Knitterly Notes

 

Have I ever told you I love to knit?  

And so I have…here and here and here. The only thing better than knitting, is to draw or paint what I’m knitting or crocheting. I loved making this little painting of my hands knitting a scarf. Mind you, this lace scarf was begun several years ago…but I have finished it! And I’ll give you a proper reveal soon!

So here’s the photograph I worked from to create the above painting. I thought you might like to see the reference photo and how it gets translated into line and watercolor. I also thought you might like to see some of the projects I’ve been happily working on of late.

 

I knitted this little cupcake hat for my niece’s one year birthday back at the beginning of March, the early days of my U.C. diagnosis. That’s my beautiful sister with her fifth child, Brynley.

Then I finished this pair of socks, which I wore and wore through the chilly days. For some reason, I kept messing up on grafting the toe together. I’ve done the kitchener stitch successfully many times before, but a brain glitch prevented me from getting it right on both of these socks. Of course, I made it work somehow so the socks hold together without being uncomfortable.

So, on THIS sock, finished just recently, I was delighted to work the Kitchener stitch correctly! Yay! Maybe my recent surgery re-worked my brain as well!

And I love the colors in this yarn!!!!!

This is a random photo of the basket of yarns I used for my Resurrection Shawl. 

And this is the beginning of another multi-yarned confection, all in creams and whites! I have quite a vision of this shawl in its finished state…we’ll see how it all turns out.:)

And a photo of me knitting on our front stoop. This was taken prior to being in the hospital, hoping and praying that the medications I was on would put the U.C. into remission. There’s something about this photo I like… 1. I love knitting outdoors, even if it means wearing a coat and knitted hand mitts. 2. Knitting became synonymous with “hope” during my recent illness. Knitting and Hope…I like that.

Well, that’s enough for now…I’ll share more “knitterly notes” with you soon. I’ll be stocking the Shoppe with some new items soon…more on that coming up!

**Thank you so much for visiting me here on Drawn2Life!! I can’t thank you enough for sharing in these creative ventures with me!

***And…if you ever wanted to take up knitting, try my little photo tutorial HERE. I haven’t yet transferred it over from Drawn2Knit. It will happen someday. For now, check there for free patterns and tutorials.

****ANNDDD….if you’d like to try your hand at drawing/sketching OR need a little boost or encouragement to get back into it…check out my Drawing Your Life Mini Lessons. These were offered last year and still receive a lot of traffic.  I hope it’s helpful to you all!

“The Fringes of a Dress…”

Where Dwellest Thou?

O what is it that wanders in the wind?

And what is it that whispers in the wood?

What is the river singing to the sun?

Why this vague pain in every charmed sense,

This yearning, keen suspense?

 

Often I’ve seen a garment floating by,

fringe of it only; golden brown as it lay

On the ripe grasses, fern-green on the ferns,

And in the wood, like bluebells’ misty blue

Whitened with mountain dew.

 

I laid me low among the mountain grass;

I laid me low among the river fern;

I hid me in the wood and tried to hold

The lovely wonder of it as it passed,

And tried to hold it fast.

 

It slipped like sunshine through my eager hands;

See, they are dusted as with pollen dust,

Soft dust of gold, and soft the sense of touch,

Soft as the south wind’s sea-blown evening kiss;

But I have only this…

 

This dust of vanished gold upon my hands,

This breath of wind blowing upon my hair,

Stirring of something near, so near, but far,

Glimm’ring through color’s fleeting preciousness–

The fringes of a dress.

 

O Wearer of that garment, of its hem,

Hardly perceived, can thrill us, what must Thou,

Its Weaver and its Wearer, be to see?

Master, where dwellest Thou? O tell me now,

Where dwellest Thou?

 

The grasses turned their golden heads away,

And shyer and more wistful stood the ferns;

The little flowers looked up with puzzled eyes;

Only the river, who is all my own,

Left me not quite alone…

 

But mixed his music with my human cry,

Till somewhere from the half-withdrawing wood

Sounds of familiar footsteps: Is it Thou?

