The Sweater

It is comfort food for the body, the  soul. The nubs and knit one pearl two’s.

Knit in love by hand by many. By hand somewhere, perhaps, in the glorious imagination.

I know she knit, she knitted, she still knits. So that is what I see in the eyes of the mind, the heart. Not the factory woven ones.

I pretend they are each created by  the hands of  mother, women with love.

Birthed by hand. Birthed on a lap, in love with each spectacular skein feeding the woven art. Twisting threaded tendrils turning the corner, row on row.

The colors mark the masterpiece like a box of Crayloa’s, sixty-four times tenfold or more equals a sea of blended, love.

The colors bleed, each row into the next. The love bleeds into each loose or taut loop of yarn, over and around they twist, over needle, round the corner to the finger, worn out working, in love.

Love looks like nubbies. Love feels like  threads, soft or silken. Knit with care.

To me. A sweater knit by hand. With care. Time invested in each row, warmed by lap.

These patient working hands.

I see her sitting with the tools to make the throws or scarves or sweaters.

Woman weaves her wearable art. Woman weaves her warmth.

Creates a vehicle for a  body. Warmth to hold the heat that stokes the life. Its love.

She makes the woven shield, to block the elements of life, guard against the cold life winds.

She knits one and pearls two,  more to make body armour. Protection for her family, the one she loves.

It  wraps around the body, hungry for her art. Of her hands.

Comfort food to warm the flesh and bones that she birthed,  with woolen woven, love.

What woven woolen warmth she creates,  breathing  love and making  love.

And warms her family with the tedious movement of the threads, of love. Each movement of the needle brings the yarn to form another row of woolen love.

A covering for her precious. A sweater. Comfort food  to feed  the weary soul.

An archive of  her love, her art for years to come.

They represent, her love.

The quilt, the needlepoint, cross-stitch and all  created beauty of her hands.

A sweater, shorn from  sheep  she shapes her love onto her flock and  forms,  love.

Wrapped up in woven wooly work of women, a sweater made of love.

I’m at Amber’s today with this Sweater piece. You really will love it there. Come read and wrap up in words over there.

The Morning Art Gallery of Life, A Grand Opening

The Web of Life

She opens her gallery in morning bright light early

Displays God Art.

 First fruits offered in obedient love.

Weaving with legs strong graceful

Navigating  strength,symmetry

Strong small presence, centered

Delicate lovely home made art.

Like a prayer labyrinth she walks alone, in her, on her,

Home made strong, receptacle of nourishment

Quiet delicate web net of protection.

Quiet masterpiece holds fast in love

Holds strong in love.

And in woven winsome beauty, she makes her way through,like a maze.

She waits,  heartbeat holding watch.

Glimmering gleaming hopefilled web

Offering order in chaos,

Perfectly alligned with His will for her.

Perfectly imperfect, seeking Grace

She hangs in the net web,

Soul centered place of still waiting waving in the gentle spirit breeze,

Peace-filled knowing

Anchored here, anchored there.

No fear takes space, finds a space in the perfect web of peace.

No angry broom will knock down, rip down, tear down.

Grace for her, grace for all.

She and her God art catching the morning light.

Masterfully weaving this artful way through the life web.

Tied in obedience to the One who teaches  art of making the way

through a beautiful web maze, the story

that is her sparkling sticky, glistening fragile, light-catching, light-relfecting,

Hidden to some,

 Yet visible to the lover of Beauty, God Art

A Hopeful, graceful web.

Catching nourishment for the soul.

Counting Gifts and Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience dot com and with Michelle on this Monday.

And with Laura Barkat and Laura Boggess for In On and Around Mondays and  Playdates at the Wellspring.

*A lost cross purchased in New York, found this morning, a treasure found on the floor.

*Beautiful time with volleyball family, winning, losing, fellowshipping

*Long day in the creek after church, salt, sea, friends, The Patient One, counting the gifts of close finish-your-sentence friends and a day on the water and in it too.

*Encouragement coming in so many different forms, delivered sweetly in love

*New connection with old friend

*The Patient One giving gifts, a lawn cleaner and tidier and the gift of time lovingly spent together

*During woship, watching The Patient One sway in the breeze of praise, singing sweet the songs of worship

*Planning a Monday night family dinner- Joyfilled family meal, with hopes and dreams to play our High/Low game again. (naming the highes and lows of our day).

*Making plans for a trip to Haiti, and feeling the call in Peace and in Love.

*Receiving my Compassion International Packet in the mail with the precious picture and information on the sweet sweet girl I am privileged to sponsor. So hopeful about her future and a budding relationship.