A New Beginning

When my husband Mike was hospitalized after a serious accident some 32 years ago, he received a small umbrella plant as a get-well gift from his cousins who at that time lived in Dallas. Despite my decidedly brown thumb, that plant somehow grew and thrived and eventually became so enormous as to be unwieldy, requiring two people and an act of Congress to move the (now much larger) pot where it resided. Mike had been moving it out to the back deck every spring, and back into our bedroom in the fall every single year, but somehow this year a hard freeze hit before he got the plant moved inside. He brought it inside anyway, placing it in its usual spot by the sliding door, and left it for a week to see whether it would recover from being frozen. Alas, the freeze had been too much for it and all of the branches remained brown and lifeless. Because by this time the weather was far too nasty to move the entire pot back outside, Mike chopped off all of the dead branches, leaving nothing but a root ball with a bunch of chopped off sticks. Several weeks later, I happened to glance at the dead base of the plant, and was amazed to notice a tiny green shoot emerging from the side of one of the very dead branches. Over the past few weeks, more shoots have emerged and grown, and it appears that the umbrella plant lives once more, albeit in a much more abbreviated form - quite the metaphor of resurrection and new beginnings!

Around this time last year, I was in a very dark place. We had been struggling for about three years with the aging and declining health of our respective parents and finally the loss of two of them while the others continued to decline. Other events occurring at this time combined to create the most challenging time of my entire life. I was sad, overwhelmed, and stressed beyond belief. (I recall commenting at one point that, on a 1 to 10 scale, my stress level was hovering around 72.) Clearly some changes had to be made; I found myself declining requests for my time and energy that I had no way to fulfill, eliminated some activities which, while worthwhile, were no longer providing the joy and fulfillment that they once had, and pruning away the heavy branches of my life which had become unsustainable. I, too, had become a dead bundle of chopped-off sticks.

Now, entering the final year of my sixth decade of life, I am seeing tiny sprouts emerging from the remains of the unsustainable heavy branches that were my life. This promises to be a year of changes; some small, and some enormous and a little bit scary. To begin with, at the end of the school year I will be concluding my 30+ year adventure in providing child care. I've been so very blessed to have a part in the raising and teaching of all the children who have come to my home, and I will deeply miss them - especially the two who currently spice up my days - but it's definitely time for me to move on and focus on other things now. 

So what will I be doing with my "spare time"? For the person who asked this question, I don't believe that such a thing actually exists, at least not in the sense of having time where there is nothing to do. First of all, I plan to devote more time and energy to my fiber arts. I'll be knitting (of course!) projects running the gamut from simple dishcloths knitted on autopilot to complex and elaborate one-of-a-kind creations; from prayer shawls, chemo hats, and other items to be given away to carefully crafted garments, accessories, and home decor to sell at craft fairs. I have many ideas for original pattern designs which I plan to work on, with a goal of eventual publication. I'll continue to refine and improve my spinning skills, and hope at some point to have handspun yarn of sufficient quality to be sold as well. And I will continue to teach knitting in various venues, as I work toward setting up a classroom in my home to provide a variety of local knitting classes. 

In addition to my fiber arts, I have a number of writing projects which have languished on the back burner for far too long. There are at least three BPWs (Books Partially Written) in word files on my computer, which deserve better than to be left unattended in a heap of dusty pixels, and a multitude of ideas, small stories, and potential projects which still need to progress beyond the concept stage.

When I'm not working on knitting, spinning, or writing - or when I AM working on them, because I'm almost always doing one or the other - Mike and I plan to spend more time together, and to travel more, and to specifically NOT have any more 5:15 a.m. alarms on a routine basis. We're looking forward to being able to travel in the off-season when things are less crowded and the weather isn't so miserably hot.

I plan to be much more diligent about blogging, and especially about documenting the variety of knitting projects that I've completed, because when the question was raised recently of how many things I had completed in the past year I had no idea.

Last but not least, I plan to enjoy every second of my upcoming adventure at the Interweave Yarn Fest next month (even going to try to enjoy driving to Colorado in March!);  to savor every moment of time I'm able to spend with my two grandchildren, the rest of my family, and all of my wonderful friends; and to revel in the blessedness of having gotten this far. I welcome your comments and feedback!