Master, where dwellest Thou? O speak to me.

And He said, “Come and see.“

 

-Amy Carmichael

from a collection of her poetry titled, Toward Jerusalem.

 

**May you enjoy this poem today and walk through the day’s moments with an awareness that they are but fringes of His dress.  

Dare

I’ve been using the photos I took from a recent trip to the Ciener Botanical Gardens, to create some little drawings/paintings. The crazy thing about tulips is the vast variety of them! Round and bowl-like, spiky and sharp, lots o’ petals, few petals, etc. This one caught my eye with it’s pointed petals and lovely color pattern…standing out amongst the crowd.

I’ve always felt like the phrase, “Dare to Be Different”, meant that I needed to go and change who I am, do things I wouldn’t normally do, etc. But this tulip made me think that the ultimate in “being different” is to simply be who you were made to be. Sometimes we expend so much energy trying to be what we are not! Certainly it’s good to try new things, to go on adventures, to be daring! But our “differentness” is actually found in being who we were made to be…whether that’s round and bowl-like, spiky and sharp, lots o’ petals or few……;)

May your day be one in which you “Dare to be Yourself!”

**Brian Rutenberg’s most recent Studio Visit 29 speaks to this in the later section of the video. Pretty cool stuff…you’ll enjoy! (Click on the highlighted words:)

**AND…if you’re interested, here are some other posts of mine on Brian Rutenberg and his Studio Visits….here, here, and here!

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

 

I woke to a chilly morning with sunlight streaming in our home and dancing around the landscape of our neighborhood. As I began to get things ready for Maddie to have breakfast and go off to school, I thought of this phrase…”the unbearable lightness of being”.  I’ve never seen the movie or read the book, but I did just look up what meaning might be attached to this phrase. And while I’m still uncertain as to its exact meaning, I gather the gist of “lightness” and “weightiness”, which is exactly what’s been going through my head.

This “lightness of being”, this joy upon waking to sunshine, the gladness to be alive and able to move around pain free… it is sometimes so exquisite or heavy that it could be described as “unbearable”.  I had this same feeling in the weeks following the birth of my children…a deep joy that comes out in tears, a feeling that one is too small or fragile to contain the hugeness of Beauty that’s been given. Such is my morning here in Kernersville, NC. Who am I to have been granted LIVING? As the weight of this thought falls on me, I feel a lightness that makes me want to stand up under it and fling paint, knit riotous colors, walk for miles and miles in the sunshine, and drink in the faces of my loved ones!

I’m wishing you a “lightness of being” kind of day! Maybe not “unbearable”, but definitely palpable and real!

Lovely at the End of the Lane

Many of you know that I love to walk. Prior to my illness and surgery, I walked several times a week, 3-5 miles in and around my neighborhood. The first day I was home from the hospital, the outdoors called to me. But I was only able to make it to the stop sign at the corner of our property.

But each day I would try to walk a bit further. Hunched over and shuffling, I just didn’t care how feeble I looked. I took my husband or a friend with me, and breathed in the fresh air, drank in the lingering spring, enjoying moving my legs.

The last two days, I have ventured up to Silver Dapple Lane. My favorite lane in the whole world. My neighbor and I have gone down and back twice. And today, I even made it three times! Progress indeed! The lane is lined with wildflowers, especially over in Mr. Whicker’s field. At the end of the lane is the best view ever! One of Mr. Whicker’s pastures for his cows is burgeoning with buttercups! It looks positively dreamy!

So I came home today and tried to capture that dreamy field on paper with watercolor. I don’t know that I got it exactly…but it’s enough to remind me of this morning…a gift to start my day.

