a place to land.

My daughter-in-law wears her youngest wrapped tightly to her body with a long, black band.  And Dori is happy there. Sometimes on the front, sometimes in back; she's tucked near the heartbeat of her mom where the motion, voices, and chaos of what happens around her are secondary to the quiet port in which she's docked.

My grandson Luke likes to ride high on his dad's shoulders.  The view is different up there with branches to duck, tall people to encounter, balance to keep.  Every so often his hands reach down to grip the sides of his father's face--and settle back into his spot.

The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, 

who shelters him all the day long; 

and he shall dwell between His shoulders.

Deut. 33:12

We grow up and take pride in walking solo.  But there is a place held for each of us, a port in the storm, a place to reach out and see that we're not alone.

...and he shall dwell between His shoulders.

Pulled closely to the heart of God.  

Chosen.

Loved.

Held with care.

-lindasinklings

little birds.

I'm a little obsessed with these birds right now.  I keep making them and giving them away.  

And making more...but now I'm behind.  I need to catch up with what I've given.

What's not to like?  An hour's worth of knitting and--voila!  A bird.  

Yes, the bathroom needs to be cleaned.  Yes, I should be working on that project.  But really, just one more bird... 

Regardless.  

The birds have brought to mind one of my favorite bits from 
Emily D. 

     Hope is the thing with feathers-

  That perches on the soul-

  And sings the tune without the    words-

  And never stops-at all.

  

  ~Emily Dickinson

  So maybe I'm not knitting birds at all. Maybe they're just bits of hope.

  ~lindasinklings

  Pattern here: 
  Little Birds

broken things.

I like to watch things grow.

Granted, I don't have a garden in this aerie of an apartment, but the windowsill is wide and willing.

This morning I woke with the dark and sat in the quiet.  I was thinking about something that happened yesterday during Legal Aid Clinic.

A woman walked in.  She was kind and smiled when I asked how she was doing.  She took her papers and limped to a chair down the hall to fill them out.

She came back later and handed them to me, smiling again as she settled in the chair across from my desk, a glass of water cupped between her hands.  

The office was unusually quiet.  Not a sound from the smiling lady but I looked up from my work to see her there, a hand covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

She wasn't laughing.

Oh, I thought, Oh no.

At that moment the attorney came around the corner to call her name. Quickly she wiped her tears and smiled as she limped to meet the woman who asked, 'Your leg, are you hurt?'

'It's only what my husband did to me,' she replied.

When she was finished she came back past my desk.  She stopped to talk and asked if we could pray.  

In a quiet corner we met Jesus.  The One who understands the darkest of hidden things.

Lord Jesus...hold her fast.

~lindasinklings

stitching in wool.

 I've started something new, something that is going to take a wonderfully long time to finish.  I like to get things done in a hurry, see the finish line and tie up all the loose ends (if you will) so I can start the next thing.

Ducks in a row.

This will not be that project.

This is going to take time and patience.  I have time, but very little patience (ask anyone who loves me enough to admit it).

One tree at a time.  Maybe a few leaves here and there.  A stream and a fish, maybe two.

It reminds of a little bit of the slow work of God. 

~lindasinklings

contrast.

It was a grand day.  

A boy walked across the stage in cap and gown and I smiled, knowing he was no longer a boy. He hadn't been for a while really. I watched him laughing and smiling, solemn and sure in this rite of passage, college behind and rest of life stretching ahead. 

Behind my eyes, like a cloud blown in front of the sun, I saw the hard things of the past years overlay the joy.  For the briefest moment they were melded together; sorrow, loss, joy, pain and triumph--into one incomprehensible whole.

Then the picture cleared.  

Tears ran freely for gratefulness.  Not for the clearing of the image, but for the giving of it.

It isn't done of course.  We don't reach a place where we say, 'I've got this figured out, the work is finished.'  Only One could ever say that and really mean it, only One could say, 'It is finished' and see the work of God complete.

The work of Love.

The slow work of God which makes us whole.  

You have loved us first many times 

and every day and our whole life through.

When we wake up in the morning and turn our soul toward You-

You are the first--You have loved us first; 

if I rise and dawn and at the same second turn my soul toward you in prayer, You are the there ahead of me.

You have loved me first.

When I withdraw from the distractions of the day and turn my soul toward You, You are the first and thus forever.

And yet we always speak ungratefully as if You have loved us first only once.

~ Soren Kiekegaard

I watched him walk off stage and laugh with his brothers and sister and I was thankful.

For a work begun and a God who sticks.

~lindasinklings

looking out.

I love windows.  If I had my way the shades would be up and curtains drawn back every minute of every day.  

Of course one of us doesn't like the place to turn into a fish bowl at night-so down they go.

I like to drive past houses at dusk, see them lit from within like a stage ready for the players.  And sometimes you catch them, the players, reading in a chair, walking across the room, adjusting the flicker of the television. In just an eye's blink of time.

Bob thinks it's creepy.  That's probably why the shades go down.

I don't think it's creepy, I think it's interesting.  This, however, has been the source of some debate in the family at large.  But that's beside the point  

Windows are fascinating, they make me wonder about the stories going on behind the glass.  What joy or sorrow walked through that house today?

These windows are from Rome where my sister is working. I look through the glass, knowing that for one click of the camera I am seeing what she sees. 

The thing is, I want my soul to do the same. In those flashpoints of daily life, I want to step into seeing what my sister sees, my friend sees, to look through their windows. 

And let the snapshot grow into understanding, into compassion.   

You told me you couldn't see

a better day coming,

so I gave you my eyes.

-Braided Creek

- lindasinklings

a sweater for S.

A sweater for the little girl who loves fruit, finished off by an Oliver+S Lazy Days Skirt. 

Patterns Here:

Lazy Days Skirt

Watermelon

-lindasinklings