when i miss her...

my cousin from the great and white north comes to visit me in the middle of a snowstorm.

she brings a bit of home that helps ease an ache in my heart

and she brings words.

lots of them.

this cousin that comes to visit is one i didn't know growing up and it seems that we enjoy making up for lost time.


she brings them out on an evening that finds us sitting quiet and listening to frank and ella and i have to pause because what i hold in my hands is exceedingly precious.

my hands hold onto something that had rested in my gramma's hands and more than anything

i just want to hold those hands once more.


instead, i hold her very first knitting needles against my palm and i can barely breathe.


and i want her back.

i want to know what all she made with needles as thin as these.


were these the ones that she used to knit as she sat in front of her stove on a rainy night in scotland?  that fire she blamed over and over for discolouring her shins?

i want to hear the roll of her r's


smell her perfume,

feel her arms pull me tight against her,

and watch her as she baked pies and bread and buns

and then sat down to cheat at skipbo.


i want to lay in my bed,

tucked in under my covers,

and hear her voice drift into my room as she knelt in her own

and prayed.


my sleep was always ushered in on the moments that found her bowing low before Jesus.


as a child, i loved her.

as a woman, i long to know her more.


instead, i miss her and cherish what i have until i see her again in the presence of Jesus.


i finally honour my word to my friend and come to the knitting circle at our church after the little ones are in bed,

i pull out my yarn and needles to join the rhythm of stitches and conversation

and i watch as help is asked for

and help is given

and the robin's egg blue builds another row on my needles...


i join another group of women this afternoon,

i sit by another friend who invited me to come.

she doesn't know that i have been questioning Him,

asking for guidance and wisdom,

feeling a little lost and needing a Word.


and it's in the middle of what the speaker is saying

when my heart starts beating loud and fast...


she's talking about our children and their children

and if we don't capture their hearts now,

what hearts will be caring for the hearts of their children?

and then she says those two words that stop everything else in the room and i can barely sit still...

it's called generational living.

so often, and rightly so, the term generational sins is brought out and parents are called to break them courageously and with the help of Jesus, and yes!  let's break them and break out of pain and bondage that has crippled our families and will keep doing so if we sit and do nothing - 

but what comes after?

and this is where i have sat lost

until He shouts it into my heart through the dark-haired woman passionately speaking of her love for Him;


we live.


we live!

He came so that we could have life - and have it abundantly!

and i think of those knitting needles - the very first ones that my gramma used,

of all of those stitches being added to and built upon in that little room in our church last night,

of the hope that He gave when i least expected it this afternoon...

He is a God Who builds upon losses and gains and creates something achingly beautiful if we let Him.

with hands wide open and a heart willing to accept whatever it is that He places before us, we can join Him in a dizzingly intricate journey that throws joy and sorrow up against each other and brings His Name glory and leads our children to do the same.

oh, i want a life like that.

(thank you, naomi, for taking the picture of our gramma's knitting needles and sending me a copy. i miss you. :<)