 

Face Like a Flint

 

Thank you, thank you one and all for your unbelievably kind, sweet, and encouraging words in the last post! I am indeed surrounded by so many who are supporting me in my recovery. There is much more I could tell you about the last couple of months. So many amazing ways I have been carried and bound up in a wonderful lenten journey. Perhaps someday I will write it all out. But for now, I’m wanting to turn the corner. To round the bend as it were and set my face like a flint to what is ahead. (Isaiah 50:7)

This proves to be very difficult some days. Every few days I am hit with an emotional state which I can only describe as grieving. Perhaps it’s grieving all that has happened to my body. Maybe grieving the life I used to have before surgery and an ileostomy. I don’t really know it’s source, other than medical people telling me it is due to all the medications and trauma I’ve had. Whatever it is, I endure these days only by simply riding them out. BE-ing where I am.

Nonetheless, I want to move forward. Even if it is only baby steps, I still want to look for and rejoice in the small improvements I’m experiencing along the way. One of the days soon after I got home from the hospital, my husband took me to our Ciener Botanical Gardens. The tulips were in full force!! Their upturned faces to the sun made me think of that verse in Isaiah which speaks to setting our faces like a flint, unashamed, unmoved by circumstances, to face what is ahead, whatever that might be. I took a bunch of photos that day.

And just a few days ago, I felt well enough to stand for a length of time at my drawing table and create this page. There will be more to come. It felt so good to be drawing and painting again. I look forward to being well enough to draw with my friends on Fridays downtown Kernersville. I look forward to being able to drive again and cart my kids to the places they go. I look forward to a lot, and I need patience to wait for them.

Thank you again for your faithful visits here and for comments you make! I read every one of them and they make my heart leap! I hope each of you can find some time to create something. I know it brings healing.

Unique Perspective

I just gasped to see the date on this sketch. Gheesh! I am amazed at how long I’ve been battling this disease. And so glad it is now cured. Symptoms began just before Christmas, though they were mild then. As the disease progressed and symptoms worsened, I tried to get an appointment to see my gastroenterologist whom I had seen a few years ago for proctitis. But I was told the earliest I could have an appointment was April 15th. What? I called a few weeks later to tell them I was getting worse and really needed to see him, but was told the only thing they could do was to put me on a waiting list. I was never called.

Not only is your body battling a disease, but your mind and heart are also doing battle. You want to keep your head above water, stay positive, try to see the benefits you may be experiencing, or the beauties that are underfoot. This is crucial to enduring any kind of health issue. Some days are more difficult than others, and that is where I find such comfort in having friends who pray for me. I was able to make it through the most discouraging days because people were praying, sending healing thoughts, and just encouraging me in general.

Eventually, I was desperate, and took myself to PrimeCare and begged them to get me in with a gastro doctor anywhere, but ASAP! That was a Friday, I got an appointment for the following Monday, was in for a colonoscopy on Wednesday and was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis in over half of my colon. I went home thinking “I’m going to get better now!” having medicines in hand that were supposed to put the disease in remission.  The medicines seemed to help for a few days, but then I began to get worse. And thus started a pattern that would continue for a couple of weeks: trying new meds, I improve a bit, and then worsen. We had talked with my doctor about hospitalization. And soon it became apparent that this was the next step.

We are only given the little patch of the path directly in front of us. And that’s the little patch we have to take in and deal with, trying not to worry about what’s on down the path! This is very difficult for me! I am a worry wart! I realized the only way to go through this journey was to concentrate on TODAY, this patch of the path, this moment, this bit of information we have and just BE there.

I am still learning this as I recuperate. One day at a time, one moment at a time, one baby step at a time. This is the perspective I need. This is the perspective to healing.

Not Enough Daffodils

Before I landed in the hospital, colitis had progressed to where my everyday life was pretty miserable. I was rapidly losing strength and weight, due to 15-20 visits to the bathroom a day. I couldn’t go anywhere. And I couldn’t find the energy to do even the simplest of things, like make dinner for my family.

Several women in our church, sweet friends of mine, made a meal for my family. It was such a huge blessing to have dinner provided and not have to muster the energy to make it.  I got it in my head one day, that I wanted to do something to thank them for their generosity.

A favorite blog of mine is Attic 24, whose author Lucy, is all about crochet! She had just posted a tutorial to make a wonderful crocheted daffodil. Though she was using the daffodils for a wreath, she also showed the pin option, and I knew this would be a fun gift for my friends who had made food for us.

