Purl One, Knit Two Together

Back in the early 1950's, my mom found a pattern for knitting a Christmas stocking for my older brother. That one project led to more than fifty years of Thomas family tradition as she proceeded to knit stockings for my sisters and me as we were born, and then for each of our spouses as they were added to the family. In all, my mom has lovingly created a keepsake for over thirty family members including her grandchildren, their spouses, and great-grandchildren.

My newest ddil,* Amy, received a stocking to match my son’s for a wedding present. The story I want to share is about the one stocking Mom didn't make. Jim and I had only been seeing each other a scandalously short time when it became apparent that our parallel life journeys were about to converge into one single path together.

I'll never forget the conversation we had with my parents, discussing the feasibility of a very low-key, informal wedding ceremony one week before Christmas (1984), with just the two of them as our witnesses. Dad thought this plan was greatly preferable to the alternative, which was for me to travel to Illinois with Jim to meet his family before we got married at a later date. Mom's only objection was a practical (though sentimental) one. She could not possibly knit Jim a stocking in only a few weeks, and it would be unfortunate to spend our first Christmas together without the tradition of matched stockings.

At that point, Jim innocently made a remark, obviously unaware of the significance of "the stocking" my mom was proposing to knit. "Not a problem," he declared simply. "I already have a stocking!" What I feared would turn into an unpleasant scene actually became an amazing confirmation of what we perceived to be God's confirmation of our December wedding date. It turns out that Jim's Aunt Betsy, back in 1953, had chosen the exact same stocking pattern and knitted him a Christmas stocking identical to the original Thomas family stockings from the same decade.

How's that for weird and wacky? True story!

Now it’s your turn. Care to share some Christmas memory with us in the comment section? We love stories!

IRL* Contemplating a new hobby during this next season of life as I face the reality that my 80-something-year-old mom may not live to see all my grandbabies outfitted with the family stocking.

Jamie Hush

During my week in Colorado, I had the privilege of representing you, the readers of WOTH online publications, by saying a few words at the Women of the Harvest Celebration Brunch. It was great to meet with donors who help fund these publications and the Retreats. I trust I expressed appreciation on behalf of all who enjoy the WOTH onlineMagazine, the WOTH Writer’s blog, Coffeegirl, the Weekly Word, and even this IRL blog.

The theme of the celebration was “Value Her Voice.” Check out the video in the side bar with a gripping story that was shared at the brunch. (Feel free to share it with friends who might be interested in sponsoring someone to attend the Retreat in India next month.)

It was a bit daunting to have to stand up and speak after this heart-felt testimony from our sister in India. Secretly, though, as I was watching her interview and listening to another woman who was speaking via Skype, I was thankful to be there in person so my face wouldn't be plastered across a BIG ol’ projection screen. Then as I was introduced, my new friend and visionary for this blog, our dear editor, Cindy, began a series of Photoshopped images of me that she created to liven up my sometimes otherwise “blah” posts. So much for not having my big face up on the screen my face on the big screen!

Well, I recovered my questionable poise and started my talk with a story of my own journey to having my voice valued. The audience laughed when I shared the family joke that until the age of six I honestly believed my name was “Jamie Hush!”

Later on I admitted to Cindy the less funny reality behind that joke, how we have a true enemy who wants nothing more than to shut us up. He knows that he is defeated by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony. Somewhere along the way, we all get discouraged trying to share a story that no one seems to want to hear.

Granted, when I was younger I gabbed non-discriminately, and I needed to learn to listen. But then somehow I took people’s admonishment to be quiet as a personal wound to my heart. John Eldredge and other authors have noted that Satan can do nothing to stamp out the glory of God, so instead he attacks us in the unique ways that we reflect God’s glory.

For me it is the gift of story telling and communication, which even as I admit this, triggers an irrational dose of shame. That’s my lifelong battle.

Can you think of areas like that in your own life, where you especially shine with God’s glory, only to have it squelched? I’d love to hear your stories about that.
IRL* Thankful for my new friends at WOTH who really do value my voice (our collective voice!) and help me (us) to shine shamelessly.