I started a new pattern a few days ago.
My husband took one look at the thirteen inch long
by one-inch wide piece of knitting hanging off my needles,
and said, "What is it?"
"What do you think it is?" I asked.
"A doll scarf?"
"Nope. It's a sweater."
Right now, it's mostly a ball of yarn.
But somehow, as I thought about it,
and thought about those things that God has begun,
and this unfathomable piece of work in my hands,
I thought about His faithfulness to complete the work He has begun,
and knew I could say with confidence, "It is a sweater."
I do not have the steadiness that He has,
or guaranteed existence of myself until it is finished,
but should I remain alive, and able to do the work, this is a sweater.
I've been pondering fruit a lot this year.
Human fruit. Blossoms. Zygotes.
Swelling but unripe apples.
Seeds.
All fruit is a sign of life and union.
Communion. Intercourse.
And it grows at its own rate.
And I am due on Friday, but I don't know her birthday yet.
I know she's alive, because she keeps kicking me.
But she will be born in God's time.
And she will have things in common with all of us,
and things that mark her uniquely, too.
And she will be smaller than her siblings,
and weaker, and more dependent.
Further from reproducing than some of them are.
At a different stage of development.
And 100% one of the family.
As much the future of our family as they are.
They are my future grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Of course, to produce them, they will have to be living and unified.
"Abide in Me," He said, "and you will bear much fruit."
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