During High School, I participated in show choir -- LOVED every moment of it. For our Senior Year High School Musical (before Disney sabotaged the phrase), we performed Oklahoma!, and I played one of the lead roles -- Ado Annie. One of my solos was "All 'Er Nothing". I haven't thought much about that song until recently. You see, it was a type cast of sorts because that is exactly who I am. I am an "All 'Er Nothing" type of gal, and if I can't give it 100,000%, I won't try it at all. Do you know how exhausting this is?? Terribly so, I assure you.
When I took up knitting, I was IN IT. I was going to knit everything that could possibly clothe the human body, as well as pets, and coffee mugs. I truly do have a pattern for knit panties. No. I have not yet made them. Crochet? Umm, same. Not only do I have to be able to make everything, I also need to, apparently, clothe everyone else and their grandmother as well. Sewing?? Yep. I can't just sew those darling blankets I adore making, or those cute shorts and pillowcase dresses, by golly I better be able to sew everything we will ever need for my entire household, family, extended family, and God Bless America--the entire U.S. I am exhausted.
Recently, I decided to take up spinning. You know, turning wool into lovely yarn. However, I got really exhausted even contemplating it. Afterall, I can't just buy the already dyed/carded/cleaned wool, I need to do all that myself, so now the hunt is on for some sheep and the tools needed to shear that sheep. Do you see where I'm going with all this? I have been asking myself a lot why God is "taking" away so many of the things I have loved doing in the past. And I'm learning this. He is telling me to relax a little. I do NOT, indeed, have to save the world one stitch at a time (even though I know myself well enough to know I will try anyway). After finishing reading through Interrupted once again by Jen Hatmaker, I realized something seriously profound that I had heard repeatedly but never accepted for myself. We can all do something -- one small thing -- to help those around us. I can literally feed my neighbor, share a mug of coffee while a friend cries out her heart, make a hat -- a single hat -- for someone who needs one. Share the love of Jesus in a natural way that pours out of just being in community and being available always for whatever tiny task it is -- even if it's just opening the door for someone with their hands full.
I have made all of life very complicated. Ask my husband. I love big. If I'm not constantly doing something, I feel like a failure and slip into depression. If I can't save the world single-handedly, one stitch at a time, I have failed the entire universe. It's just too much, and I'm so thankful that Jesus doesn't even expect this of me. Thank you, Lord, and Hallelujah. I'm a leap before you look sorta girl, and those who know me best know this about me and have helped pick me back up after I fall. We are a people obsessed with "calling". I think, after living possibly half my life, I have finally figured out my calling. Oddly, it doesn't really include knitting underwear for anyone (my children are rejoicing), including myself. My calling is to follow Christ hard. This is one area in which I CAN be "All 'Er Nothing". He IS ALL, or I really am nothing. I am called to follow hard after Christ, love my neighbors, and be present to act the moment he prompts me to. If ever he should call me to knit underwear, I will. I already have the pattern (and it's possible since Dorcas, aka Tabitha, sewed garments that were used as undergarments for robes -- just sayin' check the Greek on that one--good stuff). But all the little things that I think aren't important?? Feeding people, being available for people, simply noticing another human being -- those are huge.
So, what say you? Are you ready to follow hard after Jesus, "All 'Er Nothing"? I just may be on to something here . . . I can quit laying out the fleece so he will show me "just one more time, Lord" what it is he has called me to -- what he called YOU to as well. Food for thought . . .
I leave you with this gem . . . You are welcome.