she was not "she" yet.

Slowly, slowly it began to come back. Who she was. Who her family was. But would she know her friends? Not all. Not even most. But some? Would she know me?

Simply said, she did. She knew my name, knew who I was to her. Knew my face, in her mind at least....but many faces in her mind did not match the current face of the person in question. Can I begin to relay to you the fear of that? Of having everyone around you be familiar and completely different at the same time? Probably not, only she would know. Would she know this me, this face? Or would I be a stranger to her in this form?

On the first hot day of the spring, she came. I watched her parents' vehicle pull in, watched as she laid her head against the seat. Her mom came and told me her head was hurting, probably from the stress of it all. Nerves--I had a case, too. How do you prepare for what you do not know?

She got out, walked up. Shy, shy, shy....I said, "You're really nervous aren't you?" She walked up to me....did a strange thing. She put her hands around my glasses as if to make them bigger. (Remember the 1990s? Remember the eyeglasses? Mine took up half my face then.) "THERE YOU ARE!!!" And then...

Hugs, tears. I was the only one to "look like" me. I was me! Sure, different glasses, a little silver hair, but ME in face, body, voice. Emotional connection? Immediate.

But still, there were things....3 hours that day, I told her a lot of stories, gave her encouagement (I hope), listened. Such a weird experience, telling her stories about herself! Many things she remembered about "us" though, her childhood. It was encouraging, having these little pieces of her back.

And it continues. She makes progress, daily. We've found ways to communicate, like passing notes in class when we were kids; a short message here and there, sending things by text, through the mail, the occasional phone call. And each time there's a little piece of her...a new joy.

Today's? An inside joke. We all have them, with our nearest and dearest. Something that, even when said out loud in front of others, makes no sense to anyone but yourselves. Amber and I have many, many, many of them...and I've not told her any, hoping she'd remember on her own. Today....she did.

"How you doing doll? I'm stuck at work today, yuck." I told her. Waited for her response, expecting a rundown of what she was doing. Instead.... "Red pop and bananas. That's all I have to say."

A choked little scream. Happy tears. A little jumping up & down. Scared my co-worker to death. But it's a piece of her. It's a tiny, pure joy. It's a gift.

Found!

Our dear one has been found. She has amnesia! I feel as though the whole free world already knows this news, so I will refrain from more detail--suffice it to say, it's the happiest I've been in ages, just knowing she is in the world, alive and physically well.

This past weekend Whimsical Grace Creations (what I decided to call the little studio) was part of the Art & Home tour 2011 that the local arts & culture alliance put on. My sister-in-law Tierney joined me, and we didn't do that great, but not that badly either. It lead to us being able to be open every Second Sunday from 1-4, and perhaps get more buyers in that way.

My mother has been very ill and is slowly improving. Her most recent trip to the doctor showed her blood values are improving in ways they want to see, which means her body is responding to treatment. She is still very weak but managing her pain well.

It's been a very eventful month here, and today a lot of it caught up with me. I woke up with some neck pain and general uckiness, so I called off work and spent the entire morning in bed asleep. It did me well, but it's 5:00 now and I feel as though I could sleep another 8 hours at least.

And that's what's new here.