My First Maker Monday (and a new blog plan!)

This stole was supposed to go in my Etsy shop in plenty of time for a cool, non-tradish pastor to buy it and wear it for Pentecost.

(Newsflash: Pentecost Sunday was May 31.)

Today I worked on it for the first time since pre-Covid-quarantine life nearly three months ago. This unfinished stole feels like a metaphor for life this spring… a long interruption, waiting to be picked up again.

It also feels like a metaphor for this blog. I spent last week cleaning up this website, motivated by the automatic renewal of my domain registration, and asking myself: WHY am I paying for this space in the first place? I have blog posts dating back to 2009… eleven years, a couple hundred posts, but no routine, no theme, no personality, and no consistency.

Consistency has been a big word for me lately. In the past week I’ve made a personal commitment to practice consistency (instead of achievement, perfection, or comparison) across many areas of my life. I’ll be sharing more of that practice in the days and weeks ahead; my first commitment is to consistency in THIS area, RIGHT HERE at A Moving Yarn.

I’ve tended to use this space as a sort of homestead for my church-seasonal devotional writing. Those pieces will stay put (for now–though I may edit and reorganize!) but I’m going to shift to making this blog more personal and a “behind the scenes” view of what I’m working on spiritually, mentally, physically, and creatively. I’ll save devos for “special occasion,” and instead use the blog as a growth chart, journal, mirror, microscope… a place to record and reflect on the bigger expedition I’m on to understand my sense of call and the workings of my vocation.

Much more on that in the weeks ahead!

So here’s the plan (because I like alliteration…):

Maker Mondays.

The most “me” project I’ve made in a long time.

Obvious, right? I’ll share what I’m working on “by hand.” It’s very likely to involve yarn, of course. But it might be a new recipe, or a gardening attempt, or a painting, or a quilt square. It might even involve the making of a blog post–like this one!–or a poem or a sermon… or just maybe, someday, a book. (It is daunting to put that in writing.)

What I’m Learning Wednesdays.

Bookshelf, circa today.

Because I’m way too frumpy to do “What I Wore Wednesday,” and too busy letting go of diet culture for “What I Ate Wednesday,” but I’m always learning something new. Midweek will be all about my informal continuing life education: I may post about a wellness book or a webinar on social justice and racism, a Masterclass on wine tasting or a reflection on my foray into Benedictish-ness, a new insight from the Bible or a piece of violin music.

Monday and Wednesday are inspired by two of (IMHO) my most positive traits: I love creating, and I love learning. Fridays are inspired by one of my biggest challenges: I often feel bad about myself. (Wow, putting that in print is emotional.) I always think I should be doing more/better/different. I compare myself to Other People and always come up short. And I’ve realized (at 40-something, way too late) that years of thinking that way have become self-fulfilling: I quit before I start. I talk myself out of trying. And then the cycle starts again. So… I hereby dedicate:

Feel-Good Fridays.

Hopscotching in Paris… not caring what anybody thought.

Not warm-fuzzy Fridays or blowing-sunshine Fridays or navel-gazing Fridays (feel free to call me out if I lapse into those!). But one day of reflecting back on the week and taking a close and honest look at what has felt good, what choices I’ve made for good, where I’ve practiced self-care instead of self-control and action instead of defeat. Hopefully, the choices I make for my own good-feeling (and well-being) will have echoes in the good I can do for others. I suspect Fridays may become the most intentional and important day of my blogging week.

So that’s it:

Maker Mondays. What I’m Learning Wednesdays. Feel-Good Fridays.

I hope you’ll enjoy seeing what I’m making, how I’m learning, and where I’m finding good… and I hope you’ll join me and maybe discover your own journey alongside mine. I look forward to the way I’m headed from here, and the way together with you.