You have to know, that all along the way, I kept thinking “I’m going to be better soon! I’m going to be better soon!” I had received the diagnosis, Ulcerative Colitis, and all the medications that were supposed to make me better.  I just wasn’t improving. But I held out hope. Making these little daffodil pins were part of that hope. In between runs to the bathroom, crocheting offered a distraction from how I was feeling, and gave me something to focus on. I could lounge in a chair and make something simple. Creativity is a wonderful gift when you’re sick.

When I had to go to the hospital for more potent meds to stop the colitis and to arrest my dehydration and lack of nutrition, the meals kept coming in for my family. It was so amazing. But I was unable to keep track of who all was bringing a meal OR to even make the daffodils. There comes a time when it becomes impossible to properly thank those who are selflessly giving of their time and lives to help.  This is all part of the lavish grace of God…you can’t repay it, you can’t thank Him enough for it, and will never be able to give thanks in equal measure to the outpouring of mercy you have received.

I am a recipient of grace and mercy.  Lavish, generous, overwhelming grace for which there is nothing to do but to cheerfully receive with gratitude!

A Flower Strewn Path

 

I’m home! I have a long way to go recuperating from surgery, but I’m home and it is lovely to be here with my family and the comforts of home. There is a lot I could say about the last couple of months. But it is still forming in my mind and heart and feels too raw and dear to put out there in a blog. I have no idea whether I will ever write here about this experience, this lenten journey I’ve been on. In so many amazing ways, I was indeed led to a quiet place. Not one I would have chosen myself. And I do feel I am still on this path.

The beautiful thing about this path is that it has been strewn with flowers! And cards! The above watercolor I made prior to landing in the hospital. My husband, Randy, brought home a bunch of gorgeous flowers for me. I can remember during those hideous days of nearly 24/7 living in a bathroom, that the few moments I had to draw or paint were such a welcome diversion. Once in the hospital, where I stayed for three weeks, the flowers were lavishly sent…tulips, azaleas, dahlias, carnations, roses, mixed bouquets, etc. And the cards…wow, the cards! They are still coming! I love looking at and reading each one. The thoughts and sentiments behind each bouquet and each card overwhelm me, in a good way. The outpouring of concern and care has been staggering. Randy and I are so very grateful.

I only wish that I could’ve made a little painting of each and every bouquet. I do have some pen sketches in my writing journal that I made in the early days at the hospital when they were trying to arrest the Ulcerative Colitis by different medications, none of which my body seemed to respond to. The flowers kept coming in even after surgery and the second surgery. The beautiful azalea is now planted in our front yard, and I look forward to it blooming every year.

One of the things I long to hang onto from all of this, is a slower pace in life. To that end, I will not be blogging as often as I used to. I’m considering combining my three blogs into one, and continuing Letters to An Artist on an “as I can” basis. When you’re given a new lease on life, it is only natural to rethink how you’ve been living and make a few changes. I hope, dear reader, that you will continue to check in with me here on Drawn2Life. There is so much Beauty to share with you. And as always, I hope you’ll join me in looking for and creating a bit of beauty in your own life.

A grand THANK YOU to all of you who have sent healing thoughts, prayed for me, wished me well over the last month. I am truly grateful for each of you.

A Place of Quiet

This is where I’m longing to be lately. Yes, I’d love for the weather to be pretty and warm enough for drawing at the Factory Courtyard, but I’m also longing for quiet spaces, a less frenetic life. With that in mind, I’m going to take a break from all my blogs except for Letters To An Artist.  I’m planning for this break to coincide with Lent (which begins tomorrow!:), and resume here on Drawn2Life after Easter. I’m also planning on taking a break from Facebook too.

I hope the next 40 days are filled with drawing and inspiration and deeper creative roots, for you and me.

I love the French “au revoir!” It doesn’t have the same feel of finality as our Good Bye. Au Revoir literally means: til we see each other again!

Happy Drawing!