“Mel, guess what! My dad is going to Ireland to look into exchange programs for the college. My parents said I could bring a friend- do you want to go?”
My heart beat fast at the words of my friend Julie. Friends since we were ten. What 24 year Boston girl wouldn’t want to take a trip to the homeland?
That’s where I got my sweater. My Irish sweater. (And an extra suitcase for extra sweaters. One for my mom, my dad and a couple of cousins)
For twenty years I pulled it out. When in a certain mood, all others got pushed aside for it’s embrace. It’s wrapping.
God weaving a story of my life through it. When it first came into my possession, my eyes only saw a one inch square. A repeating pattern. Similar to my life then.
Over time, it’s intricate details pointing me towards the tenderness, the closeness of God.
It’s bulk, it’s warmth showing me the hugeness of God.
His humanness and sovereignty all knit together.
20 years of vision broadened it’s detailed pattern. Creating a universe.
The elbows wore out. Twenty years of throwing it on on the chilliest of nights. Twenty years of putting it on when I want to curl up and journal. A safe, warm engulfing that could hold the processing of my heart.
The worn spots, the thread bare places, marking my worn out journey. It is those thin places that grace appears.
The places where nothing separates me from His presence, His closeness. The wind of his breath felt through those gaping holes.
I wonder how we got here. How the Spirit and I found sweet communion.
I didn’t know His closeness then. Not in the same way. But I returned home with a new sweater with a sturdiness that would see me through. Through decisions to leave Boston, to set off for the harvesting lands of Indiana.
An ocean away to have perspective. To reveal off-ness in my life. To have breath to say I want this part to be different.
An ocean away to see I am stronger than I thought. To be led into new lands of a shepherd even stronger.
My sweater with me. Threads of life before.
Following them. Wondering where they would lead next.
The patterns, they have lead to Minnesota and Washington and Pennsylvania. Always seeking cold climate to fulfill it’s purpose. To know the warmth of God’s skin next to mine.
As the unraveling continued, a sweater retired. The sight of it showing me the power of remembrance. Remembrance that flows into gratitude.
Gratitude that sees a 20 something girl become a 40 something woman. That sees the unraveling of a sweater correspond with being knitted to an invisible comfort.
Gratitude for a mother, who says “I’d like to give you mine” So the story of our Irish sweaters can mingle and carry on their legacy
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Last week I discovered Amber Haines’ place, The Runamuck and thought, how in the world have I (in my vast four months of blogging) missed this!
She has a weekly Concrete to Abstract writing assignment. This week’s was the Sweater. Please go here and read all the beauty.
Linking today with Playdates with God, Soli Deo Gloria , On Your Heart Tuesdays and God-Bumps and God Incidences
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I’m very excited to introduce the following sponsor for Irish knitwear! I love that the story of my Irish Sweater would speak to the heart of someone who sells Irish goods- connections like that make my day! Check them out:
http://www.tarairishclothing.
Beautiful…
you weaved this story beautifully…blessings~
Seriously, Melanie—only you could compare God to a sweater, and do it so powerfully, descriptively (is that a word), and beautifully! Through your words and imagery, you could probably tell me God was a sweater, and I’d believe you! =)
Ah, so lovely and warm. What a metaphor for living, this sweater. Amber’s is richer with you there. It has been a great community to be woven into. Glad you and your sweater have come over. Melanie, this is just so lovely and I know you so much better after this read. And that is a wonderful thing. Looking forward to The Frost….
Dear Melanie
I was so glad when I saw you also linking up at Amber’s today. The Irish-part if your sweater also brings sweet memories to my mind for my grandmother was an Irish lady who emigrated to South Africa. Thanks for your cuddly post!
Blessings
Hi Melanie. So glad to have found you through Amber’s community today. Thank you for sharing your story of the sweater, through the twists and turns of a life, wrapped in God’s faithfulness. I love how you express that at first, we can only see the one small square, the beauty of that piece of the pattern and then…we see the holes and the knit, all of it as the gift of a God who wraps himself around us. Happy to have met you! Blessings on your new blogging adventure! (I, too, am a Five Minute Friday writer. 🙂 )
so lovely!! I too have an Irish sweater, bought by my mom celebrating my 40th year…a dream trip. Nothing quite like that magical place! nice to meet you via twitter
Really lovely.
I love how the pattern expands and how a concrete thing can give the abstractness of relationship such detail and warmth and desire to move in closer and know God.
“The worn spots, the thread bare places, marking my worn out journey. It is those thin places that grace appears.”
Yes. Indeed.
Beautiful imagery.
I have seen you about the internet, here and there. So glad to have you join us…you seem quite the natural for this kind of rendering and rambling about. Welcome!
I love how you’ve consistently worn it over the years, this timeless way of keeping warm and hemmed in. Did you keep the sweater after it “retired”? I can never part with such things.
I love Amber’s place too, and this story goes beautifully with her sweater abstract theme. Well done.