knit-wise

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i don't knit. i wish i did.

right around this time of year, my mind turns to pondering my love of soft yarn and just how a pair of knitting needles might feel clicking against my palms.

i like the way knitted things smell. that rich aroma of softness and the love that was poured into each stitch.

 i like the concept of being able to create something that could benefit others.

a treasure to help keep them warm, to bring a little smile as they hold something comforting and made with their heart in mind.

but then i remind myself that i have more than enough things that take up my time without adding knitting to my list.

that doesn't keep me from my thoughts as my finger run over a precious pair of creamy fingerless gloves from a dear friend, or a wedding-gift blanket from my aunt.

knitting feels so intimate.

the joining of things once apart, individual strands that once meant very little. making some beautiful with the caress of our fingers.

for You created my innermost being. You knit me together in my mother's womb.

i praise You for i am fearfully and wonderfully made.

{via pinterest}

 i tend to forget that i am intimately forged in the palms of the Carpenter. the One who makes no mistakes. the ultimate Artist. 

this sunset Painter. this mountain Molder. this weeping-willow Weaver.

He knits, too. carefully, purling each stitch together, caressing the material with loving fingers as He saw His masterpiece taking shape. 

knitters don't wake up to discover that their twisted ball of knots has been transformed into something precious while they slept. 

it takes time and work and careful intimacy with the yarn and their fingers. 

it's a process. days, weeks, sometimes even months. 

no accidents here. 

careful craftsmanship only. 

i am more than knots and twisted confusion. 

i am smooth knit-work from the Hand of the Master. 

Unique

While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die - whether it is our spirit, our creativity or our glorious uniqueness. ~Gilda Radner

It's a strange puzzle, this idea of uniqueness.

It's one of those things that is so innocently simple while still being overwhelmingly complicated.

In fact, I think that sometimes people strive so hard for a certain grasp of their own intrinsic details that they loose their originality all together.

The idea of uniqueness is the epitome of Lewis' White Stag, leaping its delicate way through the forests of Narnia...it can only found by mistake. When chased, it darts deeper and deeper into the woods, eventually leaving its pursuer even more lost than when this strange crusade first began.

It takes that moment of patience...of standing still in the silence and waiting...for the illusive creature of uniqueness to captured and taken in fully.

So what is uniqueness, really?

It is that person you see in the mirror each morning. Every last inch of you is unique, even if you have no desire to be thus set apart.

How boring of a world would this be if we all were alike...if there was no controversy over movies or music, and if we all saw the same things in an abstract painting. In fact, there would be no such things as artistic interpretation, theater, or painting, for there would be no need of them. We would simply become bored with these familiar sketches of ourselves and slip into a state of colorless uniformity.

There is something so sweet, so delightful about the accidental discovery of your own personal style...your tastes...your loves....those things that catch your eye and make you stop and look for just one moment more.

And even more so, there is a pure jubilation that comes upon the discovery that each one of us are created as unique, glorious beings...showered in the delight and love of our adoring Creator as He gazes upon our beautifully artistic hearts and differently-tuned minds.

We are His symphony, each one a different instrument...

...a symphony of uniqueness.

So release the search for your own unique placement in this world...

...just wait, and it will find you.